/ 3r — 3 \ BT 753 . S3 6 1826 Scott, Tomas, Tracts 1 THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, $ ^ Princeton, N. J. |j $ $ ^ ■ # I \ /■ . f / * jLa^br John Scott Glasgow PUBLISHED BY WOll&yL COLLINS GLASGOW’ <5 ii. Ckt'i's. Oljutk TRACTS, BY THE REY. THOMAS SCOTT, HECTOR OF ASTON SANDFORD. WITH AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, BY THOMAS CHALMERS, D. D. PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF ST. ANDREWS. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR WILLIAM COLLINS; WILLIAM WHYTE & CO. AND WILLIAM OLIPHANT, EDINBURGH R. M. TIMS, AND WM. CURRY, JUN. & CO. DUBLIN; AND G. B. WHITTAKER, LONDON. 1826 Printed by W. Collins & Co Glasgow. SOLGGlO&k. INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 1 here is no delusion more prevalent, or more difficult to dissipate from the minds of men, than the imagined power which this world possesses, to confer solid good or substantial enjoyment on its votaries. Their life is one unceasing struggle for some object which lies at a distance from them. 1 heir path upon earth is an attempted progress to¬ wards some attainment, which they conceive to be placed at an onward point in the line of their futu¬ rity. They are fighting their way to an arduous eminence of wealth or of distinction, or running with eager desire after some station of fancied delight, or fancied repose, on this side of death. And it is the part of religious wisdom, to mark the contrast which obtains between the activity of the pursuit in the ways of human business or human ambition, and the utter vanity of the termination — to compute the many chances of disappointment — and, even when the success has been most triumphant, to compare the vehemence of the longing expectation with the heartlessness of the dull and empty acquirement — to observe how, in the career of restless and aspir- VI ing man, he is ever experiencing that to be tasteless, on which, while beyond his reach, he had lavished his fondest and most devoted energies. When we thus see that the life of man in the world is spent in vanity, and goes out in darkness, we may say of all the wayward children of humanity, that they run as uncertainly, and fight as one who beateth the air ; or, to quote another Bible declaration, “ Surely man walketh in a vain show, surely he vexeth him¬ self in vain.” But these animadversions on that waste of strength and of exertion, which is incurred by the mere vota- lies of this world, are not applicable merely to the pui suits of general humanity, they are frequently no less applicable to our pursuits as Christians; and even with eternity as an object, there is a way of so running, and of so contending for it, as to make no advances towards it. A man may be walking actively with this view, and yet not be walking suiely. A man may have entered into a strenuous combat for the rewards of immortality, and yet not obtain either the triumphs or the fruits of victory, i here may be a great expense -of movement, and of effort, and of diligence, and all for the good of his soul ; and yet the expense be utterly unproductive of that for which his soul is anxiously putting forth the energies which belong to it. He may be walk¬ ing on a way of toilsome exertion, and yet not be going on in his way rejoicing. A haunting sense of the vanity of ail his labour, may darken and pa¬ ralyze eveiy footstep of his attempted progress to¬ wards heaven, and make him utterly the reverse of that Christian who is steadfast, and immoveable, Vll and always abounding. That man can never be satisfied with his own movements, who is not mak¬ ing sensible progress towards some assigned object of desire; and should that be a blissful eternity, there will adhere to him all the discomfort of run¬ ning uncertainly, so long as he is not getting per¬ ceptibly nearer to the fulfilment of his wishes. It were lifting olf the weight of a mountain from the heart of many a labouring inquirer, could he be set on a sure place, and a clear and ever brightening object be placed before hirfl in the march of his prac¬ tical Christianity — could such a distinct aim and. bearing be assigned to him, as, with a full know¬ ledge of the purpose of all his doings, and a hope ot the purpose being accomplished, he might, in what¬ ever he did, do it with cheerfulness and vigour — could he be made to understand whither his la¬ bours are tending, and for this end something pre¬ cise, and definite, and intelligible, were at length to evolve itself out of the mists and the mazes of hu¬ man controversy — could all the wranglings of dis¬ putation be husbed, and, amid the din of conflicting opinions about faith, and works, and the agency of man, and the sovereignty of God, an authoritative voice were heard to lift the overbearing utterance of, “ This is the way, walk ye in it” — could he be rescued from the indecisions of those who are ever learning, and never able to arrive at the knowledge of the truth, — then, like Paul, might he both be strong in orthodoxy, and strong in the confidence and consistency of his practical determinations. He would not be, what we fear many professing Chris¬ tians are, at a loss how to turn themselves, and in VI II tiie dire perplexity of those who labour without an object and without an end. Iheie are three different states of activity in the prosecution of our religious interests, to which we t»haIJ advert, all of which are exemplified in human experience; and we shall attempt to point out what is right and what is wrong in each of them. 1 he first state of activity is exemplified by those who seek to establish a righteousness of their own; the second by those who seek to be justified by faith; and the third by those who seek under Christ, as the accepted Mediator, to attain that holiness without which no man can see God — to reach that character, without which there is no congeniality with the joys or the exercises of heaven. I. In the New Testament, the Jews are charged with a prevailing disposition to establish a righteous, ness of their own, but this formed no local or national peculiarity on the part of the Jewish people. It is the universal disposition of nature, and is as plainly and prominently exemplified among professing Christians of the day, as it ever was by the most zealous adher¬ ents of the Mosaic ritual. It is true, that out of the multitude of its ceremonial observations, a goodly frame-work could be reated of outward and apparent conformities to the will of God ; and nothing more natural than for man to enter into that which is the work of his own hands, and then to feel himself as if placed in a tabernacle of security. But there are other materials besides those of Judaism, which men can employ for raising a fabric of self-righteousness. Some of them as formal in their character as the Sabbaths and the Sacraments of Christianity _ _ IX others of them with the claim of being more sub¬ stantial in their character, as the relative duties and proprieties of life, — but all of them proceeding on the same presumption, that man can, by his own powers, work out a meritorious title to acceptance with God, and that he can so equalize his doings with the demands of the law, as to make it incum¬ bent on the lawgiver to confer on him the rewards o and the favour which are due to obedience. Now it is worthy of remark, that though few are prepared to assert this principle in all its extent, and though it even be disowned by them in profession, yet in practice and in feeling it adheres to them. To the question, What shall I do to be saved ? it is the silent answer of many a heart, That there is something which I can do, and by the doing of which I can achieve my salvation. A sense of his own sufficiency lurks in the bosom of man, long af¬ ter, by his lips, he has denied it; and it is a very possible thing to be most steadfast in the arguments, and most strenuous in the asseverations of orthodoxy, and yet practically to be so undisciplined by its les¬ sons, as that the habit of the whole man shall be in a state of real and effective resistance to them. And thus it is, that, among the men of all creeds, and of all professions in Christianity, do we meet with the attempt of establishing a righteousness of their own. The question of our interest with God is no sooner entertained by the human mind, than it appears to be one of the readiest and most natural of its movements to do something for the object of working out such a righteousness. The question of, How shall I, from being personally a condemned A 3 X sinner, become personally an approved and accepted servant of God ? no sooner enters the mind, than it is followed up hy the suggestion of such a personal change in habit or in character, as it is competent for man, by his own turning and his own striving, to accomplish. T. he power of which I am conscious _ the command with which 1 feel myself invested over both my thoughts and my doings — the authoritative ' voice which the mind can issue from the place of fancied sovereignty where it sits, and from which it exacts both of the outer and the inner man an obe¬ dience to all its inclinations,— these are what I con¬ stantly and familiarly press into my service; and I find that, in point of fact, they are able to conduct me to many a practical attainment. Nor is it to be wondered at, that when the attainment in question is such a righteousness before God as may empower me to lift a plea of desert in his hearing, the pre¬ sumption should still adhere to me, that this also I can achieve by my own strength— this also I shall win, as the fruit of my own energies, and my own aspirations. Now, what stamps an utter hopelessness upon such an enterprise as this, is both the actual defi¬ ciency of every man’s conduct from the requirements of God’s law, throughout that -part of his history which is past, and the deficiency, no less obvious, of every man’s powers from a full and equal obedience to the same requirements, during that part of his history which is to come. Without entering into the abstract question of justice, whether the rigour ol a man’s future conformities should make up for the offence of his bygone disobedience, and deciding XI this question by the light of nature or of conscience, certain it is, that no man, under the revelation of the Gospel, can feel himself, even though he were on a most prosperous career of advancing virtue, to be in a state of ease in the sense of the guilt that has al¬ ready been incurred, and of the transgressions which have already been committed by him. On this subject, there are certain texts of the Bible which look hard upon him — certain solemn announcements about the immutability of the law, which cannot fail to disturb, and, it may be, to paralyze him — certain damnatory clauses about the very least act of ini¬ quity, on which he, conscious of great and repeated acts of iniquity, may well conclude himself to be a lost and irrecoverable sinner — certain mighty asse¬ verations, on the part of God’s own Son, about the difficulty of annulling the sanctions of his Father’s government, and that it were easier for heaven and earth to pass away than for these to pass away, which may well fill the heart of every conscious of¬ fender with the assurance, that his condemnation is as unfailing as the truth of God, and greatly more unfailing than are the present ordinances of crea¬ tion. These both tell the enlightened sinner that his case is beyond the remedy even of his most powerful exertions; and they also make exertions which, in the spirit of hope and of confidence, might have been powerful, weak as childhood, by the over¬ whelming influence of despair. The man feels that the sentence which is already past, lays the weight of an immoveable interdict upon all his energies. His interest with God looks to be irrecoverable, and any attempt to recover it is like the frantic exer- Xll tions of a captive raving in despair around the im¬ practicable walls of the dungeon which holds him. While the handwriting of ordinances is still against him, and not taken out of the way, it looks to him like the flaming sword at the gate of Paradise, for¬ bidding his every attempt to force the barrier of that blissful habitation. Phe man is in a state of spiri¬ tual imprisonment, and he feels himself to be so. The menacing urgencies of the law may put him into a kind of convulsive activity, while the unre¬ lenting severity of the law leaves him not one par¬ ticle of hope to gladden or to