PRESENTED TO THE LIBRARY • OF ^INCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY BY BX 9178 .S45 S4 1886 Shedd, William Greenough Thayer, 1820-1894. Sermons to the natural man SERMONS TO THE NATURAL MAN BY WILLIAM G. T. SHEDD, D. D., Kl^ObJiVELT PBOrESSOR OF SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY IN UNICN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, NEW YOKlf. NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 1886. Entered according to Ac*^ o*" Congress, in the year 1871. By CHAULES SCKIBNEli & CO.. In the Office of the Librarian <1 Congress at Washington, D. G, Tro\v'«; Printing and Hookiunding Co., 205-213 /^ast \ith Si., NKW VOKK. PEEFAOE It is with a solemn feeling of responsibility that I send forth this volume of Sermons. The ordinary emotions of authorship have little place in the experience, when one remembers that what he says will be either a means of spiritual life, or an occasion of spiritual depth. I believe that the substance of these Discourses will prove to accord with God's revealed truth, in the day that will try all truth. The title indicates their general aim and tendency. The purpose is psychological. I would, if pos- sible, anatomize the natural heart. It is in vain to offer the gospel unless the law has been applied with clearness and cogency. At the present day, certainly, there is far less danger of erring in the direction of religious severity, than in the direction of religious indulgence. If I have not preached redemption in these sermons so fully as I have analyzed sin, it is because it is my deliberate convic- tion that just now the first and hardest work to be done by the preacher, for the natural man, is to produce in him some sensibility upon the subject of sin. Conscience needs to become consciousness. There is considerable theoretical unbelief respecting the doctrines of the New Testament ; but this is not the princi[)al difficulty. The- oretical skepticism is in a small minority of Christendom, and always has been. The chief obstacle to the spread of the Christian religion is the practical unbelief of specula IV PEEFACE. tive believers. ** Thou sajest," — says John Bunyaii, — "thou dost in deed and in truth believe the Scriptures. I ask, therefore, Wast thou ever killed stark dead by the law of works contained in the Scriptures? Killed by the law or letter, and made to see thy sins against it, and left in an helpless condition by the law? For, the proper work of the law is to slay the soul, and to leave it dead in an helpless state. For, it doth neither give the soul any comfort itself, when it comes, nor doth it show the soul where comfort is to be had ; and therefore it is called the ' ministration of condemnation,' the ' ministration of death.' For, though men may have a notion of the blessed Word of God, yet before they be converted, it may be truly said of them, Ye err, not knowing the Scriptures, nor the power of God." If it be thought that such preaching of the law can be dispensed with, by employing solely what is called in some quarters the preaching of the gospel, I do not agree with the opinion. The benefits of Christ's redemption are pearls which must not be cast before swine. The gos- pel is not for the stupid, or for the doubter, — still less for the scoifer. Christ's atonement is to be offered to con- scious guilt, and in order to conscious guilt there must be the application of the decalogue. John Baptist must pre- pare the way for the merciful Eedeemer, by legal and close preaching. And tlie merciful Redeemer Himself, in the opening of His ministry, and before He spake much concerning remission of sins, preached a sermon which in its searching and self-revelatory character is a more alarm- ing address to the corrupt natural heart, than was the first edition of it delivered amidst the lightnings of Sinai. The Sermon on the Mount is called the Sermon of the Be- atitudes, and many have the impression that it is a very lovely song to the sinful soul of man. They forget that the blessing upon obedience implies a curse upon disobedi- ence, and that every mortal man has disobeyed the Ser PREFACE. V mon on the Mount. " God save me," — said a thoughtful person wlio knew wliat is in the Sermon on the Mount, and what is in the human heart, — " God save me from the Sermon on the Mount when I am judged in the last daj." When Christ preached this discourse, He preached the huv, principally. " Think not," — He says, — " that I am come to destroy the law or the prophets. I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law till all be fulfilled." John the Baptist describes his own preaching, which was confess- edly severe and legal, as being far lees searching than that of the Messiah whose near advent he announced. " I in- deed baptize you with water unto repentance : but he ♦.hat cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes 1 am not worthy to bear : he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with Jire : whose /«:m is in his hand, and he will tJwroughly j>urge his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner; but he will lurn up the chaff with un- quenchable fire." The general burden and strain of the Discourse with which the Redeemer opened His ministry is preceptive and mandatory. Its key-note is : "Thou shalt do this,*' aud, '' Thou shalt not do that ; " " Thou shalt be thus, in thine heart," and, " Thou shalt not be thus, in thine heart." So little is said in it, comparatively, concerning what are called the doctrines of grace, that it has often been cited to prove that the creed of the Church has been expandeu unduly, and made to contain more than the Founder o. Christianity really intended it should. The absence, to example, of any direct and specific statement of the do^ trine of Atonement, in this important section of Christ's teaching, has been instanced by the Socinian opponent as proof that this doctrine is not so vital as the Church has always claimed it to be. But, Christ was purposely silent respecting grace and its methods, until he had spiritual VI PREFACE. ized law, and made it penetrate the human consciousness like a sharp sword. Of what nse w^onld it have been to offer mere J, before the sense of its need had been elicited ? and how was this to be elicited, but by the solemn and authoritative enunciation of law and justice? There are, indeed, cheering intimations, in the Sermon on the Mount, respecting the Divine mercy, and so there are in connec- tion with the giving of the Ten Commandments. But law, rather than grace, is the main substance and burden of both. The great intention, in each instance, is to con- vince of sin, preparatory to the offer of clemency. The Decalogue is the legal basis of the Old Dispensation, and the Sermon on the Mount is the legal basis of the New. When the Redeemer, in the openilig of His ministry, had provided the apparatus of conviction, then He provided the apparatus of expiation. The Great High-Priest, like the Levitical priest who typified Him, did not sprinkle atoning blood indiscriminately. It was to bedew only him who felt and confessed guilt. This legal and minatory element in the words of Jesus has also been noticed by the skeptic, and an argument haa been founded upon it to prove that He was soured by ill success, and, like other merely human reformers who have found the human heart too hard for them, fell away from the gentleness with which He began His ministry, into the anger and denunciation of mortified ambition with which it closed. This is the picture of Jesus Christ which Kenan presents, in his apocryphal Gospel. But the fact is, that the Redeemer hegaii with law, and was rigorous ■\vith sin from the very first. The Sermon on the Mount >»as delivered not far from twelve months from the time of His inauguration, by baptism, to the office of Messiah. And all along through His ministry of three years and a iaalf, He constantly employs the law in order to prepare kiis hearers for grace. He was as gentle and gracious to the penitent sinner, in the opening of His ministry, as he PREFACE. Vll was at the close of it ; and He was as unsparing and se- vere towards the hardened and self-riwe have an instance of the most heaven-daring sin. This is deliberate and wilful transgression. The servant knows his lord's will and does it not, and he shall be beaten with " many stripes,'' says Christ. But, such sin as this is not the usual form. Most of human transgressions are not accompanied with such a distinct apprehension, and such a deliberate determination. The sin of isrnorance and thous-ht- lessness is the species which is most common. Men, generally, do not first think of what they ai'e about to do, and then proceed to do it ; but they first pro- ceed to do it, and then think nothing at all about it. But, thoughtlessness will not excuse sin ; though it is a somewhat less extreme form of it, than de- liberate transgression. Under the Levitical law, the sin of ignorance, as it was called, was to be ex- 54 god's exhaustive knowledge of MAIS-. piated by a somewliat different sacrifice from that offered for the wilful and deliberate sin ; but it must be expiated. A victim must be offered for it. It was guilt before God, and needed atonement. Our Lord, in His prayer for His murderers, said, *' Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." The act of crucifying the Lord of glory was certainly a sin, and one of an awful nature. But the authors of it were not fully aware of its import. They did not understand the dreadful significance of the crucifixion of the Son of Grod, as we now un- derstand it, in the light of eighteen centuries. Our Lord alludes to this, as a species of mitigation; while yet He teaches, by the very prayer which He puts up for them, that this ignorance did not ex- cuse His murderers. He asks that they may be forgiven. But where there is absolutely no sin there is no need of forgiveness. It is one of our Lord's assertions, that it will be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah^ in the day of judgment, than it will be for those inhabitants of Palestine who would not hear the words of His apostles, — because the sin of the former was less deliberate and wilful than that of the latter. But He would not have us infer from this, that Sodom and Gomorrah are not to be punished for sin. And, finally. He sums up the whole doctrine upon this point, in the declara tion, that " he who knew his master's will and did it not shall be beaten with many stripes ; but he who knew not his master's will and did it not shall god's exhaustive KlfOWLEDGE OF MAN. 55 be beaten with few stripes." The sin of thougbtless- ness shall be beaten with fewer stripes than the sin of deliberation, — but it shall be heaten^ arid therefore it is sin. The almost universal indifference and thought- lessness with which men live on in a worldly and selfish life, will not excuse them in the day of ac- curate accounts. And the reason is, that they are capable of thinking upon the law of God ; of think- ing upon their duties ; of thinking upon their sins. They possess the wonderful faculties of self-inspec- tion and memory, and therefore they are capable of bringing their actions into light. It is the com- mand of God to every man, and to every rational spirit everywhere, to walk in the light, and to be a child of the light. We ought to examine ourselves ; to understand our ruling motives and abiding pur- poses; to scrutinize our feelings and conduct. But if we do little or nothing of this, we must not ex- pect that in the day of judgment we can plead our thoughtless ignorance of what we were, and what we did, here upon earth, as an excuse for our dis- obedience. God expects, and demands, that every one of His rational creatures should be all that he is capable of being. He gave man wonderful fac- ulties and endowments, — ten talents, ^^^ talents, two talents, — and He will require the whole oiigi- nal sum given, together with a faithful use and im- provement of ib. The very thoughtlessness then, particularly under the Gospel dispensation, — the 56 god's exhaustive knowledge of man. very neglect and non-use of the power of self- inspection, — will go in to constitute a part of the sin that will be punished. Instead of being an excuse, it will be an element of the condemnation itself. 3. In the third place, even the sinner himself ought to rejoice in thefdct that God is the Sea/i^cher of the heart. It is instinctive and natural, that a transgressor should attempt to conceal his charac- ter from his Maker ; but next to his sin itself, it would be the greatest injury that he could do to himself, should he succeed in his attempt. Even after the commission of sin, there is every reason for desiring that God should compass our path and lying down, and be acquainted with all our ways. For, He is the only being who can forgive sin j the only one who can renew and sanctify the heart. There is the same motive for having the disease of the soul understood by God, that there is for hav- ing the disease of the body examined by a skilful physician. Nothing is gained, but every thing is lost, by ignorance. The sinner, therefore, has the strongest of motives for rejoicing in the truth that God sees him. It ought not to be an unwelcome fact even to him. For how can his sin be pardoned, unless it is clear ly understood by the pardoning power? How can his soul be purified from its inward cor- ruption, unless it is searched by the Spirit of all holiness \ god's exhaustive knowledge of man. 57 Instead, therefore, of being repelled by such a solemn truth as that which we have been discussing, even the natural man should be allured bv it. For it teaches him that there is help for him in God. His own knowledge of his own heart, as we liave seen, is very imperfect and very inadequate. But the Divine knowledge is thoroughly adequate. He may, therefore, devolve his case with confidence upon the unerring One. Let him take words upon his lips, and cry unto Him : " Search me, O God, and try me ; and see what evil ways there are in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." Let hiui endeavor to come into possession of the Divine knowledge. There is no presumption in this. God desires that he should know himself as He knows him ; that he should get possession of His views upon this point ; that he should see himself as He sees him. One of the principal sins which God has to charge upon the sinner is, that his apprehensions respecting his own character are in conflict with the Divine. Nothing would more certainly meet the approbation of God, than a renunciation of human estimates of human nature, and the adoption of those contained in the inspired word. Endeavor, therefore, to obtain the very same knowledge of your heart which God Himself possesses. And in this endeavor, He will assist you. The influencea of the Holy Spirit to enlighten are most positively promised and proffered. Therefore be not repelled by the truth ; but be drawn by it to a deeper. 58 god's exhaustive knowledge of man. truer knowledge of your heart. Lift up your soul in prayer, and beseech God to impart to you a pro* found knowledge of yourself, and then to sprinkle all your discovered guilt, and all your undiscovered guilt, with atoning blood. This is salvation / first to know yourself, and then to know Christ as your Prophet, Priest, and King. GOD'S EXHAUSTIYE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN. Peulh cxxxix. 1-6. — " Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. Thou knowest my down-sitting and mine uprising; thou understandest my thought afar off. Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but Id, Lord, thou knowest it altogether. Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thy hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me ; it is high, I cannot attain unto it." In the preceding discourse upon this text, we di- rected attention to the fact that man is possessed of the power of self-knowledge, and that he cannot ultimately escape from using it. He cannot forever flee from his own presence ; he cannot, through all eternity, go away from his own spirit. If he take the wings of the morning and dwell in the utter- most parts of the earth, he must, sooner or later, know himself, and acquit or condemn himself. Our attention was then directed to the fact, that God's knowledge of man is certainly equal to man's knowledge of himself No man knows more of his own heart than the Searcher of hearts knows. Up to this point, certainly, the truth of the text is in- controvertible. God knows all that man knows. II. We come now to the second position : That 60 god's exhaustive knowledge of man. God ax)Gurately and exhaustively hnows all that man mighty hut does not, hnow of himself. Although the Creator designed that every man should thoroughly understand his own heart, and gave him the power of self-inspection that he might use it faithfully, and apply it constantly, yet man is extremely ignorant of himself. Mankind, says an old writer, are nowhere less at home, than at home. Very few persons practise serious self-examination at all ; and none employ the power of self-inspec- tion with that carefulness and sedulity with which they ought. Hence men generally, and unrenewed men always, are unacquainted with much that goes on within their own minds and hearts. Though it is sin and self-will, though it is thought and feeling and purpose and desire, that is going on and taking place during all these years of religious indifference, yet the agent himself, so far as a sober reflection upon the moral character of the process, and a dis- tinct perception of the dreadful issue of it, are con- cerned, is much of the time as destitute of self- knowledge as an irrational brute itself. For, were sinful men constantly self-examining, they would be constantly in torment. Men can be happy in sin, only so long as they can sin without thinking of it. The instant they begin to perceive and understand what they are doing, they begin to feel the fang of the worm. If the frivolous wicked world, which now takes so much pleasure in its wickedness, could be forced to do here what it will be forced to do here- god's exhaustive knowledge of man. 61 after, namely, to eye its siu while it commits it, to tliiiik of what it is doing while it does it, the bih lows of the lake of fire would roll in upon time, and from gay Paris and luxurious Vienna there would instantaneously ascend the wailing cry of Pande- monium. But it is not so at present. Men here upon earth are continually thinking sinful thoughts and cher- ishing sinful feelings, and yet they are not contin- ually in hell. On the contrary, ^' they are not in trouble as other men are, neither are they plagued like other men. Their eyes stand out with fatness ; they have more than heart could wish." This proves that they are self-ignorant ; that they know neither their sin nor its bitter end. They sin with- out the consciousness of sin, and hence are happy in it. Is it not so in our own personal experience ? Have there not been in the past ten years of our own mental history long trains of thought, — sinful thought, — and vast processions of feelings and im- aginings, — sinful feelings and imaginings, — that have trailed over the spaces of the soul, but which have been as unwatched and unseen by the self-in- specting eye of conscience, as the caravans of the African desert have been, during the same period, by the eye of our sense ? We have not felt a pang of guilt every single time that we have a thought a wrong thought ; yet we should have felt one inev- itably, had we scriUinized evevy such single thought Our face has not flushed with crimson in every par 62 god's exhaustive knowledge of man. ticular instance in which we have exercised a lustful emotion; yet it would have done so had we care- fully noted every such emotion. A distinct self- knowledge has by no means run parallel with all our sinful activity ; has by no means been co-exten- sive with it. We perform vastly more than we in- spect. We have sinned vastly more than we have been aware of at the time. Even the Christian, in whom this unreflecting spe- cies of life and conduct has given way, somewhat, to a thoughtful and vigilant life, knows and acknowl- edges that perfection is not yet come. As he casts his eye over even his regenerate and illuminated life, and sees what a small amount of sin has been distinctly detected, keenly felt, and heartily con- fessed, in comparison with that large amount of sin which he knows he must have committed, during this long i^eriod of incessant action of mind, heart, and limbs, he finds no repose for his misgivings with respect to the final examination and account, except by enveloping himself yet more entirely in the ample folds of his Redeemer's righteousness ; except by hiding himself yet more profoundly in the cleft of that Kock of Ages which protects the chief i)f sinners from the unsuiferable splendors and terrors of the Divine glory and holiness as it passes by. Even the Christian knows that he must nave com- mitted many sins in thoughtless moments and hours, — many sins of which he was not deliberately thinking at the time of their commission, — and god's exhaustive knowledge of man. (jb raust pray with David, " Cleanse thou me from se- cret faults." The functions and operations of mem- ory evince that such is the case. Are we not some- times, in our serious hours when memory is busy, convinced of sins which, at the time of their com- mission, were wholly unaccompanied with a sense of their sinfulness ? The act in this instance was per- formed blindly, without self-inspection, and there- fore without sell-conviction. Ten years, we will say, have intervened, — years of new activity, and immensely varied experiences. And now the magic power of recollection sets us back, once more, at that point of responsible action, and bids us do what we did not do at the time, — analyze our performance and feel consciously guilty, experience the first sensa- tion of remorse, for what we did ten years ago. Have we not, sometimes, been vividly reminded that upon such an occasion, and at such a time, we were angry, or proud, but at the time when the emotion was swelling our veins were not filled with that clear and painful sense of its turpitude which now attends the recollection of it ? The re-exhibi- tion of an action in memory, as in a mirror, is often accompanied with a distinct apprehension of its moral character that formed no part of the expe- rience of the asrent while absorbed in the hot and hasty original action itself. And when we remem- ber how immense are the stores of memory, and what an amount of sin has been committed in hours of thouo-litlessness and moral indifference, what 64 god's exhaustive knowi^edge of man. prayer is more natural and warm tlian tlie supplica- tion : " Search me O Grod, and try me, and see what evil ways there are within me, and lead me in the way everlasting." But the careless, unenlightened man, as we have before remarked, leads a life almost entirely desti- tute of self-inspection, and self-knowledge. He sins constantly. He does only evil, and that continually, as did man before the deluge. For he is constantly actino:. A livins; self-movino^ soul, like his, cannot cease action if it would. And yet the current is all one way. Day after day sends up its clouds of sensual, worldlv, selfish thouschts. Week after week pours onward its stream of low-born, corrupt, un*' spiritual feelings. Year after year accumulates that hardening mass of carnal-mindedness, and distaste for religion, which is sometimes a more insuperable obstacle to the truth, than positive faults and vices which startle and shock the conscience. And yet the man thinks nothing about all this action of his mind and heart. He does not subject it to any self- inspection. If he should, for but a single hour, be lifted up to the eminence from which all this cur- rent of self-will, and moral agency, may be seen and surveyed in its real character and significance, he would start back as if brought to the brink of helL But he is not thus lifted up. He continues to use and abuse his mental and his moral faculties, but, for most of his probation, with all the blindness and heedlessness of a mere animal instinct. god's exhaustive knowledge of man. 65 There is, then, a vast amount of sin committed without self-inspection ; and, consequently, without any distinct perception, at the time, that it is sin. The Christian will find himself feeling guilty, for the first time, for a transgression that occurred far back in the past, and will need a fresh application of atoning blood. The sinner will find, at some pe- riod or other, that remorse is fastening its tooth in Iiis conscience for a vast amount of sinful thought, feeling, desire, and motive, that took origin in the unembarrassed days of religious thoughtlessness and worldly enjoyment. For, think you that the insensible sinner is always to be thus insensible, — ^that this power of self-in- spection is eternally to "rust unused?" What a tremendous revelation will one day be made to an unreflecting transgressor, simply because he is a man and not a brute, has lived a human life, and is en- dowed with the power of self-knowledge, whether he has used it or not ! What a terrific vision it will be for him, when the limitless line of his sins which he has not yet distinctly examined, and thought of, and repented of, shall be made to pass in slow pro- cession before that inward eye which he has wicked- ly kept shut so long ! Tell us not of the disclosures that shall be made when the sea shall give up the dead that are in it, and the graves shall open and surrender their dead ; what are these material dis- closures, when compared with the revelations of self knowledge ! What is all this external display, 66 god's exhaustive knowledge of mait. sombre and terriljle as it will be to the outward eye, when compared with all that internal revealing that will be made to a hitherto thoughtless soul, when, of a sudden, in the day of judgment, its deep- est caverns shall heave in unison with the material convulsions of the day, and shall send forth to judg- ment their long slumbering, and hidden iniquity ; when the sepulchres of its own memory shall burst open, and give up the sin that has long lain buried there, in needless and guilty forgetfulness, awaiting this second resurrection ! For (to come back to the unfolding of the sub- ject, and the movement of the argument), God per- fectly knows all that man might, but does not, know of himself Though the transgressor is ignorant of much of his sin, because at the time of its commis- sion he sins blindly as well as wilfully, and unre- flectingly as well as freely ; and though the trans- gressor has forgotten much of that small amount of sin of which he was conscious, and by which he was pained, at the time of its perpetration ; though on the side of man the powers of self-inspection and mem- ory have accomplished so little towards the preser- vation of man's sin, yet God knows it all, and re- members it all. He compasseth man's path, and his lying-down, and is acquainted with all his ways. " There is nothing covered, therefore, that shall not be revealed, neither hid that shall not be known. Whatsoever ye have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light ; and that which ye have spoken «od's exhaustive knowledge of man. 67 n the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the house-tops." The Creator of the human mind has control over its powers of self-inspection, and of memory ; and when the proper time comes He will compel these endowments to perform their legiti- mate functions, and do their appointed work. The torturing self survey will begin, never more to end. The awful recollection will commence, endlessly to go on. One principal reason why the Biblical represen- tations of human sinfulness exert so little influence over men, and, generally speaking, seem to them to be greatly exaggerated and untrue, lies in the fact that the Divine knowledge of human character is in advance of the human knowledge. God's con- sciousness and cognition upon this subject is ex- haustive ; while man's self-knowledge is superficial and shallow. The two forms of knowledge, conse- quently, when placed side by side, do not agree, but conflict. There would be less difficulty, and less contradiction, if mankind generally were possessed of even as much self-knowledo-e as the Christian is possessed of. There would be no difficulty, and no contradiction, if the knowledge of the judgment- day could be anticipated, and the self-inspection of that occasion could commence here and now. But such is not the fact. The Bible lal)ors, therefore, under the difficulty of possessing an advanced knowl- edge; the difficulty of being addressed to a mind that is almost entirely unacquainted with tha 68 god's exhaustite knowledge of man. pabject treated of. The Word of God knows mac exhaustively, as God knows him ; and hence all its descriptions of human character are founded upon such a knowledge. But man, in his self-ignorance, does not perceive their awful truth. He has not yet attained the internal correspondent to the Bibli- cal statement, — that apprehension of total depravity, that knowledge of the plague of tlie heart, which always and ever says "yea" to the most vivid descrip- tion of human sinfulness, and " amen" to God's heaviest malediction upon it. Nothing deprives the Word of its nerve and influence, more than this gen- eral lack of self-inspection and self-knowledge. For, only that which is perceived to be true exerts an influence upon the human mind. The doctrine of human sinfulness is preached to men, year after year, to whom it does not come home with the dem- onstration of the Spirit and with power, because the sinfulness which is really within them is as yet unknown, and because not one of a thousand of their transgressions has ever been scanned in the light of self examination. Bat is the Bible untrue, because the man is ignorant? Is the sun black, be- cause the eye is shut ? However ignorant man may be, and may desire and strive to be, of himself, God knows him altogeth- er, and knows that the representations of His word, respecting the character and necessities of human nature, are the unexaggerated, sober, and actual fact. Though most of the sinner's life of alienation god's exhaustive knowledge of man. go from God, and of disobedience, has been a blind and a reckless agency, unaccompanied with self- scrutiny, and to a great extent passed from his mem- ory, yet it has all of it been looked at, as it welled up from the living centres of free agency and re- sponsibility, by the calm and dreadful eye of retrib- utive Justice, and has all of it been indelibly writ- ten down in the book of God's sure memory, with a pen of iron, and the point of a diamond. And here, let us for a moment look upon the bright, as well as the dark side of this subject. For if God's exhaustive knowledge of the human heart waken dread in one of its aspects, it starts infinite hope in another. If that Being has gone down into these depths of human depravity, and seen it with a more abhorring glance than could ever shoot from a finite eye, and yet has returned with a cor- dial oiFer to forgive it all, and a hearty profiler to cleanse it all away, then we can lift up the eye in adoration and in hope. There has been an infinite forbearance and condescension. The worst has been seen, and that too by the holiest of Beings, and yet eternal glory is offered to us ! God knows, fi'om personal examination, the worthlessness of human character, with a thoroughness and intensity of knowledge of which man has no conception ; and yet, in the light of this knowledge, in the very flame of this intuition. He has devised a plan of mercy and redemption. Do not think, then, because of your present ignorance of your guilt and corruption 4* 70 god's exhaustive knowledge of man. that the incarnation and death of the Son of God was unnecessary, and that that costly blood of atonement which you are treading under foot wet the rocks of Calvary for a peccadillo. Could you, but for a moment only, know yourself altogether and exhaustively^ as the Author of this Redemption knows you, you would cry out, in the words of a far holier man than you are, " I am undone."" If you could but see guilt as God sees it, you would also see with Him that nothing but an infinite Pas- sion can expiate it. If you could but fathom the human heart as God fathoms it, you would know as He knows, that nothing less than regeneration can purify its fountains of uncleanness, and cleanse it from its ingrain corruption. Thus have we seen that God knows man alto- gether, — that He knows all that man knows of him- self, and all that man might but does not yet know of himself. The Searcher of hearts knows all the thoughts that we have thought upon, all the reflec- tions that we have reflected upon, all the experience that we have ourselves analyzed and inspected. And He also knows that far larger part of oui^ life which vv^e have not yet subjected to the scrutiny of self-examination, — all those thoughts, feelings, de- sires, and motives, innumerable as they are, of which we took no heed at the time of their origin and ex- istence, and which we suppose, perhaps, we shall hear no more of again. Whither then shall we go from God's spii-it \ or whither shall we flee from His god's exhaustive knowledge of man. 71 presence and His knowledge ? If we ascend up into heaven, He is tliere, and knows us perfectly. If we make our bed in hell, behold He is there, and reads the secret thoughts and feelings of our heart. The darkness hideth not from Him ; our ignorance does not affect His knowledge ; the night shineth as the day ; the darkness and the light are both alike to Him. This great truth which we have been considering obtains a yet more serious emphasis, and a yet more solemn power over the mind, when we take into view the character of the Being who thus searches our hearts, and is acquainted with all our ways. Who of us would not be filled with uneasiness, if he knew that an imperfect fellow-creature were look- ing constantly into his soul ? Would not the flush of shame often burn upon our cheek, if we knew that a sinful man like ourselves were watchino; all the feelin2:s and thou2:hts that are risino; within us ? Should we not be more circumspect than we are, if men were able mutually to search each other's heai-ts ? How often does a man change his course of conduct, when he discovers, accidentally, that his neighbor knows what he is doing. But it is not an imperfect fellow-man, it is not a perfect angel, who besets us l)ehind and before, and is acquainted with all our ways. It is the immacu- late God himself It is He before whom archano^ela veil their faces, and the burning serapliim cry, " Holy." It is He, in whose sight the pure cerulean 72 god's exhaustive knowledge of man. heavens are not clean, and whose eyes are a flame of fire devouring all iniquity. We are beheld, in all this process of sin, be it blind or be it intelli- gent, by infinite Puiity. We are not, therefore, to suppose that God contemplates this our life of sin with the dull indifiPerence of an Epicurean deity ; that He looks into our souls, all this while, from mere curiosity, and with no moral emotion towards us. The God who knows us altogether is the Holy One of Israel, whose wrath is both real, and revealed, ag^ainst all unrio-hteousness. If, therefore, we connect the holy nature and pure essence of God with all this unceasing and unerring inspection of the human soul, does not the truth which we have been considering speak with a bolder emphasis, and acquire an additional power to impress and solemnize the mind? When we realize thatthe Being who is watching us at every instant, and in every act and element of our exist- ence, is the very same Being who revealed himself amidst the lightenings of Sinai as liating sin and not clearing the thoughtless guilty, do not our pros- pects at the bar of justice look dark and fearful ? For, who of the race of man is holy enough to stand such an inspection ? Who of the sons of men will prove pure in such a furnace ? Are we not, then, brought by this truth close up to the central doctrine of Christianity, and made to see our need of the atonement and rio-hteousness of the Eedeemer ? How can we endure such a scru- god's exhaustive knowledge of man. 73 tiny as God is instituting into our character and conduct ? What can we say, in the day of reckon* ing, when the Searcher of hearts shall make known to us all that He knows of us ? What can we do, in that day which shall reveal the thoughts and the estimates of the Holy One respecting us ? It is perfectly plain, from the elevated central point of view where we now stand, and in the focal light in which we now see, that no man can be jus- tified before God upon the ground of personal char- acter; for that character, when subjected to God's exhaustive scrutiny, withers and shrinks away. A man may possibly be just before his neighbor, or his friend, or society, or human laws, but he is mis- erably self deceived who supposes that his heart will appear righteous under such a scrutiny, and in such a Presence as we have been considering.^ However it may be before other tribunals, tlie apos- tle is correct when he asserts that " every mouth must be stopj^ed, and the whole world plead guilty * " It is easy," — says one of the before our eyes, not according to keenest and most incisive of the- the inadequate imaginations oi ologians, — ''for any one in the our minds, but according to cloisters of the schools to indulge the descriptions given of him in himself in idle speculations on the Scriptures, which represent the merit of works to justify men; him as one whose refulgenc(i hnt when he comes into the jjres- eclipses the stars, whose purity ence of God, he must bid farewell makes all things appear polhited, to these amusements, for there and who searches the inmost soul the business is transacted with of his creatures, — let us so con- seriousness. To this point must ceive of the Judge of all the earth, our attention be directed, if we and every one must present him- wish to make any useful inquiry self as a criminal before Him, an(J concerning true righteousness: voluntarily ])rostrate and humble How we can answer the celestial himself in deej) solicitude con- Judge wiion he shall call us to an ^cerning his absolution." account? Let us place that Judge Calvin: Institutes, iii. 12 74 gob's exhaustive knowledge of man. before God." Before tlie Searcher of hearts, all mankind must appeal to mere and sovereign mercy. Justice, in this reference, is out of the question. Now, in this condition of things, God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him might not perish, but have everlasting life. The Divine mercy has been manifested in a mode that does not permit even the guiltiest to doubt its reality, its sufficiency, or its sincerity. The argument is this. "If when we were yet sinners," aiid hiiowri to he such^ in the per- fect and exhaustive manner that has been described^ " Christ died for us, much more, being now justified by His blood, shall we be saved from wrath through Him." Appropriating this atonement which the Searcher of hearts has Himself provided for this very exigency, and which He knows to be thoroughly adequate, no man, howevei* guilty, need fear the most complete disclosures which the Divine Omnis- cience will have to make of human character in the day of doom. If the guilt is " infinite upon infinite," so is the sacrifice of the God-man. Who is he that condemneth ? it is the Son of God that died for sin. Who shall lay anything to God's elect ? it is God that justifieth. And as God shall, in the last day, summon up from the deep places of our souls all of our sins, and bring us to a strict account for every- thing, ev^eu to the idle words that we have spoken, we can look Him full in the eye, without a thought of fear, and with love unutterable, if we are really god's exhaustive knowledge dr man. 75 relying upon the atoning sacrifice of Christ for jus- tification. Even in that awful Presence, and under that Omniscient scrutiny, " there is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus." The great lesson, then, taught by the text and its unfolding, is the importance of attaining self hiowledge here upon earth, and while there remaineth a sacrifice for sins. The duty and wisdom of every man is, to anticipate the revelations of the judgment day ; to find out the sin of his soul, while it is an accepted time and a day of salvation. For we have seen that this self-inspection cannot ultimately be escaped. Man was made to know himself, and he must sooner or later come to it. Self-knowledge is as certain, in the end, as death. The utmost that can be done, is to postpone it for a few days, or years. The article of death and the exchange of worlds will 2:>our it all in, like a deluge, upon every man, whether he will or not. And he who does not wake up to a knowledge of his heart, until he enters eternity, wakes up not to pardon but to despair. The simple question, then, which meets us is : Wilt thou know thyself here and novj^ that thou mayest accept and feel God's pity in Christ's blood, or wilt thou keep within the screen, and not know thyself until beyond the grave, and then feel God's judicial wrath ? The self knowledge, remember, must come in the one way or the other. It is a simple question of time ; a simple question whether it shalJ 76 god's exhaustive knowledge of man. come here in this world, where the blood of Christ " freely flows," or in the future world, where " there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin." Turn the mat- ter as we will, this is the sum and substance, — a sinful man must either come to a thorough self- knowledge, with a hearty repentance and a joyful pardon, in this life ; or he must come to a thorough* self-knowledge, with a total despair and an eternal damnation, in the otb er. God is not mocked. God's great pity in the blood of Christ must not be trifled with. He who refuses, or neglects, to institute that self-examination which leads to the sense of sin, and the felt need of Christ's work, by this very fact proves that he does not desire to know his own heart, and that he has no wish to repent of sin. But he who will not even look at his sin, — what does not he deserve from that Being who poured out Plis own blood for it ? He who refuses even to open his eyes uj^on that bleeding LamV> of God, — what must not he expect from the Lion of the tribe of Judah, in the day of judgment ? He who by a life of apathy, and indifference to sin, puts himself out of all relations to the Divine pity, — what must he experience in eternity, but the operations of stark, unmitigated law ? Find out your sin, then. God will forgive all that is found. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow. The great God delights to forgive, and is waiting to forgive. But, sin miisi he seen hy the sinner^ before it can he j^ardoned hy god's exhaustive knowledge of man. 71 tlie Judge, If you refuse at tliis point ; if you liide youi'self from yourself; if you preclude all feeling and conviction upon the subject of sin, by remain- ing ignorant of it ; if you continue to live an easy thoughtless life in sin, then you cannot be forgiven, and the measure of God's love with which He would have blessed you, had you searched yourself and repented, will be the measure of God's righteous wrath with which He will search you, and condemn you, because you have not. ALL MANKIND GUTLTT; OR, EVERY MAN KNOWS MORE THAN HE PRACTISES. Romans L 24. — " When they knew God, they glorified him not as God.' The idea of God is tlie most important and com- prehensive of all the ideas of which the human mind is possessed. It is the foundation of religion ; of all right doctrine, and all right conduct. A cor- rect intuition of it leads to correct religious theories and practice ; while any erroneous or defective view of the Supreme Being will pervade the whole pro- vince of religion, and exert a most pernicious • in- fluence upon the entire character and conduct of men. In proof of this, we have only to turn to the open- ing chapters of St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans. Here we find a profound and accurate account of the process by which human nature becomes corrupt, and runs its downward career of unbelief, vice, and sensuality. The apostle traces back the horrible depravity of the heathen world, which he depicts with a pen as sharp as that of Juvenal, but with none of Juvenal's bitterness and vitriolic sarcasm. ALL MANKIT^D GUILTY. 79 to a distorted and false conception of the being and attributes ^f God. He does not, for an instant, con- cede that this distorted and false conception is founded in the original structure and constitution of the human soul, and that this moral ignorance is necessary and inevitable. This mutilated idea of the Supreme Being was not inlaid in the rational creature on the morning of creation, when God said, " Let us make man in our image, after our likeness." On the contrary, the apostle affirms that the Crea tor originally gave all mankind, in the moral con stitution of a rational soul and in the works of cre- ation and providence, the media to a correct idea of Himself, and asserts, by implication, that if they had always employed these media they would have always possessed this idea. " The wrath of God," he says, " is revealed from heaven against all un- godliness and unrighteousness of men who hold the truth in unrighteousness ; because that which may be known of God is manifest in them, for God hath shewed it unto them. J^o?' the invisible things of him, even his eternal power and Godhead, are clear- ly seen from the creation of the world, being under stood by the things that are made, so that they are without excuse ; because that when they knew God, they glorified him not as God " (Eom. i. 18-21). From this, it appears that the mind of man has not kept what was committed to its charge. It has not employed the moral instrumentalities, nor elicited the moral ideas, with which it has been furnished 80 ALL MAiq^KIND GUILTY. And, notice tliat the apostle does not confine this statement to those who liv^e within the pale of Rev- elation. His description is unlimited and universal. The affirmation of the text, that ^' when man knew God he glorified him not as God," applies to the Gentile as well as to the Jew. Nay, the primary reference of these statements was to the pagan world. It was respecting the millions of idolaters in cultivated Greece and Rome, and the millions of idolaters in barbarous India and China, — it was re- specting the whole world lying in wickedness, that St. Paul remarked : " The invisible things of God, even his eternal power and Godhead, are clearly seen from the creation of the world down to the present^ moment, being understood by the things that are made ; so that they are loithout excused When Napoleon was returning from his cam- paign in Egypt and Syria, he was seated one night upon the deck of the vessel, under the open canopy of the heavens, surrounded by his captains and gen- erals. The conversation had taken a skeptical direc- tion, and most of the party had combated the doc- trine of the Divine existence. Napoleon had sat silent and musing, apparently taking no interest ia the discussion, when suddenly raising his hand, and pointing at the crystalline firmament crowded with its mildly shining planets and its keen glittering stars, he broke out, in those startling tones that so often electrified a million of men : " Gentlemen, who made all that ? " The eternal power an d Godhead ALL MANKIND GUILTY. 81 of the Creator are impressed by the things that are made, and these words of Napoleon to his atheistic captains silenced them. And the same impression is made the world over. Go to-day into the heart of Africa, or into the centre of New Holland ; select the most imbruted pagan that can be found ; take bim out under a clear star-lit heaven and ask him who made all that, and the idea of a Superior Being, — superior to all his fetishes and idols, — pos- sessing eternal power and supremacy (^Etoryjg), im- mediately emerges in his consciousness. The in- stant the missionary takes this lustful idolater away from the circle of his idols, and brings him face to face with the heavens and the earth, as Napoleon brought his captains, the constitutional idea dawns again, and the pagan trembles before the unseen Power.^ 1 The early Fathers, in tlieh* defence of the Christian doctrine of one God, against the olyections of the pagan advocate of the pop- nhir mythologies, contend that the better pagan writers them- selves agree with the new relig- ion, in teaching that tliere is one Supreme Being. Lactantius (Institutiones i. 5), after quoting the Orphic poets, Hesiod, Virgil, and Ovid, in proof that the heathen poets taught the unity of tiie Supreme Deity, proceeds to show that the better pagan phi- losopliers, also, agree with them in this. "Aristotle," he says, "altiiough he disagrees with himself, and says many things that are self-contradictory, yet testifies that one Supreme Mind rules over the world. Plato, who is regarded as the wisest philosopher of them all, plaiidy and openly defends the doctrine of a divine monarchy, and denom- inates the Supreme Being, not ether, nor reason, nor nature, but, as he is, God ; and asserts that by him this perfect and ad- mirable world was made. And Cicero follows Plato, frequently confessing the Deity, and calls him the Supreme Being, in his treatise on tlie Laws." Tertul- LiAN (De Test. An. c. 1 ; Adv. Marc. i. 10 ; Ad. Scap. c. 2 ; Apol. c. 17), than whom no one of the Christian Fathers waa more vehemently opposed to the philosophizing of the schools, earnestly contends that the doc- trine of the unity of God is con- stitutional to tLe THE NECESSITY OF DIVESTE INFLUENCES. 129 given over to tlie natural inclination of liis heart, lie would never be awakened. Should his earthly mind receive no check, and his corrupt heart take its own way, he would never realize that there is another world than this, until he entered it. For, the worldly mind and the corrupt heart busy them- selves solely and happily with this existence. They find pleasure in the things of this life, and therefore never look beyond them. Worldly men do not in- terfere with their own present actual enjoyment. Who of this class voluntarily makes himself unhap- py, by thinking of subjects that are gloomy to his mind ? What man of the world starts up from his sweet sleep and his pleasant dreams, and of his own accord looks the stern realities of death and the judgment in the eye 1 No natural man begins to wound himself, that he may be healed. No earth- ly man begins to slay himself, that he may be made alive. Even when the natural heart is roused and wakened by some foreign agency, some startling providence of God or some Divine operation in the conscience, how soon, if left to its own motion and tendency, does it relapse into its old slumber and sleep. The needle has received a shock, but after a slight trembling and vibration it soon settles again upon its axis, ever and steady to the noi*th. It is plain, that the sinner's worldly mind and apa- thetic nature will never conduct him to a proper sense of Divine thino-s. The aw:ikening, then, of the human soul, to au 130 THE NECESSITY OF DIYE^E IJ^FLUENCES. effectual apprehension of eternal realities, must take its first issue from some other Being than the clrow zy and slumbering creature himself. We are not speaking of a few serious thoughts that now and then fleet across the human mind, like meteors at midnight, and are seen no more. We are speaking of that permanent, that everlasting dawning of eter- nity, with its terrors and its splendors, upon the human soul, w^hich allows it no more rej^ose, until it is prepared for eternity upon good grounds and foundations ; and with reference to such a profound consciousness of the future state as this, we say with confidence, that the awakening must proceed from some Being who is far more alive to the solemnity and significance of eternal duration than earthly man is. Without impulses from on high, the sin- ner never rouses up to attend to the subject of re- ligion. He lives on indifferent to his religious in- terests, until God^ who is more merciful to his deathless soul than he himself is, by His providence startles him, or by His Spirit in his conscience alarms him. Never, until God interferes to distiu'b his dreams, and break up his slumber, does he pro- foundly and permanently feel that he was made for another world, and is fast going into it. How often does God say to the careless man : " Arise, O sleeper, and Christ shall give thee light ; " and how often does he disregard the warning voice ! How often does God stimulate his conscience, and flare light into his mind; and how often does he stifle THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. 131 down these inward convictions, and suffer the light to shine in the darkness that comprehends it not ! These facts in the personal history of every sin-lov- ins: man show, that the human soul does not of its own isolated action wake up to the realities of eter- nity. They also show that God is very merciful to the human soul, in positively and powerfully inter- fering for its welfare ; but that man, in infinite folly and wickedness, loves the sleep, and inclines to re- main in it. The Holy Spirit strives, but the human spirit resists. II. In the second place, man needs the influ- ences of the Holy Spirit that lie may he convinced of sin, Man universally is a sinner, and yet he needs in every single instance to be made aware of it. ^' There is none good, no, not one ; '' and yet out of the millions of the race how very few feel this truth ! Not only does man sin, but he adds to his guilt by remaining ignorant of it. The criminal in this instance also, as in our courts of law, feels and confesses his crime no faster than it is proved to him. Through what blindness of mind, and hard- ness of heart, and insensibility of conscience, is the Holy Spirit obliged to force His way, before thei*e is a sincere acknowledo-ment of sin before God ' The careful investigations, the persevering question- ings and cross-questionings, by which, before a hu- man tribunal, the wilful and unrepenting criminal is forced to see and acknowled<^e his wickedness, 132 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. are but faint emblems of tliat thorouo^h work that must be wrought by the Holy Ghost, before the hu man soul, at a higher tribunal, forsaking its refuges of lies, and desisting from its subterfuges aud palli- ations, smites upon the breast, and cries, " God be merciful to me a sinner ! " Think how much of our sin has occurred in total apathy, and indifference, and how unwilling we are to have any distinct con- sciousness upon this subject. It is only now and then that we feel ourselves to be sinners ; but it is by no means only now and then that we are sinners. We sin habitually ; we are conscious of sin rarely. Our affections and inclinations and motives are evil, and only evil, continually ; but our experimental hnoivledge that they are so comes not often into our mind, and what is worse stays not long, because we dislike it. The conviction of sin, with what it includes and leads to, is of more worth to man than all other convictions. Conviction of any sort, — a living practical consciousness of any kind, — is of great value, because it is only this species of knowledge that moves mankind. Convince a man, that is, give him a consciousness, of the truth of a principle in politics, in trade, or in religion, and you actuate him politically, commercially, or religiously. Con- vince a criminal of his crime, that is, endue him with a conscious feeling of his criminality, and you make him burn with electric fire. A convicted man is a man thoroughly conscious ; and a thoroughly con THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. 