inspire it. Thus he runs without an object, and struggles without even the anticipation of'success. The thing which makes the remembrance of the past shed a blight so withering and so destructive over the attempted obedience of the future, is, that we cannot admit the truth of the matter into our understanding, without admitting, at the same time, into our hearts, an apprehension which instantly stifles, or puts to flight the alone principle of all ac¬ ceptable obedience. The truth of the matter is, that the promulgations of the law cannot be surren¬ dered, without a surrender of the attributes of God, and thus it is, that with every man who thinks truly, the consciousness of being a sinner, brings along with it the fear of God as an avenger. And it is impossible for sentient nature to love the Being whom it so fears. It is impossible, at one and the same time, to have a dread of God, and a delight in God. There may be love up to the height of seraphic extacy, where there is the fear of reverence, but there is uo love in any one of its modifications, Xlll where there is the fear of terror. Let God appear before the eye of our imagination, in the light of a strong man, armed to destroy us, and if the only obedience which our heart can render be love, then is our heart put, by such an exhibition of the Deity, into a state of rebellion. There may be physical, but there is no moral obedience. The feet may be made to run, and the hands to move, and the tongue to speak, or to be silent, and the whole organization of the body may be squared into a rigorous adjustment, with a set of outward 'and literal conformities, and yet the soul which animates that organization, be all in a fester with its known delinquencies against the law, and its dark suspicious antipathies against the lawgiver. And thus it is, that let the present moment be the point of our purposed reforma¬ tion, not only may God charge us with the uiir expiated guilt of all that goes before it, but, if we have a just and enlightened retrospect of what we were, and an equally just and enlightened concep¬ tion of him with whom we have to do, there will be a taint of substantial worthlessness in all that comes after it. That which stands so strong a bar in the way of reconciliation, will just stand equally strong as a bar in the way of repentance. 1 he sense of God’s hostility to us, will so provoke our fear and our hostility towards him, as to haunt, and utterly to vitiate the whole character of our proposed and attempted obedience. When the body, worn out by the drudgery ot its painful and reluctant observa¬ tions, shall resign its ascending spirit to him who sitteth on the throne, he will not recognize upon it one lineament of that generous and confiding affec- XIV tion, which gives all its worth to the love and the loyalty of paradise. He will not discern one mark of preparation for an inheritance in heaven, upon him who on earth made many a weary struggle to attain it. There are, it must be admitted, many who do not think truly of the law; and who, not aware of its lofty demands, think they do enough, when they maintain a complacent round of seemly, but at the same time most inadequate observations — among whom all is formality without, and all is repose and settledness within — who pace, with unwearied step, the circle of ordinances, and are just as regular in their attendance, as is the bell which summons them to the house of prayer — who would feel discomfort out of their routine, but have the most placid and immoveable security within it — and who, amid the engrossment of their many punctualities, have never thought of admitting into their bosoms one fear, or one feeling, that can at all disturb them. These are running uncertainly; but they are not harassed by any sense or suspicion of it. They are only beating the air; but they are not fatigued by the consciousness of its being a fruitless operation. They are in a state of repose; but it is the repose of death. They have accommodated their conduct to the established decencies of the world; but the spirit of the world has never quitted its hold of them. Their portion is on this side of the grave — their delights are on this side of the grave — their all is on this side of the grave. They go to church, and they sit down to the sacrament, and they maintain within their houses a style of sabbath observation; but these XV are merely habits appended to the mechanical, and not to the moral or spiritual part of their constitu¬ tion. They may do all this, and be strangers to the life of faith, to the exercise of devout affection, to the habit of communion with God, as the liv¬ ing God; to all those processes, in short, whicli mark and carry forward the transformation of the soul, from its congeniality with the elements of na¬ ture and of sense, to its congeniality with the ele¬ ments of spirit and of eternity. There may be a work of drudgery with the hands, and with the doing of which, too, they are pleased and satisfied, while there is no work of grace upon the heart. The outer man may he in a state of incessant bodily ex¬ ercise. The inner man may be in a state of entire stagnancy. They do, in fact, run uncertainly. They do, in fact, fight as he who beateth the air. But they have no fear of coming short — no feeling to embitter the course of their religious activity; and without the wakefulness of any alarm upon the sub¬ ject, do they so contend as to lose the mastery, do they so run as that they shall not obtain. Now this is not the class that we have chiefly had in our eye. The men to whom we princi¬ pally allude, are those who run, but without hope, and without satisfaction — men who fight, but with¬ out any cheering anticipations of victory. They are seeking a righteousness by works; and are, at the same time, disheartened, at every step, by the con¬ sciousness of no sensible advancement towards it. Unlike the latter, they think more truly and more adequately of the law. The one class see it only in the light of a carnal commandment. The others see XVI it according to the character of its spiritual require¬ ments. The one, without an enlightened sense of the law, are what the apostle represents himself to have been when without the law, alive; even like all those religious formalists, who look forward to eternal life on the strength of their manifold and re¬ ligious observations. The others, with this enligh¬ tened sense, are what the apostle represents himself to have been after the law came, dead; or they feel all the helplessness of death and of despair, even as he did, when, amid his strenuous but unavailing struggles, be was forced to exclaim, “ O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me?” And thus it is, we believe, witli many whose hearts have at length been struck by a sense of the importance of eternal things — who have begun to feel the weight of their everlasting interests — who are sensible that all is not right about them, and are seeking about for that movement of transition, by which they may be carried forward from a state of wrath to a state of acceptance who, in obedience to the first natural impulse, strive to amend what is wrong in conduct, and to adopt what is right in conduct, but find, that after all their toil, and all their carefulness, that relief is as far from them as ever — who set up a new order in their lives, and propose to find their way to peace on the stepping stones of many and successive refor¬ mations, but find, that as they pile their offerings of obedience the one upon the other, the law rises in its exactions; and what with a claim of satisfaction for the past, anu of spiritual obedience for the fu¬ ture, it exhibits itself to their appalled imaginations, in the dimensions of such a length, and a breadth,' XVII and a height, and a depth, as they never can encircle — who, in the very proportion, it may be, of their pains and their earnestness, are ever acquiring more tremendous conceptions, both of the extent of its requisitions, and the terrors of its authority who thus feel, that by every trial of obedience, they are just multiplying their failures, and swelling the ac¬ count of guilt and of deficiency that is against them — who feel themselves in the hopeless condition of men, whose every attempt at extrication, just thick¬ ens the entanglements that are around them, and whose every effort of activity fastens them the deeper in an abyss of helplessness. This is the real pro¬ cess, we will not say of all, but of many a convert to the light and power of the gospel. rIhis is the sure result with every man who seeks to establish a righteousness of his own, if, along with this attempt, he combines an adequate conception of the law in the spirituality of its demands, of the law in the cer¬ tainty of its exactions. He feels urged, on the one hand, by its menacing and authoritative voice, to do. He feels convicted, on the other, by a sense of the guilt or inadequacy which attaches to all his doing. He feels himself in the hand of a master issuing an impracticable mandate, and lifting at the same time an arm of powerful displeasure, for all his past and all his present violations. He cannot sit still under the power and frequency of the applications which are now making to his awakened conscience. He flies for deliverance, but it is like the flight of a desperado from his sure and unrelenting pursuers. In the olden books of Scotland, and in that tra¬ ditional history, which is handed down from the XV111 pious of one generation to another, we meet with this very process, not unaptly described under the term of law-work. It is well delineated in the lives of Brainerd and Halyburton. There is an inter¬ mediate period of darkness, and despondency, and distress, in many an individual history, between the repose of nature’s indifference, and the repose of gospel peace and gospel anticipations. The mind, m these circumstances, is generally alive to two dis¬ tinct things: first, to the truth and immutable obli¬ gation of God’s law; and, secondly, to the magni¬ tude and irrecoverable evil of its own actual defi¬ ciencies. It is at one time urged on by an impulse of natural conscience, to a set of active measures for the recovery of its lost condition. It is at another time mortified into a despairing sense, that all these measures are utterly fruitless and unavailing. And thus, amid the agitations of doubt, and terror, and remorse; and sinking under the weight of an oppres¬ sive gloom, which is ever deepening, and ever aggra¬ vating around it, is it at length practically and ex¬ perimentally convinced, by many a weary but unsuc¬ cessful struggle, that in itself there is no strength, that the man who runs upon his own energies, runs uncertainly; and that he who fights with his own weapons, fights as one that beateth the air. II. Having tried to seek a righteousness by works, and having failed, the next trial of many an inquirer after peace, is, to seek a righteousness by faith. And here we cannot but advert to the prejudice of the general world against the doctrine of acceptance through faith, as if it were a doc¬ trine most loved, and most resorted to, by those XIX' who felt no value for the worth of moral accom¬ plishments, and bestowed no labour on the cultivation of them. We beg the attention of our readers to the contrast which obtains between a very prevailing fancy upon this subject, and the fact, as it stands experimentally before us. 1 he fancy is, that those who disclaim a justification by works, are those who take the least pains in the doing of them. The fact is, that it was by their very pains to be perfect and complete in the doing of them, that they found this foundation to be impracticable ; and, now that they are upon another foundation, it is unto them, and not unto others, that we look tor works in their greatest abundance, for works in their great¬ est purity. rl he fancy is, that, by linking their whole security, not with the rewards of obedience, but with the grace of the gospel, these people have given up all business with the law. ihe fact is, that, ever since they thought of religion at all, they have been bv far the busiest of all their fel¬ lows about the requisitions of the law. It was their schoolmaster, to bring them unto Christ; and now that they are so brought, the keeping of the law forms their daily and delightful occupation. It may well rank as one of the curiosities of our na¬ ture, that they who are most hostile to the doctrine of the efficacy of faith, because they think that works of themselves are sufficient for salvation, are, in the real and practical habit of their lives, most negligent in the performance of them ; and, on the other hand, that they who are most hostile to the doctrine of the efficacy of works, because they think that it is by the power of faith that we are kept XX unto salvation, are the men who have most to show of* those very works on which they seem to stamp so slight an estimation. And, to complete this apparent mystery, they who impute nothing but li¬ centiousness to orthodoxy, tolerate licentiousness only m those who are the enemies, and never in those who are the professors of it — look upon the alliance between vice and evangelical sentiment, to be a far more monstrous and unlikely alliance, than that which often obtains between vice and an irre¬ ligious contempt for all the peculiarities' of our faith— reproach the doctrine of the gospel for its immoral tendencies, and yet, for every flaw in the morality of its disciples, will they lift the reproach¬ ful cry of their lives and their opinions being in a state of disgraceful and hypocritical variance with each other : proving, after all, that the men who build their security most upon faith, are the men to whom even the world looks for most in the way of practical righteousness ; are the men whose de¬ linquencies are ever sure to raise the loudest mur¬ murs of wrath cr of astonishment from bye-stand- ers; are the men over whom satire feels herself to have the greatest advantage, when, by any pecca¬ dillo of conduct, they furnish her with a topic, either of merriment or severity. And what else can we make of all these inconsistencies, than that there is a deep and prevailing misconception about the real character of the evangelical system ? and that, while there has been imputed to it a cold and repulsive aspect towards virtue, there lies veiled under this a powerful and a working principle, from wnich even the public at large expect a more abun- XXI dant return than they do from any other quarter of human society, of all the graces and all the accom¬ plishments of virtue? There is a change in the direction of our mind, when, from the object of being justified by works, it turns itself to the new object of being justified by faith. It is then only that it puts itself in quest of the only justification which is possible ; and yet, when thus employed, there is still a way of running uncertainly. For, first, as virtue is a thing which attaches personally to him who per¬ forms it, so is faith a thing which attaches person¬ ally to him who possesses it. The one has just as local a residence within the mind, as the other. To have kind affection, and to have it not, argues a difference in the state of one’s heart; and to have faith, or to have it not, argues, just as effectually, a difference in the state of one’s understanding. To believe, is to do that which we ought. To dis¬ believe, is to do that which we ought not. And further, we are expressly told in the gospel, that, with the right thing about us, there is linked our inheritance in heaven ; and, with the wrong thing about us, there is linked our everlasting consign¬ ment to hell. — Here then is faith, like virtue, a personal acquirement ; the possession of which is a right thing, and the want of which is a wrong thing. With such a statement before us, there is nothing more natural, than that we should look up¬ on faith as standing in the same place, under the dispensation of the Gospel, that obedience did, under the dispensation of the Law ; that we should set about the acquirement of the one, very much xxu in the way in which we set about the acquirement of the other; that we should put ourselves to work with the terms of the new covenant, just as we had been in the habit of working with the terms of the old covenant ; strive to render our half of the bargain, which is faith, and then look to God for his half of the bargain, which is our final and ever¬ lasting salvation. Under the economy of i( Do this and live,” the great point of anxiety with him who is labouring for the good of his soul, is, “ O that I had obe¬ dience !” Under the economy of (i Believe, and ye shall be saved,” the great point of anxiety with him who is labouring for the good of his soul, is, u O that I had faith !” There is, in both cases, an earnestness, and perhaps a striving after the ac¬ quirement of a certain property of character. The only difference between the two cases, lies in the kind of property. But, just as the mind may put forth a strenuousness in its attempt to realize the grace of temperance, or in its attempt to real¬ ize the grace of patience ; so may the mind put forth a strenuousness in its attempt to realize the grace of faith ; and, with the success of this en¬ deavour, may it connect the prize of a happy eter¬ nity, and be virtually in the same attitude of la¬ bouring to substantiate a claim under the gospel, as it formerly was under the law. So that, in fact, the old legal spirit may be as fully at work with the new requirements, as ever it was with the old ones. The prospect of bliss may still be made to turn as much as before upon a performance. The only change is in the terms of the performance. XX111 But, in point of fact, men may make a work of faith. They may offer it to heaven, as their part of a new contract into which God has entered with the guilty. Faith and reward may stand related to each other, as the corresponding terms of a stipu¬ lation, in the same way that obedience and reward did. The favour of God, instead of being seen as a gift held out for our acceptance, may still be seen as a thing to be gained by a mental work, done with the putting forth of mental energies. In the doing of this work, there may be felt all the darkness, and all the anxiety, and all the spirit of bondage, which attached to the work of the old covenant. And thus it is, that there are many, with the doctrine of the gospel in their minds, and the phraseology of the gospel on their lips, upon whom the grace of the gospel is utterly thrown away, and who, as if still goaded on by the threats and exactions of the law, continue to run as un¬ certainly, and to fight even as one who beateth the air. Now, it is evident, that in this way the gospel may be so misconceived, as to have no right or ap¬ propriate influence whatever on the mind of an in¬ quirer. If salvation, instead of being looked toy as by grace through faith, be looked to, as by faith, in the light of a rendered condition on the part of man, upon which he may challenge a certain stipu¬ lated fulfilment on the part of God, — then, all the distance, and suspicion, and unsatisfied longings, by which he felt himself to be harassed and en¬ feebled, when attempting to work and to win under the old economy, may still attend him, as he tries XXIV to work and to win, under the new. With his mind thus unfortunately set, he may still regard God in the light of a jealous exactor, and himself in the light of a lacking tributary. He may still be looking to the condition of his faith, and trem¬ bling at the defects of it; just as, before he at¬ tended to the gospel, he looked to the condition of „ his obedience, and trembled at the defects of it. It may still, in his eye, retain the whole spirit and character of a negotiation between two parties ; and all the uncertainty of whether with him, as one of these parties, there has been a failure or a ful¬ filment, may still adhere, to agitate and to disturb him. At this rate, the gospel ceases, in fact, to be gospel. It loses its character in his eye, as a dispensation of mercy. The exhibition it offers, is not that of God holding out a benefit, in the shape of a gift, for our acceptance; but of God holding out a benefit, in the shape of a re¬ turn for our faith. So that, ere we can look with a sentiment of hopeful confidence towards him, we must first look with a feeling of satisfaction to our¬ selves. Now, this is not the way in other cases of a gift. Should a friend come into my presence with some dispensation of kindness, it is enough to put the whole joy of it into my heart, that I hear his assurances of good will, that I behold his countenance of benignity, and that I see the of¬ fered boon held out to me for acceptance. It is true, that I would neither feel the charm of all this liberality, nor attempt to lay hold of what it offers, unless I gave credit to the offerer. But then, I am not thinking of this credit. I am XXV not perplexing myself with any question about its reality. I am not first looking to myself, that I may see whether the belief is there — and then look¬ ing to the giver, that I may stretch forth a receiving hand to the fruit of his generosity. I am looking all the while to that which is without me ; and it is from that which is without me, that all the influences of hope and of gratitude, and the pleasure of a felt deliverance from poverty, descend upon my soul. It is very true, that, unless I gave credit to my visitor, nothing of all this would be felt ; and I may even carry my unbelief so far as to think that the offer was intended, not to relieve, but to affront me ; and that, were I extending my hand to receive it, it would instantly be drawn back again in derision, by my insulting acquaintance. So that, without faith, I cannot obtain the benefit in question. But it is not to faith as an article in the agreement — it is not to faith as a meritorious service — it is not to faith as the term of a bargain, that the benefit is rendered. Faith acts no other part in this matter, than the mere opening of the hand does in the matter of putting into it a sum of money. It does not affect the character of the gospel, as being a pure matter of giving on the one side, and of re¬ ceiving on the other. And it is when we look to God in the light of a giver — it is when we look to him holding out a present, and beseeching our acceptance — it is when we look to him setting forth Christ to the world as a propitiation for sin, and setting him forth as effectually to us, as if there were no other sinner in the world but our¬ selves — it is wheu the outgoings of the mind’s regard B 34 XXVI are thus turned towards the God who is above us, and the promises and declarations which are with¬ out us — and not when the mind is looking an¬ xiously inward upon the operations of its own prin¬ ciples — it is then, and only then, that the sinner is in the attitude of a likely subject for the gospel, and for the reception of all its influences. It has been well observed, that the mind is often put into disquietude, by looking to the act of faith, when it might derive to itself peace, and comfort, and joy, by looking to the object of faith. In the lat¬ ter case, one turns to the mercy of God in Christ freely held out to him; in the former case, he turns his eye towards one of his own mental operations. While doing the one, a pure and unclouded hi¬ larity might emanate upon the heart, from the coun¬ tenance of the all-perfect Creator; — while doing the other, this light is but reflected back again in dim¬ ness and deficiency, from the work of a sinful and imperfect creature. The one is like taking in from the sun in the firmament a flood of direct and unmi¬ tigated splendour; the other is like taking in a suL lied and confused image of him, thrown back on the spectator from the surface of a foul and troubled water. Let him see God just in the way in which God is soliciting the notice of the guilty towards him — let him look unto Christ, even as Christ is ac¬ tually set forth to the view of the world — let him direct his upward gaze to that spiritual canopy of light and of truth which is above him — and, from these, through the medium of faith, there will de¬ scend upon his soul, that which can clear, and ele¬ vate, and transform it. But instead of so looking, XXV11 and so sending forth the eye of his contemplation, let him turn it with minute and microscopic search towards this medium — let his attention be pointed inwardly, towards the nature and quality of his faith, and the danger is, that he loses sight of the very things which furnish faith with the only materials for its exercise. He may seek in vain for the operation of faith, and that, just because the objects of faith are withdrawn from it. He may seek with much labour and anxiety for what he cannot find, because, when the things to be looked for have taken their departure from the mind’s eye, the