133 scions man is a deeply moved one. And this is true, witli emphasis, of the conviction of sin. This consciousness produces a deeper and more lasting effect than all others. Convince a community of the justice or injustice of a certain class of political principles, and you stir it very deeply, and broadly, as the history of all democracies clearly shows ; but let society be once convinced of sin before the holy and righteous God, and deep calleth unto deep, all the waters are moved. Never is a mass of hu- man beings so centrally stirred, as when the Spirit of God is poured out upon it, and fi-om no move- ment in human society do such lasting and blessed consequences flow, as from a genuine revival of re- ligion. But here again, as in reference to the eternal state, there is no realizing sense. Conviction of sin is not a characteristic of mankind at large. Men gener- ally will acknowledge in words that they are sinners, but they wait for some ftir-distant day to come, when they shall be pricked in the heart, and feel the truth of what they say. Men generally are not con- scious of the dreadful reality of sin, any more than they are of the solemn reality of eternity. A deep insensibility, in this respect also, precludes a prac- tical knowledge of that guilt in the soul, which, if unpardoned and unremoved, will just as surely ruin it as God lives and the soul is immortal. Since, then, if man be left to his own inclination, he never will be convinced of sin, it is plain tliat some Agent 7 134 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. wlio has the power must overcome his aversion to self-knowledge, and bring him to consciousness upon this unwelcome subject. If any one of us, for the remainder of our days, should be given over to that ordinary indifference towards sin with which we walk these streets, and transact business, and enjoy life ; if God's truth should never again in this world stab the conscience, and God's Spirit should never again make us anxious ; is it not infallibly certain tliat the future would be as the past, and that we should go through this " accepted time and day of salvation" unconvicted and therefore unconvert- ed? But besides this destitution of the experimental sense of sin, another ground of the need of Divine agency is found in the hlindness of the natural* mind. Man's vision of spiritual things, even when they are set before his eyes, is dim and inadequate The Christian ministry is greatly hindered, because it cannot illuminate the human understanding, and impart the power of a keen spiritual insight. It is compelled to present the objects of sight, but it can- not give the eye to see them. Vision depends alto- gether upon the condition of the organ. The eye sees only what it brings the means of seeing. The scaled eye of a worldling, or a debauchee, or a self-righteous man, cannot see that sin of the heart, that "spiritual wickedness," at which men like Paul and Isaiah stood aghast. These were men whose character compared with that of the world- TIIE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. 135 ling was saintly; men whose shoes' latcliets the worldling is not worthy to stoop down and unloose. And yet they saw a depravity within their own hearts which he does not see in his ; a depravity which he cannot see^ and which he steadily denies to exist, until he is enlightened by the Holy Ghost. But the preacher has no power to impart this clear spiritual discernment. He cannot arm the eye of the natural man with that magnifying and micro- scopic power, by which hatred shall be seen to be murder, and lust, adultery, and the least swelling of pride, the sin of Lucifer. He is compelled, by the testimony of the Bible, of the wise and the holy of all time, and of his own consciousness, to tell every unregenerate man that he is no better than his race ; that he certainly is no better than the Christian Church which continually confesses and mourns over indwelling sin. The faithful preacher of the word is obliged to insist that there is no radical difference among men, and that the depravity of the man of irreproachable morals but unrenewed heart is as total as was that of the great preacher to the Gentiles, — a man of perfectly irreproachable morals, but who confessed that he was the chief of sinners, and feared lest he should be a cast-away. But the preacher of this unwelcome message has no power to open the blind eye. He cannot endow the self- ignorant and incredulous man before him, with that consciousness of the " plague of the heart " which says "yea'' to the most vivid description of human 136 THE NECESSITY OE DIVINE INELUENCES. smfiilness, and " amen '' to God's heaviest maledic* tion upon it. The preacher's position would be far easier, if there might be a transfer of experience ; if some of that bitter painful sense of sin with which the struggling Christian is burdened might flow over into the easy, unvexed, and thoughtless souls of the men of this world. Would that the con- sciousness upon this subject of sin, of a Paul or a Luther, misfht delus:e that laro^e multitude of men who doubt or deny the doctrine of human deprav- ity. The materials for that consciousness, the items that go to make up that experience, exist as really and as plentifully in your moral state and character, as they do in that of the mourning and self-reproach- ing Christian who sits by your side, — your devout father, your saintly mother, or sister, — whom you know, and who you know is a better being than you are. Why should they be weary and heavy-laden with a sense of their unworthiness before God, and you go through life indifferent and light-hearted ? Are they deluded in respect to the doctrine of hu- man depravity, and are you in the right ? Think you that the deathbed and the day of judgment will prove this to be the fact ? No ! if you shall ever know anything of the Christian struggle w^th innate corruption ; if you shall ever, in the expressive phrase of Scripture, have your senses exercised as in a gymnasium ^ to discern good and e\H[l, and see Td aladyjTTjpia yeyvfxvaauiva. Heb. V. 14. THE NECESSITY OF BIVIITE INFLUENCES. 137 yourself witli self-abliorrence ; your views will har- monize most profoundly and exactly witli theirs. And, furthermore, you will not in the process create any new sinfulness. You will merely see the existr ing depravity of the human heart. You will sim- ply see what is^ — is now, in your heart, and in all human hearts, and has been from the beginning. But all this is the work of a more powerful and spiritual agency than that of man. The truth may be exhibited with perfect transparency and plain- ness, the hearer Ijimself may do his utmost to have it penetrate and tell ; and yet, there be no vivid and vital consciousness of sin. How often does the serious and alarmed man say to us : '' I know it, but I do not feel it.'' How long and wearily, sometimes, does the anxious man struggle after an inward sense of these spiritual things, without suc- cess, until he learns that an inward sense, an experi- mental consciousness, respecting religious truth, is as purely a gift and product of God the Spirit as the breath of life in his nostrils. Considering, then, the natural apathy of man respecting the sin that is in his own heart, and the exceeding blindness of his mental vision, even when his attention has been directed to it, is it not perfectly plain that there must be the exertion of a Divine agency, in order that he may pass through even the first and lowest stages of the religious experience? In view of the subject, as thus far unfolded, we remark : 138 THE NECESSITY OF DIVIIfE IITFLUENCES. 1. First, that it is the duty of every one, to take the facts in respect to mans cliaracter as he finds them, Nothing is gained, in any province of human thought or action, by disputing actual verities. They are stubborn things, and will not yield to the wishes and prejudices of the natural heart. This is especially true in regard to the facts in man's moral and reli2:ious condition. The testi- mony of Revelation is explicit, that " the carnal mind is enmity against God, for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be ; " and also, that " the natural man receiveth not the thino-s of the Spirit, neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned." According to this Bibli- cal statement, there is corruption and blindness together. The human heart is at once sinful, and ignorant that it is so. It is, therefore, the very worst form of evil; a fatal disease unknown to the patient, and accompanied with the belief that there is perfect health ; sin and guilt with- out any just and proper sense of it. This is the testimony, and the assertion, of that Being who needs not that any should testify to Him of man, for he knows what is in man. And this is the testimony, also, of every mind that has attained a profound self-knowledge. For it is indisputable, that in proportion as a man is introspective, and accustoms himself to the scrutiny of his motives and feelings, he discovers that " the whole head is ^ick, and the whole heart is faint." I THE NECESSITY OF DIVD^E INFLUENCES. 139 It is, therefore, tlie duty and wisdom of every )ne to set to his seal that God is true, — to have this as his motto. Though, as yet, he is destitute of a clear conviction of sin, and a godly sorrow for it, still lie should ijresume the fact of human de- pravity. Good men in every age have found it to be a fact, and the infallible Word of God declares that it is a fact. What, then, is gained, by proposing another than the Biblical theory of human nature ? Is the evil removed by denying its existence ? Will the mere calling men good at heart, and by nature make them such % " Who can hold a fire in liis hand, By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare imagination of a feast ? Or wallow naked in December snow, By thinking on fantastic summer heat ? " ' 2. In the second place, we remark that it is the duty of every one, not to he discouraged hy these facts and truths relative to the moral condition of man. For, one fact conducts to the next one. One truth prepares for a second. If it is a solemn and sad fact that men are sinners, and blind and dead in their trespasses and sin, it is also a cheering fact that the Holy Spirit can enlighten the darkest understanding, and enliven the most torpid and indifferent soul ; and it is a still further, and most encouraging truth and fact, that the Holy Spirit is * Shakspeaee : Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3. 140 THE NECESSITY OF DIVES^E INFLUENCES. given to those wlio ask for it, with more readiness than a father gives bread to his hungry child. Here, then, v^e have the fact of sin, and of blindness and apathy in sin ; the fact of a mighty pov^er in God to convince of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment ; and the blessed fact that this povrer is accessible to prayer. Let us put these three facts together, all of them, and act accordingly. Then we shall be taught by the Spirit, and shall come to a salutary consciousness of sin ; and then shall be venlied in our own experience the words of God: "I dwell in the high and holy place, and with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones." THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. Luke xi. 13. — "If ye, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts iiDtc your children ; how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Hoiy Spirit to them that ask him." In expounding the doctrine of these words, in the preceding discourse, the argument for the neces- sity of Divine influences had reference to the more general aspects of man's character and condition. We were concerned with the origin of seriousness in view of a future life, and the production of a sense of moral corruption and unfitness to enter eternity. We have now to consider the work of the S])iiit, in its relations, first, to that more distinct sense of sin which is denominated the consciousness of guilty and secondly, to that saving act of faith by which the atonement of Christ is appropriated by the soul. I. Sin is not man's misfortune, but his fault ; and any view that falls short of this fact is radically defective. Sin not only brings a corruption and bondage, but also a condemnation and penalty, upon the self-will that originates it. Sin not only ren- ders man unfit for rewards, but also deserving of punishment. As one who has disobeyed law of his 142 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. own determination, lie is liable not merely to the negative loss of blessings, but also to tbe positive infliction of retribution. It is not enougb that a transgressor be merely let alone ; he must be taken in hand and punished. He is not simply a diseased man ; he is a criminal. His sin, therefore, requires not a removal merely, but also an expiation. This relation and reference of transgression to law and justice is a fundamental one ; and yet it is very liable to be overlooked, or at least to be inadequate- ly apprehended. The sense of illrdesert is too apt to be confused and shallow, in the human soul. Man is comparatively ready to acknowledge the misery of sin, while he is slow to confess the guilt of it. When the word of God asseiis he is poor, and blind, and wretched, he is comparatively forward to assent ; l>ut when, in addition, it asserts that he deserves to be punished everlastingly, he reluctates. Man- kind are willing to acknowledge their wretched* ness, and be pitied ; but they are not willing to acknowledge their guiltiness, and stand condemned before law. And yet, guilt is the very essence of sin. Extin- guish the criminality, and you extinguish the in- most core and heart of moral evil. We may have felt that sin is bondage, that it is inward dissension and disharmony, that it takes away the true dig- nity of our nature, but if we have not also felt that it is iniquity and merits penalty, we have not become conscious of its most essential quality. It is not THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENOES. 143 enough that we come before God, saying : " I am wretched in my soul ; I am weary of my bondage ; I long for deliverance." We must also say, as we look up into that holy Eye : " I am guilty ; O my God I deserve thy judgments." In brief, the hu- man mind must recognize all the Divine attributes. The entire Divine character, in both its justice and its love, must rise full-orbed before the soul, when thus seeking salvation. It is not enough, that we ask God to free us from disquietude, and give us repose. Before we do this, and that we may do it successfully, we must employ the language of David, while under the stings of guilt : " O Lord rebuke me not in thy wrath : neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure. Be merciful unto me, O God be merciful unto me." What is needed is, more consideration of sin in its objective, and less in its subjective rela- tions ; more sense of it in its refei'ence to the be ing and attributes of God, and less sense of it in its reference to our own happiness or misery, or even to the harmony of our own powers and faculties. The adorable being and attri- butes of God are of more importance than any human soul, immortal though it be; and what is required in the religious experience is, more anxiety lest the Divine glory should be tarnished, and less fear that a worm of the dust be made miserable by his transgressions. And whatever may be our the- ory of the matter, " to this complexion must we 144 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE LNELUENCES. come at last," even in order to our o^vq peace of mind. We must lose our life, in order to find it. Even in order to our own inward repose of con- science and of heart, there must come a point and period in our mental history, when we do actually sink self out of sight, and think of sin in its relation to the character and government of the great and holy God, — when we do see it to be guilty as well as corruption. For guilt is a distinct, and a distinguishable qual- ity. It is a thing by itself, like the Platonic idea of Beauty.^ It is sin stripped of its accompani- ments, — the restlessness, the dissatisfaction, and the unhappiness which it produces, — and perceived in its pure odiousness and ill-desert. And when thus seen, it does not permit the mind to think of any thing but the righteous law, and the Divine char- acter. In the hour of thorouojh conviction, the sin- ful spirit is lost in the feeling of guiltiness : wholly engrossed in the reflection that it has incurred the condemnation of the Best Being in the universe. It is in distress, not because an Almighty Being can make it miserable but, because a Holy and Good Being has reason to be displeased with it. When it gives utterance to its emotion, it says to its Sov- ereign and its Judge: "I am in anguish, more because Thou the Holy and the Good art unrecon- ciled with me, than because Thou the Omnipotent 'A (TO, Kai?' avTo, /zn>' avTov, uovoetdeg. — Plato : Convivium, p. 247, Ed. Bipont. THE NECESSITY OF DIVm^E INFLUENCES. 145 canst punish me forever. I refuse not to be pun- ished ; I deserve the inflictions of Thy justice ; only forgive^ and Thou may est do what Thou wilt unto me." A soul that is truly penitent has no desire to escape penalty, at the expense of principle and law. It says with David : ** Thou desirest not sac- rifice;" such atonement as I can make is inade- quate ; '' else would I give it." It expresses its approbation of the pure justice of Grod, in the lan- guage of the gentlest and sweetest of Mystics : " Thou hast no lightnings, Thou Just I Or I their force should know ; And if Tliou strike me into dust, My soul approves the blow. The heart that values less its ease, Than it adores Thy ways, Iq Thine avenging anger, sees . A subject of its praise. Pleased I could lie, concealed and lost, In shades of central night ; Not to avoid Thy wrath, Thou know 'at, But lest I grieve Thy sight. Smite me, Thou whom I provoke I . And I will love Thee still ; The well deserved and righteous stroke Shall please me, though it kill." * Now, it is only when the human spirit is under the illuminating, and discriminating influences of the ' GuYOx: translated by CowPKR, is expressed by Vaughan in Works III. 85.— A similar thought " The Eclipse." "Thy anger I could kiss, and will ; But O Thy grief, Thy grief doth kill." 146 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCE?!, Holy Ghost, that it possesses this pure and genuine sense of guilt. Worldly losses, trials, warnings by God's providence, may rouse the sinner, and make him solemn ; but unless the Spirit of Grace enters his heart he does not feel that he is ill- deserving. He is sad and fearful, respecting the future life, and perhaps supposes that this state of mind is one of true conviction, and wonders that it does not end in conversion, and the joy of pardon. But if he would examine it, he would discover that it is full of the lust of self He would find that he is merely unhap- py, and restless, and afraid to die. If he should ex- amine the workings of his heart, he would discover that they are only another form of self-love ; that instead of being anxious about self in the present world, he has become anxious about self in the fu- ture world ; that instead of looking out for his happiness here, he has begun to look out for it here- after ; that m fact he has merely transferred sin, from time and its relations, to eternity and its relations. Such sorrow as this needs to be sorrowed for, and such repentance as this needs to be repented of. Such conviction as this needs to be laid open, and have its defect shown. After a course of wrong- doing, it is not sufficient for man to come before the Holy One, making mention of his wretchedness, and desire for happiness, but making no mention of his culpability, and desert of righteous and holy judgments. It is not enough for the criminal to plead for life, however earnestly, while he avoids THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. 147 the acknowledgment that death is his jnst due. For silence in such a connection as this, is denial. Tlie impenitent thief upon the cross was clamorous for life and happiness, saying, "If thou be the Christ, save thyself and us."" He said nothing concerning the crime that had brought him to a malefactor's death, and thereby showed that it did not weigh heavy upon his conscience. But the real penitent rebuked him, saying : "" Dost thou not fear God, see- ing: thou art in the same condemnation ? And we indeed justly ; for we receive the due reward of our deeds." And then followed that meek and broken- hearted supplication : ^' Lord remember me," which drew forth the world-renowned answer : " This day shalt thou be with me in paradise." In the fact, then, that man's experience of sin is so liable to be defective upon the side of guilt, we find another necessity for the teaching of the Holy Spirit; for a spiritual agency that cannot be de- ceived, which pierces to the dividing asunder of the soul and spirit, and is a discerner of the real intent and feeling of the heart. II. In the second place, man needs the influences of the Holy Spirit, in order that he may actually ap' propriate Chrisfs atonement for sin. The feeling of ill-desert, of which we have spo- ken, requires an expiation, in order to its extinction, precisely as the burning sensation of thirst needs the cup of cold water, in order that it may be allayed. When the sense of guilt is awakened in its pure 148 THE NECESSITY OF DIVIKE ENTLUENCES. and genuine form, by the Holy Spirit's operationj the soul craves the atonement, — it wants the dying Lamb of God. We often speak of a believer's longings after purity, after peace, after joy. There is an appetency for them. In like manner, there is in the illuminated and guilt-smitten conscience an appetency for the piacular work of Christ, as that which alone can give ifc pacification. Contemplated from this point of view,there is not a more rational doctrine within the whole Christian system, than that of the Atonement. Anything that ministers to a distinct and legitimate craving in man is rea- sonable, and necessary. That theorist, therefore, who would evince the unreasonableness of the aton- ing work of the Redeemer, must ^i st evince the un- reasonableness of the consciousness of guilt, and of the judicial craving of the conscience. He must show the groundlessness of that fundamental and or- ganic feeling which imparts such a blood-red color to all the religions of the globe ; be they Pagan, Jewish, or Christian. Whenever, therefore, this sensation of ill-desert is elicited, and the soul feels consciously criminal before the Everlasting Judge, the difficulties that beset the doctrine of the Cross all vanish in the craving^ in the appetency^ of the conscience, for acquittal through the substituted suf- ferings of the Sou of God. He who has been taught by the Spirit respecting the iniquity of sin, and views it in its relations to the Divine holiness^ has no wish to be pardoned at the ex])ense of jus- TIIE NECESSITY OF DIVESTE INFLUENCES. 149 tice. His conscience is now jealous for the majesty of God, and the dignity of His government. He now experimentally understands that great truth which has its foundation in the nature of guilt, and consequently in the method of Redemption, — the great ethical truth, that after an accountable agent has stained himself with crime, there is from the ne- cessity of the case no remission without the satis- faction of law. But it is one thing to acknowledge this in theory, and even to feel the need of Christ's atonement, and still another thing to really appropriate it. Unbe- lief and despair have great power over a guilt- stricken mind ; and were it not for that Spirit who " takes of the thino-s of Christ and shows them to the soul," sinful man would in every instance suc- cumb under their awful paralysis. For, if the truth and Spirit of Grod should merely convince the sin- ner of his guilt, but never apply the atoning blood of the Redeemer, hell would be in him and he would be in hell. If God, coming forth as He justly might only in His judicial character, should confine Him- self to a convicting operation in the conscience, — should make the transgressor feel his guilt, and then leave him to the feeling and with the feeling, for- evermore, — this would be eternal death. And if, as any man shall lie down upon his death-bed, he shall find that owing to his past quenching of the Spirit the illuminating energy of God is searching him, and revealing him to himself, but does not as- 150 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE rNFLUENCES. sist him to look up to the Saviour of sinners ; and if* in the day of judgment, as he draws near the bar of an eternal doom, he shall discover that the sense of guilt grows deeper and deeper, while the atoning blood is not applied, — if this shall be the experi- ence of any one upon his death-bed, and in the day of judgment, will he need to be told what he is and whitber he is going ? Now it is with reference to these disclosures that come in like a deluge upon him, that man needs the aids and operation of the Holy Spirit. Ordinarily, nearly the whole of his guilt is latent within him. He is, commonly, undisturbed by conscience; but it would be a fatal error to infer that therefore he has a clear and innocent conscience. There is a vast amount of undeveloped guilt within every impenitent soul. It is slumbering there, as surely as magnetism is in the magnet, and the electric fluid is in the piled-up thunder-cloud. For there are moments when the sinful soul feels this hid- den criminality, as there are moments when the magnet shows its power, and the thunder-cloud darts its nimble and forked lightnings. Else, why do these pangs and fears shoot and flash through it, every now and then ? Why does the drowning man instinctively ask for God's mercy ? Were his con- science pure and clear from guilt, like that of the angel or the seraph, — were there no latent crime within him, — he would sink into the unfathomed depths of the sea, without the thought of such a cry. THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLTJENCES. 151 When the traveller iu South America sees the smoke and flame of the volcano, here and there, as he passes along, he is justified in inferring that a vast central fire is burning beneath the whole re- gion. In like manner, when man discovers, as he watches the phenomena of his conscience, that guilt every now and then emerges like a flash of flame into consciousness, filling him with fear and dis- tress, — when he finds that he has no security against this invasion, but that in an hour when he thinks not, and commonly when he is weakest and faintest, in his moments of danger or death, it stings him and wounds him, he is justified in inferring, and he must infer, that the deep places of his spirit, the whole potentiality of his soul is full of crime. Now, in no condition of the soul is there greater need of the agency of the Comforter (O well named the Comforter), than when all this latency is suddenly manifested to a man. When this deluo;e of disco v- ery comes in, all the billows of doubt, fear, terror, and despair roll over the soul, and it sinks in the deep waters. The sense of guilt, — that awful guilt, which the man has carried about with him for many long years, and which he has trifled with, — now proves too great for him to control. It seizes him like a strong armed man. If he could only believe that the blood of the Lamb of God expiates all this crime which is so appalling to his mind, he would be at peace instantaneously. But he is unable to believe this. His sin, which heretofore looked 152 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. too small to be noticed, now appears too great to be forgiven. Other men may be pardoned, but not be. He despairs of mercy ; and if be should be left to the natural workings of his own mind ; if he should not be taught and assisted by the Holy Grhost, in this critical moment, to behold the Lamb of God ; he would despair forever. For this sense of ill- desert, this fearful looking-for of judgment and fiery indignation, with which he is wrestling, is organic to the conscience, and the human will has no more power over it than it has over the sympathetic nerve. Only as he is taught by the Divine Spirit, is he able with perfect calmness to look up from this brink of despair, and say : " There is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus. The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. Therefore, being jus- tified by faith we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. I know whom I have be- lieved, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day." In view of the truths which we have now consid- ered, it is worthv of observation : 1. First, that ilie Holy Spirit constitutes the tie, andhotid of connection^ hetioeenman and God. The third Person in the Godhead is very often regarded as more distant from the human soul, than either the Father or the Son. In the history of the doc- trine of the Trinity, the definition of the Holy Spirit and the discrimination of His relations in the econ THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. 153 omy of the Godhead, was not settled until after the doctrine of the first and second Persons had been established. Something analogous to this appears in the individual experience. Grod the Father and God the Son are more in the thoughts of many be- lievers, than God the Holy Ghost. And yet, we have seen that in the economy of Redemption, and from the very nature of the case, the soul is brought as close to the Spirit, as to the Father and Son. Nay, it is only through the inward operations of the former, that the latter are made real to the heart and mind of man. Not until the third Person en- lightens, are the second and first Persons beheld. " No man," says St. Paul, " can- say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost." The sinful soul is entirely dependent upon the Divine Spirit, and from first to last it is in most in- timate communication with Him during the process of salvation. It is enlightened by His influence ; it is enlivened by Him ; it is empowered by Him to the act of faith in Christ's Person and Work ; it is supported and assisted by Him, in every step of the Christian race ; it is comforted by Him in all trials and tribulations; and, lastly, it is perfected in holiness, and fitted for the immediate presence of God, by Him. Certainly, then, the believer should have as full faith in the distinct personality, and immediate eflSciency, of the third Person, as he has in that of the first and second. His most affec- tionate feeling should centre upon that Blessed 154 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. Agent, through whom he appropriates the blessings that have been provided for sinners by the Father and Son, and without whose influence the Father would have planned the Redemptive scheme, and the Son have executed it, in vain. 2. In the second place, it is deserving of very careful notice that the influences of the Holy Spirit may he obtained hy asking for them. This is the only condition to be complied with. And this gift, furthermore, is peculiar, in that it is invariably be- stowed whenever it is sincerely implored. There are other gifts of God which may be asked for with deep and agonizing desire, and it is not certain that ^■hey will be granted. This is the case with tem- j)oral blessings. A sick man may turn his face to the wall, with Hezekiah, and pray in the bitterness of his soul, for the prolongation of his life, and yet not obtain the answer which Hezekiah received. But no man ever supplicated in the earnestness of his soul for the influences of the Holy Spirit, and was ultimately refused. For this is a gift which it is always safe to grant. It involves a spiritual and everlasting good. It is the gift of righteousness, of the fear and love of God in the heart. There is no danger in such a bestowment. It inevitably promotes the glory of God. Hence our Lord, after bidding his hearers to " ask," to " seek," and to "knock," adds, as the encouraging reason why they should do so : " For, every one that asketh receiveth ; and he that seeketh, [always] fiudeth • THE NECESSITY OF DIVII^E INFLUENCES. 155 and to liim that knocketh, it shall [certainly] be opened." This is a reason that cannot be as- signed in the instance of other prayers. Our Lord commands his disciples to pray for their dailj? bread ; and we know that the children of God do generally find their wants supplied. Still, it would not be true that every one who in the sincerity of his soul has asked for daily bread has received it. The children of God have sometimes died of hun- ger. But no soul that has ever hungered for the bread of heaven, and supplicated for it, has been sent empty away. Nay more : Whoever finds it in his heart to ask for the Holy Spirit may know, from this very fact, that the Holy Spirit has antici- pated him, and has prompted the very prayer itself And think you that God will not grant a request which He himself has inspired ? And therefore, again, it is, that every one who asks invariably re- ceives. 3. The third remark suggested by the subject we have been considering is, that it is exceedingly haz- ardous to resist Divine inflaences. " Quench not the Spirit" is one of the most imperative of the Apostolic injunctions. Our Lord, after saying that a word spoken against Himself is pardonable, adds, that he that blasphemes against the Holy Gliost shall never be forgiven, neither in this world nor in the world to come. The New Testament sur- rounds the subject of Divine influences with veiy great solemnity. It represents the resisting of the 156 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. Holy Ghost to be as heinous, and dangerous, as the trampling upon Christ's blood. There is a reason for this. We have seen that in this operation upon the mind and heart, Grod comes as near, and as close to man, as it is possible for Him to come. Now to grieve or oppose such a merciful, and such an inward agency as this, is to offer the highest possible affi^ont to the majesty and the mercy of God. It is a great sin to slight the gifts of Divine providence, — to misuse health, strength, wealth, talents. It is a deep sin to con- temn the truths of Divine Revelation, by which the soul is made wise unto eternal life. It is a fearful sin to desj)ise the claims of God the Father, and God the Son. But it is a transcendent sin to re- sist ^nd ^"^at back, after it has been given^ that mys- terious, that holy, that immediately Divine influ- ence, by which alone the heart of stone can be made the heart of flesh. For, it indicates some- thing more than the ordinary carelessness of a sin- ner. It evinces a determined obstinacy in sin, — nay, a Satanic opposition to God and goodness. It is of such a guilt as 'this, that the apostle John remarks : '' There is a sin unto death ; I do not Kay that one should pray for it." ^ ^ The sin against the Holy the third Person of the Trinity Ghost is unpardonable, not be- which is the only power adequate cause there is a grade of guilt in to the extirpation of sin from the it too scarlet to be washed white human soul. The sin against the by Christ's blood of atonement Holy Ghost is tantamount, there- but, because it implies a total fore, to everlasting sin. And it quenching of that operation of is noteworthy, that in Mark iii THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. Hi Again, it is exceedingly hazardous to resist Divine influences, because they depend wholly upon the good pleasui'e of God, and not at all upon any es- tablished and uniform law. We must not, for a moment, suppose that the operations of the Holy Spirit upon the human soul are like those of tlie forces of nature upon the molecules of matter. They are not uniform and unintermittent, like gravitation and chemical affinity. We may avail ourselves of the powers of nature at any moment, because they are steadily operative by an established law. They are laboring incessantly, and we may enter into their labors at any instant we please. But it is not so with supernatural and gracious influences. God's awakening and renewing power does not operate with the uniformity of those blind natural laws which He has impressed upon tlie dull clod beneath our feet. God is not one of the forces of nature. He is a Person and a Sovereign. His special and highest action upon the human soul is not uniform. His Spirit, He expressly teaches us, does not always strive with man. It is a wind that bloweth when and where it listeth. For this reason, it is danger- ous to the religious interests of the soul, in the highest degree, to go counter to any impulses of the Spirit, however slight, or to neglect any of His admonitions, however gentle. If God in mercy has 29 the reading n/uapTr/fiaroc, instead mann, Tischendorf, and Tregelles. of Kpiaeuc, is supported by a major- " He that shall blaspheme against ity of theoldest manuscripts and the Holy Ghost. . . .is in danger versions, and is adopted by Lach- of eternal «i;i." 8 158 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE U^fFLUENCES. once come in upon a tlioughtless mind, and wjv kened it to eternal realities ; if He has enlielitened it to perceive the things that make for its peace ; and that mind slights this merciful interference, and stifles down these inward teachino-s, then God with- draws, and whether He will ever return again to that soul depends upon His mere sovereign volition. He has bound himself by no promise to do so. He has established no uniform law of oj^eration, in the case. It is true that He is very pitiful and of ten- der mercy, and waits and bears long \vith the sin- ner ; and it is also true, that He is terribly severe and just, when He thinks it proper to be so, and says to those who have despised His Spirit : " Because I have called and ye refused, and have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded, I will laugh at youi' calamity, and mock when your fear cometh." Let no one say : " God has promised to bestow the Holy Ghost to every one who asks : I will ask at some future time." To " ask" for the Holy Spirit Implies some already existing desire that He would enter the mind and convince of sin, and convert to God. It implies some craving^ some yearning^ for Divine influence: ; and this implies some measure of such influence already bestowed. Man asks for the Holy Spirit, only as he is moved by the Holy Spirit. The Divine is ever prevenient to the human. Suppose now, that a man resists these influences? when they are already at work within him, and THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. 159 says : " I will seek them at a more convenient sea- son." Think you, that when that convenient season comes round, — when life is waning, and the world is receding, and the eternal gulf is yawning, — think you that that man who has already resisted grace can make his own heart to yearn for it, and his soul to crave it ? Do men at such times find that sincere desires, and longings, and aspirations, come at their beck? Can a man say, with any prospect of success : " I will now quench out this seriousness which the Spirit of God has produced in my mind, and will bring it up again ten years hence. I will stifle this drawing: of the Eternal Father of my soul which I now feel at the roots of my being, and it shall re-appear at a future day." No ! While it is true that any one who " asks," who really wants a spiritual blessing, will obtain it, it is equally true that a man may have no heart to ask, — -may have no desire, no yearning, no aspira- tion at all, and be unable to produce one. In this case there is no promise. Whosoever thirsts^ and only he who thirsts, can obtain the water of life. Cherish, therefore, the faintest influences and opera- tions of the Comforter. If He enlightens your con- science so that it reproaches you for sin, seek to have the work go on. Never resist any such con- victions, and never attempt to stifle them. If the Holy Spirit urges you to confession of sin before God, yield instantaneously to His urging, and pour 160 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. out your soul before the All-Merciful. And when He says, " Behold the Lamb of Grod," look where He points, and be at peace and at rest. The secret of all spiritual success is an immediate and uniforn: submission to the influences of the Holv Ghost. THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. Hebrews vii. 19. — "For the law made nothing perfect, but the bringing is of a better hope did ; by the which we draw nigh to G-od." It is the aim of the Epistle to the Hebrews, to teach the insufficiency of the Jewish Dispensation to save the human race from the wrath of God and the power of sin, and the all-sufficiency of the Gos- pel Dispensation to do this. Hence, the writer of this Epistle endeavors with special effort to make the Hebrews feel the weakness of their old and much esteemed religion, and to show them that the only benefit which God intended by its establish- ment was, to point men to the perfect and final re- ligion of the Gospel. This he does, by examming the parts of the Old Economy. In the first place, the sacrifices under the Mosaic law were not de- signed to extinguish the sense of guilt, — " for it is not possible that the blood of bulls and goats should take away sin," — but were intended merely to awaken the sense of guilt, and thereby to lead the Jew to look to that mercy of God which at a fu- ture day was to be exhibited in the sacrifice of his 162 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. eternal Son. The Jewish priesthood^ again, stand- ing between the sinner and God, were not able to avert the Divine displeasui'e, — for as sinners they were themselves exposed to it. They could only typify, and direct the guilty to, the great High Priest. the Messiah, whom God's mercy would send in the fulness of time. Lastly, the moral latv, proclaimed amidst the thunderings and lightnings of Sinai, had no power to secure obedience, but only a fearful power to produce the consciousness of disobedience, and of exposure to a death far more awful than that threatened against the man who should touch the burning mountain. It was, thus, the design of God, by this legal and preparatory dispensation, to disclose to man his ruined and helpless condition, and his need of look- ing to Him for everything that pertains to redemp- tion. And he did it, by so arranging the dispensa- tion that the Jew might, as it were, make the trial and see if he could be his own Redeemer. He in stituted a long and burdensome round of observan- ces, by means of which the Jew might, if possible, extinguish the remorse of his conscience, and pro- duce the peace of G<^d in his soul. God seems by the sacrifices under the law, and the many and costly offerings which the Jew was commanded to bring into the temple of the Lord, to have virtually said to him : '^ Thou art guilty, and My wrath right- eously abides within thy conscience, — yet, do what thou canst to free thyself from it ; free thyself from THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW 163 it if thou caust ; bring an offering and come before Me. But when thou hast found that thy conscience still remains perturbed and un pacified, and thy heart still continues corrupt and sinful, then look away from thy agency and thy offering, to My clem- ency and My offering, — trust not in these finite sac- rifices of the lamb and the goat, but let them merely remind thee of the infinite sacrifice which in the fulness of time I will provide for the sin of the world, — and thy peace shall be as a river, and thy righteousness as the waves of the sea." But the proud and legal spirit of the Jew blind- ed him, and he did not perceive the true meaning and intent of his national religion. He made it an end, instead of a mere means to an end. Hence, it became a mechanical round of observances, kept up by custom, and eventually lost the power, which it had in the earlier and better ages of the Jewish commonwealth, of awakening the feeling of guilt and the sense of the need of a Redeemer. Thus, in the days of our Saviour's appearance upon the earth, the chosen guardians of this religion, which was in- tended to make men humble, and feel their person al ill-desert and need of mercy, had become self-sat- isfied and self-righteous. A religion designed to prompt the utteiance of the greatest of its proph- ets : " Woe is me ! I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips," now prompted the uttei'ance of the Pharisee : " I thank Thee that I am not as other men are." 164 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. The Jew, in the times of our Saviour and his Apostles, had thus entirely mistaken the nature and purpose of the Old dispensation, and hence was the most bitter opponent of the New. He rested in the formal and ceremonial sacrifice of bulls and goats, and therefore counted the blood of the Son of God an unholy thing. He thought to appear before Him in whose sight the heavens are not clean, clothed in his own righteousness, and hence despised the righteousness of Christ. In reality, he appealed to the justice of God, and therefore rejected the relig- ion of mercy. But, this spirit is not confined to the Jew. It pervades the human race. Man is naturally a le- galist. He desires to be justified by his own char- acter and his own works, and reluctates at the thought of being accepted upon the ground of an- other's merits. This Judaistic spirit is seen wher- ever there is none of the publican's feeling when he said, " God be merciful to me a sinner." All confi- dence in personal virtue, all appeals to civil integ- rity, all attendance upon the ordinances of the Chris- tian religion without the exercise of the Christian's ])enitence and faith, is, in reality, an exhibition of that same legal unevangelic spirit which in its ex- treme form inflated the Pharisee, and led him to tithe mint anise and cummin. Man's so general re- jection of the Sou of God as suffering the just for the unjust, as the manifestation of the Divine clem- ency towards a criminal, is a sign either that he is THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 165 insensible of bis guilt, or else that being somewhat conscious of it he thinks to cancel it himself Still, think and act as men may, the method of God in the Gospel is the only method. Other foun- dation can no man lay than is laid. For it rests upon stubborn fiicts, and inexorable principles. God knows that however anxiously a transgressor may strive to pacify his conscience, and prepare it for the judgment-day, its deep remorse can be re- moved only by the blood of incarnate Deity ; that however sedulously he may attempt to obey the law, he will utterly fail, unless he is inwardly renewed and strengthened by the Holy Ghost. He knows that mere bare law can make no sinner perfect again, but that only the bringing in of a "better hope " can, — a hope by the which we draw nigh to God. The text leads us to inquire : Why cannot the .moral law make fallen man perfect? Or, in other words : Why cannot the ten commandments save a sinner ? That we may answer this question, we must first understand what is meant by a perfect man. It is one in whom there is no defect or fault of any kind, — one, therefore, who has no perturbation in his conscience, and no sin in his heart. It is a man who is entirely at peace with himself, and with God, and whose affections are in perfect conformity with the Divine law. But fallen man, man as we find him universally, 8* 166 THE IMPOTENCE Oi' THE LAW. is characterized by both a remorseful conscience and an evil heart. His conscience distresses him. not indeed uniformly and constantly but, in the great emergencies of his life, — in the houi' of sickness, danger, death, — and his heart is selfish and corrupt continually. He lacks perfection, therefore, in two particulars ; first, in respect to acquittal at the bar of justice, and secondly, in respect to inward purity. That, therefore, which proposes to make him per- fect again, must quiet the sense of guilt upon valid grounds, and must produce a holy character. If the method fails in either of these two respects, it fails altogether in making a perfect man. But how can the moral law, or the ceremonial law, or both united, produce within the human soul the cheerful, liberating, sense of acquittal, and re- conciliation with God's justice ? Why, the very function and office-work of law, in all its forms, is to condemn and terrify the transgressor ; how then can it calm and soothe him ? Or, is there anything in the performance of duty, — in the act of obeying law, — that is adapted to produce this result, by tak- ing away guilt ? Suppose that a murderer could and should perform a perfectly holy act, would it be any relief to his anguished conscience, if he should offer it as an oblation to Eternal Justice for the sin that is past ? if he should plead it as an off- set for having killed a man ? When we ourselves review the past, and see that we have not kept the law up to the present point in our lives, is the gnaw- THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 167 ing of the worm to be stopped, by resolving to keep it, and actually keeping it from this point ? Can sucli a use of the law as this is, — can the perform- ance of good works, imaginary or real ones, im- perfect or perfect ones, — discharge the office of an atonement^ and so make us perfect in the forum of conscience, and fill us with a deep and lasting sense of reconciliation with the offended majesty and jus- tice of God ? Plainly not. For there is nothing compensatory, nothing cancelling, nothing of the nature of a satisfaction of justice, in the best obe- dience that was ever rendered to moral law, by saint, angel, or seraph. Because the creature oives the whole. He is obligated from the very first in- stant of his existence, onward and evermore, to love God supremely, and to obey him perfectly in every act and element of his being. Therefore, the per- fectly obedient saint, angel, and seraph must each say: "I am an unprofitable servant, I have done only that which it was my duty to do ; I can make no amends for past failures ; I can do no work that is meritorious and atoning." Obedience to law, then, by a creature, and still less by a sinner, can never atone for the sins that are past ; can never make the guilty perfect "in things pertaining to conscience." And if a man, in this indirect and roundabout manner, neglects the provisions of the gospel, neglects the oblation of Jesus Christ, and betakes himself to the discharge of his own duty as a substitute therefor, he only finds that the flame 168 THE IMPOTEI^CE OF THE LAW. burns hotter, and the fang of the worm is sharper If he looks to the moral law in any form, and by any method, that he may get quit of his remorse and his fears of judgment, the feeling of unreconcilia- tion with justice, and the fearful looking-for of judg- ment is only made more vivid and deep. Whoever attempts the discharge of duties /br the purpose of atoning for Ms sins takes a direct method of increas- ing the pains and perturbations which he seeks to remove. The more he thinks of law, and the more he endeavors to obey it for the purpose of purchas- ing the pardon of past transgression, the more wretched does he become. Look into the lacerated conscience of Martin Luther before he found the Cross, examine the anxiety and gloom of Chalmers befoi'e he saw the Lamb of God, for proof that this is so. These men, at first, were most earnest in their use of the law in order to re-instate themselves in right relations with God's justice. But the more they toiled in this direction, the less they succeed- ed. Burning with inward anguish, and with God's arrows sticking fast in him, shall the transgressor get relief from the attribute of Divine justice, and the qualities of law ? Shall the ten commandments of Sinai, in any of their forms or uses, send a cooling and calming virtue through the hot conscience? With these kindling flashes in his guilt-stricken spirit, shall he run into the very identical fire that kindled them ? Shall he try to quench them in that "Tophet which is ordained of old; which is made THE IMPOTENCE CT THE LAW. 169 deep and large ; the pile of which is fire and much wood, and the breath of the Lord like a stream of brimstone doth kindle it ? " And yet such is, in reality, the attempt of every man who, upon being convicted in his conscience of guilt before God, en deavors to attain peace by resolutions to alter his course of conduct, and strenuous endeavors to obey the commands of God, — in short by relying upon the law in any form, as a means of reconcilia- tion. Such 'is the suicidal eifort of every man who substitutes the law for the gospel, and ex- pects to produce within himself the everlasting peace of God, by anything short of the atonement of God. Let us ^x it, then, as a fact, that the feeling of culpability and unreconciliation can never be re- moved, so long as we do not look entirely away from our own character and a^ orks to the mere pure mercy of God in the blood of Christ. The trans- gressor can never atone for crime by anything that he can suffer, or anything that he can do. He can never establish a ground of justification, a reason why he should be forgiven, by his tears, or his prayers, or his acts. Neither the law, nor his attempts to obey the law, can re-instate him in his original relations to justice, and make him perfect again in respect to his conscience. The ten com- mandments can never silence his inward misgivings, and his moral fears ; for they are given for the very purpose of producing misgivings, and causing fears. 170 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. "The law worketb wrath." And if this truth and fact he clearly perceived, and boldly acknowledged to his own mind, it will cut him off from all these legal devices and attempts, and will shut him up to the Divine mercy and the Divine promise in Christ, where alone he is safe. We have thus seen that one of the two things necessary in order that apostate man may become perfect again, — viz., the pacification of his con- science, — cannot be obtained in and by the law, in any of its forms or uses. Let us now examine the other thing necessary in order to human perfection, and see what the law can do towards it. The other requisite, in order that fallen man may become perfect again, is a holy heart and ^^^ll. Can the moral law originate this ? That we may rightly answer the question, let us remember that a holy will is one that keeps the law of God spontaneously and that a perfect heart is one that sends forth holy affections and j^ure thoughts as natui'ally as the sin- ful heart sends forth unholy affections and impure thoughts. A holy will, like an evil will, is a won- derful and wonderfully fertile power. It does not consist in an ability to make a few or many sepa- rate resolutions of obedience to the divine law, but in being itself one great inclination and determina- tion continually and mightily going forth. A holy will, therefore, is one that f?'om its very nature and spontaneity seeks God, and the glory of God. It does not even need to make a specific resolution to THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 171 obey ; any more than an affectionate child needs to resolve to obey its father. In like manner, a perfect and holy heart is a far more profound and capacious thing than men who have never seriously tried to obtain it deem it tc be. It does not consist in the possession of a few oi many holy thoughts mixed with some sinful ones, oi in having a few or many holy desires together with some corrupt ones. A perfect heart is one undivi- ded agency, and does not produce, as the imperfectly sanctified heart of the Christian does, fruits of holi- ness and fruits of sin, holy thoughts and unholy thoughts. It is itself a root and centre of holiness, and nothing but goodness springs up from it. The angels of God are totally holy. Their wills are un- ceasingly going forth towards Him with ease and delight ; their hearts are unintennittently gushing out emotions of love, and feelings of adoration, and thoughts of reverence, and thei'efore the song thai they sing is unceasing, and the smoke of their in- cense ascendeth forever and ever. Such is the holy will, and the perfect heart, which fallen man must obtain in order to be fit for heaven. To this complexion must he come at last. And now we ask : Can the law generate all this excel- lence within the human soul \ In order to ansv/er this question, we must consider the nature of law, and the manner of its operation. The law, as anti- thetic to the gospel, and as the word is employed in the text, is in its nature mandatory and minatory. 