exercise of looking has ceased. Instead of the outgoings of his belief being towards the beseeching God, and the dying Saviour, and all the evidences and expressions of good will to men, with which the doctrine of man’s redemption is associated, he has bent an anxious examination towards the state of that condition in which he conceives the offered mercy of the gospel to turn; and amid his doubts of its existence, or his doubts of its entireness, does he remain without comfort and without satisfaction about his eternity. It is true, that without faith the mind is in dark¬ ness. But faith enlightens a dark mind, only in the sense in which an open window enlightens a be¬ fore darkened chamber. It is not the window which enlightens the room. It is the sun which en¬ lightens it. And should we, sitting in our cham¬ ber, be given to understand that a sight of the sun carries some delight or privilege along with it, it is not to the window that we look, but to the sun and through the window that we look. And the same of looking to Jesus. While so doing, our direct XXV11L employment is to consider him — to think of the truth and the grace that are stamped upon his cha¬ racter — to hear his promises, and to witness the honesty and the good will which accompany the ut- teiance of them — to dwell on the power of his death, and on the unquestionable pledge which it affords, that upon the business of our redemption he is in good earnest — to cast our regard on his unchange¬ able priesthood, and see, that by standing between God and the guilty, he has opened a way by which the approach of the most worthless of us all have been consecrated and rendered acceptable. It is by the direct beaming of light upon the soul, from such truths and such objects as these, that the soul passes out from its old state into a new state that is marvel¬ lous. Any thing that can arrest or avert the eye of contemplation away from them, is like the passing of a cloud over the great luminary of all our com¬ fort, and our spiritual manifestation. If, instead of looking to the object that is without us, from which the light proceedeth, we look only to the organ within us, through which the light passeth; we, while so employed, are as little looking unto Jesus ’ as he is Poking to the sun in the firmament, all whose powers are absorbed in examining the compo¬ sition of the glass of his window, or the anatomical construction of his eye. The songs, and the offers of deliverance, are altogether unheeded by him who is profoundly intent, at the time, on the phenomena or hearing. The beauties of the surrounding land¬ scape may scarcely be perceived, or, at least, not be relished and admired by the observer, so long as all his faculties are busily engaged with an optical de- XXIX monstration. And the proclamations of gospel mer¬ cy are equally unheard, and its aspect of glad and generous invitation is equally disregarded by him, who, ruminating on the mysteries of his own heart, perplexes himself among the depths and the difficul¬ ties of faith. It is known to anatomists, that to have a view of the objects of surrounding nature, the image of all that is visible must be drawn out on the retina of the eye. But the peasant, who knows not that he has a retina, has just as vivid a perception of these objects, as the philosopher had, who first discovered the existence of it. And, in like manner, a babe in Christ might have a lively manifestation of the Saviour, who knows nothing of the metaphysics of faith — who is in utter darkness about all the con¬ troversies to which it has given birth— who sees with his mental eye, while in the profoundest ignorance about the construction of his mental eye who can¬ not dive into the recesses of his own intellectual con¬ stitution, but, by the working of that constitution, has caught a spiritual discernment of him, whom to see and to know is life everlasting. — “ Father, I thank thee, that whilst thou hast hid these things from the wise and the prudent, thou hast revealed them unto babes.” There is not a readier way of running uncertainly, than strenuously to put forth effort in a matter over which the will has no control: and this is often done by those, who, in their anxious desire to get that faith on which salvation is made to turn, try, with all their might, and all their diligence, to believe. Now this is what we never can do sepa- XXX rately from evidence. To carry the conviction of the understanding, without proof addressed to the understanding, is impossible. If we are out of the way of meeting with the evidence of the truth, we never will attain a belief of the truth. It is no doubt possible, by the mere dint of mental exertion, to conceive what a doctrine is, and to retain that doctrine in our mind, and to recal it when it hap¬ pens to be away from us: but it is not possible, without a satisfying evidence of the doctrine, actually to believe in it. Here then is a way in which we may incur the expense of effort, and the effort be al¬ together unavailing. We may be trying to believe, while we are looking the wrong way for it. It is not merely by poring over the lineaments of our own heart — it is not by witnessing the deficiencies of our faith, and still looking, and continuing to look to the place of these deficiencies — it is not by the reflection of evidences from within, while every avenue is closed of communication from without, that light first arises in the midst of darkness. To obtain any such reflection, a beam of manifestation must be admitted from without, making it the en¬ trance of the word of God which gives light unto us and the Spirit of God shining upon his testi¬ mony, which causes the demonstration of it to come with power, and with assurance, upon him who is giving earnest heed to the word of that testimony. So that, on the other hand, there is a way in which the will may be rightly and profitably employed in the matters of believing. There is a way in which the advice, of try to believe, is applicable, and may be successfully carried into effect. It is by our will XXXI that we open the pages of the Bible. It is by out will that we stir up our minds to lay hold of him who speaketh there. It is by our will that we fulfil his own precept of hearkening diligently. It is by our will that we keep ourselves at the assigned post o meeting between us and the Holy Ghost; and, as the apostles did before us, wait for his coming with supplication and prayer. But it is m the act of at¬ tending to the word which is without us, that light finds access to our heart. If ever it fall upon us at all this is the way in which it will come; and, it we are not widely mistaken, we utter an advice which is applicable to the case of at least some dark and disconsolate inquirers, when we say, that instead o fetching their peace and their joy in believing pri¬ marily from themselves, they should fetch it from tae truths which are without them, and from the great Fountain of Truth and of Grace that is above them. Acquaint thyself with thy Creator, and be at peace, and go unto Christ, all ye who labour and are heavy laden, and he will give you rest. Thus will we find the righteousness that we are in quest of. Thus will we meet a plea of accep¬ tance already made out for us, and be given to per¬ ceive that the only obedience in which God can con¬ sistently with the honours of his government admit us into his favour, is an obedience which has been already rendered. If we commit ourselves to this with a perfect feeling of security, as the ground o our dependence, it will never never give way under us. He who trusteth in Christ shall never be con¬ founded or put to shame. The righteousness which we vainly strive to make out in our own person, is XXXll worthless as pollution itself, when put by the side of that righteousness which has been already made out in the person of another; a righteousness, all the claims of which, and all the rewards of which, are offered to us; a righteousness, which, if we will only humble ourselves to put on, shall translate us into instant reconciliation with God, and, at length, exalt us to a place of unfading glory. Look then unto Jesus. Consider him who is the Apostle and the High Priest of our profession. We should cast our open and immediate regard upon him who is evi¬ dently set forth crucified before us. And as it was in the act not of looking to their wounds, but in the act of looking to the brazen serpent, that the children of Israel were healed, even so is the Son of man lifted up, 6i that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” III. We have already attempted to prove, that the man who seeketh a righteousness by works, seeks it in a way which must land him in vanity and dis¬ appointment, and that he alone has attained the po¬ sition with which he may take up and be satisfied, who has found the righteousness that is by faith. He alone who has accepted of the gospel offer, and puts his trust in its faithfulness, knows what it is to set himself down under a secure and unfailing canopy; and to delight himself greatly with the abundance of peace which he there enjoys. It can¬ not be adequately conceived by those who have never felt it ; and therefore it is, that when a man looks to the offer of that righteousness which is unto all, and upon all who believe, as addressed to himself, — and when, treating it accordingly, he XXX 111 makes it the subject of his actual acceptance, along with the faith which has taken possession of him,— then enters the peace of God in Christ Jesus, which passes all understanding. When, weaned from every other dependence, he has at length learnet to leave the whole weight both of his plea and of his expectation upon the Saviour, it is not easy to form an adequate thought of the change which then takes place upon his condition ; how, by so doing, the whole deadness and heaviness of his soul are cleared away ; how, as if loosed from a confinement in which it hath lain past from infancy, it breaks out into free and fearless intercourse with that God before whom it trembled; or away from whom all its thoughts and all its desires lay hid in carnal in¬ sensibility. They who never felt of faith in any other way than as a mere unmeaning or cabalistic utterance, and are strangers to the term as fixed and substantiated in experimental reality, on a posi¬ tive operation of the soul, perceive not the magni¬ tude nor the glory of that transition which it caus- eth the soul to undergo. They know not the import of being made alive thereby unto God. But there are some who, though destitute in fact of this faith, may have some obscure fancy of what the effect must be, when the Being, with whom ail power and all immensity stand associated, enters into a new relation with one of his own creatures, altogether opposite to that in which he stood be¬ fore ; and, instead of an enemy whom one fears, or a master whom one dislikes, or a dark and distant personage, from whom one has lived all his days in utter estrangement, he draws near to the eye ol the B 3 XXXIV inner man in the living character of a friend, and admits us into the number of his children, through the faith that is in Christ Jesus, and pours the spirit of adoption upon us. So that, unburdened of guilt and of suspicion, we may come unto God with full assurance of heart, as we would do to a reconciled father. When such terms as these, from being felt as sounds of mystery, come to be embodied in actual fulfilment, and to be invested with the meaning of felt and present realities; then does the inquirer find within himself, that to be¬ come a partaker of the faith of the New Testament, is indeed to pass out of darkness into a light that is marvellous. The one and simple circumstance of being now able to go out and in with confidence unto God, opens the door of his prison-house, and sets him at liberty. And let us not wonder, that, with the new hope which is thus made to dawn upon his heart, a new feeling enters along with it, and a new affection now comes to inspire it. Who can say, in short, that the entrance of the faith of the gospel is not the turning point of a new character, that that is not the moment of all old things being done away, from which the man began to breathe in another moral atmosphere, and to conceive pur¬ poses, and to adopt practices, suited to another field of contemplation now placed before him. And thus, by the single act of believing — by giving credit to the word of God’s testimony, when he holds