172 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. It commands, and it threatens. This is the style of its operation. Can a perfect heart be originated in a sinner by these two methods ? Does the stern behest, " Do this or die," secure his willing and joy- ful obedience ? On the contrary, the very fact that the law of God comes up before him coupled thus with a tlireatening evinces that his aversion and hostility are most intense. As the Apostle says, " The law is not made for a righteous man ; but for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and for sinners." Were man, like the angels on high, sweetly obedient to the Divine will, there would be no arming of law with terror, no proclamation of ten commandments amidst thunderings and light- nings. He would be a law unto himself, as all the heavenly host are, — the law working impulsively within him by its own exceeding lawfulness and beauty. The very fact that God, in the instance of man, is compelled to emphasize the i)e}ialtu along with the statute, — to say, " Keep my commandments n/pon pain of eternal death^^'' — is proof conclusive that man is a rebel, and intensely so. And now what is the effect of this combination of command and threatening upon the agent ? Is he moulded by it ? Does it congenially sway and incline him ? On the contrary, is he not excited to opposition by it ? When the commandment " conies^'' loaded down with menace and damnation, does not sin " revive," as the Apostle affirms ? ^ Ar- 'Eom. vii. 9-12. THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. lYS rest the transgressor in the very act of disobedience^ and ring in his ears the *'Thou shalt not^' of the decalogue, and does he find that the law has the power to alter his inclination, to overcome his car- nal mind, and make him perfect in holiness ? On the contrary, the more you ply him with the stern command, and the more you emphasize the awful threatening, the more do you make him conscious of inward sin, and awaken his depravity. " The law," — as St. Paul affirms in a very remarkable text, — " is the st/rength of sin," -^ instead of being its de- struction. Nay, he had not even (re) known sin, but by the law : for he had not known lust, except the law had said, " Thou shalt not lust." The com- mandment stimulates instead of extirpating his hostility to the Divine government; and so long as the rtiere command, and the mere threat, — which, as the hymn tells us, is all the law can do, — are brought to bear, the depravity of the rebellious heart becomes more and more apparent, and more and more intensified. There is no more touching poem in all literature than that one in which the pensive and moral Schiller portrays the struggle of an ingenuous youth who would find the source of moral purification in the moral law ; who would seek the power that can transform him, in the mere imperatives of his con- science, and the mere strugglings and spasms of his own will. He represents him as endeavoring earn ' 1 Cor. XV 5 a. 174 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. estly and long to feel the force of obligation, and as toiling sedulously to school himself into virtue, by the bare power, by the dead lift, of duty. But the longer he tries, the more he loathes the restraints of law. Virtue, instead of growing lovely to him becomes more and more severe, austere, and repel- lant. His life, as the Scrij)ture phrases it, is " under law," and not under love. There is nothing spon- taneous, nothing willing, nothing genial in his re- ligion. He does not enjoy religion, but he endures religion. Conscience does not, in the least, reno- vate his will, but merely checks it, or goads it. He becomes wearied and w^orn, and conscious that after all his self-schooling he is the same creature at heart, in his disposition and affections, that he was at the commencement of the effort, he cries out, " O Vir- tue, take back thy crown, and let me sin." ^ The tired and disgusted soul would once more do a spontaneous thing. Was, then, that which is good made death unto this youth, by a Divine arrangement \ Is this the original and necessary relation which law sustains to the will and affections of an accountable creature ? Must the pure and holy law of God, from the very nature of things, be a weariness and a curse? God foj'bid. But sin that it might appear sin, working death in the sinner by that which is good, — that sin by the commandment might become, might be seen to be, exceeding sinful. The law is like a chem« ^ ScniLLEB : Der Kampf. THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 175 ical test. It eats into sin enougli to show what sin is, and there stops. The lunar caustic bites into the dead flesh of the mortified limb ; but there is no healing virtue in the lunar caustic. The moral law makes no inward alterations in a sinner. In its own distinctive and proper action upon the heart and will of an apostate being, it is fitted only to elicit and exasperate his existing enmity. It can, therefore, no more be a source of sanctification, than it can be of justification. Of what use, then, is the law to a fallen man ? — some one will ask. Why is the commandment enunciated in the Scriptures, and why is the Chris- tian ministry perpetually preaching it to men dead in trespasses and sins ? If the law can subdue no man's obstinate will, and can renovate no man's corrupt heart, — if it can make nothing perfect in human character, — then, " wherefore serveth the law ? " " It was added because of transgressions," — says the Apostle in answer to this very question.^ It is preached and forced home in order to detect sin, but not to remove it ; to bring men to a con- sciousness of the evil of their hearts, but not to change their hearts. " For," continues the Apostle, " if there had been a law given which could have given ///V," — which could produce a transformation of character, — '^ then verily lighteousness should have been by the law." It is not because the stern and threatening commandment can impart spiritual *Galatians iii. 19. 176 THE IMPOTEIfCE OE THE LAW. vitality to the sinner, "but "because it can produce within him the keen vivid sense of spiritual death, that it is enunciated in the word of God, and pro- claimed from the Christian pulpit. The Divine law is waved like a flashing sword before the eyes of man, not because it can make him alive but, because it can slay him, that he may then be made alive, not by the law but by the Holy Ghost, — by the Breath that cometh from the four winds and breathes on the slain. It is easy to see, by a moment's reflection, that, from the nature of the case, the moral law cannot be a source of spiritual life and sanctification to a soul that has lost these. For law primarily sup- poses life, supposes an obedient inclination, and therefore does not produce it. It is not the function of any law to impart that moral force, that right disposition of the heart, by which its command is to be obeyed. The State, for example, enacts a law against murder, but this mere enactment does not, and cannot, produce a benevolent disposition in the citizens of the commonwealth, in case they are des- titute of it. How often do we hear the remark, that it is impossible to legislate either morality or religion into the people. When the Supreme Gov- ernor first placed man under the obligations and sovereignty of law, He created him in His own image and likeness : endowing him with that holy heart and right inclination which obeys the law of God with ease and delight. God made man up- THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 177 right, and in this state he could and did keep the commands of God perfectly. If, therefore, by any subsequent action upon their part, mankind have gone out of the primaiy relationship in which they stood to law, and have by their a]^ostasy lost all holy sympathy with it, and all affectionate disposi- tion to obey it, it only remains for the law (not to change along with them, but) to continue immuta- bly the same pure and righteous thing, and to say, " Obey perfectly, and thou shalt live ; disobey in a single instance, and thou shalt die."" But the text teaches us, that although the law can make no sinful man perfect, either upon the side of justification, or of sanctification, "the bring- ing in of a better liope " can. This hope is the evan- gelic hope, — the yearning desire, and the humble trust, — to be forgiven through the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ, and to be sanctified by the indwelling power of the Holy Ghost. A simple, but a most powerful thing ! Does the law, in its abrupt and terrible operation in my conscience, start out the feeling of guiltiness until I throb with anguish, and moral fear ? I hope, I trust, I ask, to be par- doned throuGfh the blood of the Eternal Son of God my Redeemer. I will answer all these accusations of law and conscience, by pleading what my Lord has done. Again, does the law search me, and probe me, and elicit me, and reveal me, until I would shrink out of the sight of God and of myself? I hope, 1 178 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. trust, I ask, to be made pure as the angels, spotless as the seraphim, hj the transforming grace of the Holy Spirit. This confidence in Christ's Person and Work is the anchor, — an anchor that was never yet wrenched from the clefts of the Rock of Ages, and never will be through the aeons of aeons. By this hope, which goes away from self, and goes away from the law, to Christ's oblation and the Holy Spirit's energy, we do indeed draw very nigh to God, — " heart to heart, spirit to spirit, life to life." 1. The unfolding of this text of Scripture shows, in the first place, the importance of having a dis- tmct and discriminating conce])tion of law^ and es- pecially of its proper function in reference to a sin* ful heing. Very much is gained when we under- stand precisely what the moral law, as taught in the Scriptures, and written in our consciences, can do, and cannot do, towards our salvation. It can do nothing positively and efficiently. It cannot ex- tinguish a particle of our guilt, and it cannot purge away a particle of our corruption. Its operation is wholly negative and preparatory. It is merely a schoolmaster to conduct us to Christ. And the more definitely this truth and fact is fixed in our minds, the more intelligently shall we proceed in our use of law and conscience. 2. In the second place, the unfolding of this text shows the importance of using the law faithfully and fearlessly within its own limits^ and in accord* anr.e with its proper function. It is frequently asked THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 179 what the sinner shall do in the work of salvation. The answer is nigh thee, in thy mouth, and in thy heart. Be continually applying the law of God to your personal character and conduct. Keep an act- ive and a searching conscience within your sinful soul. Use the high, broad, and strict commandment of God as an instrumentality by which all ease, and all indifference, in sin shall be banished from the breast. Employ all this apparatus of torture, as perhaps it may seem to you in some sorrowful hours, and break up that moral drowze and lethargy which is ruining so many souls. And then cease this work, the instant you have experimentally found out that the law reaches a limit beyond which it cannot go, — that it forgives none of the sins which it detects, produces no change in the heart whose vileness it reveals, and makes no lost sinner perfect again. Having used the law legiti mately, for purposes of illumination and conviction merely, leave it forever as a source of justification and sanctification, and seek these in Christ's atone- ment, and the Holy Spirit's gracious operation in the heart. Then sin shall not have dominion over you; for you shall not be under law, but under grace. After th?it faith is come, ye are no longer under a schoolmaster. For ye are then the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus.^ How simple are the terms of salvation ! But then they presuppose this work of the law, — this ■ Galatiuns iii. 25, 26. 180 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. guilt-smitten conscience, and this wearying sense of bondage to sin. It is easy for a thirsty soul to drink down the draught of cold water. Nothing is simpler, nothing is more grateful to the sensations. But suppose that the soul is satiated, and is not a thirsty one. Then, nothing is more forced and re- pelling than this same draught. So is it with the provisions of the gospel. Do we feel ourselves to be guilty beings ; do we hunger, and do we thirst for the expiation of our sins ? Then the blood of Christ is drink indeed, and his flesh is meat with emphasis. But are we at ease and self-contented \ Then nothing is more distasteful than the terms of salvation. Christ is a root out of dry ground. And so long as we remain in this unfeeling and torpid state, salvation is an utter impossibility. The seed of the gospel cannot germinate and grow upon a rock. SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOD'S PRESENCE. 'iiAJAH, i. 11. — "Come now, and let us reason together, saith the lord, though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow ; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." These words were at first addressed to the Chiircli of God. The prophet Isaiah begins his prophecy, by calling upon the heavens and the earth to witness the exceeding sinfulness of God's chosen people. " Hear, O heavens, and give ear O earth : for the Lord hath spoken ; I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib : but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider." Such ingratitude and sin as this, he naturally supposes would shock the very heavens and earth. Then follows a most vehement and terrible re- buke. The elect people of God are called " Sod- om," and " Gomorrah." " Hear the word of the Lord ye nilers of Sodom : give ear unto the law of our God ye people of Gomorrah. Why should ye 182 SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOD's PRESENCE. be stricken any more? ye will revolt more and more." This outflow of holy displeasure would prepare us to expect an everlastiugreprobacy of the rebellious and unfaithful Church, but it is strangely followed by the most yearning and melting entreaty ever addressed by tbe Most High to the creatures of His footstool: ''Come now, and let us reason to- gether, though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." These words have, however, a wider application ; and while the unfaithful children of God ought to ponder them long and well, it is of equal import- ance that " the aliens from the commonwealth of Israel " should reflect upon them, and see their general application to all transgressors, so long as they are under the Gospel dispensation. Let us, then, consider two of the plain lessons taught, in these words of the prophet, to every unpardoned man. I. The text represents God as saying to the trans- gressor of his law, " Come and let us i-eason togeth- erP The first lesson to be learned, consequently, is the duty of examining our moral character and conduct, along with God, When a responsible being has made a wrong use of his powers, nothing is more reasonable than that he should call himself to account for this abuse. Nothing, certainly, is more necessary. There can be no amendment for the future, until the past has SELF-SCETTTINY IN GOD's PEESENCE. 183 been cared for. But that this examination may be both thorough and profitable, it must be made in company %oitli the Searcher of hearts. For there are always two beings who are con- cerned with sin ; the being who commits it, and the Being against whom it is committed. We sin, in- deed, against ourselves ; against our own conscience, and against our own best interest. But we sin in a yet higher, and more terrible sense, against An- other than ourselves, compared with whose majes- ty all of our faculties and interests, both in time and eternity, are altogether nothing and vanity. It is not enough, therefore, to refer our sin to the law written on the heart, and there stop. We must ul- timately pass beyond conscience itself, to God, and say, " Against Thee have I sinned." It is not the highest expression of the religious feeling, when we say, " How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against my conscience ? " He alone has reached the summit of vioion who looks beyond all finite limits, however wide and distant, beyond all finite facul- ties however noble and elevated, and says, " How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?" Whenever, therefore, an examination is made into the nature of moral evil as it exists in the indi- vidual heart, both parties concerned should share in the examination. The soul, as it looks within, should invite the scrutiny of God also, and as fast as it makes discoveries of its transgression and cor- 184 SELF-SCEUTTNT m GOd's PEESENCE. ruption sliould realize that the Holy One sees also. Such a joint examination as this produces a very keen and clear sense of the evil and guilt of sin. Conscience indeed makes cowards of us all, but when the eye of God is felt to be upon us, it smites us to the ground. " When Thou with rebukes," — says the Psalmist, — " dost correct man for his ini- quity. Thou makest his beauty to consume away like a moth." One great reason why the feeling which the moralist has towards sin is so tame and languid, when compared with the holy abhorrence of the regenerate mind, lies in the fact that he has not contemplated human depravity in company with a sin-hating Jehovah. At the very utmost, he has been shut up merely with a moral sense which he has insulated from its dread ground and support, — the personal character and holy emotions of Grod. What wonder is it, then, that this finite faculty should lose much of its temper and severity, and though still condemning sin (for it must do this, if it does anything), fails to do it with that spirit- ual energy which characterizes the conscience when God is felt to be co-present and co-operating. So it is, in other provinces. We feel the guilt of an evil action more sharply, when we know that a fellow- man saw us commit it, than when we know that no one but ourselves is cognizant of the deed. The flush of shame often rises into our face, upon learn- ing accidentally that a fellow-being was looking at us, when we did the wrong action without any blush. SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOD's PRESENCE. 185 How much more criminal, then, do we feel, when distinctly aware that the pure and holy God knows our transgression. How much clearer is our per- ception of the nature of moral evil, when we inves- tigate it along with Him whose eyes are a flame of fire. It is, consequently, a very solemn moment, when the human spirit and the Eternal Mind are reason- ing together about the inward sinfulness. When the soul is shut up along with the Holy One of Israel, there are great searchings of heart. Man is honest and anxious at such a time. His usual thoughtlessness and torpidity upon the subject of religion leaves him, and he becomes a serious and deeply-interested creature. Would that the multi- tudes who listen so languidly to the statements of the pulpit, upon these themes of sin and guilt, might be closeted with the Everlasting Judge, in silence and in solemn reflection. You who have for years been told of sin, but are, perhaps, still as indifferent regarding it as if there were no stain upon the conscience, — would that you might enter into an examination of yourself, alone with your Maker. Then would you become as serious, and as anxious, as you will be in that moment when you shall be informed that the last hour of your life upon earth has come. Another effect of this " reasoning together " with God, respecting our character and conduct, is to rendei' our views disorimiinating. The action of 186 SELF-SCEUTrSTY IN GOd's PEESENCE. the minvl is not only intense, it is also intelligent. Strange as it may sound, it is yet a fact, that a re- view of our past lives conducted under the eye of God, and with a recognition of His presence and over- sight, serves to deliver the mind from confusion and panic, and to fill it with a calm and rational fear. This is of great value. For^ when a man begins to be excited upon the subject of religion, — it may be for the first time, in his unreflecting and heedless life, — he is oftentimes terribly excited. He is now brought suddenly into the midst of the most solemn things. That sin of his, the enormity of which he had never seen before, now reveals itself in a most frightful form, and he feels as the mur- derer does who wakes in the morning and begins to realize that he has killed a man. That holy Being, of whose holiness he had no proper concep- tion, now rises dim and awful before his half-open- ed inward eye, and he trembles like the pagan be- fore the unknown God whom he ignorantly wor- ships. That eternity, which he had heard spoken of with total indifference, now flashes penal flames in his face. Taken and held in this state of mind, the transgressor is confusedly as well as terribly awakened, and he needs first of all to have this ex- perience clarified, and know precisely for what he is trembling, and why. This panic and consterna- tion must depart, and a calm intelligent anxiety must take its place. But this cannot be, unless the mind turns towards God, and invites His searching SELF SCRUTINY IN GOD's PKESENCE. 187 scrutiny, and His aid in the search after sin. So long as we shrink away from our Judge, and in upon ourselves, in these hours of conviction, — so long as we deal only with the workings of our own minds, and do not look up and " reason together " with God, — we take the most direct method of pro- ducing a blind, an obscure, and a selfish agony. We w^ork ourselves, more and more, into a mere phrenzy of excitement. Some of the most wretched and fanatical experience in the history of the Church is traceable to a solitary self-brooding, in which, after the sense of sin had been awakened, the soul did not discuss the matter with God. For the character and attributes of God, when clearly seen, repress all fright, and produce that pe- culiar species of fear which is tranquil because it is deep. Though the soul, in such an hour, is conscious that God is a fearful object of sight for a transgress- or, yet it continues to gaze at Him with an eager straining eye. And in so doing, the superficial tre- mor and panic of its first awakening to the subject of religion passes off, and gives place to an intenser moral feeling, the calmness of which is like the still- ness of fascination. Nothing has a finer effect upon a company of awakened minds, than to cause the being and attributes of God, in all their majesty and purity, to rise like an orl) within their horizon ; and the individual can do nothing moie proper, or more salutary, when once his sin begins to disquiet him, and the inward perturbation commences, than 188 SELF-SCRUTLNY IN GOD's PEESENCE. to collect and steady himself, in an act of reflect!* st upon that very Being who ahhoi^s sin. Let no man^. in the hour of conviction and moral fear, attempt to run away from the Divine holiness. On the con trary, let him rush forward and throw himself down prostrate before that Dread Presence, and plead the merits of the Son of God, before it. He that finds his life shall lose it ; but he that loses his life shall find it. Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it remains a single unproductive corn of wheat ; but if it die^ it germinates and brings forth much fruit. He who does not avoid a contact be- tween the sin of his soul and the holiness of his God, but on the contrary seeks to have these two things come together, that each may be understood in its own intrinsic nature and quality, takes the only safe course. He finds that, as he knows God more distinctly, he knows himself more distinctly ; and though as yet he can see nothing but displeasure in that holy countenance, he is possessed of a well- defined experience. He knows that he is wrong, and his Maker is right ; that he is wicked, and that God is holy. He perceives these two fundamental facts with a simplicity, and a certainty, that admits of no debate. The confusion and obscurity of his mind, and particularly the queryings whether these things are so, whether God is so very holy and man is so very sinful, begin to disappear, like a fog when disparted and scattered by sunrise. Objects are seen in their true proportions and meanings ; right SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOD's PEESENCE. 189 and wrong, the carnal mind and the spiritual mind, heaven and hell, — all the great contraries that per- tain to the subject of religion, — are distinctly un- derstood, and thus the first step is taken towards a better state of things in the soul. Let no man, then, fear to invite the scrutiny of God, in connection with his own scrutiny of himself. He who deals only with the sense of duty, and the operations of his own mind, will find that these themselves become more dim and indistinct, so long as the process of examination is not conducted in this joint manner; so long as the mind refuses to accept the Divine proposition, " Come now, and let us reason togetlierr He, on the other hand, who endeavors to obtain a clear view of the Being against whom he has sinned, and to feel the full power of His holy eye as w^ell as of His holy law, will find that his sensations and expe- riences are gaining a wonderful distinctness and intensity that will speedily bring the entire matter to an issue. n. For then, by the blessing of God, he learns the second lesson taught in the text : viz., that there is forgiveness with God, Though, in this process of joint examination, your sins be found to be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow ; though they be discovered to be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. If there were no forgiveness of sins, if mercy were not a manifested attribute of God, all self-examina- 9=1 190 SELF-SCEUTUSTY IN GOD's PRESENCE. tion, uLd especially all this conjoint divine scrutiny would be a pure torment and a pure gratuity. It is wretchedness to know that we are guilty sinners, but it is the endless torment to know that there is no forgiveness, either here or hereafter. Convince a man that he will never be pardoned, and you shut him up vdth the spirits in prison. Compel him to examine himself under the eye of his God, while at the same time he has no hope of mercy, — and there would be nothing unjust in this, — and you dis- tress him with the keenest and most living tor- ment of which a rational spirit is capable. Well and natural was it, that the earliest creed of the Christian Church emphasized the doctrine of the Divine Pity ; and in all ages the Apostolic Symbol has called upon the guilt-stricken hu- man soul to cry, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins." We have the amplest assurance in the whole writ- ten Revelation of God, hut nowhere else^ that " there is forgiveness with Him, that He may be feared." ^' Whoso confesseth and forsaketh his sins shall find mercy ; " and only with such an assurance as this from His own lips, could we summon courage to look into our character and conduct, and invite God to do the same. But the text is an exceedingly explicit as- sertion of this great truth. The very same Being who invites us to reason with Him, and canvass the subject of our criminality, in the very same breath, if we may so speak, assures us that He will forgive SELF-SCRUTINY IN GODS PRESENCE. 191 aJ that is found in this examination. And upon sucli terms, cannot the criminal well afford to ex- amine into his crime? He has a promise before- hand, that if he will but scrutinize and confess his sin it shall be forgiven. God would have been simpl}* and strictly just, had He said to him : ^' Go down into the depths of thy transgressing spirit, see how wicked thou hast been and still art, and know that in my righteous severity I will never pardon thee, world without end." But instead of this. He says : " Go down into the depths of thy heart, see the trans- gression and the corruption all along the line of the examination, confess it into my ear, and I will make the scarlet and crimson guilt white in the blood of my own Son." These declarations of Holy Writ, which are a direct verbal statement from the lips of God, and which specify distinctly what He will do and will not do in the matter of sin, teach us that however deeply our souls shall be found to be stained, the Divine pity outruns and exceeds the crime. ''For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great is his mercy towards them that fear him. He that spared not his own Son, but deliv- ered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things ? " Here upon earth, there is no wickedness that sm-passes the pardoning love of God in Christ. The words which Shakspeare puts into the mouth of the remorseful, but impenitent^ Danish king are strictl}' true : 192 SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOD's PRESENCE. " What if this cursed hand "Were thicker than itself with brother's blood ? Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy, But to confront the visage of offence ? " * Anywhere this side of the other world, and at any moment this side of the grave, a sinner, if pen- itent (but penitence is not always at his control), may obtain forgiveness for all his sins, through Christ's blood of atonement. He must not hope for mercy in the future world, if he neglects it here. There are no acts of pardon passed in the day of judgment. The utterance of Christ in that day is not the utterance, "Thy sins are forgiven thee," but, " Come ye blessed," or " Depart ye cursed." So long, and only so long, as there is life there is hope, and however great may be the conscious criminality of a man while he is under the economy of Redemp- tion, and before he is summoned to render up his last account, let him not despair but hope in Divine grace. Now, he who has seriously "reasoned together" with God, respecting his own character, is far better prepared to find God in the forgiveness of sins, than he is who has merely brooded over his own unhap- piness, without any reference to the qualities and claims of his Judge. It has been a plain and per- sonal matter throughout, and having now come to a clear and settled conviction that he is a guilty sin- SiiAKSPEARE : Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 4. SELF-SCRUTINY IK GOd's PRESENCE. 193 ner, he turns directly to tlie great and good Being who stands immediately before him, and prays to be forgiven, and is forgiven. One reason why the soul so often gropes days and months without finding a sin-pardoning God lies in the fact, that its thoughts and feelings respecting religious subjects, and par- ticularly respecting the state of the heart, have been too vague and indistinct. They have not had an immediate and close reference to that one single Being who is most directly concerned, and who alone can minister to a mind diseased. The soul is wretched, and there may be some sense of sin, but there is no one to go to, — no one to address with an appealing cry. " Oh that I knew where I might find him," is its language. " Oh that I might come even to his seat. Behold I go forward, but he is not there ; and backward, but I cannot perceive him." But this groping would cease were there a clear view of God. There might not be peace and a sense of re- conciliation immediately ; but there would be a dis- tinct conception of the one thing needful in order to salvation.' This would banish all other subjects and objects. The eye would be fixed upon the single fact of sin, and the simple fact that none but God can for- give it. The whole inward experience would thus be narrowed down to a focus. Simplicity and inten- sity would be introduced into the mental state, in- stead of the previous confusion and vagueness. So- liloquy would end, and prayer, importunate, agoniz- ing prayer, would begin. That morbid and useless 194 SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOd's PEESENCE. self-brooding would cease, and those strong cryings and wrestlings till day-break would commence, and tlie kino;dom of heaven would suffer this violence, and the violent would take it by force. " When I Iwpt silence / my bones waxed old, through my roar- ing all the day long. For day and night thy hand was heavy upon me ; my moisture was turned into the drought of summer. I achiotvledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity I no longer liid, I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord ; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin. For this," — because this is Thy method of salva- tion, — " shall every one that is godly pray unto thee, in a time when thou mayest be found." (Ps. xxxii. 3-6.) Self-examination, then, when joined with a dis- tinct recognition of the Divine character, and a con- scious sense of Grod's scrutiny, paradoxical as it may appear, is the surest means of producing a firm con- viction in a guilty mind that God is merciful, and is the smftest way of finding Him to be so. Op- posed as the Divine nature is to sin, abhorrent as iniquity is to the pure mind of God, it is neverthe- less a fact, that that sinner who goes directly into this Dread Presence with all his sins upon his head, in order to know them, to be condemned and crushed by them, and to confess them, is the one who soon- est it^curns with peace and hope in his soul. For, he discovers that God is as cordial and sincere in His offer to forgive, as He is in His threat to pun- SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOD's PRESENCE. 195 ish ; and liaving, to his sorrow, felt tlie reality and power of the Divine anger, he now to his joy feels the equal reality and power of the Divine love. And this is the one great lesson which every man must learn, or perish forever. The truthful^ ness of God, in every respect, and in all relations, — His strict fidelity to His word^ both under the law and under the gospel, — is a quality of which every one must have a vivid knowledge and certainty, in order to salvation. Men perish through unbelief. He that doubteth is damned. To illustrate. Men pass through this life doubting and denying God's abhorrence of sin, and His determination to punish it forever and ever. Under the narcotic and stupe- fying influence of this doubt and denial, they re- main in sin, and at death go over into the immedi- ate presence of God, only to discover that all His statements respecting His determination upon this subject are true^ — awfully and hopelessly true. They then spend an eternity, in bewailing their in- fatuation in dreaming, while here upon earth, that the great and holy God did not mean what he said. Unbelief, again, tends to death in the other direc- tion, though it is far less liable to result in it. The convicted and guilt-smitten man sometimes doubts the truthfulness of the Divine promise in Christ. He spends days of darkness and nights of woe, be- cause he is unbelieving in regard to God's compas- sion, and readiness to forgive a penitent ; and when, 196 SELF-SCEUTINY m GOd's PEESEKCE. at length, the light of the Divine countenance breaks upon him, he wonders that he was so foolish and slow of heart to believe all that God himself had said concerning the "multitude" of his tender mercies. Christian and Hopeful lay long and need- lessly in the dungeon of Doubting Castle, until the fonner remembered that the key to all the locks was in his bosom, and had been all the while. They needed only to take God at his word. The anxious and fearful soul must believe the Eternal Judge impUoitly^ when he says: "I will justify thee through the blood of Christ." God is truthfal under the gospel, and under the law ; in His prom- ise of mercy, and in His threatening of eternal woe. And " if we believe not, yet He abideth faithful ; He cannot deny Himself." He hath promised, and He hath threatened ; and, though heaven and earth pass away, one jot or one tittle of that promise shall not fail in the case of those who coniidiugl}' trust it, nor shall one iota or scintilla of the threat- ening fail in the instance of those who have reck- lessly and rashly disbelieved it. In respect, then, to both sides of the revelation of the Divine character, — in respect to the threat- ening and the promise, — men need to have a clear perception, and an unwavering belief. He that doubteth in either direction is damned. He who does not believe that God is truthful, when He de- clares that He will ^' punish iniquity, transgression and sin," and that those upon the left hand shall SELF-SCEUTINY IN GOD's PEESENCE. 197 " go away into everlasting punishment,'' will per- sist in sin until lie passes the line of probation and be lost. And he who does not believe that God is truthful, when He declares that He will forgive scarlet and crimson sins through the blood of Christ, will be overcome by despair and be also lost. But he who believes hoth Divine statements with equal certainty, and perceives hoth facts with distinct vision, will be saved. From these two lessons of the text, we deduce the following practical directions : 1. First: In all states of religious anxiety, we should betake ourselves instantly and directly to God. There is no other refuge for the human soul but God in Christ, and if this fails us, we must re- nounce all hope here and hereafter. "If this fail, The pillared firmament is rottenness, And earth's base built on stubble." * We are, therefore, from the nature of the case, shut up to this course. Suppose the religious anxiety arise from a sense of sin, and the fear of retribution. God is the only Being that can forgive sins. To whom, then, can such an one go but unto Him ? Suppose the religious anxiety arises ft-om a sense of the perishing nature of earthly objects, and the soul feels as if all the foundation and fabric of its hope and comfort were rocking into irretrievable » Milton : Comus, 597-599. 198 SELF-SCEUTLNY IN GOd's PEESENCE. ruin. God is tlie only Being wlio can help in this crisis. In either or in any case, — be it the anxiety of the nnforgiven, or of the child of God, — what- ever be the species of mental sorrow, the humai soul is by its very circumstances driven to its Maker, or else diiven to destruction. What more reasonable course, therefore, than to conform to the necessities of our condition. The principal part of wisdom is to take things as they are, and act accordingly. Are we, then, sinners, and in fear for the final result of our life ? Though it may seem to us like running into fire, we must nevertheless betake ourselves fii^st and immediately to that Being who hates and punishes sin. Though we see nothing but condemnation and displeasure in those holy eyes, we must nevertheless approach them just and simply as we are. We must say with kino; David in a similar case, when he had incurred the displeasure of God : " I am in a great strait ; [yet] let me fall into the hand of the Lord, for very great are his mercies" (1 Chron. xx. 13). We must suffer the intolerable brightness to blind and blast us in our guiltiness, and let there be an actual con- tact between the sin of our soul and the holiness of our God. If we thus proceed, in accordance with the facts of our case and our position, we shall meet with a great and joyful surprise. Flinging our- selves helpless, and despairing of all other help, — rashly^ as it will seem to us, flinging ourselves off from the position where we now are, and upon sELF-scRuxmY m god's presence. 199 wliicli we must inevitably perish, we shall find ourselves, to our surprise and unspeakable joy, caught in everlasting, paternal arms. He who loses his life, — he who dares to lose his life, — shall find it. 2. Secondly: In all our religious anxiety, we should make a full and plain statement of everything to God. Grod loves to hear the details of our sin, and our woe. The soul that pours itself out as water will find that it is not like water spilt upon the ground, which cannot be gathered up again. Even when the story is one of shame and remorse, we find it to be mental relief, patiently and without any reservation or palliation, to expose the whole not only to our own eye but to that of our Judge. For, to this very thing have we been invited. This is precisely the " reasoning together " which God proposes to us. God has not offered clemency to a sinful world, with the expectation or desire that there be on the part of those to whom it is offered, such a stinted and meagre confession, such a glozing over and diminution of sin, as to make that clem- ency appear a very small matter. He well knows the depth and the immensity of the sin which He proposes to pardon, and has made provision accord- ingly. In the phrase of Luther, it is no painted sinner who is to be forgiven, and it is no painted Saviour who is offered. The transgression is deep and real, and the atonement is deep and real. The crime cannot be exaggerated, neither can the 200 SELF-SCEUTINY IN^ GOd's PEESENCE. expiation. He, therefore, wIlo makes the plain- est and most child-like statement of himself to Grod, acts most in accordance with the mind, and will, and gospel of God. If man only be hearty, full, and unreserved in confession, he will find Grod to be hearty, full, and um-eserved in absolu- tion. Man is not straitened upon the side of the Divine mercy. The obstacle in the way of his salvation is in himself; and the particular, fatal obstacle consists in the fact that he does not feel that he needs mercy. God in Christ stands ready to pardon, but man the sinner stands up before Him like the besotted crim- inal in our courts of law, with no feeling upon the subject. The Judge assures him that He has a boundless grace and clemency to bestow, but the stolid hardened man is not even aware that he has committed a dreadful crime, and needs grace and clemency. There is food in infinite abundance, but no hunger upon the part of man. The water of life is flowing by in torrents, but men have no thirst. In this state of things, nothing can be done, but to pass a sentence of condemnation. God cannot for- give a being who does not even know that he needs, to be forgiven. Knowledge then, self-knowledge, is the great requisite ; and the want of it is the cause of perdition. This " reasoning together" with God, respecting our past and present character and conduct, is the first step to be taken by any one who would make preparation for eternity. As soon SELF-SCEUTmY IN GOd's PEESENCE. 201 as we come to a right understanding of our lost and guilty condition, we shall cry : " Be merciful to me a sinner ; create within me a clean heart, O God." Without such an understanding, — such an intelli gent perception of our sin and guilt, — we never shall, and we never can. SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY Jobs Yiii. 34. — " Jesus answered them, Yerily, verily I say unto you, v?ho« soever committeth sin is the servant of sin." The word (SovXog) whicli is translated " serv- ant," in tlie text, literally signifies a slave ; and the thought which our Lord actually conveyed to those who heard Him is, " Whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin." The apostle Peter, in that second Epistle of his which is so fall of terse and terrible description of the effects of unbridled sensuality upon the human will, expresses the same truth. Speaking of the influence of those corrupting and licentious men who have " eyes full of adultery, and that cannot cease from sin," he remarks that while they promise their dupes " liberty, they themselves are the servants [slaves] of corruption: for of wdiom a man is overcome, of the same is he brought in bondage^ Such passages as these, of which there are a great number in the Bible, direct attention to the fact that sin contains an element of servitude, — that in the very act of transgressing the law of God there SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. 203 is a reflex action of the human will upon itself, whereby it becomes less able than before to keep that law. Sin is the suicidal action of the human will. It destroys the power to do right, which is man's true freedom. The effect of vicious habit in diminishing a man's ability to resist temptation is proverbial. But what is habit but a constant rep- etition of wrong decisions, every single one of which reacts upon the faculty that put them forth, and renders it less strong and less energetic, to do the contrary. Has the old debauchee, just totter- ing into hell, as much power of active resistance against the sin which has now ruined him, as the youth has who is just beginning to run that aw- ful career % Can any being do a wrong act, and be as sound in his will and as spiritually strong, aftei it, as he was before it? Did that abuse of free agency by Adam, whereby the sin of the race was originated, leave the agent as it found him, — unin- jured and undebilitated in his voluntary power ? The truth and fact is, that sin in and by itn own nature and operations, tends to destroy all virt'ious force, all holy energy, in any moral being. The ex- cess of will to sin is the same as the defect of will to holiness. The degree of intensity wit}» which any man loves and inclines to evil is the measure of the amount of power to good which he has thereby lost. And if the intensity be total, then the loss is entire. Total depravity carries with it total impo- tence and helplessness. The more carefully we ob- 204 SIN IS SPIEITUAL SLAVEEY. serv e tlie workings of our own wills, tlie surer will be our conviction tliat they can ruin themselves. We shall indeed find that they cannot be forced^ or ruined from the outside. But, if we watch the in- fluence upon the will itself^ of its own wrong decis- ions, its own yielding to temptations, we shall dis- cover that the voluntary faculty may be ruined from within ; may be made impotent to good by its own action ; may surrender itself with such an intensity and entireness to appetite, passion, and self-love, that it becomes unable to reverse itself, and over- come its own wrong disposition and direction. And yet there is no compulsion^ from fii'st to last, in the process. The man follows himself He pursues his own inclination. He has his own way and does as he pleases. He loves what he inclines to love, and hates what he inclines to hate. Neither God, nor the world, nor Satan himself, force him to do wrong. Sin is the most spontaneous of self-motion. But self-motion has consequences as much as any other motion. Because transgression is a s^/f-deter- mined act, it does not follow that it has no reaction and results, but leaves the will precisely as it found it. It is strictly true that man was not necessitated to apostatize ; but it is equally true that if by his own self-decision he should apostatize, he could not then and afterwards be as he was before. He would lose a hnowledge of God and divine things which he could never regain of himself And he would lose a spiritual jyower which he could never again SIN IS SPIEITUAL SLAYEEY. 205 recover of himself. The bondage of which Christ speaks, when He says, " Whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," is an eifect within the soul itself of an unforced act of self-will, and therefore is as truly guilt as any other result or product of self- will, — as spiritual blindness, or spiritual hardness, or any other of the qualities of sin. Whatever springs from will, we are responsible for. The drunkard's bondage and powerlessness issues from his own inclination and self indulgence, and there- fore the bondage and impotence is no excuse for his vice. Man's inability to love God supremely results from his intense self-will and self-love ; and therefore his impotence is a part and element of his sin, and not an excuse for it. " If weakness may excuse, "What murderer, what traitor, parricide, Incestuous, sacrilegious, may not plead it? All wickedness is weakness." ' 'Milton: Samson Agonistes, yielded to becomes custom; 882-834. — One key to the solu- and custom not resisted becomes tion of the problem, how there necessity. By which links, as it can be bondage in the very seat of were, joined together as in a freedom, — how man can be re- chain, a hard bondage held me en- sponsible for sin, yet helpless in thralled." Augustine: Confes- it,— is to be found in this fact of sions, VIII. v. 10. '' Every de- a reflex action of the will upon gree of inclination contrary to itself, or, a reaction of self-action, duty, which is and must be sinful, Piiilosophical speculation upon implies and involves an equal de- the nature of the human will has gree of difficulty and inability to not, hitiierto, taken this fact suf- obey. For, indeed, such inclina- ficiently into account. The fol- tion of the heart to disobey, and lowing extracts corroborate the the difficulty or inability to obey, view presented above. "My are precisely one and the same. will X]\Q- enemy held, and thence This kind of difficulty or inability, had made a chain for me, and therefore, always is great accord- bound me. For, of a perverse ing to the strength and fixedness will comes lust; and a lust of the inclination to disobey ; and 10 206 SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. The doctrine, then, which is taught m the text, is the truth that sin is spiritual slavery ; and it is to the proof and illustration of this position that we invite attention. The term " spiritual " is too often taken to moan unreal, fanciful, figurative. For man is earthly in his views as well as in his feelings, and therefore regards visible and material things as the emphatic realities. Hence he employs material objects as the ultimate standard, by which he measures the real- ity of all other things. The natural man has more consciousness of his body, than he has of his soul ; more sense of this world, than of the othei'. Hence Ave find that the carnal man expresses his concep- tion of spiritual things, by transferring to them, in a weak and secondary signification, words which he applies in a strong and vivid way only to material objects. He speaks of the "joy" of the spirit, but It becomes totalixn(}i absolute [ina- tations so trivial that we despise billty], wlien the heart is totally their danger. And so we fall corrupt and- wholly opposed to into perilous situations from obedience, . . No man can act which we might easily have pre- contrary to his present inclination served ourselves, but from which or choice. But who ever imag- we now find it impossible to ex- ined that this rendered his incli- tricate ourselves without efforts nation and choice innocent and so superhuman as to terrify us, blameless, however wrong and and we finally fall into the abyss, unreasonable it might be." Sam- saying to the Almighty, ' Why TTEL Hopkins : Works, I. 233-235. hast Tliou made me so weak ? ' ''Moral inability" is the being But notwithstanding our vain " unable to be willing." Ed- pretext. He addresses our con- WARDs: Freedom of the Will, science, saying, 'I have made Part T, sect. iv. ''Propensities," thee too weak to rise from the pit^ —says a writer very different because I made thee strong from those above quoted, — "that enough not to fall therein.'''''' are easily surmounted lead us un- Rousseau : Confessions, Book II. resistingly on ; we yield to temp- Sm IS SPIRITUAL SLAVEEY. 207 it is nol such a reality for liim as is the "joy" of the body. He speaks of the " pain " of the spirit, but it has not such a poignancy for him as that an- Ornish which thrills throug-h his muscles and nerves. He knows that the " death " of the body is a ter- rible event, but transfers the word "death" to the spirit with a vague and feeble meaning, not realizins: that the second death is more awful than the first, and is accompanied with a spiritual dis- tress compared with which, the sharpest agony of material dissolution would be a relief He under- stands what is meant by the " life " of the body, but when he hears the " eternal life " of the spirit spoken of, or when he reads of it in the Bible, it is with the feeling that it cannot be so real and life- like as that vital principle whose currents impart vigor and warmth to his bodily frame. And yet, the life of the spirit is more intensely real than the life of the body is ; for it has power to overrule and absorb it. Spiritual life, when in full play, is bliss ineffable. It translates man into the third heavens, where the fleshly life is lost sight of en- tirely, and the being, like St. Paul, does not know whether he is in the body or out of the body. The natural mind is deceived. Spirit has in it more of reality than matter has ; because it is an immortal and indestructible essence, while matter is neither. Spiritual things are more real than vis- ible things ; because they ai^e eternal, and eternity is more real than time. Statements respecting 208 SESr IS SPIKITUAL SLAVERY. spiritual objects, therefore, are more solemnly true than any that relate to material things. Invisible and spiritual realities, therefore, are the standard by which all others should be tried ; and human language when applied to them, instead of express- ing too much, expresses too little. The imagery and phraseology by which the Scriptures describe the glory of God, the excellence of holiness, and the bliss of heaven, on the one side, and the sinfulness of sin with the woe of hell, on the other, come short of the sober and actual matter of fact. We should, therefore, beware of the error to which in our unspirituality we are specially liable ; and when we hear Christ assert that " whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," we should be- lieve and know, that these words are not extrava- gant, and contain no subtrahend, — that they indi- cate a self-enslavement of the human will which is so real, so total, and so absolute, as to necessitate the renewing grace of God in order to deliverance from it. This bondage to sin may be discovered by every man. It must be discovered, before one can cry, " Save me or I perish." It must be discovered, before one can feelingly assent to Christ's words, " With- out me ye can do nothing." It must be discovered, before one can understand the Christian paradox, " When I am weak, then am I strong." To aid the mind, in coming to the conscious experience of the truth taught in the text, we remark : Sm IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. 209 L Sin is spiritual slavery, if viewed in refer- ence to man's sense of obligation to he perfectly holy. The obligation to be holy, just, and good, as God is, rests upon every rational being. Every man knows, or may know, that he ought to be perfect as his Father in heaven is perfect, and that he is a debtor to this obligation until he has/W?y met it. Hence even the holiest of men are conscious of sin, because they are not completely up to the mark of this hio-h calling; of God. For, the sense of this obligation is an exceeding broad one, — like the law itself which it includes and enforces. The feeling of duty will not let us off, with the performance of only a part of our duty. Its utterance is : " Verily I say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law till all be fulfilled." Law spreads itself over the vrhole surface and course of our lives, and insists impera* tively that every part and particle of them be pure and holy. Again, this sense of obligation to be perfect as God is perfect, is exceedingly deep. It is the most profound sense of which man is possessed, for it outlives all others. The feeling of duty to God's law remains in a man's mind either to bless him or to curse him, when all other feelings depart. In the hour of death, when all the varied passions and experiences which have engrossed the man his whole lifetime are dying out of the soul, and are 210 SIN" IS SPIRITUAL SLAVEET. disappearing, one after another, like signal -lights in the deepening darkness, this one particular feel- ing of what he owes to the Divine and the Eter- nal law remains behind, and grows more vivid and painful, as all others grow dimmer and dim- mer. And therefore it is, that in this solemn hour man forgets whether he has been happy or unhappy, successful or unsuccessful, in the world, and remembers only that he has been a sinner in it. And therefore it is, that a man's thoughts, when he is upon his death-bed, do not settle upon his worldly matters, but upon his sin. It is because the human conscience is the very core and centre of the human being, and its sense of obligation to be holy is deeper than all other senses and sensa- tions, that we hear the dying man say what the living and prosperous man is not inclined to say : " I have been wicked ; I have been a sinner in the earth." Now it might seem, at first sight, that this broad, deep, and abiding sense of obligation would be sufficient to overcome man's love of sin, and bring him up to the discharge of duty, — would be power- ful enough to subdue his self-will. Can it be that this strong and steady draft of conscience, — strong and steady as gravitation, — will ultimately prove ineffectual ? Is not truth mighty, and must it not finally prevail, to the pulling down of the stronghold which Satan has in the human heart? So some men argue. So some men claim, in opposition tc SIK IS SPIEITUAL SLAVERY. 211 the doctrine of Divine influences and of regenera- tion by the Holy Ghost. We are willing to appeal to actual experience, in order to settle the point. And we affirm in the outset, that exactly in proportion as a man hears the voice of conscience sounding its law within his breast, does he become aware, not of the strength but, of the bondage of his will, and that in propor- tion as this sense of obligation to be perfectly holy rises in his soul, all hope or expectation of ever becoming so by his own power sets in thick night. In our careless unawakened state, which is our ordinary state, we sin on from day to day, just as w^e live on from day to day, without being distinctly aware of it. A healthy man does not go about, ' holding his fingers upon his wrist, and counting every pulse ; and neither does a sinful man, as he walks these streets and transacts all this business, think of and sum up the multitude of his trans- gressions. And yet, that pulse all the while beats none the less ; and yet, that will all the while trans- gresses none the less. So long as conscience is asleep, sin is pleasant. The sinful activity goes on without notice, we are happy in sin, and we do not feel that it is slavery of the will. Though the chains are actually about us, yet they do not gall us. In this conditicm, which is that of every unawakened siimer, we are not conscious of the " bondage of corruption." In the phrase of St. Paul, "^ we are alive without the law." We have 212 SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. no feeling sense of duty, and of course liave no feeling sense of sin. And it is in this state of things, that arguments are framed to prove the mightiness of mere conscience, and the power of bare truth and moral obligation, over the perverse human heart and will. But the Spirit of God awakens the conscience; that sense of obligation to h^ perfectly holy which has hitherto slept now starts up, and begins to form an estimate of what has been done in reference to it. The man hears the authoritative and startling law : " Thou shalt be perfect, as Grod is " And now, at this very instant and point, begins the conscious- ness of enslavement, — of being, in the expressive phrase of Scripture, ^^ sold under sin." Now the commandment "comes," shows us first what we ought to be and then what we actually are, and we "die."^ All moral strength dies out of us. The muscle has been cut by the sword of truth, and the limb drops helpless by the side. For, we find that the obligation is immense. It extends to all our outward acts ; and having covered the whole of this great surface, it then strikes inward and reaches to every thought of the mind, and every emotion of the heart, and every motive of the will. We discover that we are under obligation at every con- ceivable point in our being and in our history, but that we have not met obligation at a single point. When we see that the law of God is broad and ^ Romans vii. 9-11. SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. 213 deep, and that sin is equally broad and deep within us ; when we learn that we have never thought one single holy thought, nor felt one single holy feeling, nor done one single holy deed, because self-love is the root and principle of all our work, and we have never purposed or desired to please God by any one of our actions ; when we find that everything has been required, and that absolutely nothing has been done, that we are bound to be perfectly holy this very instant, and as matter of fact are totally sinful, we know in a most affecting man- ner that "whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin". But suppose that after this disheartening and weakening discovery of the depth and extent of our sinfulness, we proceed to take the second step, and attempt to extirpate it. Suppose that after coming to a consciousness of all this obligation resting upon us, we endeavor to comply with it. This renders us still more painfully sensible of the truth of our Saviour's declaration. Even the re generated man, who in this endeavor has the aid of God, is mournfully conscious that sin is the enslave- ment of the human will. Though he has been freed substantially, he feels that the fi-agments of the chains are upon him still. Though the love of God is the predominant principle within him, yet the lusts and propensities of the old nature con- tinually start up like devils, and tug at tlie spirit, to drag it down to its old bondage. But that man 10* 214 SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. who attempts to overcome sin, without first crying, " Create within me a clean heart, O God," feels still more deeply that sin is spiritual slavery. When lie comes to know sin in reference to the ob- ligation to be perfectly holy, it is with vividness and hopelessness. He sees distinctly that he ought to be a perfectly good being instantaneously. This point is clear. But instead of looking up to the hills whence cometh his help, he begins, in a cold legal and loveless temper, to draw upon his own resources. The first step is to regulate his external conduct by the Divine law. He tries to put a bridle upon his tongue, and to walk carefully before his fellow-men. He fails to do even this small outside thing, and is filled with discouragement and despondency. But the sense of duty reaches beyond the exter- nal conduct, and the law of God pierces like the two-edged sword of an executioner, and discerns the thoughts and motives of the heart. Sin begins to be seen in its relation to the inner man, and he attempts again to reform aild change the feelings and affections of his soul. He strives to wring the gall of bitterness out of his own heart, with his own hands. But he fails utterly. As he resolves, and breaks his resolutions; as he finds evil thoughts and feelings continually coming up from the deep places of his heart ; he discovers his spiritual impo- tence, — ^his lack of control over what is deepest- most intimate, and most fundamental in his own Sm IS bl'lEITUAL SLAVERY. 215 character, — and cries out : " I am a slave, 1 am a slave to myself." If tlien, you would know from immediate con- sciousness that " whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," simply view sin in the light of that obligation to be perfectly pure and holy which necessarily, and forever, rests upon a responsible being. If you would know that spiritual slavery is no extravagant and unmeaning phrase, but denotes a most real and helpless bondage, endeavor to get entirely rid of sin, and to be perfect as the spirits of just men made perfect. n. Sin is spiritual slavery, if viewed in reference to the aspirations of the human soul. Theology makes a distinction between common and special grace, — between those ordinary influen- ces of the Divine Spirit which rouse the conscience, and awaken some transient aspirations after re- ligion, and those extraordinary influences which actually renew the heart and will. In speaking, then, of the aspirations of the human soul, reference is had to all those serious impressions, and those painful anxieties concerning salvation, which re- quire to be followed up by a yet mightier power from G-od, to prevent their being entirely sup- pressed again, as they are in a multitude of in- stances, by the strong love of sin and the world. For though man has fallen into a state of death in trespasses and sins, so that if cut off from every species of Divine influence, and left entirely to him 216 Sm IS SPIPwlTUAL SLAVERY. self, he would never reach out after anything bi .t the sin which he loves, yet through the commen influences of the Spirit of Grace, and the ordinary workings of a rational nature not yet reprobated, he is at times the subject of internal stirrings and aspirations that indicate the greatness and glory of the heights whence he fell. Under the power of an awakened conscience, and feeling the empti- ness of the world, and the aching void within him, man wishes for something better than he has, or than he is. The minds of the more thouo-htful of the ancient pagans were the subjects of these im- pulses, and aspirations ; and they confess their utter inability to realize them. They are expressed upon every page of Plato, and it is not surprising that some of the Christian Fathers should have deemed Platonism, as well as Judaism, to be a prep- aration for Christianity, by its bringing man to a sense of his need of redemption. And it would stimulate Christians in their efforts to give revealed religion to the heathen, did they ponder the faci which the journals of the missionary sometimes dis close, that the Divine Spirit is brooding with His common and preparatory influence over the chaos of Paganism, and that here and there the heathen mind faintly aspires to be freed from the bond- age of corruption, — that dim stirrings, impulses, and wishes for deliverance, are awake in the dark heart of Pao-anism, but that omno; to the strens^th and inveteracy of sin in that heart they will Sm IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. 217 j)rove ineifectnal to salvation, unless the gospel is preached, and the Holy Spirit is specially poured out in answer to the prayers of Christians. Now, all these phenomena in the human soul go to show the rigid bondage of sin, and to prove that sin has an element of servitude in it. For when these impulses, wishes, and aspirations are awaken- ed, and the man discovers that he is unable to real- ize them in actual character and couvl'uct, he is wretchedly and thoroughly conscious that " whoso- ever commit teth sin is the slave of sin." The im- mortal, heaven-descended spirit, feeling the kindling touch of truth and of the Holy Ghost, thrills under it, and essays to soar. But sin hangs heavy upon it, and it cannot lift itself from the earth. Never is man so sensible of his enslavement and his helplessness, as when he has a wish but has no %oiU} Look, for illustration, at the asj^irations of the drunkard to be delivered from the vice that easily besets him. In his sober moments, they come thick and fast, and during his sobriety, and while under the lashings of conscience, he wishes, nay, ev^en loiigs^ to be freed from drunkenness. It may be, that under the impulse of these aspirations he resolves never to drink again. It may be, that amid the buoyancy that naturally accompanies the * Some of the Schoolmen (lis- former, relleitas^ and the latter, tinguished carefully between the voluntas. two thing.s, and deuuininated the 218 Sm IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. sjmnging of hope and longing in tbe human soul, he for a time seems to himself to be actually rising up from his " wallowing in the mire," and supposes that he shall soon regain his primitive condition of temperance. But the sin is strong ; for the appetite that feeds it is in his blood. Temptation with its witching solicitation comes before the will, — the weak, self-enslaved will. He aspires to resist, but will not ; the spirit would soar, but the flesh will creep; the spirit has the wisli^ but the flesh has the 10 ill ; the man longs to be sober, but actually is and remains a drunkard. And never, — be it noticed, — never is he more thoroughly conscious of being a slave to himself, than when he thus ineffectually aspires and wishes to be delivered from himself. What has been said of drunkenness, and the aspiration to be freed from it, applies with full force to all the sin and all the aspirations of the human soul. There is no independent and self- realizing power in a mere aspiration. No man overcomes even his vices, except as he is assisted by the com- mon grace of God. The self-reliant man invariably relapses into his old habits. He who thinks he stands is sure to fall. But when, under the influ- ence of God's common grace, a man aspires to be freed from the deepest of all sin, because it is the source of all particular acts of transgression, — when he attempts to overcome and extirpate the original and inveterate depravity of his heart, — he feels his SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. ii^ bondage more thoroughly than ever. If it is wretchedness for the drunkard to aspire after free- dom from only a single vice, and fail of reaching it, is it not the depth of woe, when a man comes to know "the plague of his heart," and his utter inability to cleanse and cure it ? In this case, the bondage of self-will is found to be absolute. At first sight, it might seem as if these wishes and aspirations of the human spirit, faint though they be, are proof that man is not totally depraved, and that his will is not helplessly enslaved. So some men argue. But they forget, that these aspi- rations and wishes are neve?- realized. There is no evidence of power, except from its results. And w^here are the results? Who has ever realized these wishes and aspirations, in his heart and con- duct ? The truth is, that every unattained aspira- tion that ever swelled the human soul is proof pos- itive, and loud, that the human soul is in bondage. These ineffectiial stirrings and impulses, which disappear like the morning cloud and the early dew, are most affecting evidences that "whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin." They prove that apostate man has sunk, in one respect, to a lower level than that of the irrational creation. For, high ideas and truths cannot raise him. Lofty impulses result in no alteration, or elevation. Even Divine influences leave him just where they find him, unless they are exerted in their highest grade of irresistible grace. A brute surrenders himself 220 SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVEEY. to bis appetites and propensities, and lives the low life of nature, without being capable of aspirations for anything purer and nobler. But man does this very thing, — nay, immerses himself in flesh, and sense, and self, with an entireness and intensity of which the brute is incapable, — in the face of impulses and stirrings of mind that point him to the pure throne of God, and urge him to soar up to it ! The brute is a creature of nature, because he knows no better, and can desire nothing better ; but man is " as the beasts that perish," in spite of a better knowledge and a loftier aspiration ! If then, you would know that " whosoever com- mitteth sin is the dave of sin," contemjDlate sin in reference to the aspirations of an apostate spirit originally made in the image of God, and which, because it is not eternally reprobated, is not entirely cut off from the common influences of the Spirit of God. Never will you feel the bondage of your will more profoundly, than when under these influ- ences, and in your moments of seriousness and anxiety respecting your soul's salvation, you aspire and endeavor to overcome inward sin, and find that unless God grant you His special and renovating grace, your heart will be sinful through all eternity, in spite of the best impulses of your best hours. These upward impulses and aspirations cannot accompany the soul into the state of final hopeless- ness and despair, — though Milton represents Satan as sometimes lookino- back witli a sif^h, and a SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. 221 mournful memory, upon what be had once been/ — yet if they should go with us there, they would make the ardor of the fire more fierce, and the gnaw of the worm more fell. For they would help to reveal the strength of our sin, and the intensity of our rebellion. III. Sin is spiritual slavery, if viewed in refer ence to the fears of the human soul. The sinful spirit of man fears the deatli of the body, and the Scriptures assert that by reason of this particular fear we are all our lifetime in bond- age. Though we know that the bodily dissolu- tion can have no effect upon the imperishal)le es- sence of an immortal being, yet we shrink back from it, as if the sentence, " Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return," had been spoken of the spirit, — as if the worm were to " feed sweetly " upon the soul, and it were to be buried up in the dark house of the grave. Even the boldest of i/s is disturbed at the thought of bodily death, anc? we are always startled when the summons sudd.';nly comes : " Set thy house in order, for thou must die." Again, the spirit of man fears that *' fearful some- thing after death," that eternal judgment which must be passed upon all. We tremble at tlie pros- pect of giving an account of our own actions. We are afraid to reap the harvest, the seed of which ^ve have sown with our own hauds. The thoutjhl of » Milton : Paradise Lost, IV. 23-25 ; 35-61. 222 SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAYEEY. going to a just judgment, and of receiving from tlie Judge of all the earth, who cannot possibly do in justice to any of His creatures, only that which is our desert, shocks us to the centre of our being ! Man universally is afraid to be judged with a right- eous judgment! Man universally is terrified by the equitable bar of God ! Again, the apostate spirit of man has an awful dread of eternity. Though this invisible realm is the proj)er home of the human soul, and it was made to dwell there forever, after the threescore and ten years of its residence in the body are over, yet it shrinks back from an entrance into this un- tried world, and clings with the desperate force of a drowning man to tliis " bank and shoal of time." There are moments in the life of a guilty man when the very idea of eternal existence exerts a preter- natural power, and fills him with a dread that para- lyzes him. Never is the human being stirred to so great depths, and roused to such intensity of ac- tion, as when it feels what the Scripture calls " the power of an endless life." All men are urged by some ruling passion which is strong. The love of wealth, or of j^leasure, or of fame, drives the mind onward with great force, and excites it to mighty exertions to compass its end. But nev^er is a man pervaded by such an irresistible and overwhelming influence as that which descends upon him in some season of religious gloom, — some hour of sickness, or danger, or death, — when the great eternity, with Sm IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. 223 all its awful realities, and all its unknown terror. opens upon his quailing gaze. There are times in man's life, when he is the subject of movements within that impel him to deeds that seem almost superhuman ; but that internal ferment and con- vulsion which is produced when all eternity pours itself through his being turns his soul up from the centre. Man will labor convulsively, night and day, for money ; he will dry up the bloom and freshness of health, for earthly power and fame ; he will act- ually wear his body out for sensual pleasure. But what is the intensity and paroxysm of this activity of mind and body, if compared with those inward struggles and throes when the overtaken and start- led sinner sees the eternal world looming into view, and with strong crying and tears prays for only a little respite, and only a little preparation! "Mil- lions for an inch of time," — said the dying English Queen. " O Eternity ! Eternity ! how shall I grap pie with the misery that I must meet with in eter nity^^ — says the man in the iron cage of Despair. This finite world has indeed great power to stir man, but the other world has an infinitely greater power. The clouds which float in the lower regions of the sky, and the winds that sweep them along, produce great ruin and destruction upon the earth, but it is only when the " windows of heaven are opened " that " the fountains of the great deep are broken up," and " all in whose nostrils is the breath of life die," and " every living substance is destroyed 224 sm IS SPIRITUAL slavery. which is upon the face of the ground." When fear arises in the soul of man, in view of an eternal ex istence for which he is utterly unprepared, it is overwhelming. It partakes of the immensity of eternity, and holds the man with an omnipotent grasp. If, now, we view sin in relation to these great fears of death, judgment, and eternity, we see that it is spiritual slavery, or the bondage of the will. We discover that our terror is no more able to deliver us from the " bondage of corruption," than our as- piration is. We found that in spite of the serious stirrings and impulses which sometimes rise within us, we still continue immersed in sense and sin ; and we shall also find that in spite of the most sol- emn and awful fears of which a finite being is capar ble, we remain bondmen to ourselves, and our sin The dread that goes down into hell can no more ransom us, than can the aspiration that goes up into heaven. Our fear of eternal woe can no more change the heart, than our wish for eternal happiness can. We have, at some periods, faintly wished that lusts and passions had no power over us ; and perhaps we have been the subject of still higher asjDirings. But we are the same beings, still. We are the same self-willed and self-enslaved sinners, yet. We have all our lifetime feared death, judgment, and eternity, and under the influence of this fear we have sometimes resolved and promised to be- come Christians. But we are the very same beings, SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. 225 still ; we are the same self-willed and self-enslaved sinners vet. O, never is the human spirit more deeply con- scious of its bondage to its darling iniquity, than when these paralyzing fears shut do\vn upon it, like night, with " a horror of great darkness." Wher under their influence, the man feels most tlioroughly and wretchedly that his sin is his ruin, and yet his sinful determination continues on, because " wdioso- ever committeth sin is the slave of sin." Has it never happened that, in " the visions of the night when deep sleep falleth upon men," a spirit passed before your face, like that which stood still before the Temanite ; and there was silence, and a voice saying, " Man ! Man ! thou must die, thou must be judged, thou must inhabit eternity ? " And when the spirit had departed, and while the tones of its solemn and startling cry were still rolling through your soul, did not a temptation to sin solicit you, and did you not drink in its iniquity like water ^ Have you not found out, by mournful experience, that the most anxious forebodino-s of the human spirit, the most alarming fears of the human soul, and the mo^t solemn warnino^s that come forth from eternity, have no prevailing power over your sinful nature, but that immediately after experiencing them, and while your whole being is still quivering under their agonizing touch, you fall, you rush, into sin ? Have you not discovered that even that most dreadful of all fears, — the fear of the holy wrath of 226 SIN IS SPIEITUAL SLAVERY. almighty God, — is not strong enougli to save you from yourself ? Do you know that your love of sin has the power to stifle and overcome the mightiest of your fears, when you are strongly tempted to self- indulgence ? Have you no evidence, in your own experience, of the truth of the poet's words : " The Seusual and the Dark rebel in vain, Slaves by their own compulsion." K, then, you would know that " whosoever com- mitteth sin is the slave of sin," contemplate sin in relation to the fears which of necessity rest upon a spirit capable, as yours is, of knowing that it must leave the body, that it must receive a final sentence at the bar of judgment, and that eternity is its last and fixed dwelling-place. If you would know with sadness and with profit, that sin is the enslave- ment of the will that orio:inates it, consider that all the distressing fears that have ever been in your soul, from the first, have not been able to set you free in the least from innate depravity: but, that in spite of them all your will has been steadily surrendering itself, more and more, to the evil prin- ciple of self-love and enmity to God. Call to mind the great fight of anguish and terror which you have sometimes waged with sin, and see how sin has always been victorious. Remember that you have often dreaded death, — but you are unjust still. Remember that you have often trembled at the thought of eternal judgment, — but you are unre» Sm IS SPIRITUAX SLAVERY. 227 generate still. Remember that you have often started back, when the holy and retributive eter- nity dawned like the day of doom upon you, — but you are impenitent still. If you view your own personal sin in reference to your own person a], fears, are you not a slave to it ? Will or can your fears, mighty as they sometimes are, deliver you from the bondage of corruption, and lift you above that which you love with all your heart, and strength and might ? It is perfectly plain, then, that " whosoever com- mitteth sin is the slave of sin," whetlier we have regard to the feeling of obligation to be perfectly holy which is in the human conscience ; or to the ineffectual aspirations which sometimes arise in the human spirit ; or to the dreadful fears which often fall upon it. Sin must have brought the human will into a real and absolute bondage, if the deep and solemn sense of indebtedness to moral law; if the " thoughts that wander through eternity ; " if the aspirations that soar to the heaven of heavens, and the fears that descend to the very bottom of hell, — if all these combined forces and influences cannot free it from its power. It was remarked in the beorinnino^ of this (lis- course, that the bondage of sin is the result of the rejlex action of the human will upon itself. It is not a slavery imposed from without, but from within. The bondage of sin is only a ixirticular aspect of sin itself. The element of servitude, like the ele- 228 sm IS spiEiTUAL slavery. ment of blindness, or hardness, or rebellioiisne'ss, ia part and particle of that moral evil which deserves the wrath and curse of God. It, therefore, no more excuses or palliates, than does any other self-origi- nated quality in sin. Spiritual bondage, like spir- itual enmity to God, or spiritual ignorance of Him, or spiritual apathy towards Him, is guilt and crime. And in closing, we desire to repeat and empha- size this truth. Whoever will enter upon that pro- cess of self-wrestling and self-conilict which has been described, will come to a profound sense of the truth which our Lord taus-ht in the words of the text. All such will find and feel that they are in slavery, and that their slavery is their condem- nation. For the anxious, weary, and heavy-laden sinner, the problem is not mysterious, because it finds its solution in the depths of his own self -con- sciousness. He needs no one to clear it up for him, and he has neither doubts nor cavils respecting it. But, an objection always assails that mind which has not the key of an inward moral struggle to un- lock the problem for it. When Christ asserts that ^* whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," the easy and indifferent mind is swift to draw the in- ference that this bondage is its misfortune, and that the poor slave does not deserve to be punished, but to be set free. He says as St. Paul did in another connection : " Nay verily, but let them come them selves, and fetch us out." But this slavery is a self- enslavement. The feet of this man have not beon SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. 229 thrust into tlie stocks by another. This logician must refer everything to its own proper author, and its own proper cause. Let this spiritual bond- age, therefore, be charged upon the self that origi- nated it. Let it be referred to that self-will in which it is wrapped up, and of which it is a constit- uent element. It is a universally received maxim, that the agent is responsible for the consequences of a voluntary act, as well as for the act itself. If therefore, the human will has inflicted a suicidal blow upon itself, and one of the consequences of its own determination is a total enslavement of itself to its own determination, then this enslaving result of the act, as well the act itself, must all go in to constitute and swell the sum-total of human guilt. The miserable drunkard, therefore, cannot be ab- solved from the drunkard's condemnation, uj^on the plea that by a long series of voluntary acts he has, in the end, so enslaved himself that no power but God's grace can save him. The marble-hearted fiend in hell, the absolutely lost spirit in despair, cannot relieve his torturing sense of guilt, by the reflection that he has at length so hardened his own heart that he cannot repent. The unforced will of a moral being must be held responsible for both its direct, and its reflex action ; for both its sin, and its hond^ age in sin. The denial of guilt, then, is not the way out. He who takes this road "kicks against the goads." And he will find their stabs thickening, the farther 11 . 230 Sm IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. he travels, and the nearer he draws to the face and eyes of God. But there is a way out. It is the way of self-knowledge and confession. This is the point upon which all the antecedents of salvation hinge. He who has come to know, with a clear discrimina- tion, that he is in a guilty bondage to his own incli- nation and lust, has taken the very first step towards freedom. For, the Redeemer, the Almighty Deliv- erer, is near the captive, so soon as the captive feels his bondage and confesses it. The mighty God walking upon the waves of this sinful, troubled life, stretches out His arm, the very instant any sinking soul cries, "Lord save me." And unless that appeal and confession of helplessness is made. He, the Mer- ciful and the Compassionate, will let the soul go down before His own eyes to the imfathomed abyss. If the sinking Peter had not uttered that cry, the mighty hand of Christ would not have been stretched forth. All the difficulties disappear, so soon as a man understands the truth of the Divine affirmation : " O Israel thou hast destroyed thyself," — ^it is a real destruction, and it is thy own work,— " but in ME is thy help." THE ORIGINAL AND THE ACTUAL RELATION OF MAJN TO LAW. Romans vii. 10. — "The commandment which was ordained to life, I found to be unto death." The reader of Si. Paul's Epistles is struck with the seemingly disparaging manner in which he speaks of the moral law. In one place, he tells his reader that " the law entered that the offence might abound ; " in another, that " the law worketh wrath ; " in another, that " sin shall not have do- minion " over the believer because he is " not under the law ; " in another, that Christians " are become dead to the law ;" in another, that " they are delivered from the law ; " and in another, that " the strength of sin is the law." This phraseology sounds strangely, respecting that great commandment upon which the whole moral government of God is founded. We are in the habit of supposing that nothing that springs from the Divine law, or is in any way connected with it, can be evil or the occa- sion of evil. If the law of holiness is the strength of sin ; if it worketh wrath ; if good men are to 232 THE OEIGmAL AND THE ACTUAL be delivered from it ; what then shall be said of the law of sin ? Why is it, that St. Paul in a cer- tain class of his representations appears to be inim- ical to the ten commandments, and to warn Chris- tians against them ? " Is the law sin ? " is a ques- tion that very naturally arises, while reading some of his statements; and it is a question which he hmiself asks, because he is aware that it will be likely to start in the mind of some of his readers. And it is a question to which he replies : '^ God for- bid. Nay I had not known sin, but by the law/' The difficulty is only seeming, and not real. These apparently disparaging representations of the moral law are perfectly reconcilable with that profound reverence for its authority which St. Paul felt and exhibited, and with that solemn and cogent preaching of the law for which he was so distin- guished. The text explains and resolves the diffi- culty. '' The commandment which was ordained to lifey I found to be unto death." The moral law, in its own nature, and by the Divine ordination, is suited to produce holiness and happiness in the soul of any and every man. It was ordained to life. So far as the purpose of God, and the original na- ture and character of man, are concerned, the ten commandments are perfectly adapted to fill the soul with peace and purity. In the unfallen crea- ture, they work no wrath, neither are they the strength of sin. If everything in man had re- mained as it was created, there would have been EELATION OF MAN TO LAW. 283 no need of urging him to " become dead to the law," to be '^ delivered from the law," and not be " under the law." Had man kept his original right- eousness, it could never be said of him that " the strength of sin is the law." On the contrary, there was such a mutual agreement between the unfallen nature of man and the holy law of God, that the latter was the very joy and strength of the former. The commandment was ordained to life, and it was the life and peace of holy Adam. The orio-inal relation between man's nature and the moral law was precisely like that between material nature and the material laws. There has been no apostasy in the system of matter, and all things remain there as they were in the beginning of creation. The law of gravitation, this very instant, rules as peacefully and supremely in every atom of matter, as it did on the mornins: of crea- tion. Should material nature be *' delivered " from the law of gravitation, chaos would come again. No portion of this fair and beautiful natural world needs to become "dead" to the laws of nature. Such phraseology as this is inapplicable to the re- lation that exists between the world of matter, and the system of material laws, because, in this mate- rial sphere, there has been no revolution, no rebel- lion, no great catastrophe analogous to the fall of Adam. The law here was ordained to life, and the ordinance still stands. And it shall stand until^ by the will of the Creator, these elements shall 234 THE ORIGINAL AJSTD THE ACTUAL melt with fervent heat, and these heavens shall pass away with a great noise ; until a new system of nature, and a new legislation for it, are introduced. But the case is different with man. He is not standing where he was, when created. He is out of his original relations to the law and government of God, and therefore that which was ordained to him for life, he now finds to be unto death. The food which in its own nature is suited to minister to the health and strength of the well man, becomes poison and death itself to the sick man. With this brief notice of the fact, that the law of God was ordained to life, and that therefore this disparaging phraseology of St. Paul does not refer to the intrinsic nature of law, which he expressly informs us "is holy just and good," nor to the origi- nal relation which man sustained to it before he became a sinner, let us now proceed to consider some particulars in which the commandment is found to be unto death, to every si)ifid man. The law of God shows itself in the human soul, in the form of a sense of duty. Every man, as he walks these streets, and engages in the business oi pleasures of life, hears occasionally the words "Thou shalt; thou shalt not." Everyman, as he passes along in this earthly pilgrimage, finds him- self saying to himself: "I ought, I ought not." This is the voice of law sounding in the conscience ; and every man may know, whenever he hears these words, that he is listening to the same authority RELATION OF MAN TO LAW. 235 that cut the ten commandments into the stones of Sinai, and sounded that awful trumpet, and will one day come in power and great glory to judge the quick and dead. Law, we say, expresses itself for man, while here upon earth, through the sense of duty. *' A sense of duty pursues us ever," said Webster, in that impressive allusion to the work- ings of conscience, in the trial of the Salem mur- derers. This is the accusing and condemning seri' sation^ in and by which the written statute of God becomes a living energy, and a startling voice in the soul. Cut into the rock of Sinai, it is a dead letter ; written and printed in our Bibles, it is still a dead letter; but wrought in this manner into the fabric of our own constitution, waylaying us in our hours of weakness, and irresolution, and secrecy, and speaking to our inward being in tones that are as startling as any that could be addressed to the physical ear, — undergoing this transmutation, and becoming a continual consciousness of duty and obli- gation, the law of God is more than a letter. It is a possessing spirit, and according as we obey or disobey, it is a guardian angel, or a tormenting fiend. We have disobeyed, and therefore the sense of duty is a tormenting sensation ; the com- mandment which was ordained to life, is found to be unto death. I. In the first place, to go into the analysis, the sense of duty is a sorrow and a pain to sinful man. because it places him under a continvxil restraint. 236 THE OEIGINAL AIS^D THE ACTUAL "No rreature can be happy, so long as he feels himselP under limitations. To be checked, reined in, and thwarted in any way, renders a man uneasy and discontented. The universal and instinctive desire for freedom, — freedom from restraint, — is a proof of this. Every creature wishes to follow out his inclination, and in proportion as he is hindered in so doing, and is compelled to work counter to it, he is restless and dissatisfied. Now the sense of duty exerts just this influence, upon sinful man. It opposes his wishes ; it thwarts his inclination ; it imposes a restraint upon his spontaneous desires and appetites. It continually hedges up his way, and seeks to stop him in the path of his choice and his pleasure. If his inclina- tion were only in harmony with his duty ; if his desires and affections were one with the law of God ; there would be no restraint from the law. In this case, the sense of duty would be a joy and not a sorrow^, because, in doing his duty, he would be doing what he liked. There are only two ways, whereby contentment can be introduced into the human soul. If the Divine law could be altered so that it should agree with man's sinful inclination, he could be happy in sin. The commandment having become like his own heart, there would, of course, be no conflict between the two, and he might sin on forever and lap himself in Elysium. And undoubtedly there are thousands of luxurious and guilty men, who, if they could, like the Eastern RELATION OF MAN TO LAW. 237 Serairamis, would make lust and law alike in their decree;^ would transmute the law of holiness into a law of sin ; would put evil for good, and good for evil, bitter for sweet and sweet for bit- ter; in order to be eternally happy in the sin that they love. They would bring duty and in- clination into harmony, by a method that would annihilate duty, would annihilate the eternal dis- tinction between right and wrong, would annihilate God himself But this method, of course, is impos- sible. There can be no transmutation of law, though there can be of a creature's character and in- clination. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but the commandment of God can never pass away. The only other mode, therefore, by which duty and inclination can be brought into agreement, and the continual sense of restraint which renders man so wretched be removed, is to change the inclination. The instant the desires and affections of our hearts are transformed, so that they accord with the Divine law, the conflict between our will and our conscience is at an end. When I come to love the law of holiness and delight in it, to obey it is sim- ply to follow out my inclination. And this, we have seen, is to be happy. But such is not the state of things, in the unre- ' "She in vice Of luxury was so shameless, that she made Liking to be lawful hy promulged decree. To clear the blame she had herself incurr'd." Dantk : Inferno, v. 56. 11* 238 THE ORIGINAL AND THE ACTUAL newed soul. Duty and inclination are in conflict. Man's desires appetites and tendencies are in one di- rection, and his conscience is in the other. The sense of duty holds a whip over him. He yields to his sinful inclination, finds a momentary pleasure in so doing, and then feels the stings of the scorpion-lash. We see this operation in a very plain and striking manuer, if we select an instance where the appetite is very strong, and the voice of conscience is veiy loud. Take, for example, that particular sin which most easily besets an Id dividual. Every man has such a sin, and knows what it is. Let him call to mind the innumerable instances in which that par- ticular temptation has assailed him, and he will be startled to discover how many thousands of times the sense of duty has put a restraint upon him. Though not in every single instance, yet in hun- dreds and hundreds of cases, the law of God has uttered the, " Thou shalt not," and endeavored to prevent the consummation of that sin. And what a wearisome experience is this. A continual forth- putting of an unlawful desire, and an almost inces saut check upon it, from a law which is hated but which is feared. For such is the attitude of the natural heart toward the commandment. "The carnal mind is enmity against the law of God." The two are contrary to one another ; so that when the heart goes out in its inclination, it is immedi- ately hindered and opposed by the law. Sometimes the collision between them is terrible, and the sold RELATION OF MAN TO LAW. 239 becomes an arena of tumultuous passions. The heart and will are intensely determined to do wrong, while the conscience is unyielding and uncompro- mising, and utters its denunciations, and thunders its wai-nings. And what a dreadful destiny awaits that soul, in whom this conflict and collision be- tween the dictates of conscience, and the desires of the heart, is to be eternal ! for whom, through all eternity, the holy law of God, which was ordained to life peace and joy, shall be found to be unto death and woe immeasurable ! II, In the second place, the sense of duty is a pain and sorrow to a sinful man, because it de- viands a perpetual effort from him. No creature likes to tug, and to lift. Service must be easy, in order to be happy. If you lay upon the shoulders of a laborer a burden that strains his muscles almost to the point of rupture, you put him in physical pain. His physical struc- ture was not intended to be subjected to such a stretch. His Creator designed that the burden should be proportioned to the power, in such a man- ner that work should be play. In the garden of Eden, physical labor was physical pleasure, because the powers were in healthy action, and the work assigned to them was not a burden. Before the fall, man was simply to dress and keep a garden ; but after the fall, he was to dig up thorns and this- tles, and eat his bread in the sweat of his face. This is a curse, — the curse of being compelled to toil, 240 THE ORIGINAL AND THE ACTUAL and lift, and put the muscle to such a tension that it aches. This is not the original and happy con- dition of the body, in which man was created. Look at the toiling millions of the human family, who like the poor ant " for one small grain, labor, and tug, and strive ; " see them bending double, under the heavy weary load which they must cany until relieved by death ; and tell me if this is the physical elysium, the earthly paradise, in which unfallen man was originally placed, and for which he was originally designed. No, the curse of labor, of perpetual effort, has fallen upon the body, as the curse of death has fallen upon the soul; aud the uneasiness and unrest of the groaning and strug- gling body is a convincing proof of it. The whole physical nature of man groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now, waiting for the adoption, that is the redemption of the hody from this penal necessity of perpetual strain and effort. The same fact meets us when we pass from the physical to the moral nature of man, and becomes much more sad and impressive. By creation, it was a pleasure and a pastime for man to keep the la-W of God, to do spiritual work. As created, he was not compelled to summon his energies, and strain his will, and make a convulsive resolution to obey the commands of his Maker. Obedience was joy. Holy Adam knew nothing of ^6>7'^ in the path of duty. It was a smooth and broad pathway, fringed with flowers, and leading into the meadows of as- RELATION OF MAN TO LAW. 241 phodel. It did not become the " strait and nar- Tow " way, until sin had made obedience a toil, the sense of duty a restraint, and human life a race and a fight. By apostasy, the obligation to keep the Divine law perfectly, became repulsive. It was no longer easy for man to do right ; and it has never been easy or spontaneous to him since. Hence, the attempt to follow the dictates of conscience always costs an un- regenerate man an effort. He is compelled to make a resolution ; and a resolution is the sign and signal of a difficult and unwelcome service. Take your own experience for an illustration. Did you ever, ex- cept as you were sweetly inclined and drawn by the renewing grace of God, attempt to discharge a duty, without discovering that you were averse to it, and that you must gather up your energies for the work, as the leaper strains upon the tendon of Achilles to make the mortal leap. And if you had not become weary, and given over the effort; if you had en- tered upon that sad but salutary passage in the re- ligious experience which is delineated in the seventh chapter of Romans ; if you had continued to strug- gle and strive to do your duty, until you grew faint and weak, and powerless, and cried out for a higher and mightier power to succor you ;" you would have known, as you do not yet, what a deadly opposition there is between the carnal mind and the law of God, and what a spasmodic effort it cost3 an un- renewed man even to attemjyt to dischar^ ? the in- numerable ol)ligations that rest upon him Mankind 242 TIIE ORIGINAL AND THE ACTUAL would know more of this species of toil and labor, and of tlie cleaviug curse involved in it, if they were under the same physical necessity in re- gard to it, that they lie under in respect to manual labor. A man onust dig up the thorns and thistles, he must earn his bread in the sweat of his face, or he must die. Physical wants, hunger and thirst, set men to work physically, and keep them at it ; and thus they well understand what it is to have a weary body, aching muscles, and a tilled physical nature. But they are not under the same species of necessity, in respect to the wants and the work of the soul. A man may neglect these, and yet live a long and luxurious life upon the earth. He is not driven by the very force of circumstances, to labor with his heart and will, as he is to labor with his hands. And hence he knows little or nothing of a weary and heavy-laden soul ; nothing of an achino; heart and a tired will. He well knows how much strain and effort it costs to cut down for ests, open roads, and reduce the wilderness to a fer- tile field ; but he does not know how much toil and effort are involved, in the attempt to convert the human soul into the garden of the Lord. Now in this demand for a jyerjpeUial effort which is made upon the natural man, by the sense of duty, we see that the law which was ordained to life is found to be unto death. The commandment, instead of being a pleasant friend and companion to the human soul, as it was in the beginning, has be RELATION OF MAN TO LAW. 243 come a strict rigorous task-master. It lays out an uncongenial work for sinful man to do, and threat- ens him with punishment and woe if he does not do it. And yet the law is not a tyrant. It is holy, just, and good. This work which it lays out is right- eous work, and ought to be done. The wicked disinclination and aversion of the sinner have com- pelled the law to assume this unwelcome and threat- ening attitude. That which is good was not made death to man by God's agency, and by a Divine ar- rangement, but by man's transgression.^ Sin pro- duces this misery in the human soul, through an in- strument that is innocent, and in its own nature benevolent and kind. Apostasy, the rebellion and corruption of the human heart, has converted the law of God into an exacting task-master and an avenging magistrate. For the law says to ever}^ niim what Gt. Paul says of the magistrate : " Hulers are not a t-error to good works, but to the evil. Wilt thou, then, not be afraid of the power? do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same. For he is the minister of God to thee for good : hut if thou do that which is evil, be afraid^ If man were only conformed to the law ; if the in- clination of his heart were only in harmony with his sense of duty ; the ten commandments would not be accompanied with any thunders or lightnings, and the discharge of duty would be as easy, spon * Romaus vii. 13, 14. 244 THE OEIGINAL AND THE ACTTTAL taneous, and as mucli without effort, as the practice of sin now is. Thus have we considered two particulars in which the Divine law, originally intended to render man happy, and intrinsically adapted to do so, now ren- ders him miserable. The commandment which was ordained to life, he now finds to be unto death, be- cause it places him under a continual restraint, and drives him to a perpetual effort. These two partic- ulars, we need not say, are not all the modes in which sin has converted the moral law from a joy to a sorrow. We have not discussed the great sub- ject of guilt and penalty. This violated law charges home the past disobedience and threatens an ever- lastino; damnation, and thus fills the sinful soul with fears and forebodings. In this way, also, the law becomes a terrible organ and instrument of misery, and is found to be unto death. But the limits of this discourse compel us to stop the discussion here, and to deduce some practical lessons which are suggested by it. 1. In the first place, we are taught by the sub- ject, as thus considered, that the mere sense of duty is not Cliristianity, If this is all that a man is pos- sessed of, he is not prepared for the day of judgment, and the future life. For the sense of duty, alone and by itself, causes misery in a soul that has not performed its duty. The law worketh wrath, in a creature who has not obeyed the law. The man that doeth these things shall indeed live by EELATIOX OF MAN TO LAW. 245 them ; but he who has not done them must die by them. There have been, and still are, great mistakes made at this point. Men have supposed that an active conscience, and a lofty susceptibility towards right and wrong, will fit them to appear before God, and have, therefore, rejected Christ the Pro- pitiation. They have substituted ethics for the gospel ; natural religion for revealed. " I know," says Immanuel Kant, " of but two beautiful things ; the starry heavens above my head, and the sense of duty within my heart." ^ But, is the sense of duty beautiful to apostate man ? to a being who is not conformed to it ? Does the holy law of God over- arch him like the firmament, "tinged with a bine of heavenly dye, and starred with sparkling gold \ " Nay, nay. If there be any beauty in the condemn- ing law of God, for man the 1/)'ansgressor^ it is the beauty of the lightnings. There is a splendor in them, but there is a terror also. Not until He who is the end of the law for righteousness has clothed me with His panoply, and shielded me from their glittering shafts in the clefts of the Kock, do I dare to look at them, as they leap from crag to crag, and shine from the east even unto the wesfe We do not deny that the consciousness of respon 'Kant: Kritikder Praktiscbea known, and which I have em Vernunft(Beschlusz). — DeStael's ployed, is less guarded than the rendering, which is so well original. 246 THE OEIGINAL AlfD THE ACTUAL sibility is a lofty one, and are by no means insen sible to the grand and swelling sentiments concern- ing the moral law, and human duty, to which thia noble thinker gives utterance.^ But we are certain that if the sense of duty had pressed upon him to the degree that it did upon St. Paul ; had the com- mandment " come " to him with the convictins; ener- gy that it did to St. Augustine, and to Pascal ; he too would have discovered that the law which was ordained to life is found to be unto death. So long as man stands at a distance from the moral law, he can admire its glory and its beauty ; but when it comes close to him ; when it comes home to him ; when it becomes a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart ; then its glory is swallowed up in its ter- ror, and its beauty is lost in its truth. Then he who was alive without the law becomes slain by the law. Then this ethical admiration of the deca- logue is exchanged for an evangelical trust in Jesus Christ. 2. And this leads us to remark, in the second place, that this subject shows the meaning of Christ'' s worh of Redemption. The law for an alien- ated and corrupt soul is a burden. It cannot be otherwise; for it imposes a perpetual restraint, ur- ges up to an unwelcome duty, and charges home a fearful guilt. Christ is well named the Redeemer, because He frees the sinful soul from all this. He ' Compare the fine apostro- ntjnft, p. 214, (Ed. Rosen- Vlie to Di .ty. Peaktische Veb- kranz.) RELATION OF MAN TO LAW. 247 delivers it from the penalty, by assuming it all upon Himself, and making fjomplete satisfaction to tlie broken law. He delivers it from the perpetual re- straint and the irksome effort, by so renewing and changing the heart that it becomes a delight to keep the law. We observed, in the first part of the dis- course, that if man could only bring the inclination of his heaii; into agreement with his sense of duty, ie would be happy in obeying, and the conscious- ness of restraint and of hateful effort would disap- pear. This is precisely what Christ accomplishes by His Spirit. He brings the human heart into harmony with the Divine law, as it was in the be- ginning, and thus rescues it from its bondage and its toil. Obedience becomes a pleasure, and the service of God, the highest Christian liberty. Oh, would that by the act of faith, you might experience this liberating effect of the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. So long as you are out of Christ, you are under a burden that will every day grow heavier, and may prove to be fixed and unremovable as the mountains. That is a fearful punishment which the poet Dante represents as being inflicted upon those who were guilty of pride. The poor wretches are compelled to support enormous masses of stone which bend them over to the ground, and, in his own stern phrase, " crumple up their knees into their breasts." Thus they stand, stooping over, evei-y muscle trembling, the heavy stone weighing them down, and yet they are not permitted to fall, 248 RELATION OF MAN TO LAW. and rest themselves upon the earth.^ In this crouch ing posture, they must carry the weaiy heavy load vrithout relief, and with a distress so great that, in the poet's own language, " it seemed As he, who showed most patience in his look, Wailing exclaimed : I can endure no more." ' Such is the posture of man unredeemed. There is a burden on him, under which he stoops and crouches. It is a burden compounded of guilt and corruption. It is lifted off by Christ, and by Christ only. The soul itself can never expiate its guilt ; can never cleanse its pollution. We urge you, once more, to the act of faith in the Kedeemer of the world. We beseech you, once more, to make " the redemption that is in Christ Jesus " your own. The instant you plead the merit of Christ's oblation, in simple confidence in its atoning efficacy, that in- stant the heavy burden is lifted off by an Almighty hand, and your curved, stoopmg, trembling, aching form once more stands erect, and you walk abroad in the liberty wherewith Christ makes the human creature free. * "Let their eyes he darkened, down their hack alway." Rom. that they may not see, and bow xi. 10. 2 Dante : Purgatory x. 126-128. THE SIN OF OMISSION. Matthew xix. 20. — " The young man saith unto him, All these th'nga hare I kept from my youth up : what lack I yet ? " The narrative from which the text is taken is familiar to all readers of the Bible. A wealthy young man, of unblemished morals and amiable dis- position, came to our Lord, to inquire His opinion respecting his own good estate. He asked what good thing he should do, in order to inherit eternal life. The fact that he applied to Christ at all, shows that he was not entirely at rest in bis own mind. He could truly say that he had kept the ten command ments from his youth up, in an outward manner ; and yet he was ill at ease. He was afraid that when the earthly life was over, he might not be able to en- dure the judgment of God, and might fail to enter into that happy paradise of which the Old Testament Scriptures so often speak, and of which he had so often read, in them. This young man, though a moralist, was not a self-sati-fied or a self-conceited one. For, had he been like the Pharisee a thorough- ly blinded and self-righteous person, like him he 250 THE SIK OF OMISSION. never would have approached Jesus of Nazareth, to obtain His opinion respecting his own religions character and prospects. Like him, he w^ould have scorned to ask our Lord's judgment upon any mat- ters of religion. Like the Pharisees, he would have said, " We see," ^ and the state of his heart and his future prospects would have given him no anxiety. But he was not a conceited and presumptuous Pharisee. He was a serious and thoughtful person, though not a pious and holy one. For, he did not love God more than he loved his w^orldly posses- sions. He had not obeyed that first and great com- mand, upon which hang all the law and the proph- ets, conformity to which, alone, constitutes right- eousness : *' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and all thy soul, and all thy mind, and all thy strength." He was not right at heart, and was therefore unprepared for deatli and judgment. This he seems to have had some dim apprehension of. For why, if he had felt that his external moral- ity was a solid rock for his feet to stand upon, why should he have betaken himself to Jesus of Naza- reth, to ask : " What lack I yet \ " It was not what he had done, but what he had left undone, that wakened fears and forebodings in this young ruler s mind. The outward obser- vance of the ten commandments was right and well in its own way and place ; but the failure to obey, from the heart, the first and great command ' John ix. 41. THE SIN OF OMISSION. 