himself forth to us as God in Christ, recon¬ ciling the world unto himself, and not imputing unto them their trespasses, — by conceiving of Christ, that he gives an honest account of the errand on XXXV which he came, when he says, that he “ came not to condemn the world, but to save it, ——by conceding the honour of truth to him who is the Author of the Bible, and so believing just as it is there spoken, _ a course is set into operation, competent to the effect of an entire revolution, both in the prospect and in the moral state of him who is influenced by it, _ translating him from a state of darkness, or a state of dismay, to peace, and joy, and spiritual life, —impressing a new character upon his heart, and turning into a new course of joy the whole of his habits and of his history. Now, it is in the prosecution of this course — a course not of legal, but of evangelical obedience — a course in which, instead of winning the favour of God as the result of it, we are upheld by the fa¬ vour of God freely conferred upon us in Christ Jesus, from the commencement and through the whole process of it,— a course in which, from its very outset, we draw help and strength from the sanctuary, and look unto him who dwelleth there, more in the light of a friend cheering us along the path of uprightness, than of a lawgiver goading us forward by the threats and the terrors of authority, —a course, in which we walk with God as two walk together who are agreed, instead of walking with him as if dragged reluctantly along by a force which it were even death to bring down in wrath and in hostility against us, — a course which we prosecute with the will, now gained over by grati¬ tude, and touched by the love of moral and spiritual excellence, and enlightened in the great and final object of salvation, which is to prepare us for the XXXVI kingdom of God in heaven, by setting up the king¬ dom of God in our hearts, even righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost, — a course, the distinct object of which is to transform the character of man from its selfishness and its ungodliness, and not so much to surround him with celestial glories, as to give to him the worth, and the feelings, and the principles of a celestial mind. Now, it often happens, that long after a formal admission has been given to the doctrines of the gospel, the mind may practically be far from being in a state of adjustment with a course of obedience, prosecuted in such a spirit, and with such an ob¬ ject as we have now been describing. There may be a course of very strenuous performance ; but the old legal spirit may be yet unquelled, and the mind of the inquirer be still weighed down under a sense of hopeless and inextricable bondage. There may, at the same time, be a speculative conviction of the vanity of good works ; and many a weary attempt be made to raise up faith with a set of qualifications, which are destitute in themselves of all power and of all sufficiency to propitiate the favour of God. It, however, cannot be disguised, that works, in some shape or other, are as strenuously called for under the latter, as under the former dispensation ; and we speak of an actual state of ambiguity on this subject, in which many have been involved, and where many have lingered for years in great help¬ lessness and distress, when we say, that, unable to attain a clear and satisfactory perception of the way in which faith and works stand related to salvation, they have toiled without an object, and laboured to XXXV11 get onwards without coming sensibly nearer to any landing-place. There is a want of drift in their manifold doings. They are at one time fearful of being in the wrong, when they attempt to multiply their conformities to the divine law; learning so much from one class of theologians of the vanity of works, and the danger of self-righteousness. They are, at another time, impelled to action by a vague and general sense of the importance of works ; learning from the Bible, and even from these very theolo¬ gians, that works, brought down to utter insignifi¬ cance at one part of the doctrinal argument, re¬ appear at a future part of it, vested with a real im¬ portance in the matter of salvation. And thus do they vacillate in darkness, between a kind of gene¬ ral urgency to do upon the one hand; and, on the other, a kind of indistinct impression that, as a Christian, his business is not to do, but to believe. And so there is either a halting of the mind, or an unceasing vibration of the mind, between two opi¬ nions ; neither of which, at the same time, is very distinctly apprehended. The Christian who is steadfast and immoveable, and always abounding in the work of the Lord, knows that his labour in the Lord is not in vain. Now he does not know this. He has been schooled, by an ill-conceived ortho¬ doxy, into a suspicion of the worth and efficacy of all labour, and so is haunted and harassed by the imagination, that all his labour is in vain. The perplexity thickens around him, among the uncer¬ tain sounds of a trumpet coming to his ear, with what to him are dark and contradictory intimations ; and we are not drawing a fanciful representation, but XXXV111 offering a faithful copy of what is often realized in human experience, when we say, that there are many inquirers, who, thus lost and bewildered in the midst of difficulties, embark in a race that is at once fa¬ tiguing and fruitless, and engage in a painful service, which they afterwards experience to be utterly un¬ productive. The life and experience of the Rev. Thomas Scott, the Author of the excellent Tracts which compose the present Volume, afford a striking ex¬ emplification of the different states of activity in the prosecution of a religious life, which we have endea¬ voured to illustrate. He was long perplexed and bewildered amidst the errors which we have been exposing, and made many vain and fruitless attempts to attain to peace, by endeavouring to establish a righteousness of his own, and it was not till humbled under a sense of the vanity and fruitlessness of all such attempts, that he took refuge in the all-suffi¬ cient righteousness of Christ, and found that peace he was so earnestly in quest of. In his st Force of Truth,” he gives an honest and faithful deli¬ neation of the severe and protracted conflict he sus¬ tained, ere he found himself established on the sure foundation of the righteousness which is by faith. He experimentally found, that such an obedience as man can render, must be an obedience without hope, and without affection, and without one element which can liken it to the obedience of heaven — that the mere animal drudgery, to which a man feels himself impelled, by the impulse of force, or of fear, upon his corporeal powers, bears not only a different, but an essentially opposite, character, to that of an accepta- XXXIX ble loyalty. He found that it is no religion at all, unless the heart consent to it, and the taste be en¬ gaged on its side, and the love which terror scares away, be the urging and inspiring principle ; and the Lawgiver, instead of laying a reluctant constraint upon his creatures, sits enthroned in far more glorious supremacy over their will, thus exalting the service of God, from what it must be under the law, to what it may be under the gospel. But when the gospel came to him, in all the power and beneficence of conversion and grace, transforming the service of God, from the oldness of the letter to the newness of the Spirit, by listing, on the side of godliness, all the faculties and affections of his moral nature, he became the humble, devoted, and self-denying Chris¬ tian; and admirably illustrated the sure operation of genuine faith, in producing practical righteousness, and in forming those who are under its influence, in all the virtues and accomplishments of Christianity. Mr. Scott was an eminently useful minister of the Gospel. His sound, judicious, and practical writ¬ ings, form a most valuable accession to the theology of our country. The lessons of such a life, and such an experience as he has honestly delineated, are highly instructive to every class of Christians, but, to the sincere inquirer after truth, we would especially recommend them; and, under such convic¬ tions as the “ Force of Truth” may produce, he will find in the subsequent Tracts, which compose the present Volume, an excellent and practical exposition of those more peculiar doctrines of the Gospel, the right understanding of which is so necessary to the xl attainment of peace and of holiness; and these ex¬ positions will derive a peculiar weight and impor¬ tance, as coming from such a sound and experimental Christian. T. C. St. Andrews, Mai/, 1827, CONTENTS. Page THE FORCE OF TRUTH, .... 43 THE WARRANT AND NATURE OF FAITH IN CHRIST, • • • • * -163 A DISCOURSE ON REPENTANCE, • - 325 A TREATISE ON GROWTH IN GRACE, . 443 ON ELECTION AND FINAL PERSEVERANCE, 527 ADVERTISEMENT. The present Edition of the Rev. Thomas Scott's Tracts , is printed from the separate Editions of those Tracts , which were revised by himself previous to his death. \ Glasgow, May, 1827. THE FORCE OF TRUTH, AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. PREFACE TO THE FIFTH EDITION. Almost twenty years have now elapsed, since the ensuing Narrative was first published. During this time the author has had abundant opportunities of examining, over and over again, the principles which he then intended to inculcate. If, therefore, he had, on further reflection, materially altered his senti¬ ments, he should have thought himself bound, by the strongest obligations, to retract what he had er¬ roneously advanced. But he is thankful that, on the contrary, he feels it incumbent on him to declare most solemnly, as in the presence of God, that every thing which he has since experienced, observed, heard, and read, has concurred in establishing his most assured confidence, that the doctrines recom¬ mended in this publication are the grand and dis¬ tinguished peculiarities of genuine Christianity. Very many verbal corrections, with a few retrench¬ ments and additions, will be found in this edition. In improvements of this kind, the author has be¬ stowed considerable pains, but he has been scrupu¬ lously, and almost superstitiously, careful to admit no alteration which can, in the least degree, change the meaning of any passage. 46 He feels thankful, that the leading desire of his heart, in publishing a work, which seems to relate almost exclusively to himself and his own little con¬ cerns, has not been wholly disappointed. But he would earnestly request the prayers of all who favour the doctrines here inculcated, for a more abundant and extensive blessing on this, and all his other feeble endeavours, to “ contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints.” Chapel- street, Oct. IQth. 9 1798, FORCE OF TRUTH. PART I. An account of the state of the Author's mind and conscience in the early part of his life ; especially showing, what his sentiments and conduct were at the beginning of that change of which he pro¬ poses to give the history. Though I was not educated in what is commonly considered as ignorance of God and religion, yet, till the sixteenth year of my age, I do not remember that I ever was under any serious conviction of be¬ ing a sinner, in danger of wrath, or in need of mercy; nor did I ever, during this part of my life, that I re¬ collect, offer one hearty prayer to God in secret. “ Being alienated from God through the ignorance that was in me,” I lived without him in the world; and as utterly neglected to pay him any voluntary service, as if I had been an Atheist in principle. But about my sixteenth year I began to see that I was a sinner. I was indeed a leper in every part, 48 there being “ no health in me;” but, out of many ex¬ ternal indications of inward depravity, conscience dis¬ covered and reproached me with one especially; and I was, for the first time, disquieted with apprehen¬ sions of the wrath of an offended God. My atten¬ dance at the Lord’s table was expected about the same time; and though I was very ignorant of the meaning and end of that sacred ordinance; yet this circumstance, uniting with the accusations of my conscience, brought an awe upon my spirits, and in¬ terrupted my before undisturbed course of sin. Being, however, an utter stranger to the depravity and helplessness of fallen nature, I had no doubt, but that I could amend my life whenever I pleased. Previously therefore