251 was the condemnation that rested upon him. He probably knew this, in some measure. He was not confidently certain of eternal life ; and therefore he came to the Great Teacher, hoping to elicit from Him an answer that would quiet his conscience, and allow him to repose upon his morality while he continued to love this world supremely. The Great Teacher pierced him with an arrow. He said to him, " If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven : and come and follow me." This direction showed him what he lacked. This incident leads us to consider the condem- nation that rests upon every man, for his failure in duty ; the guilt that cleaves to him, on account of what he has not done. The Westminster Cat- echism defines sin to be " any loaiit of conformity unto, or any transgression of, the law of God." Not to be conformed, in the heart, to the law and will of God, is as truly sin, as positively to steal, or positively to commit murder. Failure to come up to the line of rectitude is as punishable, as to step over that line. God requires of His creature that he stand squarely v/pon the line of righteousness ; if therefore he is off that line, because he has not come up to it, he is as guilty as when he transgresses, or passes across it, upon the other side. This is the reason that the sin of omission is as punishable as the sin of commission. In cither case alike, Ll*6 man is off the line of rectitude. Hence, in the final 252 THE SIN OF OMISSION. day, man will be condemned for what lie lacks, for what he comes short of, in moral character. Want of conformity to the Divine law as really conflicts with the Divine law, as an overt transgression does, because it carries man off and away from it. One of the Greek words for sin (afiapravelv) signifies, to miss the mark. When the archer shoots at the tar- get, he as really fails to strike it, if his arrow falls short of it, as when he shoots over and beyond it. If he strains upon the bow with such a feeble force, that the arrow drops upon the ground long before it comes up to the mark, his shot is as total a failure, as when he strains upon the bow-string with all his force, but owing to an ill-directed aim sends his weapon into the air. One of the New Testament terms for sin contains this figure and illustration, in its etymology. Sin is a want of conformity unto, a failure to come clear up to, the line and mark pre- scribed by God, as well a violent and forcible break- ing over and beyond the line and the mark. The lach of holy love, the lach of holy fear, the loch of filial trust and confidence in God, — the negativ^e absence of these and other qualities in the heart is as truly sin and guilt, as is the positive and open violation of a particular commandment, in the act of theft, or lying, or Sabbath-breaking. We propose, then, to direct attention to that form and aspect of human depravity which consists in coming short of the aim and end presented to man by his Maker, — t!riat form and aspect of sin which THE fc^m OF OMISSIOK. 253 is presented in the young ruler's inquiry : " What lack I yet?" It is a comprehensive answer to this question to say, that every natural man lacks sincere and filial love of God. This vras the sin of the moral, but worldly, the amiable, but earthly-minded, young man. Endow him, in your fancy, with all the ex- cellence you please, it still lies upon the face of the narrative, that he loved money more th^n he loved the Lord God Almighty. When the Son of God bade him go and sell his property, and give it to the poor, and then come and follow Him as a docile disciple like Peter and James and John, he went away sad in his mind ; for he had great possessions. This was a reasonable requirement, though a very trying one. To command a young man of wealth and standing immediately to strip himself of all his property, to leave the circle in which he had been born and brought up, and to follow the Son of Man, who had not where to lay His head, up and down through Palestine, through good report and through evil report, — to put such a burden upon such a young man was to lay him under a very heavy load. Looking at it from a merely human and worldly point of view, it is not strange that the young I'uler declined to take it upon his shoulders ; though he felt sad in declining, because he had the misgiving that in declining he was sealing his doom. But, had he laved the Lord God with all his heart ; had he been conformed unto the first and great com- 12 254 THE SIN OF OMISSION. mand, in his heart and affections ; had he not lacked a spiritual and filial affection towards his Maker; he would have obeyed. For, the circumstances under which this command was given must be borne in mind. It issued di- rectly from the lips of the Son of God Himself It was not an ordinary call of Providence, in the ordi- nary manner in which God summons man to duty. There is reason to suppose that the young ruler knew and felt that Christ had authority to give such directions. We know not what were precisely his views of the person and office of Jesus of Naza- reth ; but the fact that he came to Him seeking in- struction respecting the everlasting kingdom of God and the endless life of the soul, and the yet furthei fact that he went away in sadness because he did not find it in his heart to obey the instructions that he had received, prove that he was at least some- what impressed with the Divine authority of oui Lord. For, had he regarded Him as a mere or- dinary mortal, knowing no more than any other man concerning the eternal kingdom of God, why should His words have distressed him ? Had this young ruler taken the view of our Lord which was held by the Scribes and Pharisees, like them he would never have sought instruction from Him in a respectful and sincere manner ; and, like them, he would have replied to the command to strip him- self of all his property, leave the social circles to which he belonged, and follow the despised Naza- THE Sm OF OMISSION. 255 rene, with the curling lip of scorn. He would not have gone away in sorrow, but in contempt. We must assume, therefore, that this young ruler felt that the person with whom he was conversing, and who had given him this extraordinary command, had authority to give it. We do not gather from the narrative that he doubted upon this point. Had he doubted, it would have relieved the sorrow with which his mind was disturbed. He might have justified his refusal to obey, by the considera- tion that this Jesus of Nazareth had no right to summon him, or any other man, to forsake the world and attach himself to His person and purposes, if any such consideration had entered his mind. No, the sorrow, the deep, deep sorrow and sadness, with which he went away to the beggarly elements of his houses and his lands, proves that he knew too well that this wonderful Being who was working miracles, and speaking words of wisdom that never man spake, had indeed authority and right to say to him, and to every other man, " Go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven : and come and follow me." Though the command was indeed an extraordinary one, it was given in an extraordinary manner, by an extraordinary Being. That young ruler was not re- quired to do any more than you and I would be obligated to do, m tlie same circumstances. It is indeed true, that in the 6>r(i^n«7'3/ providence of God, you and 1 are not summoned to sell all our posse.-^- 256 THE SIN OF OMISSION. sions^ and distribute them to the poor, and to go up and down the streets of this city, or up and down the high-ways and by-ways of the land, as mis- sionaries of Christ. But if the call w^ere extror ordinary^ — if the heavens should open above our heads, and a voice from the skies should command us in a manner not to be doubted or dis- puted to do this particular thing, we ought imme- diately to do it. And if the love of Grod were in our hearts ; if we were inwardly "- conformed unto " the Divine law ; if there were nothing lacking in our religious character ; we should obey with the same directness and alacrity with which Peter and Andrew, and James and John, left their nets and their fishing-boat, their earthly avocations, their fathers and their fathers' households, and followed Christ to the end of their days. In the present circum- stances of the church and the world. Christians must follow the ordinary indications of Divine Providence ; and though these do unquestionably call upon them to make far greater sacrifices for the cause of Christ than they now make, yet they do not call upon them to sell all that they have, and give it to the poor. But they ought to be ready and willing to do so, in case God by any remarkable and direct expression should indicate that this is His will and pleasure. Should our Lord, for illus- tration, descend again, and in His own person say to His people, as He did to the young ruler : " Sell all that ye have, and give to the poor, and go up THE SIN OF OMISSION. 257 and down the eartli preaching the gospel," it would be the duty of every rich Christian to strip himself of all his riches, and of every poor Christian to make himself yet poorer, and of the whole Church to adopt the same course that was taken by the early Christians, who " had all things common, and sold their possessions and goods and parted them to all men, as every man had need." The direct and explicit command of the Lord Jesus Christ to do any particular thing must be obeyed at all haz- ards, and at all cost. Should He command any one of His disciples to lay down his life, or to undergo a severe discipline and experience in His service. He must be obeyed. This is what He means when He says, "If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. And whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple " (Luke xiv. 26, 27). The young ruler was subjected to this test. It was his privilege, — and it was a great privilege, — to see the Son of God face to face; to hear His words of wisdom and authority ; to know without any doubt or ambiguity what particular thing God would have him do. And he refused to do it. He was moral ; he was amiable ; but he refused painirhlaiih to obey the direct command of God addressed to him fiom the very lips of God. It was with him as it would be with us, if the 258 THE SIN OF OMISSION. sky should open over our heads, and the Son of God should descend, and with His own lips should command us to perform a particular service, and we should be disobedient to the heavenly vision, and should say to the Eternal Son of God : " We will not." Think you that there is nothing lacking in such a character as this % Is this religious perfec- tion ? Is such a heart as this " conformed unto ^' the law and will of God ? If, then, we look into the character of the young ruler, we perceive that there was in it no supreme affection for God. On the contrary, he loved Mrn- self with all his heart, and soul, and mind, and strength. Even his religious anxiety, which led him to our Lord for His opinion concerning his good estate, proved to be a merely selfish feeling. He desired immortal felicity beyond the tomb, — and the most irreligious man upon earth desires this, — but he did not possess such an affection for God as inclined, and enabled, him to obey His explicit com- mand to make a sacrifice of his worldly possessions for His glory. And this lack of supreme love to God was sin. It was a deviation from the line of eternal rectitude and righteousness, as really and truly as murder, adultery, or theft, or any outward breach of any of those commandments which he affirmed he had kept from his youth up. This coming short of the Divine honor and glory was as much contrary to the Divine law, as any overt transgression of it could be. THE Sm OF OMISSION. 250 Fjr love is the fuliilliuo: of the law. The whole law, according to Christ, is summed up and con- tained in these words: '^ Thou shall love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself." To be destitute of this heavenly affec- tion is, therefore, to break the law at the very cen- tre and in the very substance of it. Men tell us, like this young ruler, that they do not murder, lie, or steal, — that they observe all the commandments of the second table pertaining to man and their relations to man, — and ask, ^' What lack we yet?" Alexander Pope, in the most brilliant and polished po 3try yet composed by human art, sums up the w).ole of human duty in the observance of the rules and requirements of civil morality, and af- firms that " an honest man is the noblest work of God." But is this so \ Has religion i-eached its last term, and ultimate limit, when man respects the rights of property ? Is a person who keeps his hands off the goods and chattels of his fellow- creature really qualified for the heavenly state, by reason of this fact and virtue of honesty? Has he attained the chief end of man ? ^ Even if we could suppose a perfect obedience of all the statutes of the second table, while those of the first table were disobeyed ; even if one could fulfil all his obli- ' Even if we should widen the turn. Honor and liigh-minded- xieaniug of the word ''Jionest," ness towards man is not love and in the above-meiitioned dictum reverence towards God. The of Pope, and make it include the spirit of chivalry is not the spirit Latin "honestum," the same ob- of Christianity. jection woald lie against the die- 260 THE SIN OF OMISSION. gations to his neighbor, while failing in all his ob- ligations to his Maker ; even if we should concede a perfect morality, without any religion; would it be true that this morality, or obedience of only one of the two tables that cover the whole field of human duty, is sufficient to prepare man for the everlasting future, and the immediate presence of God ? Who has informed man that the first table of the law is of no consequence ; and that if he only loves his neighbor as himself, he need not love his Maker supremely ? No ! Affection in the heart towards the great and glorious God is the sum and substance of religion, and whoever is destitute of it is irreligious and sin- ful in the inmost spirit, and in the highest degree. His fault relates to the most excellent and worthy Being in the universe. He comes short of his duty, in reference to that Being who more than any other one is entitled to his love and his services. We say, and we say correctly, that if a man fails of fulfilling his obligations towards those who have most claims upon him, he is more culpable than when he fails of his duty towards those who have less claims upon him. If a son comes short of his duty towards an affectionate and self-sacnficing mother, we say it is a greater fault, than if he comes short of his duty to a fellow-citizen. The parent is nearer to him than the citizen, and he owes unto her a warmer affection of his heart, and a more active service of his life, than he owes to his THE SIN OF OMISSIO]^. 261 fellow-citizen. What would be thought of that son who should excuse his neglect, or ill-treatment, of the mother that bore him, upon the ground that he had never cheated a fellow-man and had been scrupulous in all his mercantile transactions ! This but feebly illustrates the i*elation which every man sustains to God, and the claim which God has upon every man. Our first duty and obligation relates to our Maker. Our fellow-creatures have claims upon us ; the dear partners of our blood have claims upon us ; our own personality, witli its infi- ll ite destiny for weal or woe, has claims upon us. But no one of these ; not all of them combined ; have upon us ihsitjirst claim which God challenges for Himself. Social life, — the state or the nation to which we belong, — cannot say to us : " Thou shalt love me with all thy heart, and soul, and mind, and strength." The family, which is bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh, cannot say to us : " Thou shalt love us, with all thy soul, mind, heart, and strength." Even our own deathless and priceless soul cannot say to us : " Thou shalt love me su- premely, and before all other beings and things.'' But the infinite and adorable God, the Being that made us, and has redeemed us, can of right demand that we love and honor Him first of all, and chiefest of all. There are two thoughts suggested by the sub- ject which we have been considering, to which we now invite candid attention. 12* 262 THE SIN OF OMISSION. 1. In tlie first place, this subject convicts evev^ man of sin. Our Lord, by his searching reply to the young ruler's question, " What lack I yet?" sent him away very sorrowful ; and what man, in any age and country, can apply the same test to himself, without finding the same unwillingness to sell all that he has and give to the poor, — the same indisposition to obey any and every command of God that crosses his natural inclinations ? Every natural man, as he subjects his character to such a trial as that to which the young ruler was subjected, will discover as he did that he lacks supreme love of God, and like him, if he has any moral earnestness ; if he feels at all the obligation of duty; will go away very sorrowful, because he perceives very plainly the conflict between his will and his conscience. How many a person, in the generations that have already gone to the judgment-seat of Christ, and in the gene- ration that is now on th^ way thither, has been at times brought face to face with the great and first command, " Thou shall love the Lord thy God with all thy heart," and by some particular requirement has been made conscious of his utter opposition to that great law. Some special duty was urged upon him, by the providence, or the word, or the Spirit of God, that could not be performed unless his will were subjected to God's will, and unless his love for himself and the world were subordinated to his love of his Maker. If a young man, perhaps he was commanded to ccnseerate his talents and education THE SIN OF OMISSION. 263 to a life of philanthropy and service of God in the gospel, instead of a life devoted to secular and pecuniary aims. God said to him, by His providence, and by conscience, " Go teach my gos- pel to the perishing ; go preach my word to the dying and the lost." But he loved worldly ease pleasure and reputation more than he loved God ; and he refused, and went away sorrowful, because this poor world looked very bright and alluring and the path of self-denial and duty looked very forbidding. Or, if he was a man in middle life, perhaps he was commanded to abate his interest in plans for the accumulation of wealth, to con- tract his enterprises, to give attention to the con- cerns of his soul and the souls of his children, to make his own peace with God, and to consecrate the remainder of his life to Christ and to human welfare ; and when this plain and reasonable course of conduct was dictated to him, he found his whole heart rising up against the proposition. Our Lord, alluding to the fact that there was nothing in com- mon between His spirit, and the spirit of Satan, said to His disciples, ^'The prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me " (John xiv. 30). So, when the command to love God supremely comes to this man of the world, in any particular form, "it hath nothing in him." This first and great law finds no ready and genial response within his heart, but on the contrary a recoil within his soul as if some great monster had started up in his 264 THE SIN OF OMISSIOJ?-. pathway. He says, in his mind, to the proposition : " Anything but that ; " and, with the young ruler, he goes away sorrowful, because he knows that refusal is perdition. Is there not a wonderful power to convict of sin, in this test ? If you try yourself, as the young man did, by the command, " Thou shalt not kill,'' "Thou shalt not steal," "Thou shalt not commit adultery," you may succeed, perhaps, in quieting your conscience, to some extent, and in possessing yourself of the opinion of your fitness for the king- dom of God. But ask yourself the question, " Do I love God supremely, and am I ready and willing to do any and every particular thing that He shall command me to do, even if it is plucking out a right eye, or cutting off a right hand, or selling all my goods to give to the poor ? " try yourself by this test, and see if you lack anything in your moral character. When this thorough and proper touch-stone of character is applied, there is not found upon earth a just man that doeth good and sinneth not. Every human creature, by this test is concluded under sin. Every man is found lacking in what he ought to possess, when the words of the commandment are sounded in his ear : " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and all thy soul, and all thy mind, and all thy strength." This sum and substance of the Divine law, upon which hang all the other laws, convinces every man of sin. For there is no escap THE SIN OF OMISSION. 265 ing its force. Love of God is a distinct and definite feeling, and every person knows whether he evei experienced it. Every man knows whether it is, or is not, an affection of his heart ; and he knows that if it be wanting, the foundation of religion is wanting: in his soul, and the sum and substance of sin is there. 2. And this leads to the second and concluding thouccht suirsrested by the subject; namely, that eX" cept a man he horn again, he cannot see the Mngdom of God, If there be any truth in the discussion throu2:h which we have passed, it is plain and in- controvertible, that to be destitute of holy love to God is a departure and deviation from the moral law. It is a coming short of the great requirement that rests upon every accountable creature of God, and this is as truly sin and guilt as any violent and open passing over and beyond the line of rectitude. The sin of omission is as deep and damning as the sin of commission. "Forgive," — said the dying archbishop Usher, — " forgive all my sins, especially my sins of omission." But^ how is this lack to be supplied ? How is this great hiatus in human character to be filled up ? How shall the fountain of holy and filial affection towards God be made to gush up into everlasting life, within your now unloving and hostile heart ? There is no answer to this question of questions, but in the Person and Work of the Holy Ghost. If God shall shed abroad His love in your heart, by 266 THE SIN OF OMISSION. the Holy Ghost whicli is given unto you, you will know the blessedness of a new affection ; and will be able to say witli Peter, " Tliou knowest all things ; thou knowest that I love thee." You are shut up to this method, and this influence. To generate within yourself this new spiritual emotion which you have never yet felt, is utterly impossible. Yet you must get it, or religion is impossible, and immortal life is impossible. Would that you might feel your straits, and your helplessness. Would that you might perceive your total lack of supreme love of God, as the young ruler perceived his ; and would that, unlike him, instead of going away from the Son of God, you would go to Him, crying, " Lord create within me a clean heart, and renew within me a right spirit." Then the problem would be solved, and having peace with God through the blood of Christ, the love of God would be shed abroad in your hearts, through the Holy Ghost given unto you. THE SINFULNESS OF ORIGINAL 3IN. Matthew xix. 20. — "The young man saith unto him, All these things hara I kept from my youth up: what lack I yet? " In the preceding discourse from these words, we discussed that form and aspect of sin which consists in " coming short " of the Divine law, or, as the Westminster Creed states it, in a " want of confor- mity " unto it. The deep and fundamental sin of the young ruler, we found, lay in what he lacked. When our Lord tested him, he proved to be utter- ly destitute of love to God. His soul was a com- plete vacuum, in reference to that great holy affec- tion which fills the hearts of all the good beings ])efore the throne of God, and without which no creature can stand, or will wish to stand, in the Di- vine presence. The young ruler, though outwardly moral and amiable, when searched in the inward parts was found wanting in the sum and substance of religion. He did not love God ; and he did love himself and his possessions. What man has omitted to do, what man is des- titute of, — this is a species of sin which he does not 268 SINFULNESS OF ORIGmAL SIN. sufficiently consider, and wliicli is weighing lilni down to perdition. The unregenerate person when pressed to repent of his sins, and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, often "beats back the kind effort, by a question like that which Pilate put to the infuriated Jews : " Why, what evil have I done ? " It is the subject of his actual and overt transgres- sions that comes first into his thoughts, and, like the young ruler, he tells his spiritual friend and adviser that he has kept all the commandments from his youth up. The conviction of sin would be more common if the natural man would consider his ybf//^ y,ves ; if he would look into his heart and perceive what he is destitute of, and into his conduct and. see what he has left undone. In pursuing this subject, we j)ropose to show, still further, the guiltiness of every man, from the fact that he lacks the original righteousness that once belonged to him. We shall endeavor to prove that every child of Adam is under condemnation, or, in the words of Christ, that " the wrath of God abides upon him " (John iii. ?>)ound over to the wrath of God, and curse of the law, and so made subject to death, with all miseries spiritual, temporal, and eternal." ^ The Creed which we accept summons us to repent of oiiginal as well as actual sin ; and it defines original sin to be " the want of original righteousness, together with the corruption of the whole nature." The want of origi- nal righteousness, then, is a ground of condemnation, and therefore a reason for shame, and godly sorrow. This righteousness is something which man once had, ought still to have, but now lacks ; and therefore its lack is ill-deserving, for the very same reason that the young ruler's lack of supreme love to God w^as ill-deserving. If we acknowledge the validity of the distinction between a sin of omission and a sin of commission, and concede that each alike is culpable,^ we shall ' Confession of Faith, VI. vi. 'One of the points of ditfer- position of each wa;^ taken, ence between the Protestant and related to the guilt of original the Papisr, when the dogmatic sin, — the former aflirtning, and 13 278 smFULNESS of oeiginal sin. find no difficulty witli this demand of the Creed. Why should not you and 1 mourn over the total want of the image of God in our hearts, as much as over any other form and species of sin ? This image of God consists in holy reverence. When we look into our hearts, and find no holy reverence there, ought we not to be filled with shame and sorrow ? This image of God consists in filial and supreme affection for God, such as the young ruler lacked ; and when we look into our hearts, and find not a particle of supreme love to God in them, ought we not to repent of this original, this deep-seated, this innate depravity ? This image of God, again, which was lost in our apostasy, consisted in hum- ble constant trust in God ; and when we search oui souls, and perceive that there is nothing of this spirit in them, but on the contrary a strong and OTennastering disposition to trust in ourselves, and to distrust our Maker, ought not this discovery to waken in us the very same feeling that Isaiah gave expression to, when he said that the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is faint ; the very same feeling that David gave expression to, when he cried : " Behold I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me ? " This is to repent of original sin, and there is no mystery or absurdity about it. It is to turn the eye inward, and see what is lacking in our heart the latter denying. It is also one tween Calvinism and Anninian of the points of difference be- ism. SINFULNESS OF OKIGINAL SIN. 279 and aft'ections; and not merely what of outward and actual transgressions we have committed. Those whose idea of moral excellence is like that of the young ruler ; those who suppose holiness to consist merely in the outward observance of the commandments of the second table ; those who do not look into the depths of their nature, and contrast the total corruption that is there, with the perfect and positive righteousness that ought to be there, and that was there by creation, — all such will find the call of the Creed to repent of original sin as well as of actual, a perplexity and an impossibility. But every man who knows that the substance of piety consists in positive and holy aifections, — in holy reverence, love and trust, — and who discovers that these are wanting in him by nature, though belonging to him by creation, will mourn in deep contrition and self-abasement over that act of apostasy by which this great change in human character, this great lack was brought about. 2. In the second place, it follows from the sub- ject we have discussed, that every man must, by some method, recover Ms original righteousness^ or he iniined forever. ^' Without holiness no man shall see the Lord." No rational creature is fit to appear in the presence of his Maker, unless he is as pure and perfect as he was originally made. Holy Adam was prepared by his creation in the image of God, to hold blessed communion with God, and if he and his posterity had never lost this image, 280 SINFULKESS OF ORIGINAL SIN. they would forever be in fellowship with their Cre- ator and Sovereign. Holiness, and holiness alone, enables the creature to stand with angelic tranquil lity, in the presence of Him before whom the heavens and the earth flee away. The loss of original righteousness, therefore, was the loss of the wedding garment ; it was the loss of the only robe in which the creature could appear at the banquet of God. Suppose that one of the posterity of sin- ful Adam, destitute of holy love reverence and faith, lacking positive and perfect righteousness, should be introduced into the seventh heavens, and there behold the infinite Jehovah. Would he not feel, with a misery and a shame that could not be expressed, that he was naked ? that he was utterly unfit to appear in such a Presence ? No wonder that our first parents, after their apostasy, felt that they were unclothed. They were indeed stripped of their character, and had not a rag of righteous- ness to cover them. No wonder that they hid them- selves from the intolerable purity and brightness of the Most High. Previously, they had felt no such emotion. They were '' not ashamed," we are told. And the reason lay in the fact that, before their apostasy, they were precisely as they were made. They were endowed with the image of God ; and their original righteousness and perfect holiness qualified them to stand before their Maker, and to hold blessed intercourse with Him. But the instant they lost their created endowment of SINFULNESS OF ORIGINAL SIN. 281 holiness, they were conscious that they lacked that indispensable something wherewith to appear be- fore God. And precisely so is it, with their posterity. Whatever a man's theory of the future life may be, he must be insane, if he supposes that he is fit to appear before God, and to enter the society of heaven, if destitute of holiness, and wanting the Divine image. When the spirit of man returns to God Avho gave it, it must return as good as it came from His hands, or it will be banished from the Divine presence. Every human soul, when it goes back to its Maker, must carry with it a righteous- ness, to say the very least, equal to that in which it was originally created, or it will be cast out as an unprofitable and wicked servant. All the tal- ents entrusted must be returned ; and returned with usury. A modern philosopher and poet repre- sents the suicide as justifying the taking of his own life, upon the ground that he was not asked in the beginning, Avhether he wanted life. He had no choice whether he would come into existence or not ; existence was forced upon him , and therefore he had a right to put an end to it, if he so pleased. To this, the reply is made, that he ought to return his powers and faculties to the Creator in as good condition as he received them; that he had no right to mutilate and spoil them by abuse, and then fling the miserable relics of what was originally a noble creation, in the face of the Creator. In answer to 282 smruLNESs of ORiemAL sm. the suicide's proposition to give back his spirit to God who gave it, the poet represents God as say- ing to him ; *' Is't returned as 'twas sent ? Is't no worse for the wear? Think first what you are! Call to mind what you were I 1 gave you innocence, I gave you hope, Gave health, and genius, and an ample scope. Return you me guilt, lethargy, despair? Make out the inventVy ; inspect, compare ! Then die, — if die you dare !" ^ Yes, this is true and solemn reasoning. You and I, and every man, must by some method, or other, go back to God as good as we came forth from Him. We must regain our original right- eousness ; we must be reinstated in our primal rela- tion to God, and our created condition ; or there is nothing^ in store for us, but the blackness of dark- ness. We certainly cannot stand in the judgment clothed with original sin, instead of original right- eousness ; full of carnal and selfish aftections, in- stead of pure and heavenly affections. This great lack, this great vacuum, in our character, must by some method be filled up with solid and everlast- ing excellencies, or the same finger that wi^ote, in letters of fire, upon the wall of the Babylonian monarch, the aAvful legend : " Thou art weighed in the balance, and art found wanting," will write it in letters of fire upon our own rational spirit. There is but one method, by which man's original » OoLEBiDGE ; Works, YII. 295. SINFULNESS OF ORIGINAL SIN. 28b righteousness and innocency can be regained ; and this method you well know. The blood of Jesus Christ SDrinkled by the Holy Ghost, upon your guilty conscience, reinstates you in innocency. When that is applied, there is no more guilt upon you, than tbere was upon Adam the instant he came from the creative hand. " There is no con- demnation to them that are in Christ Jesus." Who is he that condemneth, when it is Christ that died, and God that justifies ? And when the same Holy Spirit enters your soul with renewing power, and carries forward His work of sanctification to its final completion, your original righteousness returns r.gaiu, and you are again clothed in that spotless robe with which your nature was invested, on that sixth day of creation, when the Lord God said, "Let us make man in our image, and after our likeness." Ponder these truths, and what is yet more imperative, act upon them. Remember that you must, by some method, become a perfect crea- ture, in order to become a blessed creature in heaven. Without holiness you cannot see the Lord. You must recover the character which you have lost, and the peace with God in which you were created. Your spirit, when it returns to God, must by some method be made equal to what it was when it came forth from Him. And there is no method, but the method of I'edemption h^f the blood and righteousness of Christ. Men are running to and fro after other methods. The 284 SINFULNESS OF ORiaiNAL SLN". memories of a golden age, a better humanity than they now know of, haunt them ; and they sigh for the elysinm that is gone. One sends you to let- ters, and culture, for your redemption. Another tells you that morality, or philosophy, will lift you again to those paradisaical heights that tower high above your straining vision. But miserable comforters are they all. No golden age returns ; no peace with God or self is the result of such instrumentality. The conscience is still perturbed, the forebodings still overhang the soul like a black cloud, and the heart is as throbbing and restless as ever. With resoluteness, then, turn away from these inadequate, these feeble methods, and adopt the method of God Almighty. Turn away with contempt from human culture, and finite forces, as the instrumentality for the redemption of the soul which is precious, and which ceaseth forever if it is unredeemed. Go with confidence, and courage, and a rational faith, to God Almighty, to God the Eedeemer. He hath power. He is no feeble and finite creature. He waves a mighty weapon, and sweats great drops of blood; travelling in the greatness of His strength. Hear His words of calm confidence and power : " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest" THE APPROBATION OP GOODNESS IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. Romans ii. 21-23. — "Thou therefore which teachest another, teachest thou not thyself? thou that preachest a man should not steal, dost thou steal? thou that sayest a man should not comlnit adultery, dost thou commi* adultery ? thou that abhorrest idols, dost thou commit sacrilege ? thou that makest thy boast of the law, through breaking the law dishonorest thou God ? " The apostle Paul is a very keen and cogent rea soner. Like a powerful logician who is confident that he has the truth upon his side, and like a pure- minded man who has no sinister ends to gain, he often takes his stand upon the same ground with his opponent, adopts his positions, and condemns him out of his own mouth. In the passage from which the text is taken, he brings the Jew in guilty before God, by employing the Jew's own claims and statements. "Behold thou art called a Jew, andrestest in the law, and makest thy boast of God, and knowest his will, and approvest the things that are more excellent, and art confident that thou thyself art a guide of the blind, a light of them which are in darkness, an instructor of the foolish. Thou therefore which teachest another, teachest thou not thyself? thou that preachest that a man should 13* 286 THE APPROBATION OF GOODNESS not steal, dost thou steal ? thoif that makes t thy boast of the law, through breaking the law dishon- orest thou God ? " As if he had said : " You claim fco be one of God's chosen people, to possess a true knowledge of Him and His law ; why do you not act up to this knowledge ? why do you not by your character and conduct prove the claim to be a valid one?" The apostle had already employed this same spe- cies of argument against the Gentile world. In the first chapter of this Epistle to the Komans, St. Paul demonstrates that the pagan world is justly con demned by God, because, they too, like the Jew, knew more than they practised. He affirms that the Greek and Roman woi'ld, like the Jewish people, ^'when they knew God, glorified him not as God. neither were thankful ; " that as " they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind ; " and that " knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things" as he had just enumerated in that awful catalogue of pagan vices " are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them." The apostle does not for an instant con cede, that the Gentile can put in the plea that he was so entirely ignorant of the character and law of God, that he ought to be excused from the obligation to love and obey Him. He expressly affirms that where there is absolutely no law, and no knowledge of law, there can be no transgression IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 287 and yet affirms that in the day of judgment every mouth must be stopped, and the whole world must plead guilty before God. It is indeed true, that he teaches that there is a difference in the degrees of knowledge which the Jew and the Gentile re- spectively possess. The light of revealed religion, in respect to man's duty and obligations, is far clearer than the light of nature, and increases the responsibilities of those who enjoy it, and the con- demnation of those who abuse it ; but the light of nature is clear and true as far as it goes, and is enough to condemn every soul outside of the pale of Eevelation. For, in the day of judgment, there will not be a single human creature who can look his Judge in the eye, and say : '^ I acted up to every particle of moral light that I enjoyed ; I never thought a thought, felt a feeling, or did a deed, for which my conscience reproached me." It follows from this, that the language of the apostle, in the text, may be applied to every man. The argument that has force for the Jew has force for the Gentile. " Thou that teachest another, teachest thou not thyself? thou that preachest that a man should not steal, dost thou steal ? " You who know the character andcla'ms of God, and are able to state them to another, why do you not revere and obey them in your own person ? You who ap- prove of the law of God as pure and perfect, why do you not conform your own heart and conduct to it ? You who perceive the excellence of piety in another, 288 THE APPROBATION OF GOODNESS you who praise and admire moral excellence in yonr fellow-man, why do you not seek after it, and toil after it in your own heart? In paying this tribute of approbation to the character of a God whom you do not yourself love and serve, and to a piety in your neighbor which you do not yourself possess and cultivate, are you not writing down your own condemnation ? How can you stand be- fore the judgment-seat of God, after having in this manner confessed through your whole life upon earth that God is good, and His law is perfect, and .'t through that whole life have gone counter to your own confession, neither loving that God, nor obeying that law? "To him that knoweth to do good and doeth it not, to him it is sin." (James iv. 17.) The text then, together with the chains of rea- sonino; that are connected with it, leads us to con- sider the fact, that a man may admire and praise moral excellence without possessing or practising it himself ; that the approbation of goodness is not the same as the love of it} I. This is proved, in the first place, from the tes- timony of both God and man. The assertions and reasonings of the apostle Paul have already been alluded to, and there are many other passages of Scripture Avhich plainly imply that men may ad- See, upon tins whole subject the profound and discriininating o1 conscience as distinguished views of Edwards : The Nature from will, and of amiable 'nstincts of Virtue, Chapters v. vi. vii. h8 distiuizuislied from holiness, IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 289 raire and approve of a virtue wliicli tliey do not practise. Indeed, the language of our Lord re- specting the Scribes and Pharisees, may be applied to disobedient mankind at large : " Whatsoever they bid you observe, that observe and do ; but do ye not after their works : for they say, and do not." (Matt, xxiii. 3.) The testimony of man is equally explicit. That is a very remarkable witness which the poet Ovid bears to this truth. " I see the right," — he says, — " and approve of it, but I follow and practise the wrong." This is the testimony of a profligate man of pleasure, in whom the light of na- ture had been greatly dimmed in the darkness of sin and lust. But he had not succeeded in annihi- lating his conscience, and hence, in a sober hour, he left upon record his own damnation. He expressly informed the whole cultivated classical world, who were to read his polished numbers, that he that had taught others had not taught himself; that he who had said that a man should not commit adul- tery had himself committed adultery ; that an edu- cated Roman who never saw the volume of inspira- tion, and never heard of either Moses or Christ, nevertheless approved of and praised a virtue that he never put in practice. And whoever will turn to the pages of Horace, a kindred spirit to Ovid both in respect to a most exquisite taste and a most refined earthliness, will frequently find the same confession breaking out. Nay, open the volumes of Rousseau, and even of Voltaire, and read their 290 THE APPEOBATION OF GOODNESS panegyrics of virtue, their eulogies of goodness. What are tliese, but testimonies tliat they, too, sa^v tlie right and did the wrong. It is true, that the eulogy is merely sentimentalism, and is very differ- ent from the sincere and noble tribute which a good man renders to goodness. Still, it is valid testimony to the truth that the mere approbation of goodness is not the love of it. It is true, that these panegyrics of virtue, when read in the light of Rousseau's sensuality and Voltaire's malignity, wear a dead and livid hue, like objects seen in the illumination from phosphorus or rotten wood ; yet, nevertheless, they are visible and readable, and tes- tify as distinctly as if they issued from elevated and noble natures, that the teachings of man's con- science are not obeyed by man's heart, — that a man may praise and admire virtue, while he loves and l^ractises vice. II. A second proof that the approbation of good- ness is not the love of it is found in the fact, that it is impossible not to approve of goo&ness^ while it is possible not to love it. The structure of man's con« science is such, that he can commend only the right; but the nature of his will is such, that he may be conformed to the right or the wrong. The con- science can give only one judgment ; but the heart and will are capable of two kinds of affection, and two courses of action. Every rational creature is shut up, by his moral sense, to but one moral con- viction. He must a]3prove the right and condemn IS NOT THE LOVE OF II 291 the wrong. He cannot approve tlie Avrong and con demn tlie right ; any more than he can perceive that two and two make five. The human conscience is a rigid and stationary faculty. Its voice may be stifled or drowned for a time ; but it can never be made to utter t^vo discordant voices. It is for this reason, that the approbation of goodness is necessa- ry and universal. Wicked men and wicked angels must testify that benevolence is right, and malevo- lence is wrong ; though they hate the former, and love the latter. But it is not so with the human will. This is not a rigid and stationary faculty. It is capable of turning this way, and that way. It was created holy, and it turned from holiness to sin, in Adam's apostasy. And now, under the operation of the Divine Spirit, it turns back again, it converts from sin to holiness. The will of man is thus capable of two courses of action, while his conscience is capa- ble of only one judgment ; and hence he can see and approve the right, yet love and practise the wrong. If a man's conscience changed along with his heart and his will, so that when he began to love and practise sin, he at the same time began to approve of sin, the case would be different. If, when Adam apostatised from Grod, his conscience at that moment began to take sides with his sin, in- stead of condemning it, then, indeed, neither Ovid, nor Horace, nor Rousseau, nor any other one of Adam's posterity, would ha\'e been able to say : " I 292 THE APPROBATION OF GOODNESS see the right and approve of it, while I follow the wrong." But it was not so. After apostasy, the conscience of Adam passed the same judgment upon sin that it did before. Adam heard its terrible voice speaking in concert with the voice of God, and hid himself He never succeeded in bringing his conscience over to the side of his heart and will, and neither has any one of his posterity. It is im- possible to do this. Satan himself, after millen- niums of sin, still finds that his conscience, that the accusing and condemning law written on the heart, is too strong for him to alter, too rigid for him to bend. The utmost that either he, or any creature, can do, is to drown its verdict for a time in other sounds, only to hear the thunder- tones again, wax- ing longer and louder like the trumpet of Sinai. Having thus briefly shown that the approbation of goodness is not the love of it, we proceed to draw some conclusions from the truth. 1. In the first place, it follows from this subject, that the mere loorhings of conscience are no proof of holiness. When, after the commission of a wrong act, the soul of a man is filled with self- reproach, he must not take it for granted that this is the stirring of a better nature within him, and is indicative of some remains of original righteous- ness. This reaction of conscience against his diso- bedience of law is as necessary, and unavoidable, as the action of his eyelids under the blaze of noon, and is worthy neither .of praise nor blame, so far IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 293 as lie is concerned. It does not imply any love for holiness, or any hatred of sin. Nay, it may exist without any sorrow for sin, as in the instance of the hardened transgressor who writhes under its awful power, but never sheds a penitential tear, or sends up a sigh for mercy. The distinction between the human conscience, and the human heart, is as wide as between the human intellect, and the human heart.^ We never think of confounding the func- tions and operations of the understanding with those of the heart. We know that an idea or a conception, is totally different from an emotion, or a feeling. How often do we remark, that a man may have an intellectual perception, without any correspondent experience or feeling in his heart. How continually does the preacher urge his hearers to bring their hearts into harmony with their under- standings, so that their intellectual orthodoxy may become their practical piety. Now, all this is true of the distinction betv^^een the conscience and the heart. The conscience h an intellectual faculty, and by that better elder phi- losophy which comprehended all the powers of the soul under the two general divisions of understand- ing and will, would be placed in the domain of the understanding. Conscience is a Ught^ as we so often call it. It is not a life / it is not a source of life. No man's heart and will can be renewed or * Compare, on this distinc- Essays, p. 2Y7 sq. tion, the Author's Theological 294 THE APPROBATION OF GOODNESS changed by his conscience. Conscience is simply a law. Conscience is merely legislative ; it is never executive. It simply says to the heart and will: " Do thus, feel thus," but it gives no assistance, and imparts no inclination to obey its own command. Those, therefore, commit a grave error both in philosophy and religion, who confound the con- science with the heart, and suppose that because there is in every man self-reproach and remorse after the commission of sin, therefore there is the germ of holiness within him. Holiness is love, the positive affection of the heart. It is a matter of the heart and the will. But this remorse is purely an affair of the conscience, and the heart has no connection with it. Nay, it appears in its most intense form, in those beino^s whose feelins^s emotions and determinations are in utmost opposi- tion to Grod and goodness. The purest remorse in the universe is to be found in those wretched beings whose emotional and active powers, whose heart and will, are in the most bitter hostility to truth and righteousness. How, then, can the mere re- proaches and remorse of conscience be regarded as evidence of piety ? 2. But, we may go a step further than this, though in the same general direction, and remark, in the second place, that elevated moral sentiments are no certain proof of piety toward God and man. These, too, like remorse of conscience, spring out of the intellectual structure, and may exist without IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 295 any affectionate love of God in the heart. There is a species of nobleness and beauty in moral ex cellence that makes an involuntary and unavoidable impression. When the Christian martyr seals his devotion to God and truth with his blood ; when a meek and lowly disciple of Christ clothes his life of poverty, and self-denial, with a daily beauty greater than that of the lilies or of Solomon's array; when the poor widow with feeble and trembling steps comes up to the treasury of the Lord, and casts in all her living ; when any pure and spiritual act is performed out of solemn and holy love of God and man, it is impossible not to be filled with sentiments of admiration, and often- times with an enthusiastic glow of soul. We see this in the impression which the character of Christ universally makes. There are multitudes of men, to whom that wonderful sinless life shines aloft like a star. But they do not imitate it. They admire it, but they do not love it.^ The spiritual purity and perfection of the Son of God rays out a beauty which really attracts their cultivated minds, and their refined taste ; but when He says to them . " Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart; take up thy cross daily and follow me ; " they turn away sorrowful, like the rich young man in the Gospel, — sorrowful, because their sentiments like his are elevated, and ' The reader will recall Christ by Rousseau, he celebrated panegyric upon 296 THE APPKOBATIOJS- OF GOODNESS they have a certain awe of eternal things, and know that religion is the highest concern ; and sor« rowful, because their hearts and wills are still earthly, there is n(T divine love in their souls, self is still their centre, and the self-renunciation that is required of them is repulsive. Religion is sub- mission, — absolute submission to God, — and no amount of mere admiration of religion can be a substitute for it. As a thoughtful observer looks abroad over society, he sees a very interesting class who are not far from the kingdom of God ; who, neverthe- less, are not within that kingdom, and w^ho, there- fore, if they remain where they are, are as certainly lost as if they were at an infinite distance from the kingdom. The homely proverb applies to them : " A miss is as good as a mile." They are those who suppose that elevated moral sentiments, an aesthetic pleasure in noble acts or noble truths, a glow and enthusiasm of the soul at the sight or the recital of examples of Christian virtue and Christian grace, a disgust at the gross and repul- sive forms and aspects of sin, — that such merely intellectual and aesthetic experiences as these are piety itself All these may be in the soul, without any godly sorrow over sin, any cordial trust in Christ's blood, any self abasement before God, any daily conflict with indwelling corruption, any daily cross-bearing and toil for Christ's dear sake. These latter, constitute the essence of the Christian IS J!fOT THE LOVE OF IT. 297 experience, and without tliem that whole range t)f elevated sentiments and amiable qualities, to which we have alluded, only ministers to the con- demnation instead of the salvation of the soul. For, the question of the text comes home with solemn force, to all such persons. '' Thou that makest thy boast of the law, through breaking of the law, dishonorest thou (rod ? '' If the beauty of virtue, and the grandeur of truth, and the sub- limity of invisible things, have been able to make such an impression upon your intellect, and your taste, — upon that part of your constitution which is fixed and stationary, which responds organically to such objects, and which is not the seat of moral character, — then why is there not a corresponding influence and impression made by them upon your heart ? If you can admire and praise them in this style, why do you not love them ? Why is it, that when the character of Christ bows your intellect, it does not bend your will, and sway your affections ? Must there not be an inveterate opposition and resistance in the heart? in the heart which can refuse submission to such high claims, when so distinctly seen ? in the heart which can refuse to take the yoke, and learn of a Teacher who has already made such an impression upon the conscience and the understanding ? The human heart is, as the prophet affirms, des- perately wicked, desperately selfish. And perhaps its self-love is never more plainly seen, than in 298 THE APPEOBATION OF GOODNESS sucli instances as tliose of tliat moral and culti- vated young man mentioned in tlie Gospel, and tliat class in modern society who correspond to him. Nowhere is the difference between the ap- probation of goodness, and the love of it, more apparent. In these instances the approbation is of a high order. It is refined and sublimated by cul- ture and taste. It is not stained by the tempta- tions of low life, and gross sin. If there ever could be a case, in which the intellectual approbation of goodness would develop and pass over into the affectionate and hearty love of it, we should expect to find it here. But it is not found. The young man goes away, — sorrowful indeed, — but he goes away from the Redeemer of the world, never to return. The amiable, the educated, the refined^ ^jass on from year to year, and, so far as the evangelic sorrow, and the evangelic faith are con- cerned, like the dying Beaufort depart to judg- ment making no sign. We hear their praises of Christian men, and Christian graces, and Christian actions ; we enjoy the grand and swelling senti- ments with which, perhaps, they enrich the com- mon literature of the world ; but we never hear them cry : " God be merciful to me a sinner ; O Lamb of God, that takest away the sin of the world, grant me thy j)eace ; Thou, O God, art the strength of my heart, and my portion forever." 