to communicating, I set about an unwilling reformation; and, procuring a form of prayer, I attempted to pay my secret addresses to the Majesty of heaven. Having in this manner silenced my conscience, I partook of the ordinance: I held my resolutions also, and continued my devo¬ tions, such as they were, for a short time : but they were a weariness and a task to me; and, temptations soon returning, I relapsed; so that my prayer-book was thrown aside, and no more thought of, till my conscience was again alarmed by the next warning given for the celebration of the Lord’s supper. Then the same ground was gone over again, and with the same issue. My 6( goodness was like the morning- dew that passeth away;” and loving sin and dis¬ relishing religious duties as much as ever, I returned, as “ the sow that is washed to her wallowing in the mire.” With little variation, this was my course of life 49 for nine years; but in that time I had such experi¬ ence of my own weakness, and the superior force of temptation, that I secretly concluded reformation in my case to be impracticable. “ Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?” I was experimentally convinced that I was equally unable, with the feeble barrier of resolutions and endeavours, to stem the torrent of my impetuous inclinations, when swelled by welcome, suitable, and powerful temptations: and being ignorant that God had re¬ served this to himself as his own work, and had en¬ gaged to do it for the poor sinner who, feeling his own insufficiency, is heartily desirous to have it done by him ; I stifled my convictions as well as 1 could, and put off my repentance to a more “ convenient season.” But, being of a reflecting turn, and much alone, my mind was almost constantly employed. Aware of the uncertainty of life, I was disquieted with con¬ tinual apprehensions, that this more convenient season would never arrive; especially as, through an uncon¬ firmed state of health, I had many warnings and near prospects of death and eternity. For a long time I entertained no doubt that impenitent sinners would be miserable for ever in hell : and at some seasons such amazing reflections, upon this awful subject, forced themselves into my mind, that I was overpowered by them, and my fears became intoler¬ able. At such times my extemporary cries for mercy were so wrestling and persevering, that I was scarcely able to give over; though at others, I lived without prayer of any sort! Yet, in my darkest hours, though my conscience was awakened to dis- C 34 50 cover more and more sinfulness, in my whole beha¬ viour, there remained a hope that I should one day repent and turn unto God. If this hope was from myself, it was a horrid presumption; but the event makes me willing to acknowledge a persuasion that it was from the Lord: for, had it not been for this hope, I should probably have given way to tempta¬ tions, which frequently assaulted me, to put an end to my own life, in proud discontent with my lot in this world, and mad despair about another. A hymn of Dr. Watts, (in his admirable little book for children) entitled, “ The all-seeing God,” at this time fell in my way: I was much affected with it, and, having committed it to memory, was fre¬ quently repeating it, and thus continually led to re¬ flect on my guilt and danger. — Parents may from this inconsiderable circumstance be reminded, that it is of great importance to store their children’s mem¬ ories with useful matter, instead of suffering them to be furnished with such corrupting trash as is com¬ monly taught them. They know not what use God may make of these early rudiments of instruction in future life. At this period, though I was the slave of sin, yet, my conscience not being pacified, and my principles not greatly corrupted, there seemed some hope con¬ cerning me; but at length Satan took a very effect¬ ual method of silencing my convictions, that I might sleep securely in my sins: and justly was I given over to a strong delusion to believe a lie, when I held the truth that I did know in unrighteousness. I met with a Socinian comment on the Scriptures, and greedily drank the poison, because it quieted 51 my fears* and flattered my abominable pride. The whole system coincided exactly with my inclinations and the state of my mind. In reading this exposi¬ tion, sin seemed to lose its native ugliness, and to appear a very small and tolerable evil; man s imper¬ fect obedience seemed to shine with an excellency almost divine 5 and Ood appeared so entiiely and necessarily merciful, that he could not make any of his creatures miserable without contradicting his na¬ tural propensity. These things influenced my mind so powerfully, that I was enabled to considei myself, notwithstanding a few little blemishes, as upon the whole a very worthy being. At the same time, tne mysteries of the gospel being explained away, 01 brought down to the level of man s comprehension, by such proud and corrupt, though specious, reason¬ ings; by acceding to these sentiments, I was, in my own opinion, in point of understanding and discern¬ ment, exalted to a superiority above the geneiality of mankind ; and I pleased myself in looking down with contempt upon such as were weak enough to believe the orthodox doctrines. Thus I generally soothed my conscience: and if at any time 1 was un¬ easy at the apprehension that I did not thoroughly deserve eternal happiness, and was not entirely fit for heaven; the same book afforded me a soft pillow on which to lull myself to sleep: it argued , and, I then thought, proved , that there were no eternal torments; and it insinuated that there wcie no toi- ments except for notorious sinners, and that such as should just fall short of heaven would sink into their original nothing. With this welcome scheme I silenced all my fears ; and told my accusing C 2 con- 52 science, that if I fell short of heaven I should be annihilated, and never be sensible of my loss. By experience I am well acquainted with Satan’s intention, in employing so many of his servants to invent and propagate those pestilential errors, whe¬ ther in speculation or as reduced to practice, that have in all ages corrupted and enervated the pure and powerful doctrine of the gospel : for they lead to forgetfulness of God and security in sin, and are deadly poison to every soul that imbibes them, unless a miracle of grace prevent. Such, on the one hand, are all the superstitious doctrines of popery pur¬ gatory, penances, absolutions, indulgences, merits of good works, and the acceptableness of will-worship and uncommanded observances: what are these but engines of the devil to keep men quiet in their sins? Man, resolved to follow the dictates of his depraved inclination, and not to bound his pursuits and enjoy¬ ments by the limits of God’s holy law, catches at any thing to soften the horrible thought of eternal misery. This is the awakening reflection, God’s sword in the conscience, which it is Satan’s business, by all his diabolical artifices, to endeavour to sheath, blunt, or turn aside ; knowing that, while this alarming appre¬ hension is present to the soul, he can never maintain possession of it in peace. By such inventions there¬ fore as these, he takes care to furnish the sinner with that which he seeks, and to enable him to walk ac¬ cording to the course of this wicked world, and the desires of depraved nature, without being disturbed by such dreadful thoughts. The same, on the other hand, is the tendency of all those speculations of reasoning men, which set God’s attributes at variance 53 with each other; which represent the Supreme Gov¬ ernor as so weakly merciful, that he regards neither the demands of his justice, the glory of his holiness, the veracity of his word, nor the peaceable order and subordination of the universe; which explain away all the mysteries of the gospel; and represent sin, that fruitful root of evil, that enemy of God, that favourite of Satan, as a very little thing scarcely no¬ ticed by the Almighty, and which, contrary to the Scriptures and to universal experience and observa¬ tion, would persuade us that man is not a depraved creature. To these latter sentiments I acceded, and main¬ tained them as long as I could ; and I did it, most assuredly, because they soothed my conscience, freed me from the intolerable fears of damnation, and ena¬ bled me to think favourably of myself. For these reasons alone, I loved and chose this ground, I fixed myself upon it, and there fortified myself by all the arguments and reasonings I could meet with. These things I wished to believe, and I had my wish ; for at length I did most confidently believe them. Being taken captive in this snare of Satan, I should here have perished with a lie in my right hand, had not that Lord, whom I dishonoured, snatched me as a brand from the burning 1 In this awful state of mind I attempted to obtain admission into holy orders ! Wrapt up in the proud notion of the dignity of human nature, I had lost sight of the evil of sin, and thought little of my own sinfulness ; I was filled with a self-important opinion of my own worth, and the depth of my understand¬ ing And I had adopted a system of religion ac- 54 commodated to that foolish pride, having almost wholly discarded mysteries from my creed, and re¬ garding with sovereign contempt those who believed them. As far as I understood such controversies, I was nearly a Socinian and Pelagian, and wholly an Arminian yet, to my shame be it spoken, I sought to obtain admission into the ministry, in a church whose doctrines are diametrically opposed to all the three, without once concerning myself about those barriers which the wisdom of our forefathers has placed around her, purposely to prevent the intrusion of such dangerous heretics as I then was. While I was preparing for this solemn office, I lived as before in known sin, and in utter neglect of prayer; my whole preparation consisting of nothing * Possibly some readers may not fully understand the import of these terms : and for their benefit I would observe, that the Socinians consider Christ as a mere man, and his death merely as an example of patience, and a confirmation of his doctrine, and not as a real atonement satisfactory to divine justice for man’s sins. They deny the Deity and personality of the Holy Spirit, and do not admit that all Christians experience his renewing, sanctifying, and comforting influences; and they generally reject the doctrine of eternal punishments. — The Pelagians deny origi¬ nal sin, and explain away the scriptural history of the fall of man. They do not allow the total depravity of human nature, but ac¬ count for the wickedness of the world, from bad examples, habits, and education. They suppose men to possess an ability, both natural and moral, of becoming pious and holy, without a new creation or regeneration of the heart by the Holy Spirit; and they contend for the freedom of the will, not only as constituting us voluntary agents, accountable for our conduct, but as it consists in exemption from the bondage of innate carnal propensities; so that man has in himself sufficient resources for his recovery to holiness by his own exertions. — The Anninians deny the doc¬ trines of gratuitous personal election to eternal life, and of the final perseverance of all true believers: and numbers of them hold the doctrine of justification by works in part at least; and verge in some degree to the Pelagian system, in respect of the first moving cause in the conversion of sinners. 