3. In the third place, it follows from this sub- ject, that in order to holiness in man there must IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 299 be a cliange in his Jteart and ivill. If our analysis is correct, no possible modification of either his con- science, or his intellect, would j)roduce holiness. Holiness is an ajffection of the heart, and an inclina- tion of the will. It is the love and practice of goodness, and not the mere approbation and admi- ration of it. Now, suppose that the conscience should be stimulated to the utmost, and remorse should be produced until it filled the soul to over- flowing, would there be in this any of that gentle and blessed affection for God and goodness, that heartfelt love of them, which is the essence of reli- gion ? Or, suppose that the intellect merely were impressed by the truth, and very clear perceptions of the Christian system and of the character and claims of its Author were imparted, would the result be any different? If the heart and will were unaffected ; if the influences and impressions were limited merely to the conscience and the understanding ; would not the seat of the difii culty still be untouched ? The command is not " Give me thy conscience," but, " Give me thy lieart!'^ Hence, that regeneration of which our Lord speaks in his discourse with Nicodemus is not a radical change of the conscience, but of the will and affections. We have already seen that the con- science cannot undergo a radical change. It can never be made to approve what it once condemned, and to condemn what it once approved. It is the 300 THE APPROBATION OF GOOBNESa stationary legislative faculty, and is, of necessity, always upon the side of law and of Grod. Hence, tlie apostle Paul sought to commend the truth which he preached, to every man's conscience, know- ing that every man's conscience was with him. The conscience, therefore, does not need to be converted, that is to say, made opposite to what it is. It is indeed greatly stimulated, and rendered vastly more energetic, by the regeneration of the heart; but this is not radically to alter it. This is to develop and educate the conscience ; and when holiness is implanted in the will and affections, by the grace of the Spirit, we find that both the conscience and understanding are wonderfully unfolded and strengthened. But they undergo no revolution or conversion. The judgments of the conscience are the same after regeneration, that they were before; only more positive and emphatic. The convictions of the understand- ing continue, as before, to be upon the side of truth ; only they are more clear and powerful. The radical change, therefore, must be wrought in the heart and will. These are capable of revo- lutions and radical changes. They can apostatise in Adam, and be regenerated in Christ. Tliey are not immovably fixed and settled, by their constitu- tional structure, in only one way. They have once turned from holiness to sin ; and now they must be turned back again from sin to holiness. They must become exactly contrary to what they now IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 301 h .-e. The heart must love what it now hates, and n ust hate what it now loves. The will must incline to what it now disinclines, and disincline to what it now inclines. But this is a radical change, a total change, an entire I'evolution. If any man be in Christ Jesus, he is a new creature, in his will and affections, in his inclination and disposition. While, therefore, the conscience must continue to give the same old everlasting testimony as before, and never reverse its judgments in the least, the af- fections and will, the pliant, elastic, plastic part of man, the seat of vit. Jity, of emotion, the seat of char- acter, the fountain out of which proceed the evil thoughts or the good thoughts, — this executive, emotive, responsible part of man, must be reversed, converted, radically changed into its own contrary. So long, therefore, as this change remains to be effected in an individual, there is and can be no holiness within him, — none of that holiness without which no man can see the Lord. There may be within him a very active and reproaching con- science ; there may be intellectual orthodoxy and correctness in religious convictions ; he may cherish elevated moral sentiments, and many attractive qualities springing out of a cultivated taste and a jealous self-respect may appear in his character; but unless he loves God and man out of a Y)uve heart fervently, and unless his Avill is entirely and sweetly submissive to the Divine will, so that he can say : " Father not my will, but thine be done," 302 THE APPE0BATI02? OF GOODI^ESS lie is still a natural man. He is still destitute of tlie spiritual mind, and to him it must be said as it was to Nicodemus : " Except a man be born again, lie cannot see tlie kingdom of God." The most important side of his being is still alienated from God. The heart with its affections ; the will with its immense energies, — the entire active and emotive portions of his nature, — are still earthly, unsubmissive, selfish, and sinful. 4. In the fourth, and last place, we see from this subject the necessity of the operation of the Holy Spirit^ in order to holiness in man. There is no part of man's complex being which is less under his own control, than his own will, and his own affections. This he discovers, as soon as he attempts to convert them ; as soon as he tries to produce a radical change in them. Let a man whose will, from centre to circumference, is set upon self and the world, attempt to reverse it, and set it with the same strength and energy upon God and heaven, and he will know that his will is too strong for him, and that he cannot overcome himself. Let a man whose affections cleave like those of Dives to earthly good, and find their sole enjoyment in earthly pleasures, attempt to change them into their own contraries, so that they shall cleave to God, and take a real delight in heavenly things, — let a carnal man try to revolutionize himself into a spir- itual man, — and he will discover that the affections auvi feelings of his heart are beyond his control IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 303 And tlie reason of this is plain. The affections and will of a man show what he loves^ and what he is inclined to. A sinful man cannot, therefore, overcome his sinful love and inclination, because he cannot make a heginning. The instant he attempts to love God, he finds his love of him- self in the way. This new love for a new object, which he proposes to oiiginate within himself, is prevented by an old love, which already has possession. This new inclination to heaven and Divine things is precluded by an old inclination, very strong and very set, to earth and earthly things. There is therefore no staHing-point^ in this affair of self-conversion. He proposes, and he tries, to think a holy thought, but there is a sinful thought already in the mind. He attempts to start out a Christian grace, — say the grace of humility, — but the feeling of pride already stands in the way, and, what is more, remains in the way. He tries to generate that supreme love of God, of which he has heard so much, but the supreme love of himself is ahead of him, and occupies the whole ground. In short, he is baffled at every pomt in this attempt radically to change his own heart and will, because at every point this heart and will are already committed and determined. Go down as low as he pleases, he finds sin, — love of sin, and inclination to sin. He never reaches a point where these cease ; and therefore never reaches a point where he can begiu a new love, and a new inclination. The late Mr 304 THE APPROBATION Oi GOODNESS Webster was once engaged in a law case, in wMch he had to meet, upon tlie opposing side, the subtle and strong^ nnderstandino* of Jeremiah Mason. In one of his conferences with his associate counsel, a difficult point to be managed came to view. After some discussion, without satisfactory results, respect- ing the best method of handling the difficulty, one of his associates suggested that the point might after all, escape the notice of the opposing counsel. To this, Mr. Webster replied : " Not so ; go down as deep as you will, you will find Jeremiah Mason below you." Precisely so in the case of which we are speaking. Go down as low as you please into your heart and will, you will find your self below you ; you will find sin not only lying at the door, but lying in the way. If you move in the line of your feelings and aftections, you will find earthly feelings and affections ever below you. If you move in the line of your choice and inclination, you will find a sinful choice and inclination ever below you. In chasing your sin through the avenues of your fallen and corrupt soul, you are chasing your horizon ; in trying to get clear of it by your own isolated and independent strength, you are attempt- ing (to use the illustration of Goethe, who however employed it for a false purpose) to jum]3 off your own shadow. This, then, is the reason why the heart and will of a sinfal man are so entirely beyond his own control. They are lyreoccupied and predetermined IS* NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 305 and tlierefore he cannot make a beginning in the direction of holiness. If he attempts to pat forth a boly determination, he finds a sinful one already made and making, — and this determination is his determination, unforced, responsible and guilty. If he tries to start out a holy emotion, he finds a sinful emotion already beating and rankling, — and this emotion is his emotion, unforced, responsible, and guilty. There is no physical necessity resting upon him. Nothing but this love of sin and incli- nation to self stands in the way of a supreme love of God and holiness ; but it stands in the way. Nothing but the sinful affection of the heart pre- vents a man from exercising a holy affection ; but it prevents him effectually. An evil tree cannot bring forth good fruit ; a sinful love and inclina- tion cannot convert itself into a holy love and in- clination ; Satan cannot cast out Satan. There is need therefore of a Divine operation to renew, to radically change, the heart and will. If they cannot renew themselves, they must be re- newed ; and there is no power that can reach them but that mysterious energy of the Holy Spirit Avhich like the wind bloweth where it listeth, and we hear the sound thereof, but cannot tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth. The condition of the human heart is utterly hopeless, were it not for the promised influences of the Holy Ghost to regenerate it. There are many reflections suggested by this 806 THE APPKOBATION OF GOODlSlilSS subject ; for it has a wide reach, and would carry lis over vast theological spaces, should we attempt to exhaust it. We close with the single remark, that it should be man's first and great aim to obtain the new heai± Let him seek this first of all, and all things else will be added unto him. It matters not how active your conscience may be, how clear and accurate your intellectual convic- tions of truth may be, how elevated may be your moral sentiments and your admiration of virtue, if you are destitute of an evangeliGal experience. Of what value will all these be in the day of judg- ment, if you have never sorrowed for sin, never appropriated the atonement for sin, and never been inwardly sanctified ? Our Lord says to every man : " Either make the tree good, and its fruit good ; or else make the tree corrupt, and its fruit corrupt." The tree itself must be made good. The heart and will themselves must be renewed. These are the root and stock into which everything else is graft- ed; and so long as they remain in their apostate natural condition, the man is sinful and lost, do what else he may. It is indeed true, that such a change as this is beyond your power to accom- plish. With man it is impossible ; but with God it is a possibility, and a reality. It has actually been wrought in thousands of wills, as stubborn as yours ; in millions of hearts, as worldly and selfish as yours. We commend you, therefore, to the Person and Work of the Holy Spirit. We remind IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 307 you, that He is able to renovate and sweetly incline the obstinate will, to soften and spiritualize the flinty heart. He saith : " I will put a new spirit within you ; and I will take the stony heart out of your flesh, and will give you an heart of flesh ; that ye may walk in my statutes, and keep mine ordi- nances, and do them ; and ye shall be my people, and I will be your God." Do not listen to these declarations and promises of God supinely ; but arise and esirnestiy plead them. Take words upon your lips, and go before God. Say unto Him : " I am the clay, be thou the potter. Behold thou de- sirest truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden parts tJiou shalt make me to know wisdom. I will run in the way of thy commandments, when thou shalt enlarge my heart. Create within me a clean heart, O God, and renew within me a right spirit." Seek for the new heart. Ask for the new heart. Knock for the new heart. " For, if ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him." And in giving the Holy Spirit, He gives the new heart, with all that is included in it, and all that issues from it. THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION. Proveebs ix. 10. — "Tlie fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.*' Luke xii. 4, 5. — " And 1 say unto you, ray friends, Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do. But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear : Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell ; yea, I say unto you, Fear him." The place whicli the feeling of fear ought to hold in the religious experience of mankind is variously assigned. Theories of religion are con- tinually passing from one extreme to another, according as they magnify or disparage this emo- tion. Some theological schools are distinguished for their severity, and others for their sentiment- alism. Some doctrinal systems fail to grasp the mercy of God with as much vigor and energy as they do the Divine justice, while others melt down everything that is scriptural and self-consistent, and flow along vaguely in an inundation of unprincipled emotions and sensibilities. The same fact meets us in the experience of the individual. We either fear too much, or too little. Having obtained glimpses of the Divine compas- sion, how prone is the human heart to become indo- lent and self-indulgent, and to relax something of THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION. 309 that earnest effort witli wliicli it had begun to pluck out the offending right eye. Or, having felt the power of the Divine anger ; having obtained clear conceptions of the intense aversion of God towards moral evil ; even the child of Grod sometimes lives under a cloud, because he does not dare to make a right use of this needed and salutary im- pression, and pass back to that confiding trust in the Divine pity which is his privilege and his birth-right, as one who has been sprinkled with atoning blood. It is plain, from the texts of Scripture placed at the head of this discourse, that the feeling and principle of fear is a legitimate one.^ In these words of God himself, we are taught that it is the font and origin of true wisdom, and are commanded to be inspired by it. The Old Testament enjoins * The moral and healthful in- literature so purifying as the fluence of fear is implied in the Greek Drama. And yet, the celebrated passage in Aristotle's pleasurable emotions are rarely Poetics, whatever be the inter- awakened by it. Righteousness pretation. Yie speaks of a cleans- and justice determine the move- ing {lici-dapGn^ of the mind, by ment of the plot, and conduct means of the emotions of pity to the catastrophe ; and tiie per- and terror ((pofiog) awakened by sons and forms that move across tragic poetry. Most certainly, the stage are, not Venus and the there is no portion of Classical Graces but, " ghostly Shapes To meet at noontide ; Deatli the Skeleton And Time the Shadow." All literature that tends up- purposes of poetry the fear it ward contains the tragic element ; awakens. Lucretius and Voltaire and all literature that tends would disprove the existence of downward rejects it. ^schylus such a solemn world, and they and Dante assume a world of make no use of such an emo- retribution, and employ for the tion. 14 310 THE USE OF FEAE IN RELIGION. it, and the New Testament repeats and emphasizes the injunction ; so that the total and united testi- mony of Revelation forbids a religion that is desti- tute of fear. The New Dispensation is sometimes set in oppo- sition to the Old, and Christ is represented as teaching a less rigid morality than that of Moses and the prophets. But the mildness of Christ is not seen, certainly, in the ethical and preceptive part of His religion. The Sermon on the Mount is a more searching code of morals than the ten commandments. It cuts into human depravity with a more keen and terrible edge, than does the law proclaimed amidst thunderings and light- nings. Let us see if it does not. The Mosaic statute simply says to man : " Thou shalt not kill." But the re-enactment of this statute, by incar- nate Deity, is accompanied with an explanation and an emphasis that precludes all misapprehen- sion and narrow construction of the orio;inal law, and renders it a two-edged sword that pierces to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit. When the Hebrew legislator says to me: "Thou shalt not kill," it is possible for me, with my propensity to look upon the outward appearance, and to re- gard the external act alone, to deem myself inno- cent if I have never actually murdered a fellow- being. But when the Lord of glory tells me that " whosoever is angry with his brother " is in dan- ger of the judgment, my mouth is stopped, and it THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION. 311 is impossible for me to cherish a conviction of per sonal innocency, in respect to the sixth command ment. And the same is true of the seventh com mandment, and the eighth commandment, and of all the statutes in the decalogue. He who reads, and ponders, the whole Sermon on the Mount, is painfully conscious that Christ has put a meaning into the Mosaic law that rendei's it a far more effec- tive instrument of mental torture, for the guilty, than it is as it stands in the Old Testament. The lio^htnino^s are concentrated. The bolts are hurled with a yet more sure and deadly aim. The new meaning is a perfectly legitimate and logical deduc- tion, and in this sense there is no difference be- tween the Decalogue and the Sei'inon, — between the ethics of the Old and the ethics of the New Testa- ment. But, so much more spiritual is the applica- tion, and so much more searching is the reach of the statute, in the last of the two forms of its state- ment, that it looks almost like a new proclamation of law. Our Lord did not intend, or pretend, to teach a milder ethics, or an easier virtue, on the Mount of Beatitudes, than that which He had taught fifteen centuries before on Mt. Sinai. He indeed pronounces a blessing ; and so did Moses, His ser- vant, before Him. But in each instance, it is a blessing upon condition of obedience ; which, in both instances, involves a curse upon disobedience. He who is meek shall be blest ; but he who is not 312 THE USE OF FEAR IN EELIGIOK. shall be condemned. He who is pure in heart, he who is poor in spirit, he who mourns over personal nnworthiness, he who hungers and thirsts after a righteousness of which he is destitute, he who is mei'ciful, he who is the peace-maker, he who en- dures persecution patiently, and he who loves his enemies, — he who is and does all this in a perfect manner, without a single slip or failure, is indeed blessed with the beatitude of God. But where is the man ? What single individual in all the ages, and in all the generations since Adam, is entitled to the great blessing of these beatitudes, and not deserving of the dreadful curse which they involve ? In applying such a high, ethereal test to human character, the Founder of Christianity is the severest and sternest preacher of law that has ever trod upon the planet. And he who stops with the merely ethical and preceptive part of Christianity, and rejects its forgiveness through atoning blood, and its regeneration by an indwelling Spirit, — he who does not unite the fifth chapter of Matthew, with the fifth chapter of Romans, — converts the Lamb of God into the Lion of the tribe of Judah. He makes use of everything in the Christian sys- tem that condemns man to everlasting destruction, but throws away the very and the only part of it that takes off the burden and the curse. It is not, then, a correct idea of Christ that we have, when we look upon Him as unmixed compla- cency and unbalanced compassion. In all aspects, THE USE OF FEAK IN KELIGION. 313 He was a complex personage. He was God, and He was man. As God, He could pronounce a blessing; and He could pronounce a curse, as none but God can, or dare. As man. He was perfect ; and into His perfection of feeling and of character there entered those elements that fill a good being with peace, and an evil one with woe. The Son of God exhibits goodness and severity mingled and blended in perfect and majestic harmony ; and that man lacks sympathy with Jesus Christ who cannot, while feeling the purest and most unselfish indig- nation towards the sinner's sin, at the same time give up his own individual life, if need be, for the sinner's soul. The two feelings are not only com- patible in the same person, but necessarily belong to a perfect being. Our Lord breathed out a prayer for His murderers so fervent, and so full of pathos, that it will continue to soften and melt the flinty human heart, to the end of time ; and He also poured out a denunciation of woes upon the Phari- sees (Matt, xxiii.), every syllable of which is dense enough with the wrath of God, to sink the deserv- ing objects of it " plumVj down, ten thousand fath- oms deep, to bottomless perdition in adamantine chains and penal fire." The utterances, " Father forgiv^e them, for they know net what they do : Yo serpents, ye generation of vipers ! how can ye es- cape the damnation of hell ? " both fell from the 8aine pure and gracious lips. It is not surprising, therefore, that our Lord often 314 THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION. appeals to the principle of fear. He makes use of it in all its various forms, — from that servile terror which is produced by the truth when the soul is just waked up from its drowze in sin, to that filial fear which Solomon affirms to be the beginning of wisdom. The subject thus brought before our minds, by the inspired Word, has a wide application to all ages and conditions of human life, and all varieties of human character. We desire to direct attention to the use and value of religious feai\ in tJie opening periods of human life. There are some special rea- sons why youth and early manhood should come under the influence of this powerful feeling. "I v/rite unto you young men," — says St. John, — *' be- cause ye are strongT We propose to urge upon the young, the duty of cultivating the fear of God's dis- pleasure, because they are able to endure the emo- tion ; because youth is the springtide and prime of human life, and capable of carrying burdens, and standing up under influences and impressions, that might crush a feebler period, or a more exhausted stage of the human soul. I. In the first place, the emotion of fear ought to enter into the consciousness of the young, because youth is naturally light-hearted. " Childhood and youth," saith the Preacher, " are vanity." The opening period in human life is the happiest part of it, if we have respect merely to the condition and circumstances in which the human being is placed. THE USE OF FEAR IN EELIGIOJST. 315 He is free from all public cares, and responsibilities, He is encircled within the strong arms of parents, and protectors. Even if he tries, he cannot feel.the pressure of those toils and anxieties which will come of themselves, when he has passed the line that separates youth from manhood. When he hears his elders discourse of the weight, and the weariness, of this working-day world, it is with incredulity and surprise. The world is bright be- fore his eye, and he wonders that it should ever wear any other aspect. He cannot understand how the freshness, and vividness, and pomp of human life, should shift into its soberer and sterner forms ; and he will not, until the "Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing Boy." * Now there is something, in this happy attitude of things, to fill the heart of youth with gayety and abandonment. His pulses beat strong and high. The currents of his soul flow like the mountain river. His mood is buoyant and jubilant, and he flings himself with zest, and a sense of vitality, into the joy and exhilaration all around him. But such a mood as this, unbalanced and untempered by a loftier one, is hazardous to the eternal interests of the soul. Perpetuate this gay festal abandonment of the mind ; let the human being, through the whole of his earthly course, be filled with the sole ' WonDSWoRTH ; Intimations of Immorta ity. 316 THE USE OF FEAE IN EELIGION. single consciousness that this is the beautiful world ; and will he, can he, live as a stranger and a pilgrim in it? Perpetuate that vigorous pulse, and that youthful blood which '* runs tichling up and down the veins ; " drive off, and j)reclude, all that care and responsibility which renders human life so earnest; and will the young immoi'tal go through it, with that sacred fear and trembling with which he is commanded to work out his salvation ? Yet, this buoyancy and light-heartedness are le- gitimate feelings. They spring up, like wild-flowers, from the very nature of man. Grod intends that prismatic hues and auroral lights shall flood our morning sky. He must be filled with a sour and rancid misanthro^^y, who cannot bless the Creator that thei'e is one part of man's sinful and cursed life which reminds of the time, and the state, when there was no sin and no curse. There is, then, to be no extermination of this legitimate experience. But there is to be its moderation and its res^ulation. And this we get, by the introduction of the feel- ing and the principle of religious fear. The youth ought to seek an impression from things unseen and eternal. God, and His august attributes ; Christ, and His awful Passion ; heaven, with its sacred scenes and joys ; hell, with its just woe and wail, — all these should come in, to modify, and temper, the jubilance that without them becomes the riot of the soul. For this, we apprehend, is the meaning of our Lord, when He says, " I will fore* THE USE OF FEAR IN KELIGION. 317 warn you whom ye shall fear: Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into helL yea, I say unto you, Fear him." It is not so much any particular species of fear that we are shut up to, by these words, as it is the general habit and feeling. The fear of hell is indeed specified, — and this proves that such a fear is rational and proper in its own place, — but our Lord would not have us stop with this single and isolated form of the feel- ing. He recommends a solemn temper. He com- mands a being who stands continually upon the brink of eternity and immensity, to be aware of his position. He would have the great shadow of eter- nity thrown in upon time. He desires that every man should realize, in those very moments when the sun shines the brightest and the earth looks the fairest, that there is another world than this, for which man is not naturally prepared, and for which he must make a preparation. And what He enjoins upon mankind at large, He specially enjoins upon youth. They need to be sobered more than others. The ordinary cares of this life, which do so much towards moderating our desires and aspirations, have not yet pressed upon the ardent and expec- tant soul, and therefore it needs, more than others, to fear and to " stand in awe." II. Secondly, youth is elastic^ and readily recovers front undue depression. The skeptical Lucretius tells us that the divinities are the creatures of man's fears, and would make us believe that all religion 318 THE USE OF FEAE IK RELIGION. has its ground in fright."^ And do we not Lear this theory repeated by the modern unbeliever ? What means this appeal to a universal, and an unprinci- pled good-nature in the Supreme Being, and this rejection of everything in Christianity that awakens misgivings and forebodings within the sinful human soul? Why this opposition to the doctrine of an absolute, and therefore endless punishment, unless it be that it awakens a deep and permanent dread in the heart of guilty man ? Xow, we are not of that number who believe that thoughtless and lethargic man has been greatly damaged by his moral fears. It is the lack of a bold and distinct impression from the solemn ob- jects of another world, and the utter absence of fear, that is ruining man from generation to gener- ation. If we were at liberty, and had the i30wer, to induce into the thousands and millions of our I'ace who are running the rounds of sin and vice, some one particular emotion that should be medici- nal and salutary to the soul, we would select that very one which our Lord had in view when He said : " I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear : Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell ; yea, I say unto you. Fear him." If we were at liberty, and had the power, we would instan- taneously stop these human souls that are crowding our avenues, intent only upon pleasure and earth * Lucretius : De Rerum Natura, III. 989 sq. ; V. 1160 aq. THE USE OF FEAE IN RELIGION. 319 and would fill them with the emotions of the day of doom ; we would deluge them with the fear of God, that they might flee from their sins and the wrath to come. But while we say this, we also concede that it is possible for the human soul to be injured, by the undue exercise of this emotion. The bruised reed may be broken, and tlie smoking flax may be quench- ed ; and hence it is the very function and office- work of the Blessed Comforter, to prevent this. God's own children sometimes pass through a horror of great darkness, like that which enveloped Abraham ; and the unregenerate mind is sometimes so overborne by its fears of death, judgment, and eternity, that the entire experience becomes for a time morbid and confused. Yet, even in this in- stance, the excess is better than the lack. We had better travel this road to heaven, than none at all. It is better to enter into the kingdom of God with one eye, than having two eyes to be cast into hell- fire. When the saints from the heavenly heights look back upon their severe religious experience here on earth, — upon theii* footprints stained with their own blood, — they count it a small matter that they entered into eternal joy through much tribulation. And if we could but for one instant take their position, we should form their estimate ; we should not shrink, if God so pleased, from pass- ing through that martyrdom and crucifixion which has been undergone by so many of those gentle 320 THE USE OE FEAR IN RELIGION spirits, broken spirits, holy spirits, upon whom the burden of mystery once lay like night, and the far heavier burden of guilt lay like hell. There is less danger, however, that the feeling and principle of fear should exert an excessive influence upon youth. There is an elasticity, in the earlier periods of human life, that prevents long- continued depression. How rare it is to see a young person smitten with insanity. It is not until the ]3ressure of anxiety has been long contin- ued, and the impulsive spring of the soul has been destroyed, that reason is dethroned. The morning of our life may, therefore, be subjected to a subdu- ing and repressing influence, with very great safety. It is well to bear the yoke in youth. The awe produced by a vivid impression from the eternal world may enter into the exuberant and gladsome experience of the young, with very little danger of actually extinguishing it, and rendering life perma- nently gloomy and unhappy. III. Thirdly, youth is exposed to sudden ternpta tionSj and siirprisals into sin. The general traits that have been mentioned as belonging to the early period in human life render it peculiarly liable to solicitations. The whole being of a healthful hila- rious youth, who feels life in every limb, thrills to temptation, like the lyre to the plectrum. Body and soul are alive to all the enticements of the world of sense; and in certain critical moments, the entire sensorium, upon the approach of bold and THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION. 321 powerful excitements, flutters and trembles like an electrometer in a thunder-storm. All passionate poetry breathes of youth and spring. Most of the catastrophes of the novel and the drama turn upon the violent action of some temptation, upon the highly excitable nature of youth. All literature testifies to the hazards that attend the morning of our existence^; and daily experience and obser- vation, certainly, corroborate the testimony. It becomes necessary, therefore, to guard the human soul against these liabilities which attend it in its forming period. And, next to a deep and all-absorb- ing love of God, there is nothing so well adapted to protect against sudden surprisals, as a profound and definite fear of God. It is a great mistake, to suppose that apostate and corrupt beings like ourselves can pass through all the temptations of this life unscathed, while looking solely at the pleasant aspects of the Divine Being, and the winning forms of religious truth. We are not yet seraphs; and we cannot always trust to our affectionateness, to carry us through a violent attack of temptation. There are moments in the experience of the Christian himself, when he is compelled to call in the fea?' of God to his aid, and to steady his infirm and wavering virtue by the recollection that " the wao;es of sin is death." " By the fear of the Lord, men," — and Christian men too, — " depart from evil." It will not always be so. When that which is perfect is come, perfect love 21 322 THE USE OF FEAE IF EELIGION. shall cast out fear; but, until the disciple of Christ reaches heaven, his religious experience must be a somewhat complex one. A reasonable and well-defined apprehensiveness must mix with his aifectionateness, and deter him from transgression, in those severe passages in his history when love is languid and fails to draw him. Says an old English divine: "The fear of God's judgments, oi of the threatenings of God, is of much efficiency, when some present temptation presseth upon us. When conscience and the affections are divided ; when conscience doth withdraw a man from sin, and when his carnal affections draw him forth to it ; then should the fear of God come in. It is a holy design for a Christian, to counterbalance the pleasures of sin with the terrors of it, and thus to cure the poison of the viper by the flesh of the viper. Thus that admirable saint and martyr. Bishop Hooper, when he came to die, one en- deavored to dehort him from death by this : O sir, consider that life is sweet and death is bitter; presently he replied. Life to come is more sweet, and death to come is more bitter, and so went to the stake and patiently endured the fire. Thus, as a Christian may sometimes outweigh the pleas- ures of sin by the consideration of the reward of God, so, sometimes, he may quench the pleasure? of sin by the consideration of the terrors of God." ^ » Bates : Discourse of the Fear of God. THE USE OF FEAE IN RELIGIOK. 323 But mucli more is all this true, in the instance of the hot-blooded youth. How shall he resist temptation, unless he has some fear of God before his eyes ? There are moments in the experience of the young, when all power of resistance seems to be taken away, by the very witchery and blandish- ment of the object. He has no heart, and no nerve, to resist the beautiful siren. And it is precisely in these emergencies in his experience, — in these mo- ments when this world comes up before him clothed in pomp and gold, and the other world is so en- tirely lost sight of, that it throws in upon him none of its solemn shadows and warnings, — it is precisely now, when he is just upon the point of yielding to the mighty yet fascinating pressure, that he needs to feel an impression, bold and start- ling, from the wrath of God. Nothing but the most active remedies will have any effect, in this tumult and uproar of the soul. When the whole system is at fever-heat, and the voice of reason and conscience is drowned in the clamors of sense and earth, nothing can startle and stop but the trumpet of Sinai.^ It is in these severe experiences, which are more ' "Praise be to Thee, glory to back from a yet deeper gulf of Tliee, Fountain of mercies: I carnal pleasures, but the fear of was becoming more miserable and death ^ and of Thy judgment to Tliou becoming nearer, Thy riglit come; which, amid all my chan- hand was continually ready to ges, never departed from my pluck me out of the mire, and to breast." Augustine: Confes- wash me thoroughly, and I knew sions, vi. 16., (Shedd's Ed., p. it not ; nor did anything call me 142.) 324 THE USE OF FEAR IN EELIGION. common to youth than they are to manhood, that we see the great value of the feeling and principle of fear. It is, comparatively, in vain for a youth under the influence of strong temptations, — and particularly when the surprise is sprung upon him^ — to ply himself with arguments drawn from the beauty of virtue, and the excellence of piety. They are too ethereal for him, in his present mood. Such arguments are for a calmer moment, and a more dis- passionate hour. His blood is now boiling, and those higher motives which would influence the saint, and would have some influence with him, if he were not in this critical condition, have little power to deter him from sin. Let him therefore pass by the love of Grod, and betake himself to the anger of God, for safety. Let him say to himself, in this moment when the forces of Satan, in alli- ance with the propensities of his own nature, are making an onset, — when all other considerations are being swept away in the rush and whirl w^ind of his passions, — let him coolly bethink himself and say : " If I do this abominable thing which the soul of God hates, then God, the Holy and Immaculate, will burn my spotted soul in His pure eternal flame." For, there is great power, in what the Scrip- tures term " the terror of the Lord," to destroy the edge of temptation. ^' A wise man feareth and de- parteth from evil." Fear kills out the delight in sin. Damocles cannot eat the banquet with any pleas- ure, so long as the naked sword hangs by a single THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION. 325 hair over his head. No one can find much enjoy- ment in transgression, if his conscience is feeling the action of God's holiness within it. And well would it be, if, in every instance in which a youth is tempted to fling himself into the current of sin that is flowing all around him, his moral sense might at that very moment be filled with some of that ter- ror, and some of that horror, which breaks upon the damned in eternity. Well would it be, if the youth in the moment of violent temptation could lay upon the emotion or the lust that entices him, a distinct and red coal of hell-fire.^ No injury would result from the most terrible fear of God, provided it could always fall upon the human soul in those moments of strong temptation, and of snrprisals, when all other motives fail to influence, and the hu- man will is carried headlong by the human passions. There may be a fear and a terror that does harm, but man need be under no concern lest he experience too much of this feeling, in his hours of weakness and irresolution, in his youthful days of temptation and of dalliance. Let him rather bless God thai there is such an intense light, and such a pure fire, in the Divine Essence, and seek to have his whole vitiated and poisoned nature penetrated and puri- ' " Si te luxuria tentat, objice pone tibi horribiles poenas ge- tibi nieinoriam mortis tuae, pro- heiinae. Memoria arduris geheu- pone tibi fiituruin judicium, reduc nae extinguat in te ardorem lux- aJ menioriani futura tormenta, uriae.'" propone tibi aeternasupplicia; et Bernard: De Modo Bene Vi- etiani propone ante oculos tuos vendi. Sernio Ixvii perpetuos ignes infernoruni ; pi"o- 16 326 THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION". fied by it. Have you never looked witli a steadfast gaze into a grate of burning anthracite, and noticed the quiet intense glow of the heat, and how silently the fire throbs and pulsates through the fuel, burn- ing up everything that is inflammable, and making the whole mass as pure, and clean, and clear, as the element of fire itself? Such is the effect of a contact of God's wrath with man's sin ; of the penetration of man's corruption by the wrath of the Lord. IV. In the fourth place, the feeling and principle of fear ought to enter into the experience of both youth and manhood, because it relieves from all other fear. He who stands in awe of God can look down, from a very great height, upon all other per- turbation. When we have seen Him from whose sight the heavens and the earth flee away, there is nothing, in either the heavens or the earth, that can produce a single ripple upon the surface of our souls. This is true, even of the unregenerate mind. The fear in this instance is a servile one, — it is not filial and affectionate, — and yet it serves to protect the sub- ject of it from all other feelings of this species, be- cause it is greater than all others, and like Aaron's serpent swallows up the rest. If we must be liable to fears, — and the transgressor always must be, — it is best that they should all be concentrated in one single overmastering sentiment. Unity is ever de- sirable ; and even if the human soul were to be vis- ited by none but the servile forms of fear, it would THE USE OF FEAE m RELIGION. 32"? be better tbat tljis should be the ''terror of the Loi'd." If, by having the fear of God before our eyes, we could thereby be delivered from the fear of man, and all those apprehensions which are con- nected with time and sense, would it not be wisdom to choose it ? We should then know that there was but one quarter from which our peace could be as- sailed. This would lead us to look in that direc- tion ; and, here upon earth, sinful man cannot look at God long, without coming to terms and becoming reconciled with Him. V. The fifth and last reason which we assign for cherishing the feeling and principle of fear applies to youth, to manhood, and to old age, alike : The fear of God conducts to the love of God, Our Lord does not command us to fear " Him, who after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell," because such a feeling as this is intrinsically desirable, and is an ultimate end in itself. It is, in itself, undesir- able, and it is only a means to an end. By it, our torpid souls are to be awakened from their torpor ; our numbness and hardness of mind, in respect to spiritual objects, is to be removed. We are never for a moment, to suppose that the fear of perdition is set before us as a model and permanent form ot *3xperience to be toiled after, — a positive virtue and grace intended to be perpetuated through the whole future histoiy of the soul. It is employed only as an antecedent to a higher and a happier emotion; and when the purpose for which it has been elicited 328 THE USE OF FEAK IN EELIGIOK. has been answered, it then disappears. "Perfect love caste th out fear ; for fear hath torment,'' (1 John iv. 18.^ ) But, at the same time, we desire to direct atten- tion to the fact that he who has been exercised with this emotion, thoroughly and deeply, is con- ducted by it into the higher and happier form of religious experience. Religious fear and anxiety are the prelude to religious peace and joy. These are the discords that prepare for the concords. He, who in the Psalmist's phrase has known the power of the Divine anger, is visited with the manifesta- tion of the Divine love. The method in the thirty second psalm is the method of salvation. Day and night God's hand is heavy upon the soul ; the fear and sense of the Divine displeasure is passing through the conscience, like electric currents. The moisture, the sweet dew of health and happiness, is turned into the drought of summer, by this preparatory process. Then the soul acknowledges its sin, and its iniquity it hides no longer. It confesses its trans- gressions unto the Lord, — it justifies and approves of this wrath which it has felt, — and He forgives the iniquity of its sin. It is not a vain thing, therefore, to fear the Lord. ' Baxter (Narrative, Part I.) groweth up by degrees from the remarks "that fear, being an more troublesome and safe opera- easier and irresistible passion, tion of fear, to the more high doth oft obscui-e that measure of and excellent operations of ct^m love which is indeed within us ; placeutial love." and that the soul of a believer THE TTSE OF FEAR m EELIGION. 329 The emotion of which we have been discoursing, painful though it be, is remunerative. There is something in the very experience of moral pain which brings us nigh to Grod. When, for instance, in the hour of temptation, I discern God's calm and holy eye bent upon me, and I wither beneath it, and resist the enticement because I fear to disobey, I am brought by this chapter in my experience into very close contact with my Maker. There has been a vivid and personal transaction between us. I have heard him say : '^ If thou doest that wicked thing thou shalt surely die; refrain from doing it, and I will love thee and bless thee." This is the secret of the great and swift reaction which often takes place, in the sinners soul. He moodily and obstinately fights against the Divine displeasure. In this state of things, there is nothing but fear and torment. Suddenly he gives way, acknowledges that it is a good and a just anger, no longer seeks to beat it back from his guilty soul, but lets the billows roll over while he casts himself upon the Divine pity. In this act and instant, — which in- volves the destiny of the soul, and has millenniums in it, — when he recognizes the justice and trusts in the mercy of God, there is a great rebound, and through his tears he sees the depth, the amazing depth, of the Divine compassion. For, paradoxical as it appears, God's love is best seen in the light of God's displeasure. When the soul is penetrated by this latter feeling, and is thoroughly sensible of 330 THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION. its own worthlessness, — when man knows himself to be vile, and filthy, and fit only to be burned up by the Divine immaculateness, — then, to have the Great God take him to His heart, and pour out upon him the infinite wealth of His mercy and compassion, is overwhelming. Here, the Divine in- dio-nation becomes a foil to set off the Divine love. Eead the sixteenth chapter of Ezekiel, with an eye " purged with euphrasy and rue," so that you can take in the full spiritual significance of the com- parisons and metaphors, and your w^hole soul will dissolve in tears, as you perceive how the great and pure God, in every instance in which He saves an apostate spirit, is compelled to bow His heavens and come down into a loathsome sty of sensual- ity.^ Would it be love of the highest order, in a ser- aph, to leave the pure cerulean and trail his white garments through the haunts of vice, to save the wretched inmates from themselves and their sins ? O then what must be the deo^ree of affection and compassion, when the infinite Deity, whose essence is light itself, and whose nature is the intensest con- trary of all sin, tabernacles in the flesh upon the errand of redemption ! And if the pure spirit of that seraph, while filled with an ineffable loathing, * " Thus saith the Lord God day that thou wast born. And unto Jerusalem, thy birth and thy when I passed by thee and saw nativity is of tlie land of Canaan ; thee polluted in thy ovrn blood, thy father was an Aniorite, and 1 said unto thee when thou wast thy mother an Hittite. Thou in thy blood, Live ; yea I said wast cast out in the open field, to unto thee when thou wast in thy t'le loathing of thy person, in the blood, Live." Ezekiel xvi. 1, 5, 6 THE USE OF FEAlt IN RELIGION. 331 and the hottest moral indignation, at what he saMi in character and conduct, were also yearning with an unspeakable desire after the deliverance of the vicious from their vice, — the moral wi'ath thus set- ting in still stronger relief the moral compassion that holds it in check, — what must be tlie relation between these two emotions in the Divine Being ! Is not the one the measure of the other ? And does not the soul that fears God in a suhmissive manner, and acknowledges the righteousness of the Divine displeasure with entire acquiescence and no sullen resistance, pre2)are the way, in this very act, for an equally intense manifestation of the Divine mercy and forgiveness ? The subject treated of in this discourse is one of the most important, and frequent, that is presented in the Scriptures. He who examines is startled to find that the phrase, " fear of the Lord," is woven into the whole web of Eevelation from Genesis to the Apocalypse. The feeling and principle under discussion has a Biblical authority, and significance, that cannot be pondered too long, or too closely. It, therefore, has an interest for every human being, whatever may be his character, his condition, or his circumstances. All great religious awakenings be- gin in the dawning of the august and terrible aspects of the Deity upon the popular mind, and they reach their height and happy consummation, in that love and faith for which the antecedent fear has been the preparation. Well and blessed Would 332 THE USE OF FEAK EJ^ EELIGION. it be for this irreverent and unfeanno: ao^e, in which the advance in mechanical arts and vice is greatei than that in letters and virtue, if the popular mind could be made reflective and solemn by this great emotion. We would, therefore, pass by all other feelings, and endeavor to fix the eye upon the distinct and unambiguous fear of God, and would urge the young, especially, to seek for it as for hid treasures. The feeling is a painful one, because it is 2i preparor tory one. There are other forms of religious emo- tion which are more attractive, and are necessary in their place ; these you may be inclined to culti- vate, at tlie expense of the one enjoined by our Lord in tlie text. But we solemnly and earnestly entreat you, not to suffer your inclination to divert your attention from your duty and your true inter- est. We tell you, with confidence, that next to the affectionate and filial love of God in your heart, there is no feeling or principle in the whole series that will be of such real solid service to you, as that one enjoined by our Lord upon "His disciples first of all." You will need its awing and repressing influence, in many a trying scene, in many a severe temptation. Be encouraged to cherish it, from the fact that it is a very effective, a very powerful emotion. He who has the fear of God before his eyes is actually and often kept from falling. It will prevail with your weak will, and your infirm purpose, when other motives fail. And if you THE USE OF FEAR DT RELIGION. 333 could but stand where those do, who have passed through that fearful and dangerous passage through which you are now making a transit ; if you could but know, as they do, of what untold value is everything that deters from the wrong and nerves to the riirht, in the critical moments of human life ; you would know, as they do, the utmost importance of cherishinfi: a solemn and serious dread of dis- pleasing God. The more simple and unmixed this feeling is in your own experience, the more influen- tial will it be. Fix it deeply in the mind, that the great God is holy. Kecur to this fact continually. If the dread which it awakens casts a shadow over the gayety of youth, remember that you need this, and will not be injured by it. The doctrine com- mends itself to you, because you are young, and because you are strong. If it fills you with mis- givings, at times, and threatens to destroy your peace of mind, let the emotion operate. Never stifie it, as you value your salvation. You had better be unhappy for a season, than yield to temptation and grievous snares which will drown you in per- dition. Even if it hangs dark and low over the horizon of your life, and for a time invests this world with sadness, be resolute with yourself, and do not attempt to remove the feeling, except in the legitimate way of the gospel. Eemember that every human soul out of Christ ought to fear, '' for he that believeth not on the Son, the wrath of God abideth on him." And remember, also, that ever}- 15* 334 THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION. one who believes in Christ ought not to fear ; for '' there is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus, and he that believeth on the Son hath evei'lasting life." And with this thouo-ht would we close. This fear of God may and should end in the perfect love that casteth out fear. This powerful and terrible emotion, which we have been considering, may and ought to prepare the soul to welcome the sweet and thrilling accents of Christ saying, " Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden," with your fears of death, judgment, and eternity, " and I will give you rest." Faith in Christ lifts the soul above all fears, and eventually raises it to that serene world, that blessc^d state of being, where there is no more curse and no more foreljoding. " Serene will be our days, and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security." THE PRESENT LIFE AS RELATED TO THE FUTURE. Li)i»- xvi. 25. — "And Abraham said, Son remember that thou in thy hie ti»-i receivedst thy good things, and hkewise Lazarus evil things ; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented." The parable of Dives and Lazarus is one of the most solemn passages in the whole "Revelation of God. In it, our Lord gives very definite statements concerning the condition of those who have depart- ed this life. It makes no practical difference, whether we assume that this was a real occurrence, or only an imaginary one, — whether there actually was such a particular rich man as Dives, and such a particular beggar as Lazarus, or whether the nar- rative was invented by Christ for the purpose of conveying the instruction which he desired to give. The instruction is given in either case ; and it is the instruction with which we are concerned. Be it a parable, or be it a historical fact, our Lord here teaches, in a manner not to be disputed, that a man who seeks enjoyment in this life as his chief end shall suffer torments in the next life, and that he who endures suffering in this life for righteousness' 336 THE PRESENT LITE AS sake shall dwell in paradise in the next, — tliat lie who finds his life here shall lose his life hereafter, and that he who loses his life here shall find it here after. For, we cannot for a moment suppose that such a Being as Jesus Christ merely intended to play upon the fears of men, in putting forth such a pic- ture as this. He knew that this narrative would be read by thousands and millions of mankind ; that they would take it from His lips as absolute truth ; that they would inevitably infer from it, that the souls of men do verily live after death, that some of them are in bliss and some of them are in pain, and that the difi*erence between them is due to the dif- ference in the lives which they lead here upon earth. Now, if Christ was ignorant upon these subjects, He had no right to make such representations and to give such impressions, even through a merely im- aginary narrative. And still less could He be jus- tified in so doing, if, being perfectly informed upon the subject. He knew that there is no such place as that in which He puts the luxurious Dives, and no such impassable gulf as that of which He speaks. It will not do, here, to employ the Jesuitical maxim that the end justifies the means, and say, as some teachers have said, that the wholesome impression that will be made upon the vicious and the profli- gate justifies an appeal to their fears, by preaching the doctrine of endless retribution, although there is no such thino. This was a fatal error in the KELATED TO THE FUTUEE. 