55 else than an attention to those studies, which were more immediately requisite for reputably passing through the previous examination. Thus, with a heart full of pride and wickedness; my life polluted with many unrepented unforsaken sins; without one cry for mercy, one prayer for di¬ rection or assistance, or a blessing upon what I was about to do ; after having concealed my real senti¬ ments under the mask of general expressions; after having subscribed articles directly contrary to what I believed; and after having blasphemously declared, in the presence of God and of the congregation, in the most solemn manner, sealing it with the Lord s supper, that I judged myself to be “ inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost to take that office upon me ;” (not knowing or believing that there was a Holy Ghost;) on September the 20th, 1772, 1 was or¬ dained a Deacon. For ever blessed be the God of all long-suffering and mercy, who had patience with such a rebel and blasphemer, such an irreverent trifler with hrs Ma¬ jesty, and such a presumptuous intruder into his sa¬ cred ministry ! I never think of this daring wicked¬ ness without being filled with amazement that I am out of hell; without adoring. that gracious God, who permitted such an atrocious sinner to live, yea to serve him, and with acceptance, I trust to call him Father ; and as his minister to speak in his name. “ Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: who forgiveth all thine iniquities, and healeth all thy diseases ; who redeemeth thy life from destruction, who crowneth 56 thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies.' ” May I love, and very humbly and devoutly serve, that God, who hath multiplied his mercies in abundantly pardoning my complicated provocations 1 I nad considerable difficulties to surmount in ob¬ taining admission into the ministry, arising from my peculiar circumstances; which likewise rendered my conduct the more inexcusable: and my views as far as I can ascertain them, were these three. — A desire of a less laborious and more comfortable way of pro¬ curing a livelihood, than otherwise I had the prospect of* the expectation of more leisure to employ in reading, of which I was inordinately fond: and a proud conceit of my abilities; with a vain-glorious imagination that I should some time distinguish and advance myself in the literary world. These were my ruling motives in taking this bold step: motives as opposite to those which should influence men to entei this sacred office, as pride is opposite to humility, ambition to contentment in a low estate, and a wil¬ lingness to be the least of all and the servant of all; as opposite as love of self, of the world, of filthy lucre, and slothful ease, is to the love of God, of souls, and of the laborious work of the ministry. To me therefore be the shame of this heinous sin, and to God be all the glory of over-ruling it for good, I trust, both to unworthy me, and to his dear people, “ the church which he hath purchased with his own blood.” My subsequent conduct was suitable to these mo¬ tives. No sooner was I fixed in a curacy, than with close application I sat down to the study of the learned languages, and such other subjects as I considered 57 most needful, in order to lay the foundation of my future advancement. And, Oh ! that I were now as diligent in serving God, as I was then in serving self and ambition ! I spared no pains, I shunned, as much as I well could, all acquaintance and diver¬ sions, and retrenched from my usual hours of sleep, that I might keep more closely to this business. As a minister, I attended just enough to the public duties of my station to support a decent character, which I deemed subservient to my main design; and from the same principle, I aimed at morality in my outward deportment, and affected seriousness in my conversa¬ tion. As to the rest, I still lived in the practice of what I knew to be sinful, and in the entire neglect of all secret religion: if ever inclined to pray, con¬ scious guilt stopped my mouth, and I seldom went farther than “ God be merciful unto me !” Perceiving however, that my Socinian principles were very disreputable, and, being conscious from my own experience that they were unfavourable to morality, I concealed them in a great measure; both for my credit’s sake, and from a sort of desire I en¬ tertained, (subservient to my main design) of suc¬ cessfully inculcating the practice of the moral duties upon those to whom I preached. My studies indeed lay very little in divinity ; hut this little all opposed that part of my scheme, which respected the punish¬ ment of the wicked in the other world : and therefore, (being now removed to a distance from those books whence I had imbibed my sentiments, and from the reasonings contained in them, by which I had learned to defend them,) I began gradually to he shaken in my former confidence, and once more to be under C 3 58 some apprehension of eternal misery. Being also statedly employed, with the appearance of solemnity, in the public worship of God, whilst I neglected and provoked him in secret, my conscience clamorously reproached me with base hypocrisy: and I began to conclude that, if eternal torments were reserved for any sinners, I certainly should be one of the number. Thus I was again filled with anxious fears and ter¬ rifying alarms : especially as I was continually medi¬ tating upon what might be the awful consequence, should I be called hence by sudden death. Even my close application to study could not soothe my conscience nor quiet my fears; and under the affected air of cheerfulness T was truly miserable. This was my state of mind when the change I am about to relate began to take place. How it com¬ menced; in what manner, and by what steps, it pro¬ ceeded; and how it was completed, will be the sub¬ ject of the second part. — I shall conclude this by observing that, though staggered in my favourite sentiment before mentioned, and though my views of the person of Christ were verging towards Arianism; yet, in my other opinions I was more con¬ firmed than ever. What those opinions were I have already briefly declared; and they will occur again, and be more fully explained, as I proceed to relate the manner in which I was constrained to renounce them, one after another, and to accede to those that were directly contrary to them. Let it suffice to say that I was full of proud self-sufficiency, very positive, and very obstinate; and, being situated in the neighbourhood of some of those whom the world 59 calls Methodists,* I joined in the prevailing senti¬ ment; held them in sovereign contempt; spoke of them with derision; declaimed against them from the pulpit, as persons full of bigotry, enthusiasm, and spiritual pride ; laid heavy things to their charge ; and endeavoured to prove the doctrines, which I sup¬ posed them to hold, (for I had never read their books) to be dishonourable to God, and destructive to mo¬ rality. And, though in some companies I chose to conceal part of my sentiments, and in all affected to speak as a friend to universal toleration ; yet scarcely any person can be more proudly and violently pre¬ judiced against both their persons and principles, than I then was. * Methodist, as a stigma of reproach, was first applied to Mr. Wesley, Mr. Whitfield, and their followers; to those, who, pro¬ fessing an attachment to our established Church, and disclaiming the name of Dissenters, were not conformists in point of parochial order, but had separate seasons, places, and assemblies for wor¬ ship. The term lias since been extended by many to all persons, whether clergy or laity, who preach or profess the doctrines ot the reformation, as expressed in the articles and liturgy ot our Church. For this fault they must all submit to bear the reproach¬ ful name, especially the ministers; nor will the most regular and peaceable compliance with the injunctions of the Rubric exempt them from it, if they avow the authorized, but in great measure exploded, doctrines to which they have subscribed. My acquain¬ tance hitherto has been solely with Methodists of the latter de¬ scription; and I have them alone in view when I use the term. 60 PART II. A history of the change which has taken place in the Author's sentiments: with the maimer in which , and the means by which , it was at length effected. In January, 1774, two of my parishioners, a man and his wife, lay at the point of death. I had heard of the circumstance, but according to my general custom, not being sent for, I took no notice of it; till one evening, the woman being now dead and the man dying, I heard that my neighbour Mr. N. had been several times to visit them. Immediately my conscience reproached me with being shamefully negligent, in sitting at home within a few doors of dying persons, my general hearers, and never going to visit them. Directly it occurred to me, that, what¬ ever contempt I might have for Mr. N.’s doctrines, I must acknowledge his practice to be more consis¬ tent with the ministerial character, than my own. He must have more zeal and love for souls than I . had, or he would not have walked so far to visit, and supply my lack of care to those who, as far as I was concerned, might have been left to perish in their sins. This reflection affected me so much, that without delay, and very earnestly, yea, with tears, I besought the Lord to forgive my past neglect: and I resolved thenceforth to be more attentive to this duty; which 61 resolution, though at first formed in ignorant depen¬ dence on my own strength, I have by divine grace been enabled hitherto to keep— 1 went imme¬ diately to visit the survivor: and the affecting sight of one person already dead, and another expiring, in the same chamber, served more deeply to impress my serious convictions: so that from that time I have constantly visited the sick of my parishes, as far as I have had opportunity; and have endeavoured, to the best of my knowledge, to perform that essential pait of a parish-minister’s duty. Some time after this, a friend recommended to my perusal the conclusion of Bishop Burnet s “ His¬ tory of his own Time,” especially that part which respects the clergy. It had the intended effect: I was considerably instructed and impressed by it; 1 was convinced that my entrance into the ministry had been the result of very wrong motives ; was preceded by a very unsuitable preparation, and accompanied with very improper conduct. Some uneasiness was also excited in my mind concerning my neglect of the important duties of that high calling: and, though I was enslaved by sin, and too much engaged in other studies, and in love with this present world, to relin¬ quish my flattering pursuit of reputation, and prefer¬ ment, and change the course of my life, studies, and employments; yet, by intervals, I experienced desires and purposes, at some future period, of devoting my¬ self wholly to the work of the ministry, in the mannei to which he exhorts the clergy. All these things increased the clamorous remon¬ strances of my conscience; and at this time I lived without any secret religion, because without some 6£ reformation in my conduct, as a man and a minister* I did not dare to pray. My convictions would no longer be silenced or appeased; and they became so intolerably troublesome, that I resolved to make one more effort towards amendment. In good earnest, and not totally without seeking the assistance of the Lord by prayer, I now attempted to break the chains, with which Satan had hitherto held my soul in bon¬ dage: and it pleased the Lord that I should obtain some considerable advantages. Part of my grosser defilements I was enabled to relinquish, and to enter upon a form of devotion. Formal enough indeed it was in some respects?; for I neither knew that Mediator through whom, nor that Spirit by whom, prayers are offered with acceptance unto the Father; yet, though utterly in the dark as to the true and living way to the throne of grace, J am persuaded there were even then seasons, when I was enabled to rise above a mere form, and to offer petitions so far spiritual, as to be accepted and answered. I was now somewhat reformed in my outward con¬ duct; “ but the renewing in the spirit of my mind,” if begun, was scarcely discernible. As my life was externally less wicked and ungodly, my heart grew more proud; the idol self was the object of my adora¬ tion and obeisance; my worldly advancement was more eagerly sought than ever; some flattering pros¬ pects seemed to open, and I resolved to improve my advantages to the uttermost. At the same time every thing tended to increase my good opinion of myself: I was treated with kindness and friendship by persons, from whom I had no reason to expect it: my preaching was well received, my acquaintance 63 seemed to be courted, and my foolish heart verily believed that all this and much more was due to my superior worth: while conscience, which, by its mor¬ tifying accusations, had been useful to preserve some sense of unworthiness in my mind, was now silenced, or seemed to authorize that pride which it had checked before. And, having the disadvantage of conversing in general with persons, who either favoured my sentiments, or who from good manners, or because they saw it would be in vain, did not contradict me , I concluded that my scheme of doctrine was the ex¬ act standard of truth, and that by my superior abili¬ ties I was capable of confuting, or convincing, all who were otherwise minded. In this view of the matter I felt an eager desire of entering into a reli¬ gious controversy, especially with a Calvinist: for many resided in the neighbourhood, and I heard 'vari¬ ous reports concerning their tenets. It was at this time that my correspondence with Mr. N _ — commenced. At a visitation, May, 1*7 75, we exchanged a few words on a conti overted subject, in the room among the clergy, which I be¬ lieve drew many eyes upon us. At that time he prudently declined the discourse; but a day or two after he sent me a short note with a little book for my perusal. 