3(5? teachings of Clement of Alexandria, and Ojigen. ^' God threatens," — said they,—" and punishes, bat only to improve, never for purposes of retribution ; and though, in public discourse, the fruitles^ness of repentance after death be asserted, yet heruafternot only those who have not heard of Christ will re- ceive forgiveness, but the severer punishment which befalls the obstinate unbelievers will, it may be hoped, not be the conclusion of their history." ^ But can we suppose that such a sincere, such a truth- ful and such a holy Being as the Son of God would stoop to any such artifice as this ? that He who called Himself The Truth would employ a lie, either directly or indirectly, even to promote the spiritual welfare of men ? He never spake for mere sensation. The fact, then, that in this solemn pas- sage of Scripture we find the Redeemer calmly describing and minutely picturing the condition of two persons in the future world, distinctly specify- ing the points of difference between them, putting words into their mouths that indicate a sad and hopeless experience in one of them, and a glad and happy one in the other of them, — the fact that in this treatment of the awful theme our Lord, beyond all controversy, conveys the impression that these scenes and experiences are real and true, — is one of the strongest of all proofs that they are so. The reader of Dante's Inferno is always struck witt • Shedd : History of Doctrine, II., 234 sq. 338 THE PRESENT LIFE AS the sincerity and realism of that poem. Under the delineation of that luminous, and that intense under- standing, hell has a topographic reality. We Avind along down those nine circles as down a volcanic crater, black, jagged, precipitous, and impinging upon the senses at every step. The sighs and shrieks jar our own tympanum; and the convulsions of the lost excite tremors in our own nerves. No wonder that the children in the streets of Florence, as they saw the sad and earnest man pass along, his face lined with passion and his brow scarred with thought, pointed at him and said : ^' There goes the man who has been in hell." But how infinitely more solemn is the impression that is made by these thirteen short verses, of the sixteenth chapter of Luke's gospel, from the lips of such a Being as Je- sus Christ ! We have here the terse and pregnant teachings of one who, in the phrase of the early Creed, not only " descended into hell," but who " hath the keys of death and hell." We have here not the utterances of the most truthful, and the most earnest of all human poets, — a man who, we may believe, felt dee^^ly the power of the Hebrew Bible, though living in a dark age, and a superstitious Church, — we have here the utterances of the Son of God, very God, of very God; and we may be cer- tain that He intended to convey no impression that will not be made good in the world to come. And when every eye shall see Him, and all the sinful kindreds of the earth shall wail because of Him, RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 33 G there will not be any eye that can look into His and say: " Thy description, O Son of God, was over- drawn ; the impression was greater than the reality." On th.e contrary, every human soul will say in the day of judgment : '' We were forewarned ; the state- ments were exact ; even according to Thy fear, so is Thy wrath '' (Ps. xc. 11). But what is the lesson which we are to read by this clear and solemn light? What would our merciful Kedeemer have us learn from this passage which He has caused to be recorded for our instruc- tion ? Let us listen with a candid and a feeling heart, because it comes to us not from an enemy of the human soul, not from a Being who delights to cast it into hell, but from a friend of the soul ; be- cause it comes to ns from One who, in His own per- son and in His own flesh, suffered an anguish supe- rior in dignity and equal in cancelling power to the pains of all the hells, in order that we, through repentance and faith, might be spared their inflic- tion. The lesson is this : The man who seeks enjoyment ill tills life J as his chief end, must suffer in the next life ; and he who endures siffering in this life, for righteousness' sake, shall he hajpi^y in the nexti " Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things ; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented." It is a fixed principle in the Divine administra« tion, that the scales of justice shall in the end be 340 THE PEESENT LIFE A made equal. If, therefore, sin enjoys in this world, it must sorrow in the next ; and if rio^hteousness sor- rows in this world, it must enjoy in the next. The experience shall be reversed, in order to bring every- thing to a right position and adjustment. This is everywhere taught in the Bible. " Woe unto you that are rich ! for ye have received your consolation. Woe unto you that are full ! for ye shall hunger. Woe unto you that laugh now ! for ye shall mourn and weep. Blessed are ye that hunger now ; for ye shall be filled. Blessed are ye that ^Yeep now ; for ye shall laugh " (Luke vi. 21, 24, 25). These are the explicit declarations of the Founder of Christianity, and they ought not to surprise us, coming as they do from Him who expressly declares that His kingdom is not of this world ; that in this world His disciples must have tribulation, as He had ; that through much tribulation they must enter into the kingdom of God ; that whosoever doth not take up the cross daily, and follow Him, cannot be His disciple. Let us notice some particulars, in Avhich we see the operation of this principle. What are the " good things " which Dives receives here, for which he must be " tormented " hereafter ? and what are the " evil things " which Lazarus receives in this world, for which he will be " comforted " in the world to come ? I. In the first place, the worldly man derives a more intense physical enjoyment from this world's RELATED tq THE FUTUEE. 341 goods, than do«s the child of God. He possesses more of them, and gives himself np to them with less self-restraint. The majority of those who have been most prospered by Divine Providence in the accumulation of wealth have been outside of the kingdom and the ark of God. Not many rich and not many noble are called. In the past history of jnankind, the great possessions and the great in- comes, as a general rule, have not been in the hands of humble and penitent men. In the great centres of trade and commerce, — in Venice, Amsterdam, Paris, London, — it is the world and not the people of God who have had the purse, and have borne what is put therein. Satan is described in Scrip- ture, as the " prince of this world " (John xiv. 80) ; and his words addressed to the Son of God are true : " All this power and glory is delivered unto me, and to whomsoever I will, I give it.'' In the para- ble from which we are discoursing, the sinful man was the rich man, and the child of God was the beggar. And how often do we see, in every-day life, a faithful, prayerful, upright, and pure-minded man, toiling in poverty, and so far as earthly com forts are concerned enjoying little or nothing, while a selfish, pleasure-seeking, and profligate man is im- mersed in physical comforts and luxuries. The former is receivinc: evil thinQ:s, and the latter is re- ceivmg good thingsj in this life. Again, how often it happens that a fine physical constitution, health, strength, and vigor, are given 342 THE PEESENT LIFE AS to the woi'lclling, and are denied to the child of God. The possession of worldly good is greatly enhanced in value, by a fine capability of enjoying it. When therefore we see wealth joined with health, and luxury in all the surroundings and appointments combined with taste to appreci-ate them and a full flow of blood to enjoy them, or access to wide and influential circles, in j^olitics and fashion, given to one who is well fitted by personal qualities to move in them, — when we see a happy adaptation existing between the man and his good fortune, as we call it, — we see not only the "good things,'' but the " good things " in their gayest and most attractive forms and colors. And how often is all this observed in the instance of the natural man ; and how^ often is there little or none of this in the instance of the spiritual man. We by no means imply, that it is impossible for the possessor of this world's goods to love mercy, to do justly, and to walk humbly ; and we are well aware that under the 2:arb of poverty and toil there may beat a murmuring and rebellious heart. But we think that from genera- tion to generation, in this imperfect and probation- ary world, it will be found to be a fact, that when merely earthly and physical good is allotted in large amounts by the providence of God ; that when great incomes and ample means of luxury are given ; in the majority of instances they are given to the enemies of God, and not to His dear children. So the Psalmist seems to have thought. " I was en BELATED TO THE FUTURE. 34S vious/' — lie says, — " when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. For there are no bands in their death ; but their strength is firm. They are not in trouble as other men ; neither are they plagued like other men. Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain ; violence covereth them as a garment. Their eyes stand out with fatness ; they have more than heart could wish. Behold these are the ungodly who prosper in the world ; they increase in riches. Verily / have cleansed my heart in vain, and wash- ed my hands in innocency. For all day long have /been plagued, and chastened every morning" (Ps. Ixxiii). And it should be carefidly noticed, that the Psalmist, even after farther reflection, does not alter his statement respecting the relative j^ositions of the godly and the ungodly in this world. He sees no reason to correct his estimate, u23on this point. He lets it stand. So far as this merely pliysical existence is concerned, the wicked man has the advantage. It is only when the Psalmist looks beyond this life, that he sees the compensation, and the balancing again of the scales of eternal right and justice. " When I thought to know this," — when I reflected upon this inequality, and ap- parent injustice, in the treatment of the friends and the enemies of God, — " it was too painful for me, until I went into the sanctuary of God," — until I took my stand in the eternal world, and formed my estimate there, — " tliea understood I their end. Surely thou didst set them in slippery places • thou 344 THE peeseot: liee as castedst them down to destruction. How are tbey brought into desolation as in a moment ! They are utterly consumed with terrors." Dives passes from his fine linen and sumptuous fare, from his excessive physical enjoyment, to everlasting perdition. II. In the second place, the worldly man derives more enjoyment from sin^ and suffers less from it, in this life, than does the child of God. The really renewed man cannot enjoy sin. It is ♦ true that he does sin, owing to the strength of old habits, and the remainders of his corruption. But he does not really delight in it ; and he says with 'St. Paul " What I would, that do I not ; but what I hate, that do I." His sin is a sorrow, a constant sorrow, to him. He feels its pressure and burden all his days, and cries : " O wretched man, who shall de- liver me from the body of this death." If he falls into it, he cannot live in it; as a man may fall into water, but it is not his natural element. Again, the good man not only takes no real de- light in sin, but his reflections after transgression are very painful. He has a tender conscience. His senses have been trained and disciplined to discern good and evil. Hence, the sins that are committed by a child of God are mourned over with a very deep sorrow. The longer he lives, the more odious does sin become to him, and the more keen and bitter is his lamentation over it. Now this, in itself, is an "evil thing." Man was not made for sorrow, and sorrow is not his natural con- RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 345 dition. This wearisome struggle with indwelling corruption, these reproaches of an impartial con- science, this sense of imperfection and of constant failure in the service of God, — all this renders the believer's life on earth a season of trial, and tribula- tion. The thought of its lasting forever would be painful to him ; and if he should be told that it is the will of God, that he should continue to be vexed and foiled through all eternity, with the motions of sin in his meml)ers, and that his love and obedience would forever be imperfect, though he would be thankful that even this was granted him, and that he was not utterly cast off, yet he would wear a shaded brow, at the prospect of an imperfect, though a sincere and a struggling eter- nity. But the ungodly are not so. The worldly man loves sin ; loves pleasure ; loves self And the love is so strong, and accompanied with so much enjoyment and zest, that it is last^ and is so denomi- nated in the Bible. And if you would only defend him from the wrath of God ; if you would warrant him immunity in doing as he likes; if you could shelter him as in an inaccessible castle from the retributions of eternity ; with what a delirium of pleasure would he plunge into the sin that he loves. Tell the avaricious man, that his avarice shall never have any evil consequences here or hereafter ; and with what an energy would he apply himself to the acquisition of wealth. Tell 346 THE PRESENT LIFE AS the luxurious man, full of passion and full of bloody that his pleasures shall never bring down any evil upon him, that there is no power in the universe that can hurt him, and with what an abandonment would he surrender himself to his carnal elysium. Tell the ambitious man, fired with visions of fame and glory, that he may banish all fears of a final account, that he may make himself his own deity, and breathe in the incense of worshipers, without any rebuke from Him who says : " I am God, and my glory I will not give to another," — assure the proud and ambitious man that his sin wdll never find him out, and with what a momen- tum wall he follow out his inclination. For, in each of these instances there is a hankering and a lust. The sin is loved and revelled in^ for its own deliciousness. The heart is worldly, and therefore finds its pleasure in its forbidden objects and aims. The instant you propose to check or thwart this inclination; the instant you try to detach this natural heart from its wealth, or its pleasure, or its earthly fame ; you discover how closely it clings, and how strongly it loves, and how intensely it enjoys the forbidden object. Like the greedy in- sect in our gardens, it has fed until every fibre and tissue is colored with its food ; and to remove it from the leaf is to tear and lacerate it. Now it is for this reason, that the natural man receives ^' good things," or experiences pleasure, in this life, at a point where the spiritual man receives RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 347 ^ evil tilings," or experiences pain. The child o^ God does not relish and enjoy sin in this style. Sin in the good man is a burden ; Lut in the bad man it is a pleasure. It is all the pleasure he has. And when you propose to take it away from him, or when you ask him to give it up of his own accord, he looks at you and asks : " Will you take away the only solace I have ? I have no joy in God. I take no enjoyment in divine things. Do you ask me to make myself wholly miserable ? " And not only does the natural man enjoy sin, but^ in this life, he is much less troubled than is the spiritual man with reflections and self-reproaches on account of sin. This is another of the " good things" which Dives receives, for which he must be " tormented ;" and this is another of the " evil thin2:s " which Lazarus receives, for which he must be " comforted." It cannot be denied, that in this world the child of God suffers more mental sorrow for sin, in a given period of time, than does the insensible man of the world. If we could look into the soul of a faithful disciple of Christ, we should discover that not a day passes, in w^hich his con- science does not reproach him for sins of thought, word, or deed ; in which he does not struggle with some bosom sin, until he is so weary that he cries out : " Oh that I had wings like a dove, so that I might fly away, and be at i-est." Some of the most exemplary members of the Church go mourning from day to day, because their hearts are still so 348 THE PRESENT LIFE AS far from tLeir God and Saviour, and their lives fall so far short of what they desire them to he.^ Their experience is not a positively wretched one, like that of an unforgiven sinner when he is feeling the stings of conscience. They are forgiven. The ex- piating blood has soothed the ulcerated conscience, so that it no longer stings and burns. They have hope in God's mercy. Still, they are in grief and sorrow for sin; and their experience, in so far, is not a perfectly happy one, such as will ultimately be their portion in a Vjetter world. "If in this life only," — says St. Paul, — " we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable" (1 Cor. xv. 19). But the stupid and impenitent man, a luxurious Dives, knows nothing of all this. His days glide by mth no twinges of conscience. What does he know of the burden of sin ? His conscience is dead asleep ; perchance seared as with a hot iron. He does wrong without any remorse ; he disobeys the express commands of God, without any misgivings ^ The early religious experience are trifles. One drop of that of John Owen furnishes a striking wrath which shall finally fill the illustration. " For a quarter of cup of the ungodly, poured into a year, he avoided almost all in- the mind, is enough to poison all tercourse with men ; could scarce- the comforts of life, and to spread ly be induced to speak ; and mourning, lamentation, and woe when he did say anything, it over the countenance. Though was in so disordered a manner the violence of Owen's convic- as rendered him a wonder to tions had subsided after the first many. Only tliose who have severe conflict, they still con- experienced the bitterness of a tinned to disturb his peace, and wounded spirit can form an idea nearly five years elapsed from of the distress he must have suf- their commencement before he fered. Compared with this an- obtained solid comfort." Oeme; guisli of soul, all the afflictions Life of Owen, Chap. I. which befall a sinner [on earth] RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 349 or self-reproach. He is " aliv^e, without the law," — as St. Paul expresses it. His eyes stand out with fatness; and his heart, in the Psalmist's phrase, " is as fat as grease " (Ps. cxix. 70). There is no religious sensibility in him. His sin is a pleasure to liim without any mixture of sorrow, because un- attended by any remorse of conscience. He is re- ceiving his " good things " in this life. His days pass by without any moral anxiety, and perchance as he looks upon some meek and earnest disciple of Christ who is battling with indwelling sin, and who, therefore, sometimes wears a grave counte- nance, he wonders that any one should walk so soberly, so gloomily, in such a cheery, such a happy, such a jolly world as this. It is a startling fact, that those men in this world who have most reason to be distressed by sin are the least troubled by it ; and those who have the least reason to be distressed are the most troubled by it. The child of God is the one who sorrows most ; and the child of Satan is the one who sor- rows least. Remember that we are speaking only of this life. The text reads : " Thou in thy lifetime re- ceivedst thy good thi^igs, and likewise Lazaras evil things." And it is unquestionably so. The meek and lowly disciple of Christ, the one who is most entitled by his character and conduct to be untroub- led by religious anxiety, is the very one who bows his head as a bulrush, and perhaps goes mourning all his days, fearing that he is not accepted, and 16 350 THE PEESENT LITE AS that he shall be a cast-a-way ; while the selfish and thoroughly irreligious man, who ought to be stung through and through by his own conscience, and feel the full energy of the law which he is continu- ally breaking, — this man, who of all men ought to be anxious and distressed for sin, goes through a whole lifetime, perchance, without any convictions or any fears. And now we ask, if this state of things ought to last forever? Is it right, is it just, that sin should enjoy in this style forever and forever, and thai holiness should grieve and sorrow in this style for- ever more ? Would you have the Almighty pay a bounty upon unrighteousness, and place goodness under eternal pains and penalties? Ought not this state of things to be reversed ? When Dives comes to the end of this lifetime ; when he has run his round of earthly pleasure, faring sumptuously every day, clothed in purple and fine linen, without a thought of his duties and obligations, and without any anxiety and penitence for his sins, — when this worldly man has received all his "good things," and is satiated and hardened by them, ought he not then to be " tormented ?" Ought this guilty carnal enjoyment to be perpetuated through all eternity, under the government of a righteous and just God ? And, on the other hand, ought not the faithful dis- ciple, who, perhaps, has possessed little or nothing of this world's goods, who has toiled hard, in pov- erty, in afiliction, in temptation, in tribulation, and RELATED TO THE FUTUEE. 353 Bometimes like Abraham in the horror of a great darkness, to keep his robes white, and his soul un spotted from the world, — when the poor and weary Lazarus comes to the end of this lifetime, ought not his trials and sorrows to cease ? ought he not then to be " comforted " in the bosom of Abraham, in the paradise of God ? There is that within us all, which answers. Yea, and Amen. Such a balancing of the scales is assented to, and demanded by the moral con- victions. Hence, in the parable. Dives himself is represented as acquiescing in the eternal judgment. He does not complain of injustice. It is true, that at first he asks for a drop of water, — for some slight mitigation of his punishment. This is the instinct- ive request of any sufferer. But when his atten- tion is directed to the right and the wrong of the case ; when Abraham reminds him of the principles of justice by which his destiny has been decided ; when he tells him that having taken his choice of pleasure in the world which he has left, he cannot now have pleasure in the world to which he has come ; the wretched man makes no reply. There is nothing to be said. He feels that the procedure is just. He is then silent upon the subject of his own tortures, and only begs that his ^we brethren, whose lifetime is not yet run out, to whom there is still a space left for repentance, may be warned from his own lips not to do as he has done, — not to choose pleasure on earth as their chief good ; not to take their " good things " in this life. Dives, the man ir 852 THE PRESENT LIFE AS hell, is a witness to the justice of eternal punish ment. 1. In view of this subject, as thus discussed, we remark in the first place, that no man can have his "" good things," in other words, his chief pleasure, in botJi worlds. God and this world are in antagonism. " For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him " (1 John i. 15, 16). It is the height of folly, there- fore, to suppose that a man can make earthly en- joyment his chief end while he is upon earth, and then pass to heaven when he dies. Just so far as he holds on upon the " good things " of this life, he relaxes his grasp upon the " good things" of the next. No man is capacious enough to hold both worlds in his embrace. He cannot serve God and Mammon. Look at this as a matte?' of fact. Do not take it as a theory of the preacher. It is as plain and certain that you cannot lay up your treas- ure in heaven while you are laying it up upon earth, as it is that your material bodies cannot occupy two portions of space at one and the same time. Dismiss, therefore, all expectations of being able to accom- plish an impossibility. Put not your mind to sleep with the opiate, that in some inexplicable manner you will be able to live the life of a worldly man upon earth, and then the life of a spiritual man in heaven. There is no alchemy that can amalgamate RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 35S substances that refuse to mix. No man has ever yet succeeded, no man ever will succeed, in securing both the pleasures of sin and the pleasures of holi- ness, — in living the life of Dives, and then going to the bosom of Abraham. 2. And this leads to the second remark, that every man must make his choice whether he will have his " good things " now, or hereafter. Every man is making his choice. Every man has already made it. The heart is now set either upon God, or upon the world. Search through the globe, and you cannot find a creature with double affections ; a creature with two chief ends of living ; a creature whose treasure is both upon earth and in heaven. All mankind are single-minded. They either mind earthly things, or heavenly things. They are in spired with one predominant purpose, which rules them, determines their character, and decides their destiny. And in all who have not been renewed by Divine grace, the purpose is a wrong one, a false and fatal one. It is the choice and the pur- pose of Dives, and not the choice and purpose of Lazarus. ?>. Hence, we remark in the third place, that it is the duty and the wisdom of every man to let this world go, and seek his "good things" hereafter. Our Lord commands every man to sit do\^Ti, like the steward in the parable, and make an estimate. He enjoins it upon every man to reckon up the advantages upon each side, and see for himself 354 THE PEESENT LIFE AS wliicli IS superior. He asks every man wliat it will profit liim, " if lie shall gain the whole world and lose his own sonl ; or, what he shall give in exchange for his soul." We urge you to make this estimate, — to compare the " good things " which Dives enjoyed, with the "torments" that followed them ; and the " evil things " which Lazarus suf- fered, with the " comfort " that succeeded them. There can be no doubt upon which side the balance will fall. And we urge you to take the " evil things " now, and the " good things " hereafter. We entreat you to copy the example of Moses at the court of the Pharaohs, and in the midst of all resral luxury, who " chose rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; esteeming the reproach of Christ, greater riches than the treasures in Egypt : for he had resj^ect unto the recomjpense of reward^ Take the narrow way. What though it be strait and narrow ; you are not to walk in it forever. A few short years of fidelity will end the toilsome pilgrim- age ; and then you will come out into a " wealthy place." We might tell you of the joys of the Christian life that are mingled with its trials and sorrows even here upon earth. For, this race to which we invite you, and this fight to which we call you, have their own peculiar, solemn, substan- tial joy. And even their sorrow is tinged with glory. In a higher, truer sense than Protesilaus in the poem says it of the pagan elysium, Ave may say RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 355 even of the C/hristian race, and the Christian fight, "Calm pleasures there abide — majestic pains.'''' * But we do not care, at this point, to influence you by a consideration of the amount of enjoyment, in this life, Avhich you will derive from a close and humble walk with God. We prefer to ])ut the case in its baldest form, — in the aspect in which we find it in our text. We will say nothing at all about the happiness of a Christian life, here in time. We will talk only of its tribulations. We will only say, as in the parable, that there are " evil things " to be endured here upon earth, in return for which we shall have " good things " in another life. There is to be a moderate and sober use of this world's goods ; there is to be a searching sense of sin, and an humble confession of it before God ; there is to he a cross-bearing every day, and a struggle with indwelling corruption. These will cost eifoi-t, watch- fulness, and earnest prayer for Divine assistance. We do not invite you into the kingdom of God, without telling you frankly and plainly beforehand what must be done, and what must be suffered. But ha\^ng told you this, we then tell you with the utmost confidence and assurance, that you will be infinitely repaid for your choice, if you take your " evil things " in this life, and choose your " good things " in a future. We know, and are certain, that this light afiliction wdiich endui'es but for a moment, in comparison with the infinite duration beyond * WoEDswoKTH : LaodaiTiia. 356 THE PRESENT LIFE AS the tomb, Avill work out a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. We entreat you to look no longer at the things w^hich are seen, but at the things which are not seen ; for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen are eternal. Learn a parable from a wounded soldier. His limb must be amputated, for mortification and gan- grene have begun their work. He is told that the surgical operation, which will last a half hour, will yield him twenty or forty years of healthy and active life. The endurance of an " evil thing," for a few moments, will result in the possession of a " good thing," for many long days and years. He holds out the limb, and submits to' the knife. He accepts the inevitable conditions under which he finds himself. He is resolute and stern, in order to secure a great good in the future. It is the practice of this same principle, though not in the use of the same kind of power, that w^e would urge upon you. Looh up to God for grace and Jielp^ and deliberately forego a present advan- tage, for the sake of something infinitely more val- uable hereafter. Do not, for the sake of the tem- porary enjoyment of Dives, lose the eternal happi- ness of Lazarus. Rather, take the place, and ac- cept the " evil things," of the beggar. Looh up to God for grace and strength to do it, and then live a life of contrition for sin, and faith in Christ's blood. Deny yourself, and take up the cross daily RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 357 Expect your happiness liereafter. Lay up your treasure above. Then, in the deciding day, it will be said of you, as it will be of all the true children of God : " These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the }>lood of the Lamb." 16* THE BXBROISB OP MERCY OPTIONAL WITH CJOD. Romans ix. 15. — "For He saith to Moses, I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion." This is a part of the description which God him- self gave to Moses, of His own nature and attributes. The Hebrew legislator had said to Jehovah: ''I beseech thee show me thy glory." He desired a clear understanding of the character of that Great Being, under whose guidance he was commissioned to lead the people of Israel into the promised land. God said to him in reply : " I will mak^ all my goodness pass before thee, and I will proclaim the name of the Lord before thee ; and I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will shew mercy on whom I will shew mercy." ^ By this, God revealed to Moses, and through him to all mankind, the fact that He is a merciful being, and directs attention to one particular characteristic ' Compare, also, the very full This is the more noteworthy, as announcement of mercy as a Di- it occurs in connection with the vine attribute that was to be ex- giving of the law. ercised, in Exodus xxxiv. 6, 7. THE EXERCISE OF MERCY. 359 of mercy. While informing His servant, that He is gracious and clement towards a penitent trans- gressor, He at the same time teaches him that He is under no obligation, or necessity, to shew mercy. Grace is not a debt. " I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion." The apostle Paul quotes this declaration, to shut the mouth of him who would set up a claim to salvation ; who is too proud to beg for it, and accept it as a free and unmerited favor from God. In so doing, he endorses the sentiment. The inspiration of his Epistle corroborates that of the Pentateuch, so that we have assurance made doubly sure, that this is the correct enuncia- tion of the nature of mercy. Let us look into this hope-inspiring attribute of God, under the guidance of this text. The great question that presses upon the human mind, from age to age, is the inquiry : Is God a merciful Being, and will He show mercy % Living as we do under the light of Revelation, we know little of the doubts and fears that spontaneously rise in the guilty human soul, when it is left solely to the light of nature to answer it. With the Bible in our hands, and hearing the good news of Bedemp- tion from our earliest years, it seems to be a matter of course that the Deity should pardon sin. Nay, a certain class of men in Christendom seem to have come to the opinion that it is more difficult to prove 360 THE EXERCISE OF IVIERCY that God is just, than to prove that He is merciful.^ But this is not the thought and feeling of man when outside of the pale of Revelation. Go into the an- cient pagan world, examine the theologizing of the Greek and Roman mind, and you will discover that the fears of the justice far outnumbered the hopes of the mercy ; that Plato and Plutarch and Cicero and Tacitus were far more certain that God would punish sin, than that He would pardon it. This is the reason that there is no light, or joy, in any of the pagan religions. Except when religion was converted into the worship of Beauty, as in the in stance of the later Greek, and all the solemn and truthful ideas of law and justice were eliminated from it, every one of the natural religions of the globe is filled with sombre and gloomy hues, and no others. The truest and best religions of the ancient world were always the sternest and saddest, because the unaided human mind is certain that ^ Their creed lives in the satire and pungency now, as it was one of Young (Universal Passion. Sat- hundred years ago. ire VI.), — as full of sense, truth, " From atheists far, they steadfastly believe God is, and is Almighty — to forgive. His other excellence they'll not dispute; But mercy, sure, is His chief attribute. Shall pleasures of a short duration cliain A lady's soul in everlasting pain ? Will the great Author us poor worms destroy, For now and then a sip of transient joy ? No, He's forever in a smiling mood ; He's like themselves: or how could He be good? And tiiey blaspheme, who blacker schemes suppose. Devoutly, thus, Jehovah they depose, The Pure! the Just! and set up in His stead, A deity that's perfectly wdl-bred.'' OITIONAL WITH GOD. 361 God is just, but is not certain that He is merciful. When man is outside of Kevelation, it is by no means a matter of course that God is clement, and that sin shall be forgiven. Great uncertainty over- hangs the doctrine of the Divine mercy, from the position of natural religion, and it is only within the province of revealed truth that the uncertainty is removed. Apart from a distinct and direct promise from the lips of God Himself that He will forgive sin, no human creature can be sure that sin will ever be forgiven. Let us, therefore, look into the subject carefully, and see the reason why man, if left to himself and his spontaneous reflections, doubts whether there is mercy in the Holy One for a transgressor, and fears that there is none, and why a special revelation is consequently required, to dispel the doubt and the fear. The reason lies in the fact, implied in the text, that the exercise of justice is necessary, while that of mercy is optional, " I will have mercy on whom I please to have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I please to have compassion.'' It is a prin- ciple inlaid in the structure of the human soul, that the transgression of law must be visited with retri- bution. The pagan conscience, as well as the Chris- tian, testifies that " the soul that sinneth it shall die." There is no need of quoting from pagan phi- losophers to prove this. We should be compelled to cite page after page, should we enter upon the documentary evidence. Take such a- ^ract, for ex 362 THE EXERCISE OF MEECY ample, as that of Plutarch, upon what he denomi nates " the slow vengeance of the Deity ; " read the reasons which he assigns for the apparent delay, in this world, of the infliction of punishment upon transgressors ; and you will perceive that the human niind, when left to its candid and unbiassed con- victions, is certain that God is a holy Being and will visit iniquity with penalty. Throughout this entire treatise, composed by a man who probably never saw the Scriptures of either the New or the Old Dispensation, there runs a solemn and deep consciousness that the Deity is necessarily obliged, by the principles of justice, to mete out a retribu- tion to the violator of law. Plutarch is engaged with the very same question that the apostle Peter takes up, in his second Epistle, when he answers the objection of 'the scoffer who asks : Where is the promise of God's coming in judgment ? The apos- tle replies to it, by saying that for the Eternal Mind one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day, and that therefore 'Hhe Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some men count slackness;" and Plutarch answers it in a different manner, but assumes and affirms with the same positiveness and certainty that the vengeance w411 ultimately come. No reader of this treatise can doubt for a moment, that its author believed in the future punishment of the wicked, — and in the future endless punishment of the incorrigibly wicked, be- cause there is not the slightest hint or expectation 0P170NAL WITH GOD. 36S of any exercise of mercy, on the part of this Divinity whose vengeance, though slow, is sure and inevita- ble.^ Some theorists tell us that the doctnne of endless punishment contradicts the instincts of the natural reason, and that it has no foundation in the constitution of the human soul. We invite them • Plutarch supposes a form of punishment in the future world that is disciplinary. If it accom- ])lishes its purpose, the soul goes into Elysium, — a doctrine like that of purgatory in the Papal scheme. But in case the person proves incorrigible, his suifering is endless. He represents an in- dividual as having been restored to life, and giving an account of what he had seen. Among other things, he " informed his friend, how that Adrastia, the daughter of Jupiter and Necessity, was seat- ed in the highest place of all, to punish all manner of crimes and enormities, and that in the whole number of the wicked and ungod- ly there never was any one, whether great or little, high or low, rich or poor, that could ever by force or cunning escape the severe lashes of her rigor. But as there are three sorts of punish- ment, so there are three several Furies, or female ministers of jus- tice, and to every one of these belongs a peculiar office and de- gree of punishment. The first of these was called liocvfj or Pain ; whose executions are swift and speedy upon those that are pres- ently to receive bodily punish- ment in this life, and which she manages after a more gentle man- ner, omitting the correction of slight offences, which need but little expiation. But if the cure of impiety require a greater labor, the Deity delivers those, after death, to A/zc?; or Vengeance. But when Vengeance has given them over as altogetlier incurable, then the third and most severe of all Adrastia's ministers, 'Epivvg or Fury, takes them in hand, and after she has chased and coursed them from one place to another, flying yet not knowing where to fly for shelter and relief, plagued and tormented with a thousand miseries, she plunges them head- long into an invisible abyss, the hideousness of which no tongue can express." Pltttakoh: Mor- als, Vol. IV. p. 210. Ed. 1694. Plato (Gorgias 525. c. d. Ed. Bip. IV. 169) represents Socrates as teaching that those who " have committed the most extreme wickedness, and have become in- curable through such crimes, are made an example to others, and suffer J'orever [ndaxovTaq tov ael xpovov) the greatest, most agoniz- ing, and most dreadful punish- ment." xVnd Socrates adds that "Homer (Odyssey xi. 575) also bears witness to this ; for he represents kings and potentates, Tantalus, Sysiphus, and Tityus, as being tormented forever in Hades" (fv gi'^ov tov ael ;:(p6vov tl- /icjpov/iiivog). — In the Aztec or Mex- ican theology, "the wicked, com- prehending the greater part of mankind, were to expiate their sin in a place of everlasting dark- ness." Prescott : Conquest o/ Mexico, Vol. I. p. 62. 364 THE EXERCISE OF MERCY to read and ponder well, the speculations of one of the most thoughtful of pagans upon this subject, and tell us if they see any streaks or rays of light in it ; if they see any inkling, any jot or tittle, of the doctrine of the Divine pity there. We challenge them to discover in this tract of Plutarch the slight- est token, or sign, of the Divine mercy. The author believes in a hell for the wicked, and an elysium for the good ; but those who go to hell go there npon principles oi justice^ and those who go to ely- sium go there upon the same principles. It is jus- tice that must place men in Tartarus, and it is jus- tice that must place them in Elysium. In pagan- ism, men must earn their heaven. The idea of mercy ^ — of clemency towards a transgressor, of pity towards a criminal, — is entirely foreign to the thoughts of Plutarch, so far as they can be gathered fi'om this tract. It is the clear and terrible doctrine of the pagan sage, that unless a man can make good his claim to eternal happiness upon the ground of law and justice, — unless he merits it by good works, — there is no hope for him in the other world. The idea of a forgiving and tender mercy in the Supreme Being, exercised towards a creature w^hom justice would send to eternal retribution, nowhere appears in the best pagan ethics. And why should it ? What evidence or proof has the human mind, apart fi*om the revelations made to it in the Old and New Testaments, that Grod will ever forgive OPTIONAL WITH GOD. 365 sin, or ever show mercy ? In thinking upon the subject, our reiison perceives, intuitively, that God must of necessity punish transgression ; and it per- ceives with equal intuitiveness that there is no cor- responding necessity that He should pardon it. We say with confidence and positiveness : " God must be just ; " but we cannot say with any certainty or confidence at all : " God must be merciful." The Divine mercy is an attribute which is per- fectly free and optional, in its exercises, and therefore we cannot tell beforehand whether it will or will not be shown to transo:ressors. We know nothing at all about it, until we hear some word from the lips of God Himself upon the point. When He open? the heavens, and speaks in a clear tone to the human race, saying, " I will forgive your iniquities," then, and not till then, do they know the fact. In reference to all those procedures which, like the punishment of transgression, are fixed and necessary, because they are founded in the eternal principles of law and justice, A\^e can tell beforehand what the Divine method will be. We do not need any special revelation, to inform us that God is a just Being, and that His anger is kindled against wickedness, and that He will punish the transgress- or. This class of truths, the Apostle informs us, are written in the human constitution, and we have already seen that they were known and dreaded in the pagan world. That which God miist do. He certainly will do. He must be just, and therefore 366 THE EXERCISE OF MEECY He certainly will punish sin, is the reasoning of the human mind, the world over, and in every age.^ But, when we pass from the punishment of siL to the pardon of it, when we go over to the merci ful side of the Divine Nature, we can come to no certain conclusions, if we are shut up to the work- ino-s of our own minds, or to the teachins^s of the world of nature about us. Picture to yourself a thoughtful pagan, like Solon the legislator of Athens, livins: in the heart of heathenism five cen- turies before Christ, and knowing nothing of the promise of mercy which broke faintly through the heavens immediately after the apostasy of the first human pair, and which found its full and victorious utterance in the streaming blood of Calvary. Sup- ' It may be objected, at this ed to dwell forever in the self- point, that mercy also is a neces- sufficiency of His Trinity, and sary attribute in God, like justice never called the Finite into exist- itself, — that it necessarily belongs ence from nothing, He might have to the nature of a perfect Being, done so, and He would still have and therefore might be inferred been omnipotent and " blessed a j9ri(?ri by the pagan, like other forever." In like manner, the attributes. This is true ; but the attribute of mercy might exist in objection overlooks the distinc- God, and yet not be exerted, tion between the existence of an Had He been pleased to treat the attribute and its exercise. Om- human race as He did the fallen nipotence necessarily belongs to angels. He was perfectly at lib- the idea of the Supreme Being, erty to do so, and the number but it does not follow that it must and quality of his immanent at- necessarily bee:ctfr^eer of a man^ in order to receive it^ and in order to enter it. The kingdom of God, considered as a kingdom that is within the soul, is tantamount to religion. To receive this kingdom, then, is equivalent to re- ceiving religion into the heart, so that the character shall be formed by it, and the future destiny be de- cided by it. What, then, is the religion that is to be received ? We answer that it is the religion that is needed. But, the religion that is needed by a sinful man is very different from the religion that is adapted to a holy angel. He who has never sinned is already in direct and blessed relations with God, and needs only to drink in the overflow- ing and evei-flowing stream of purity and pleasure. Such a spirit requires a religion of only two doc- THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 387 trmes : First, that there is a God ; and, secondly, that He ought to be loved supremely and obeyed perfectly. This is the entire theology of the angels, and it is enough for them. They know nothing of sin in their personal experience, and consequently they require in their religion, none of those doc- trines, and none of those provisions, which are adapted to the needs of sinners. But, man is in an altogether different condition from this. He too knows that there is a God, and that He ought to be loved supremely, and obeyed perfec-tly. Thus far, he goes along with the angel, and with every other rational being made under the law and government of God. But, at this point, his path diverges from that of the pure and obedi- ent inhabitant of heaven, and leads in an opposite direction. For he does not, like the angels, act up to his knowledge. He is not conformed to these two doctrines. He does not love God supremely, and he does not obey Him perfectly. This fact puts him into a very different position, in reference to these two doctrines, from that occupied by the obedient and unfallen spirit. These two doctrines, in relation to him as one who has contravened them^ have become a power of condemnation ; and when- ever he thinks of them he feels guilty. It is no longer sufficient to tell him that religion consists in loving God, and enjoying His presence, — consists in holiness and haj^piness. " This is very true," — he says, — " but I am neither holy nor happy." It is no 388 CHRISTIANITY REQUIRES longer enougli to remind liim that all is well with any creature who loves God with all his heart, and keeps His commandments without a single slip or failure. " This is very true," — he says again, — " but I do not love in this style, neither have I obeyed in this manner." It is too late to preach mere natural religion, the religion of the angels, to one who has failed to stand fully and firmly upon the principles of natural religion. It is too late to tell a creature who has lost his virtue, that if he is only virtuous he is safe enough. The religion, then, that a sinner needs, cannot be limited to the two doctrines of the holiness of God, and the creature's obligation to love and serve Him, — cannot be pared down to the precept : Fear God and practise virtue. It must be greatly enlarged, and augmented, by the introduction of that other class of truths which relate to the Divine mercy towards those who have not feared God, and the Divine method of salvation for those who are sinful. In other words, the relig^ion for a transs^ressor is re- vealed religion, or the religion of Atonement and Redemption. What, now, is there in this species of religion that necessitates the meek and docile temper of a child, as distinguished from the proud and self-reli- ant spirit of a man, in order to its reception into the heart ? I. In the first place, tJie New Testament religion offers the forgiveness of sins, and jprovides for it THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. S8^ No one can ponder tins fact an instant, without perceiving that the pride and self-reliance of man- hood are excluded, and that the meekness and im- plicit trust of childhood are demanded. Pardon and- justification before God must, from the nature of the case, be a gift, and a gift cannot be obtained unless it is accepted as such. To demand or claim mercy, is self-contradictory. For, a claim implies a personal ground for it ; and this implies self-reliance, and this is ^'manhood" in distinction from "childhood." In coming, therefore, as the religion of the Cross does, before man with a gratuity, with an offer to pardon his sins, it supposes that he take a correspon- dent attitude. Were he sinless, the religion suited to him would be the mere utterance of law, and he might stand up before it with the serene brow of an obedient subject of the Divine govei-nment ; though even then, not with a proud and boastful temper. It would be out of place for him, to plead guilty when he was innocent ; or to cast himself upon mercy, when he could appeal to justice. If the creature's acceptance be of works, then it is no more of grace, otherwise work is no more work. But if it be by grace, then it is no more of works (Rom. xi. 6). If the very first feature of the Christian religion is the exhibition of clemency, then the proper and nec- essary attitude of one who receives it is that of hu- mility. But, leaving this argument drawn from the char- acteristics of Christianity as a religion of Eedemp- ;-^90 CHRISTIANITY EEQUIEES tioii, let us pass into tlie soul of marij and see wliafc we are taught there, respecting the temper which he must possess in order to receive this new, re- vealed kingdom of God. The soul of man is guilty. Now, there is something in the very nature of guilt that excludes the proud, self-conscious, self-reliant spirit of manhood, and necessitates the lowly, and dependent spirit of childhood. When conscience is full of remorse, and the holy eye of law is search- ing us, and fears of eternal banishment and punish- ment are racking the spirit, there is no remedy but simple confession, and childlike reliance upon abso- lute mercy. The sinner must be a softened child and not a hard man, he must bes: a boon and not put in a claim, if he would receive this kingdom of Grod, this New Testament religion, into his soul. The slightest inclination to self-righteousness, the least degree of resistance to the just pressure of law, is a vitiating element in repentance. The muscles of the stout man must give way, the knees must bend, the hands must be uplifted deprecatingly, the eyes must gaze with a straining gaze upon the ex- piating Cross, — in other words, the least and last remains of a stout and selt-asserting spirit must vanish, and the whole being must be pliant, bruised, broken, helpless in its state and condition, in order to a pure sense of guilt, a godly sorrow for sin, and a cordial appropriation of the atonement. The at- tempt to mix the two tempers, to mingle the child with the man, to confess sin and assert self-righteous- THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 391 ness, must be an entire failure, and totally prevent the reception of the religion of Eedemj^tion. In relation to tlie Kedeemer, the sinful soul should be a vacuum, a hollow void, destitute of everything holy and good, conscious that it is, and aching to be filled with the fulness of His peace and purity. And with reference to God, the Being whose func- tion it is to pardon, we see the same necessity for this child-like spirit in the transgressor. How can God administer forgiveness, unless there is a correla- ted temper to receive it ? His particular declara- tive act in blotting out sin depends upon the exist- ence of penitence for sin. Where there is absolute hardness of heart, there can be no pardon, from the very nature of the case, and the very terms of the statement. Can God say to the hardened Judas : Son be of good cheer, thy sin is forgiven thee ? Can He speak to the traitor as He speaks to the Magdalen ? The difficulty is not upon the side of God. The Divine pity never lags behind any gen- uine human sorrow. No man was ever more eager to be forgiven than his Redeemer is to forgive him, No contrition for sin, upon the part of man, ever yet outran the readiness and delight of God to rec- ognize it, and meet it with a free pardon. For, that very contrition itself is always the product of Divine grace, and proves that God is in advance of the soul. The father in the parable saw the son while he was a great way off, before the son saw him, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. But while 392 CHRISTIANITY REQUIEES tMs is so, and is an encouragement to tlie penitent, it must ever be remembered tliat unless there is some genuine sorrow in the human soul, there can be no manifestation of the Divine forgiveness with- in it. Man cannot beat the air, and God cannot forgive impenitency. II. In the second place, the New Testament relig- ion proposes to create within man a clean hearty and to renew within him a right spirit. Christianity not only pardons but sanctifies the human soul. And in accomplishing this latter work, it requires the same humble and docile temper that was demanded in the former instance. Holiness, even in an unfallen angel, is not an ab- solutely self-originated thing. If it were, the angel would be worthy of adoration and worship. He who is inwardly and totally excellent, and can also say : I am what I am by my own ultimate author- ship, can claim for himself the glory that is due to righteousness. Any self-originated and self-subsist- ent virtue is entitled to the hallelujahs. But, no created spirit, though he be the highest of the arch- angels, can make such an assertion, or put in such a claim. The merit of the unfallen angel, therefore, is a relative one ; because his holiness is of a created and derived species. It is not increate andself-sub- sistent. This being so, it is plain that the proper attitude of all creatures in respect to moral excel- lence is a recipient and dependent one. But this is a meek and lowly attitude ; and this is, in one THE TEMPEE OF CHILDHOOD. 393 sense, a child-like attitude. Our Lord knew no sin • and }'et He himself tells us that He was meek and lowly of heart, and we well know that He was. He does not say that He was penitent. He does not propose himself as our exemplar in tliat respect. But, in respect to the primal, normal attitude which a finite being must ever take in reference to the infi- nite and adorable Grod, and the absolute under! ved Holiness; in reference to the true temper which a holy man or a holy angel must possess ; our Lord Jesus Christ, in His human capacity, sets an exam- ple to be followed by the spirits of just men made perfect, and by all the holy inhabitants of heaven. In other words, He teaches the whole universe that holiness in a creature, even though it be complete, does not permit its possessor to be self-reliant, does not allow the proud spirit of manhood, does not remove the obligation to be child-like, meek, and lowly of heart. But if this is true of holiness amons^ those who have never fallen, how much more true is it of those who have, and who need to be lifted up out of the abyss. If an angel, in reference to God, must be meek and lowly of heart; if the holy K-edeemer must in His human capacity be meek and lowly of heart ; if the child-like temper, in reference to the infinite and everlasting Father and the absolutely Good, is the proper one in such exalted instances as these; how much more is it in the instance of the vile and apostate children of Adam ! Besides 394 CHEISTIANITY EEQUIRES the original and primitive reason growing out of creaturely relationships, there is the superadded one growing out of the fact, that now^ the whole head is sick and the whole heart is faint, and from the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in human nature. Hence, our Lord began His Sermon on the Mount in these words : " Blessed are the poor in spirit ; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Bless- ed are they that mourn; for they shall be com- forted. Blessed are the meek ; for they shall in- herit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness; for they shall be filled." ^ The very opening of this discourse, which He intended should go down through the ages as a manifesto declaring the real nature of His king- dom, and the spirit which His followers must pos- sess, asserts the necessity of a needy, recipient, asking mind, upon the part of a sinner. All this phraseology implies destitution ; and a des- titution that cannot be self-supplied. He who hungers and thirsts after righteousness is con- scious of an inward void, in I'espect to right- eousness, that must be filled from abroad. He who is meek is sensible that he is dependent for his moral excellence. He who is poor in spirit is, not pusillanimous as Thomas Paine charged upon Christianity but, as John of Damascus saii * Compare Isaiah Ixi. 1. THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 395 of. himself, a man of spiritual cravings, vir deside- 7Ho7mm. Now, all this delineation of the general attitude requisite in order to the reception of the Christian religion is summed up again, in the declaration of our text : " Whosoever shall not receive the king- dom of God as a little child^ he shall not enter therein." Is a man, then, sensible that his under- standing is darkened by sin, and that he is desti- tute of clear and just apprehensions of divine things ? Does his consciousness of inward poverty assume this form ? If he would be delivered from his mental blindness, and be made rich in spiritual knowledge, he must adopt a teachable and recip- ient attitude. He must not assume that his own mind is the great fountain of wisdom, and seek to clc^ar up his doubts and darkness by the rational- istic method of self-illumination. On the contrary, he must go beyond his mind and open a hook^ even the book of Revelation, and search for the wisdom it contains and proffers. And yet more than this. As this volume is the product of the Eternal Spirit himself, and this Spirit conspires ^vith the doc- trines which He has revealed, and exerts a posi- tive illuminating influence, he must seek commu- nion therewith. From first to last, therefore, the darkened human spirit must take a waiting posture, in order to enlightenment. That part of '^ the clean heart and the right spirit" which consists in the l-ih)irle^ge d divine things can be obtained ii96 CHRISTIANITY EEQUIEES only through a child-like bearing and temper. This is what our Lord means, when He pronounces a blessing upon the poor in spirit, the hungry and the thirsting soul. Men, in their pride and self- reliance, in their sense of manhood, may seek to enter the kingdom of heaven by a different method ; they may attempt to speculate their way through all the mystery that overhangs human life, and the doubts that confuse and baffle the human under- standing ; but when they find that the unaided intellect only " spets a thicker gloom " instead of pouring a serener ray, wearied and worn they re- turn, as it were, to the sweet days of childhood, and in the gentleness, and tenderness, and docility of an altered mood, learn, as Bacon did in respect to the kingdom of nature, that the kingdom of heaven is open only to the little child. Again, is a man conscious of the corruption of his heart ? Has he discovered his alienation from the life and love of God, and is he now aware that a total change must pass upon him, or that alien- ation must be everlasting ? Has he found out that his inclinations, and feelings, and tastes, and sympathies are so worldly, so averse from spiritual objects, as to be beyond his sovereignty ? Does he feel vividly that the attempt to expel this carnal mind, and to induce in the place thereof the heav- enly spontaneous glow of piety towards God and man, is precisely like the attempt of the Ethiopian to change is skin, and the leopard his spots? THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 397 If this experience has been forced upon him, shall he meet it with the port and bearing of a strong man ? Shall he take the attitude of the old Roman stoic, and attempt to meet the exigencies of his moral condition, by the steady strain and hard tug of his own force ? He cannot long do this, under the clear searching ethics of the Sermon on the Mount, without an inexpressible weariness and a profound despair. Were he within the sphere of paganism, it might, ' perhaps, be otherwise. A Marcus Aurelius could maintain this les^al and self- righteous position to the end of life, because his ideal of virtue was a very low one. Had that high- minded pagan felt the influences of Christian ethics, had the Sermon on the Mount searched his soul, telling him that the least emotion of pride, anger, or lust, was a breach of that everlasting law which stood grand and venerable before his philosophic eye, and that his virtue was all gone, and his soul was exposed to the inflictions of justice, if even a single thought of his heart was unconformed to the perfect rule of right, — if, instead of the mere twi- light of natural religion, there had flared into his mind the fierce and consuming splendor of the noon- day sun of revealed truth, and New Testament ethics, it would have been impossible for that seri- ous-minded emperor to say, as in his utter self-delu- sion he did, to the Deity : " Give me my dues,'' — in- stead of breathing the prayer: ^'Forgive me my debts." Christianity elevates the standard and 18 398 CHEiSTiAm nr requtres raises the ideal of moral excellence, and thereby disturbs the self-complacent feeling of the stoic, and the moralist. If the law and rule of right is merely an outward one, it is possible for a man sincerely to suppose that he has kept the law, and his sin- cerity will be his ruin. For, in this case, he can maintain a self-reliant and a self-satisfied spirit, the spirit of manhood, to the very end of bis earthly career, and go with his righteousness which is as filthy rags, into the presence of Him in whose sight the heavens are not clean. But, if tbe law and rule of right is seen to be an inward and spiritual statute, piercing to the dividing asunder of the soul and spirit, and becoming a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart, it is not possible for a can- did man to delude himself into the belief that he has perfectly obeyed it ; and in this instance, that self-dissatisfied spirit, that consciousness of internal schism and bondage, that war between the flesh and the spirit so vividly portrayed in the seventh chap- ter of Romans, begins, and instead of the utterance of the moralist : " I have kept the everlasting law, give me my dues," there bursts forth the self-des- pairing cry of the penitent and the child : " O wretched man that I am ! who shall deliver me ? Father I have sinned against heaven and before thee." WheL, therefore, the truth and Spirit of God working; in and with the natural conscience, have brought a man to that point where he sees that all THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 399 hi 8 own righteousness is as filthy rags, and that the pure and stainless righteousness of Jehovah must become the possession and the characteristic of his soul, he is prepared to believe the declaration of our text : " Whosoever shall not receive the king- dom of God as a little child, he shall not enter there- in." The new heart, and the right spirit, — the change, not in the mere external behavior but, in the veiy disposition and inclination of the soul, — ex- cludes every jot and tittle of self-assertion, every particle of proud and stoical manhood. Such a text as this which we have been consider- ing is well adajDted to put us upon the true method of attaining everlasting life. These few and simple words actually dropped, eighteen hundred years ago, from the lips of that august Being who is now seat- ed upon the throne of heaven, and who knows this very instant the effect which they are producing in the heart of every one who either reads or hears them. Let us remember that these few and simple words do verily contain the key to everlasting life and glory. In knowing what they mean, we know, infallibly, the way to heaven. "I tell you, that many prophets and kings have desired to see those things which we see, and have not seen them: and to hear those things which we hear, and have not heard them." How many a thoughtful pagan, in the centuries that have passed and gone, would in all probability have turned a most attentive ear had he heard, as we do, from tlie lips of an unerring 400 CHKISTIANITY AND CHILDHOOD. Teacher, that a child-like reception of a certain par« ticular trutli, — and that not recondite and metaphys- ical, but simple as childhood itself, and to be received by a little child's act, — would infallibly conduct to the elysium that haunted and tantalized him. That which hinders us is our pride, our " man- hood." The act of faith is a child's act ; and a child's act, though intrinsically the easiest of any, is relatively the most difficult of all. It implies the surrender of our self-will, our self-love, our proud manhood ; and never was a truer remark made than that of Ullmann, that ^Mn no one thing is the strength of a man's will so manifested, as in his having no will of his own." ^ " Christianity," — says Jeremy Taylor, — " is the easiest and the hardest thing in the world. It is like a secret in arithmetic ; infi- nitely hard till it be found out by a right operation, and then it is so plain we wonder we did not under- stand it earlier." How hard, how impossible with- out that Divine grace which makes all such central and revolutionary acts easy and genial to the soul, — how hard it is to cease from our own works, and really become docile and recipient children, believ- ing on the Lord Jesus Christ, and trusting in Him, simply and solely, for salvation. * Ullmann : Sinlessness of Jesus, Pt. I., Oh. iii., f 2. FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. John vi. 28, 29. — " Then said they unto hira, What shall we do, that w« might work the works of God ? Jesus answered and said unto them, This s the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent." In asking their question, the Jews intended to inquire of Christ what 'particular things they must do, before all others, in order to please God. The '^ works of God," as they denominate them, were not any and every duty, but those more special and im- portant acts, by which the creature might secure the Divine approval and favor. Our Lord under- stood their question in this sense, and in His reply tells them, that the great and only work for them to do was to exercise faith in Him. They had em- ployed the plural number in their question ; but in His answer He employs the singular. They had asked, " What shall we do that we might work the work(^ of God, — as if there were several of them. His rej)ly is, " This is the work of God, that ye be- lieve on Him whom He hath sent." He narrows down the terms of salvation to a single one ; and makes the destiny of the soul to depend upon the 402 FAITH THE SOLE SAYING ACT. performance of a particular individual act. In this, as in many other incidental wa3'S, our Lord teaches His own divinity. If He were a mere creature ; if He were only an inspired teacher like David or Paul ; how w^ould He dare, when asked to give in a single word the condition and means of human salvation, to say that they consist in resting the soul upon Him ? Would David have dared to say : '* This is the work of God, — this is the saving act, — that ye believe in me ? " Would Paul have pre- sumed to say to the anxious inquirer : " Your soul is safe, if you trust in me ? " But Christ makes this declaration, without any qualification. Yet He was meek and lowly of heart, and never assumed an honor or a prerogative that did not belong to Him. It is only upon the supposition that He was " very God of very God," the Divine Kedeemer of the chil- dren of men, that we can justify such an answer to such a question. The belief is spontaneous and natural to man, that something must be done in order to salvation. No man expects to reach heaven by inaction. Even the indifferent and supine soul expects to rouse it- self up at some future time, and w^ork out its salva- tion. The most thoughtless and inactive man, in religious respects, will acknowledge that thought- lessness and inactivity if continued will end in per- didon. But he intends at a future day to think, and act, and be saved. So natural is it, to every man, to believe in salvation by works ; so ready is FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 4:0t'i every one to concede that heaven is reached, and hell is escaped, only by an earnest effort of some kind ; so natural is it to every man to ask with these Jews, '^ What shall we do^ that we may work the works of God?" But mankind generally, like the Jews in the days of our Lord, are under a delusion respecting the nature of the work wliich must be performed in or- der to salvation. And in order to understand 'this delusion, w^e must first examine the common notion upon the subject. When a man begins to think of God, and of his own relations to Him, he finds that he owes Him service and obedience. He has a work to perform, as a subject of the Divine government ; and this work is to obey the Divine law. He finds himself obligated to love God with all his heart, and his neighbor as himself, and to discharge all the duties that spring out of his relations to God and man. He perceives that this is the '^ work " given him to do by creation, and that if he does it he vvill attain the true end of his existence, and be happy in time and eternity. When therefore he begins to think of a religious life, his first spontaneous impulse is to begin the performance of this work which he has hitherto neglected, and to reinstate himself in the Divine favor ]>y the oi'dinary method of keepinf' the law of God. He perceives that this is the mode in which the angels preserve themselves holy and happy ; that this is the original mode appointed by 404 FAITH THE SOLE SAYING ACT. God, when He established the covenant of works ; and he does not see why it is not the method for him. The law expressly affirms that the man that doeth these things shall live by them ; he proposes to take the law just as it reads, and just as it stands, — to do the deeds of the law, to perform the works which it enjoins, and to live by the service. This we say, is the common notion, natural to man, of the species of work which must be performed in or- der to eternal life. This was the idea which filled the mind of the Jews when they put the question of the text, and received for answer from Christ, " This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent." Our Lord does not draw out the whole truth, in detail. He gives only the posi- tive part of the answer, leaving His hearers to infer the negative part of it. For the whole doctrine of Christ, fully stated, would run thus : " No work of the hind of which you are thinhing can save you ; no obedience of the law, ceremonial or moral, can reinstate you in right relations to God. I do not summon you to the performance of any such service as that which you have in mind, in order to your justification and acceptance before the Divine tribu- nal. This is the w^ork of God, — this is the sole and single act which you are to perform, — namely, that you helieve on Him whom He hath sent as a pro- pitiation for sin. I do not summon you to works of the law, but to faith in Me the Redeemer. Your first duty is not to attempt to acquire a righteous FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 405 ness in the old method, by doing something of yourselves, but to receive a righteousness in the new method, by trusting in what another has done for you.'' I. What is the ground and reason of such an an- swer as this ? Why is man invited to the method of faith in another, instead of the method of faith in himself? Why is not his first spontaneous thought the true one ? Why should he not obtain eternal life by resolutely proceeding to do his duty, and keeping the law of God ? Why can he not be saved by the law of works ? Why is he so summarily shut up to the law of faith ? We answer: Because it is too late for him to adopt the method of salvation by works. The law is indeed explicit in its assertion, that the man that doeth these things shall live by them ; but then it supposes that the man begin at the beginning. A subject of government cannot disobey a civil statute for five or ten years, and then put himself in right relations to it again, by obeying it for the remain- der of his life. Can a man who has been a thief or an adulterer for twenty years, and then practises honesty and purity for the following thirty years, stand up before tlie seventh and eighth command- ments and be acquitted by them ? It is too late for any being who has violated a law even in a sin- gle instance, to attempt to be justified by that law. For, the law demands and supposes that obedience begin at the very heginning of existence, and con- 18* 406 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. tinue down uninterruptedly to the end of it. No man can come in at the middle of a process of obe- dience, any more than he can come in at the last end of it, if he proposes to be accepted upon the ground of obedience, " I testify," says St. Paul, " to every man that is circumcised, that he is a debtor to do the whole law " (Gal. v. 3). The whole, or none, is the just and inexorable rule which law lays down in the matter of justification. If any subject of the Divine government can show a clean record, from the beginning to the end of his existence, the statute says to him, " Well done," and gives him the reward which he has earned. And it gives it to him not as a matter of grace, but of debt. The law never makes a present of wages. It never pays out wages, until they are earned, — fairly and fully earned. But when a perfect obedience from first to last is rendered to its claims, the compensation follows as matter of debt. The law, in this instance, is itself brousrht under oblio^ation. It owes a re- ward to the perfectly obedient subject of law, and it considers itself his debtor until it is paid. " Now to him that worketh, is the reward not reckoned of grace, but of debt. If it be of works, then it is no more grace : otherwise work is no more work " (Rom. iv. 4 ; xi. 6) . But, on the other hand, law is equally exact and inflexible, in case the work has not been performed. It will not give eternal life to a soul that has sin- ned ten vears, and then perfectly obeyed ten years, FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 407 — supposing that there is any such soul. The obe- dience, as we have remarked, must run parallel with the entire existence, in order to be a ground of jus- tification. Infancy, childhood, youth, manhood, old age, and then the whole immortality that succeeds, must all be uuintermittently sinless and holy, in order to make eternal life a matter of debt. Jus- tice is as exact and punctilious upon this side, as it is upon the other. We have seen, that when a perfect obedience has been rendered, justice will not palm off the wages that are due as if they were some gracious gift; and on the other hand, when a perfect obedience has not been rendered, it will not be cajoled into the bestowment of wages as if they had been earned. There is no principle that is so intelligent, so upright, and so exact, as justice; and no creature can expect either to warp it, or to cii^ cum vent it. In the light of these remarks, it is evident that it is too late for a sinner to avail himself of the method of salvation by works. For, that method requires that sinless obedience begin at the beginning of his existence, and never be interrupted. But no man thus begins, and no man thus continues. " The wick- ed are estranged from the womb ; they go astray as soon as they be born, speaking lies " (Ps. Iviii. 3). Man comes into the work! a sinful and alien- ated creature. He is by nature a child of wrath (Eph. ii. 3). Instead of beginning life with holi- ness, he begins it with sin. His heart at birth ia 408 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. apostafce and corrupt; and his conduct from the very first is contrary to law. Such is the teaching of Scripture, such is the statement of the Creeds, and such is the testimony of consciousness, respect- ing the character which man brings into the world with him. The very dawn of human life is cloud- ed with depravity ; is marked by the carnal mind which is at enmity with the law of God, and is not subject to that law, neither indeed can be. How is it possible, then, for man to attain eternal life by a method that supposes, and requires, that the very dawn of his being be holy like that of Christ's, and that every thought, feeling, purpose, and act be conformed to law through the entire existence ? Is it not too late for such a creature as man now is to adopt the method of salvation by the works of the law ? But we will not crowd you, with the doctrine of native depravity and the sin in Adam. We have no doubt that it is the scriptural and true doctrine concerning human nature ; and have no fears that it will be contradicted by either a profound self- knowledge, or a profound metaphysics. But per- haps you are one who doubts it ; and therefore, for the sake of argument, we will let you set the com- mencement of sin where you please. If you tell us that it begins in the second, or the fourth, or the tenth year of life, it still remains true that it is too late to employ the method of justification by worksw If you concede any sin at all, at any point whatso* FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 409 ever, in the history of a human soul, you preclude it from salvation by the deeds of the law, and shut it up to salvation by grace. Go back as far as you can in your memory, and you must acknowledge that you find sin as far as you go ; and even if, in the face of Scripture and the symbols of the Church, you should deny that the sin runs back to birth and apostasy in Adam, it still remains true that the first years of your conscious existence were not years of holiness, nor the first acts which you rC' onemher^ acts of obedience. Even upon your own theory, you begin with sin, and therefore you can- not be justified by the law. This, then, is a conclusive reason and ground for the declaration of our Lord, that the one great work which every fallen man has to perform, and must perform, in order to salvation, is faith in another'^ s work, and confidence in another'' s righteousness. If man is to be saved by his own righteousness, that righteousness must begin at the very beginning of his existence, and go on without interruption. If he is to be saved by his own good works, there nev- er must be a single instant in his life when he is not working such works. But beyond all controversy such is not the fact. It is, therefore, impossible for him to be justified by trusting in himself; and the only possible mode that now remains, is to trust in another. II. And this brings us to the second part of our subject. *' This is the work of God, that ye believe 410 FAITH THE SOLE SAVmG AC5T. on him whom He Lath sent." It will be observed that faith is here denominated a '^ work." And it is so indeed. It is a mental act; and an act of the most comprehensive and energetic species. Faith is an active principle that carries the whole man with it, and in it, — head and heart, will and affec- tions, body soul and spirit. There is no act so all- embracing in its reach, and so total in its momentum, as the act of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. In this sense, it is a " work." It is no supine and torpid thing ; but the most vital and vigorous activity that can be conceived of When a sinner, moved by the Holy Ghost the very source of spiritual life and en- ergy, casts himself in utter helplessness, and with all his weight, upon his Redeemer for salvation, never is he more active, and never does he do a greater work. And yet, faith is not a work in the common sig- nification of the word. In the Pauline Epistles, it is generally oj)posed to works, in such a way as to exclude them. For example : " Where is boasting then ? It is excluded. By what law ? of works ? Nay, but by the law of faith. Therefore we con- clude that a man is justified by faith, without the deeds of the law. Knowing that a man is not jus- tified by the works of the law but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ and not by the works of the law. Re- ceived ye the Spirit, by the works of the law, of FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 411 by the hearing of faith ?"^ In these and other passages, faith and works are directly contrary to each other ; so that in this connection, faith is not a " work." Let us examine this point, a little in detail, for it will throw light upon the subject under discussion. In the opening of the discourse, we alluded to the fact that when a man's attention is directed to the subject of his soul's salvation, his first spontaneous thouglit is, that he must of himself render some- thing to God, as an offset for liis sins ; that he must perform his duty by his own power and effort, and thereby acquire a personal merit before his Maker and Judge. The thought of appropriating another person's work, of making use of what another being has done in his stead, does not occur to him ; or if it does, it is repulsive to him. His thought is, that it is his own soul that is to be saved, and it is his own work that must save it. Hence, he begins to nerform reliirious duties in the ordinary use of his own faculties, and in Lis own strength, for the pur- pose, and with the expectation, of settling the ac- count which he knows is unsettled between himself and his Judge. As yet, there is no faith in another Being. He is not trusting and resting in another person ; but he is trusting and resting in himself. He is not making use of the work or services which another has wrought in his behalf, but heisemploy^ * Romans iii. 27, 28 ; Galatians ii. 16, iii. 2. 412 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. ing his own powers and faculties, in performing these his own works, w^hich he owes, and which, if paid in this style, he thinks will save his soul. This is the spontaneous, and it is the correct, idea of a " work," — of what St. Paul so often calls a " work of the law." And it is the exact contrary of faith. For, faith never does anything in this independ- ent and self-reliant manner. It does not perform a service in its own strength, and then hold it out to God as something for Him to receive, and for which He must pay back wages in the form of remitting sin and bestowing happiness. Faith is wholly oc- cupied with another'' s work, and another's merit. The believing soul deserts all its own doings, and betakes itself to what a third person has wrought for it, and in its stead. When, for illustration, a sinner discovers that he owes a satisfaction to Eternal Justice for the sins that are past, if he a(lo[)ts the method of works, he will offer up his endeavors to obey the law, as an offset, ctnd a reason why he should be forgiven. He will say in his heart, if he does not in his prayer : " I am striving to atone for the past, by doing my duty in the future ; my reso- lutions, my prayers and alms-giving, all this hard struggle to be better and to do better, ought cer- tainly to avail for my pardon." Or, if he has been educated in a superstitious Church, he will offer up his penances, and mortifications, and pilgrimages, as a satisfaction to justice, and a reason why he FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 413 should be foi'given and made blessed forever in heaven. That is a very instructive anecdote which St. Simon relates respecting the last hours of the profligate Louis XIV. " One day," — be says, — " the king recovering from loss of consciousness asked his confessor, Pere Tellier, to give him absolution for all his sins. Pere Tellier asked him if he suffered much. ' No/ replied the king, ' that's what troubles me. I should like to suffer more, for the expiation of my sins.'" Here was a poor mortal who had spent his days in carnality and transgression of the pure law of God. He is conscious of guilt, and feels the need of its atonement. And now, upon the very edge of eternity and brink of doom, he pro- poses to make his own atonement, to be his own i-e- deemer and save his own soul, by offering up to the eternal nemesis that was racking his conscience a few hours of finite suffering, instead of betaking himself to the infinite passion and agony of Calvary. This is a " work ; " and, alas, a " dead work," as St. Paul so often denominates it. This is the method of justification by works. But when a man adopts the method of justification by faith, his course is exactly opposite to all this. Upon discovering that he owes a satisfaction to Eternal Justice for the sins that are past, instead of holding up his prayers, or alms-giving, or penances, or moral efforts, or any work of his own, he holds up the sacrificial work of Christ. In his prayer to God, he interposes the agony and death of the Great Substitute between 414 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. his guilty soul, and the arrows of justice.^ He knows that the very best of his own works, that even the most perfect obedience that a creature could render, would be pierced through and through ^ The reliirions teacher is often asked to define the act of faith, and explain the way and manner in vvhicli the soul is to exercise it. "• HoiD sliall I believe?" is the question with which the anx- ious mind often replies to the gos- pel injunction to believe. With- out pretending tliat it is a com- plete answer, or claiming that it is possible, in the strict meaning of the word, to explain so simple and so profound an act as faith, we think, nevertheless, tliat it issists the inquiring mind to say, uhat whoever asls in ijrayer for any one of the benefits of Christ's redemption, in so far exercisbs faith in this redemption. Who- ever, for example, lifts up the su[)plication, '' O Lamb of God who takest away the sins of the world, grant rae thy peace," in this prayer puts faith in the atone- ment. He trusts in the atone- ment, \)^"pleading \X\Q, atonement, — by mentioning it, in his suppli- cation, as tlie reason why he may oe forgiven. In like manner, he who asks for the renewing and sanctifying influences of the Holy Ghost exercises faiih in these in- ^uences. This is the mode in which he expresses his confidence in the power of God to accom- plish a work in his heart that is beyond his own power. What- ever, therefore, bo the particular benefit in Christ's redemption that one would trust in, and there- by make personally his own, tliat he may live by it and be blest by It, —be it the atoning blood, or be it the indwelling Spirit, — let bhn ask for that benefit. If he would trust in the thing, let him ask/c^r the thing. Since writing the above, w& have met with a corroboration of this view, by a writer of the high- est authority upon such points. " Faith is that inward sense and act, of which prayer is the ex- jjression ; as is evident, because in the same manner as the freedom of grace, according to the gospel covenant, is often set forth by this, that he that 'believes, receives so it also oftentimes is by this, that he that asks, or prays, or calls wpon God, receives. ' Ask and it shall be given you ; seek and ye shall find ; knock and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh, receiveth ; and he that seeketh, findeth ; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened. And all things whatso- ever ye shall askinjyrayer, believ- ing, ye shall receive (Matt. vii. 7, 8; Mark xi. 24). If ye abide in me and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done untc you' (John xv. 7). Prayer is often plainly spoken of as the expression of faith. As it very certainly is in Romans x. 11-14: 'For the Scripture saith. Whosoever believeth on him shall not be ashamed. For there is no dilference between the Jew and the Greek : for the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon him; for whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. How then shall they call on him ia whom they have not believed.'' Christian pray- FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 415 by the glittering shafts of violated law. And there- fore he takes the " shield of faith." He places the oblation of the God-man, — not his own work and not his own suffering, but another's work and an- other's suffering, — between himself and the judicial vengeance of the Most High. And in so doing, he works no work of his own, and no dead work ; but he works the " work of God ; " he believes on Him whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation for his sins, and not for his only but for the sins of the whole world. This then is the great doctrine which our Lord taught the* Jews, when they asked Him what par- ticular thing or things they must do in order to eternal life. The apostle John, who recorded the answer of Christ in this instance, repeats the doc- trine again in his first Epistle : '^ Whatsoever we ask, we receive of Him, because we keep His com- mandment, and do those things that are pleasing in His sight. And this is His commandment, that we should believe on the name of His Son Jesus Christ" (1 John iii. 22, 23). The whole duty of sinful man is here summed up, and concentrated, in the duty to ti'ust in another person than himself, er is called the prayer oi faith well be used for prayer also; such (James v. 15). ' I will that men as coming to God or Christ, and every wliere lift up holy hands, looking to Him. 'In whom we without wrath and doubting (1 have boldness and access with Tim. ii. 8). Draw near in full contidence, by the faith of him assurance of /ai^A' (Heb. X. 22). Ei)h. iii. 12)V' Edwards: Ob The same expressions tliat are servations concerning Faith ased, in Scripture, for faith, may 416 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. and ID another work than his own. The apostle, like his Lord before him. employs the singular num- ber : " This is His commandment," — as if there were no (»ther commandment upon record. And this corresponds with the answer which Paul and Silas gave to the despairing jailor : " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ," — do this one single thing, — ^' and thou shalt be saved." And all of these teachings accord with that solemn declaration of our Lord : " He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life; and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life ; but the wrath of God abideth on him." In the matter of salvation, where there is faith in Christ, there is everything ; and where there is not faith in Christ, there is nothing. 1. And it is with this thought that we would close this discourse, and enforce the doctrine of the text. Do whatever else you may in the matter of religion, you have done nothing until you have be- lieved on the Lord Jesus Christ, whom God hath sent into the world to be the propitiation for sin. There are two reasons for this. In the first place, it is tlie appointment and declaration of God^ that man, if saved at all, must be saved by faith in the Person and Work of the Mediator. "Neither is there sal- vation in any other : for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved '' (Acts iv. 12). It of course rests entirely with the Most High God, to determine the mode and manner in which He will enter into negotiations FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 417 with His creatures, and especially with His rebel* Jious creatures. He must make the terms, and the creature must come to them. Even, therefore, if we could not see the reasonableness and adaptation of the method, we should be obligated to accept it. The creature, and particularly the guilty creature, cannot dictate to his Sovereign and Judge respecting the terms and conditions by which he is to be re- ceived into favor, and secure eternal life. Men overlook this fact, when they presume as they do, to sit in judgment upon the method of re- demption by the blood of atonement and to quar- rel with it. In the first Punic war, Hannibal laid siege to Sa- guntum, a rich and strongly-fortified city on the eastern coast of Spain. It was defended with a desperate obstinacy by its inhabitants. But the discipline, the energy, and the persistence of the Carthaginian army, were too much for them; and just as the city was about to fall, Alorcus, a Span- ish chieftain, and a mutual friend of both of the contending parties, undertook to mediate between them. He proposed to the Saguntines that they should surrender, allowing the Carthaginian general to make his own terms. And the argument he used was this : " Your city is captured, in any event. Further resistance will only bring down upon you the rage of an incensed soldiery, and the horrors of a sack. Therefore, surrender immediately, and take vvhatevei" Hannibal shall please to give. You cannof 418 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. lose anything by the procedure, and you may gain something, even though it be little." ^ Now, al- though there is no resemblance between the gov- ernment of the good aiid merciful God and the cruel purposes and conduct of a heathen warrior, and we shrink from bringing the two into any kind of juxta2)osition, still, the advice of the wise Alor- cus to the Saguntines is good advice for every sin- ful man, in reference to his relations to Eternal Justice. We are all of us at the mercy of God. Should He make no terms at all ; had He never given His Son to die for our sins, and never sent His Sj^irit to exert a subduing influence upon our hard hearts, but had let guilt and justice take then' inexorable course w^ith us ; not a word could be ut- tered against the procedure by heaven, earth, or hell. No creature, anywhere can complain of jus- tice. That is an attribute that cannot even be at- tacked. But the All-Holy is also the All-Merciful. He has made certain terms, and has offered certain conditions of pardon, without asking leave of His creatures and without taking them into council, and were these terms as strict as Draco, instead of being as tender and pitiful as the tears and blood of Jesus, it would become us criminals to make no criticisms even in that extreme case, but accept them precisely as they were offered by the Sovereign and the Arbi- ter. We exhort you, therefore, to take these terms ' Livius : Historia. Lib. xxi. 12. FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 419 of salvation simply as they are given, asking no questions, and being thankful that there are any terms at all between the offended majesty of Heaven and the guilty criminals of earth. Believe on Him whom God hath sent, because it is the appoiLt- ment and declaration of God, that if guilty man is to be saved at all, he must be saved by faith in the Person and Work of the Mediator. The very dis- position to quari'el with this method implies arro- gance in dealing with the Most High. The least inclination to alter the conditions shows that the creature is attempting to criticise the Creator, and, what is yet more, that the criminal has no true per- ception of his crime, no sense of his exposed and helpless situation, and presumes to dictate the terms of his own pardon ! 2. We might therefore leave the matter here, and there would be a sufficient reason for exercisino^ the act of faith in Christ. But there is a second and additional reason which we will also briefly urge upon you. Not only is it the Divine ap- pointment, that man shall be saved, if saved at all, by the substituted work of another ; but there are needs^ there are crying wants^ in the human con- science, that can be supplied by no other method. There is a perfect adcvptation between the Re- demption that is in Christ Jesus, and the guilt of sinneiu As we have seen, we could reasonably urge you to believe in Him whom God hath sent, simi)ly ])ecaiise God has sent Him, and because 420 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. He has told you that He will save you through no other name and in no other way, and will save you in this name and in this way. But we now urge you to the act of faith in this substituted work of Christ, because it has an atoning virtue, and can pacify a perturbed and angry conscience ; can wash out the stains of guilt that are grained into it ; can extract the sting of sin which ulcerates and burns there. It is the idea of expiation and satisfaction that we now single out, and j)ress upon your notice. Sin must be exjDiated, — expiated either by the blood of the criminal, or by the blood of his Substitute. You must either die for your own sin, or some one who is able and willing must die for you. This is founded and fixed in the nature of God, and the nature of man, and the nature of sin. There is an eternal and necessary connection between crime and penalty. The wages of sin is death. But, all this inexorable necessity has been completely provided for, by the sacrificial work of the Son of God. In the gospel, God satis- fies His own justice for the sinner, and now offers you the full benefit of the satisfaction, if you will humbly and penitently accept it. *^ What compas- sion can equal the words of God the Father addressed to the sinner condemned to eternal punishment, and having no means of redeeming himself: ^Take my Only-Begotten Son, and make Him an offering for thyself; ' or the words of the Son : ' Take Me, and ransom thy soul ? ' For this is what both say, when FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 421 tliey invite and draw man to faitli in the gospel." * In urging you, therefore, to trust in Christ's vicaiious sufferings for sin, instead of going down to hell and suffering for sin in your own person ; in entreating you to escape the stroke of justice upon yourself, by believing in Him who was smitten in your stead, who " was wounded for your transgressions and bruised for your iniquities;" in beseeching you to let the Eternal Son of God be your Substi- tute in this awful judicial transaction ; we are sum- moning you to no arbitrary and irrational act. The peace of God which it will introduce into your conscience, and the love of God which it will shed abroad through your soul, will be the most convincing of all proofs that the act of faith in the great Atonement does no violence to the ideas and principles of the human constitution. No act that contravenes those intuitions and convictions which are part and particle of man's moral nature could possibly produce peace and joy. It would be revolutionary and anarchical. The soul could not rest an instant. And yet it is the uniform testimony of all believers in the Lord Jesus Christ, that the act of simple confiding faith in His blood and righteousness is the most peaceful, the most joyful act they ever performed, — nay, that it was the first blessed experience they ever felt in thia world of sin, this world of remorse, this world of * AusELM : Cur Deu8 Horao ? II. 20. 19 422 FAITH THE SOLE SAVmG ACT. fears and forebodings concerning judgment and doom. Is the question, then, oi the Jews, pressing upon your mind? Do you ask, What one particular single thing shall I do, that I may be safe for time and eternity ? Hear the answer of the Son of God Himself: " This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent." By WILLIAM G. T. SHEDD, D.D., Professor of Systematic Theology in Union Theological Seviitiary, Ne%v York. A HISTORY OF CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. Two vols., crown 8vo. Seventh edition, cloth, $5.00. HOMILETICS AND PASTORAL THE()T,0(iY. One vol., crown 8vo. Seventh edition, cloth, $2.50. A CONCISE ANALYTICAL COM- MENTARY ON ST. PAUL'S EPIS- TLE TO THE ROMANS. One vol., crown 8vo, cloth, $2.50. SERMONS TO THE SPIRITUAL MAN. One vol., crown 8vo., cloth, $2.50. SERMONS TO THE NATURAL MAN. One vol., crown 8vo. Third edition, cloth, $2.50. THEOLOGICAL ESSAYS. One vol., 8vo. Enlarged and carefully revised edition, cloth, $2.50. LITERARY ESSAYS. A series that relate principally to /Esthetics and Lit- erature. With portrait. One vol., crown, Bvo, cloth, $2.50. THE DOCTRINE OF ENDLESS PUNISHMENT. One vol., crown SERMONS TO THE SPIRITUAL MAN " The thought which they express is not only profound and well wrought out, but it has a certain grip on the mind which insures more than a temporary influence however strong that may be." — Congregationalist, Boston. "All are nobly written. All contain passages which could have been produced by no one but a master of style. Most of them are truly eloquent, and their eloquence is of the highest type." — Fresbytcriafi, Pa. "The last two discourses, entitled " Every Christian a Debtor to the Pagan," and " The Certain Success of Evangelistic Labor," place the duty of the world's Christianization upon its broad Scriptural foundations, and set forth the reasons for its progressive and ultimate triumphs with inspiring eloquence." — Christian Intelli- gencer, New I'ork. " To all minds awake and in earnest touching spiritual things, we can unre- servedly commend this volume. It will be sure to aid in the struggle against sin, and in victory over it.'' — iVe7u ]'ori Evangelist. "The sermons are peculiarly adapted for reading, and they are among the most spiritual and thoughtful discourses that have been published in recent years." — Wesleyan Christian Advocate. Dr. Shcdd's Works, "Dr. Shedd's sermons command respect from the intellectual ability of their author. They are interesting exhibitions of the way in which a modern Calvinist, Who holds with great tenacity to the AugustinJan theology, views divine progress in its relation to human character and destiny. The new departure has not yet invaded Dr. Shedd's mind to any extent. Consequently, to a progressive Christian thinker, the premises of most of his discourses are unacceptable." — Christian Register^ Boston. " They are distinguished by a clear and luminous style, and the boldness and vigor which comes from profound conviction. No better volume of sermons, none more thoughtful, spiritual, or satisfying, has come from the press for a long time."— ^ Christian at IVork, A'ew York. ' ' We commend these sermons to our readers ; for though, as a Presbyterian divine, we could not endorse all his views, yet, upon the great essential doctrines and duties of Christianity, we are much at one with him." — Churchman, New York, A HISTORY OF CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. " Dr. Shedd has furnished an important contribution to the study of church his- tory. To have made a readable book— a book which must interest the general scholar as well as the professed theologian— on a topic so difficult and so remote from the ordinary interests and literary currents of the time, is itself a rare and very great merit, demanding graceful recognition from all the scholars of the land." — North A jnerican Revieiu. " It is many years since a more valuable contribution has been made, in this country or England, to theological literature ; one the study of which will yield riper fruits of Christian knowledge. These volumes are marked by a thoroughness of knowledge and clearness of statement, as well as by a certain I'ital element which pervades them, and which shows the love of the author for his great theme, and that he takes his position, not without but within his subject, and so relates the transfor- mations and developments of religious thought as if he had himself passed through X.hcm.."^-Bidliotheca Sacra, " We hold that this is the most important contribution that has been made to our theological literature during the present age."—~Presbyterian Standard. " In our judgment, no production of greater moment has been given to the public for a long tim.e.^'^Princeton Review. "A body of theological history which is in form a.s perfect as it is in substance excellent." — N, Y. Evening Post. " It well deserves an honorable and permanent place in the standard literature of theology."^— AVw E7tglander, "A rich addition to our theological literature." — Atnerican Theological Review, " Dr. Shedd's History of Christian Doctrine, on its first appearance, was unani- mously recognized as filling with remarkable success a blank that had existed in our English literature on this important subject, and it still holds the foremost place in works of this class." — Editiburgh Daily Review^ HOMILETICS AND PASTORAL THEOLOGY. "The work will be found to be an admirable guide and stimulus in whatever per- tains to this department of theology. The student finds himself in the hands of a master able to quicken and enlarge his scope and spirit. The homiletical precepts are well illustrated by the author's own style, which is muscular, while quivering with nervous life. Nowadays one rarely reads such good English writing — elevated and clear, sinewy and flexible, transparent for the thought. Each topic is handled in a true progressive method. Our young ministers may well make a study of this book."— .-J wt'r/crt;; Theol, Review, Dr. Shcdd's Works. "We have read this book with almost unqualified approval. We cannot but regarit rt as, on the whole, the very best prochiction of the kind with which we are acqiiaintec^ The topics discussed are of the first importance to every minister of Christ engagtd ig ■ctive service, and their disrussion is conducted by earnestness as well as ability, an 1 in 1 style whicn for clear, vigorous, and unexceptionable English, is itself a model." — .V. V, Rvangelist. "The ablest book on the subject which the generation has produced." — Ckristin* iHtellif^ettcer. "Dr. Shedd's Homiletics and Pastoral Theology has everywhere been welcomed %s a sagacious and valuable contribution to the equipment of our rising preachers " Kdinburgh Daily Riview, SERMONS TO THE NATURAL MAN. "These Sermons are an excellent course upon the theology of the law. Dr. Shedd •S one of the best known in this country of American theologians, and those who ar« acquainted v/Ith his writings do not require to he told that he carries out "us ideas with perspicuity, force, and conclusive completeness." — Editiburgh Daily Review. "The reader, whether he assent to the deductions of the author or not, must admit that they are enforced with logical conciseness, a rare wealth of learning, and an uncom- mon ability of argumentation." — N. V. Kzufiing Post. " Wc cornmend this volume to all who love the 'sfc-ong meat' of christian tnith, »nJ who rejoice in the adaptation of the power of the gospel to the deepest needs of the ' natura! man.' " — Nafl Baptist, Phila. "'J'he author has given us a collection of clear, logical, earnest discotirses, well adapted to the spirit of the times. We specially commend the work to preachers of the gospel." — Methodist Protestant, Baltimore. •'I'hese sermons are clear in thought, the stjde is lucid and simp.e, and free from the much-worn phrases of the pulpit. The arguments of the author are well arranged and put with great force." — Christian Union. THEOLOGICAL ESSAYS. "These Essay* bear traces on every page, not only of a mind aiscipimed to clow thinking, and at home in the abstractions of philosopiiy and theology, but versed in tho noblest works of literature, and equally able to appreciate the creations of art and imagi nation. The terseness and vigor of the style are well mated to the character of the thought." — Nfiv F.iiglander. "These Essays arc all marked by profound thought and perspicuity of sentiment. The author has achieved a high reputation for the union of philosophic insieht with gen.i- ine scholarship ; of depth and clearness of thought with force and elegance of style ; and for profoimd views of sin and grace, cherished not merely on theoreti-al, but still more on moral and experimental grounds." — Princeton Review. "The Essay upon Evolution, is an extraordinary specimen of the metaphysical treatise, and the charm of its rhetoric is not less noticeable Prof. Shedd never puts his creed under a bushel ; but there are few students of any sect or class that will not derive freat assistance from his labors." — Uiiiversalist Quarterly, " The tendency of this volume is to encourage doctrinal investigation and doctrinal preaching ; to stimulate clergymen to improve their methods of study, and to quicken their love of inquiry into the profoundest truths of religion." — Bibliotheca Sacra. "These Essays abound m strong thought, firmly and clearly expressed, and in this the reader of a different school of theology will take a pleasure, while he may dissent from the theory propounded." — Methodist Quarterly. "A book equally remarkable for profound thought and for dogmatic severity. Perhaps no stronger work has gone forth of late from any American theologian, nor any work which .at the same time runs so wholly in the face of the present drift of religious lentiment and scientific study." — New York Times. "The Genevan reformer has probably no abler or more devoted follower, at the present day than the author of these essays. In the circle of his readers he will find nany who regard the study of his writings as an admirable exercise, for the vigor ol their statements, the closeness of their logic, and the athletic grasp of their conclusions, tlthc^gh their own convictions are not represented in his system of theology." — AVw York Tribune. "Dr. Shedd's weighty and forceful rhetoric has been the admiration and deipitii of most of his readers. To weight and force, we must add one other quality which i'» anguishe* it. namely, fervor. Every theological student and every minister shou i. 3OSS0SS. and shoidil not only read, biv study this volume " — The pi^esbvtet tat* Dr. ShedcVs Works. COMMENTARY ON ROMANS. " No better discipline could be suggested to a young minister than a patient and taitb fill study of a volume like this .... rot only because it is the freshest, but because it is so purely intellectual and spiritual, wasting no time upon side issues, but grappling manfully with the highest and most recondite themes." — Christian Intelli ge7icer. "We know of no commentary by any living author on this epistle that, in our esti mation, deserves to be esteemed above it." — H art/or d Religious Herald. "To the thorough learning of an accomplished scholar, it adds a style of special grace, luminous without superficiality, and, sparkling without levity." — Luthera}i Mis- sionary. '•' We consider this volume to be indispensable to a theological library." — RichmoJid Central Presbyterian. "We have been instructed, interested, and edified as we have turned over his pages, and while not agreeing with him in all particulars, we have alwaj's been com- pelled by him to revise our views, and give a reason for our preference." — Christian at IVork. "The commentary is brief ; there is no verbiage, no amplification, no preaching; it is as clear as crystal." — Illustrated Christian Weekly. "We like thoroughly the keenly critical scholarship of Dr. Shedd's book and the vigor of his style We commend the work as an excellent stimulus, and a great help in doctrinal study." — Congregativnalist. " Like the previous writings of Professor Shedd, this learned and scholarly volume is remarkable for the acute insight with which it applies profound philosophical principles to the elucidation of religious doctrine." — N. V. Tribune. LITERARY ESSAYS. " His productions are never of an ephemeral character; though often separated by a wide interval of years, they possess the unity which grows out of thoroughness of examination and earnestness of conviction ; powerful in argument, lucid in exposition, and effective in st^'le, they challenge the interest of many readers who arc unable to assent to their conclusions." — N. V. Tribune. " Here is something deserving a permanent place in the realm of reading We wish to notice especially, commending it at the same time to the careful study of every one, the essay on ' The Influence and Method of English Studies.' .... We can, without hesitation, say, that it is one of the most profound, and thoughtful, and scholarly productions on this subject that we have ever read." — The Church>nan. "The essays, one and all, are worthy of the Professor's pen. They reveal extensive reading, culture of a high order, and sympathy with all that is true and beautiful and good in nature, in life, and in art." — N. V. Scotsman. "They bear the marks of the author's scholarship, dignity, and polish of style, and profound and severe convictions of truth and righteousness as the basis of culture as well as character." — Chicago Interior. "The severe and chastened beauty of his style is a fit vehicle for the lofty truths among which his mind ranges, and which he here announces and defends." — Presbyterian. "Dr. Shedd deals with themes not of passing but of enduring importance, and his productions on these subjects, being those of a wide reader and profound thinker, wilj always be valuable." — Christian at Work. *5f* For sale by all booksellers, or sefit, post-paid, upon receipt of trice, by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, Publishers, 743 AND 745 Broadway, New York. 7l(lliili?l'lllte?i,'i^' Seminary Li braries 1 1012 01231 4318 Date Due | ^psdfiSPiiPiwj^ '^i^^ii^^^^K 'ApjN^HMiiEilii HK' 2- i^' ^NiiiWMiwN i. ^ ;r