1 his was the very thing I wanted, and I gladly embraced the opportunity, which, ac¬ cording to my wishes, seemed now to offer; God knoweth, with no inconsiderable expectations that my arguments would prove irresistibly convincing, and that I should have the honour of rescuing a well-meaning person from his enthusiastical delusions. I had indeed by this time conceived a very favour- / 64 able opinion of him, and a sort of respect for him; being acquainted with the character he sustained even among some persons, who expressed a disapprobation of his doctrines. They were forward to commend him as a benevolent, disinterested, inoffensive person, and a laborious minister. But on the other hand, I looked upon his religious sentiments as rank fana¬ ticism; and entertained a very contemptible opinion of his abilities, natural and acquired. Once I had the curiosity to hear him preach : and, not under¬ standing his sermon, I made a very great jest of it, where I could do it without giving offence. I had also read one of his publications; hut, for the same reason, I thought the greater part of it whimsical, paradoxical, and unintelligible. Concealing therefore, the true motives of my con¬ duct under the offer of friendship, and a professed desire to know the truth, (which, amidst all my self- sufficiency and prejudice, I trust the Lord had even then given me ;) with the greatest affectation of can¬ dour, and of a mind open to conviction, I wrote him a long letter; purposing to draw from him such an avowal and explanation of his sentiments, as might introduce a controversial discussion of our religious differences. The event by no means answered my expectation. He returned a very friendly and long answer to my letter; in which he carefully avoided the mention of those doctrines which he knew would offend me. He declared that he believed me to be one who feared God, and was under the teaching of his Holy Spirit; that he gladly accepted my offer of friendship, and was no ways inclined to dictate to me ; but, that leav- 65 ing me to the guidance of the Lord, he would be glad, as occasion served from time to time, to hem testimony to the truths of the gospel, and to com¬ municate his sentiments to me on any subject, with all the confidence of friendship. In this manner our correspondence began; and it was continued, in the interchange of nine or ten letters, till December the same year. Ihroughout I held my purpose, and he his. I made use of every endeavour to draw him into controveisy; and filled my letters with definitions, inquiries, argu¬ ments, objections, and consequences ; requiring ex¬ plicit answers. He, on the other hand, shunned every thing controversial as much as possible, and filled his letters with the most useful and least of¬ fensive instructions; except that now and then he dropped hints concerning the necessity, the true na¬ ture, and the efficacy, of faith, and the manner in which it was to be sought and obtained; and con¬ cerning some other matters suited, as he judged, to help me forward in my inquiry after truth. But they much offended my prejudices, afforded me matter of disputation, and at that time were of little use to me. This, however, is certain, that through the whole of the correspondence, I disputed, with all the argu¬ ments I could devise, against almost every thing which he advanced; and was very much nettled at many things that he asserted. I read great part of his letters, and some books which he sent me, with much indifference and contempt. I construed his declining controversy into an acknowledgment of weakness, and triumphed in many companies as hav- 66 ing confuted his arguments. And finally, when I could not obtain my end, at my instance the corres¬ pondence was dropped. His letters and my answers are now by me; and on a careful perusal of them, compared with all I can recollect concerning this matter, I give this as a faithful account of the correspondence. His let¬ ters will, I hope, shortly be made public, being such as promise greater advantage to others, than through my proud contentious spirit, I experienced from them. Mine deserve only to be forgotten, except as they are useful to me to remind me what I was, and to mortify my pride: as they illustrate my friend’s pa¬ tience and candour in so long bearing with my ig¬ norance and arrogance; and notwithstanding my unteachable quarrelsome temper, continuing his benevolent labours for my good : and especially as they remind me of the goodness of God, who, though he abominates and resists the proud, yet knows how to bring down the stout heart, not only by the iron rod of his wrath, but by the golden sceptre of his grace. Thus our correspondence and acquaintance, for the present, were almost wholly broken off; for a long time we seldom met, and then only interchanged a few words on general topics of conversation. Yet, he all along persevered in telling me, to my no small offence, that I should accede one day to his religious principles: that he had stood on my ground, and that I should stand on his: and he constantly in¬ formed his friends, that though slowly, I was surely, feeling my way to the knowledge of the truth. So clearly could he discern the dawnings of grace in my 67 soul, amidst all the darkness of depraved nature and my obstinate rebellion to the will of God ! This expectation was principally grounded on my conduct in the following circumstances. Imme¬ diately after the commencement of our correspon¬ dence, in May, 1775, whilst my thoughts were much engrossed by some hopes of preferment ; one Sunday, during the time of divine service, when the psalm was named, I opened the prayer-book to turn to it: but (accidentally shall I say, or providentially:) I opened upon the articles of religion; and the eight , respecting the authority and warrant of the Atha- nasian creed, immediately engaged my attention, i y disbelief of the doctrine of a Trinity of coequal per¬ sons in the unity of the Godhead, and my pieten sions to candour, had both combined to excite my hatred to this creed; for which reasons I had been accustomed to speak of it with contempt, and to neglect reading it officially. No sooner therefore did I read the words, “That it was to be thoroughly received, and believed; for that it might be pi o\ ed by most certain warrants of holy Scripture, than my mind was greatly impressed and affected. ihe matter of subscription immediately occurred to my thoughts; and from that moment I conceived such scruples about it, that, till my view of the whole system of gospel-doctrine was entirely changed, they remained insuperable. It is wisely said by the son of Sirach, “ My son*, if thou come to serve the Lord, prepare thy soul for temptation.” 1 had twice before subsciibed these articles, with the same religious sentiments which I now entertained. But, conscience being asleep, and 68 the service of the Lord no part of my concern, I considered subscription as a matter of course, a ne¬ cessary form, and very little troubled myself about it. But now, though I was greatly influenced by pride, ambition, and the love of the world; yet, my heart was sincerely towards the Lord, and I dared not to venture on a known sin, deliberately, for the sake of temporal interest. Subscription to articles which I did not believe, paid as a price for church-preferment, I began to look upon as an impious lie, a heinous guilt, that could never truly be repented of without throwing back the wages of iniquity. The more I pondered it, th§ more strenuously my conscience protested against it. At length, after a violent con¬ flict between interest and conscience, I made known to my patron my scruples and my determination not to subscribe; thus my views of preferment were de¬ liberately given up, and with an increasing family I was left, as far as mere human prudence could dis¬ cern, with little other prospect than that of poverty and distress. My objections to the articles were, as I now see, groundless: much self-sufficiency, undue warmth of temper, and obstinacy, were betrayed in the management of this affair, for which I ought to be humbled : but my adherence to the dictates of my conscience, and holding fast my integrity in such trying circumstances, I never did, and I trust never shall, repent. No sooner was my determination known, than I was severely censured by many of my friends. They all, I am sensible, did it from kindness, and they used arguments of various kinds, none of which were suited to produce conviction. But, though I was 69 confirmed in my resolution by the reasonings used to induce me to alter it, they at length were made instrumental in bringing me to this important deter¬ mination, — not so to believe what any man said, as to take it upon his authoiity: but to search the word of God with this single intention, to discover whether the articles of the church of England in general, and this creed in particular, were, or were not, agreeable to tbe Scriptures. I had studied them in some measure before, for the sake of becoming acquainted with the original languages, and in order thence to bring detached texts to support my own system ; and I had a tolerable acquaintance with the historical and perceptive parts of them : but I had not searched this precious repository of divine knowledge, with the ex¬ press design of discovering the truth, in controverted matters of doctrine. I had very rarely been troubled with suspicions that I was or might be mistaken: and I now rather thought of becoming better quali¬ fied upon scriptural grounds to defend my determina¬ tion, than of being led to any change of sentiments. However, I set about the inquiry: and the first passage, as I remember, which made me suspect that I might be wrong, was James i. 5. “ If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not, and it shall be given him.” On considering these words with some attention, I became conscious that, though I had thought myself wise, yet assuredly I had obtained none of my wisdom in this manner; for I had never offered one prayer to that effect during the whole course of my life. I also perceived that this text contained a suitable direction, and an encouraffino- o 70 promise, in my present inquiry; and from this time, in my poor manner, I began to ask God to give me this promised wisdom. Shortly after, I meditated on, and preached from John vii. 16, 17. 6< My doctrine is not mine, but his that sent me: if any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.” I was surprised that I had not before attended to such remarkable words. I discovered that they contained a direction and a promise, calculated to serve as a clue, in extricating the sincere inquirer after truth, from that labyrinth of controversy in which, at his first setting out, he is likely to be bewildered. And, though my mind was too much leavened with the pride of reason¬ ing, to reap that benefit from this precious text, which it is capable of affording to the soul that is humbly willing to be taught of God: yet, being con¬ scious that I was disposed to risk every thing in do¬ ing what I thought his will, I was encouraged with the assurance that, if I were under a mistake, I should some time discover it. I was further led to suspect that I might possibly be wrong, because I had not hitherto sought the truth in the proper manner, by attending to Proverbs iii. 5, 6. 66 Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not to thine own understanding: in all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” I could not but know that I had not hitherto trusted in the Lord with all my heart, nor acknowledged him in all my ways, nor depended on his directions in all my paths : but that, in my religious speculations, I had leaned wholly to mine own understanding. 71 But, though these, and some other passages, made for the present a great impression upon me, and in¬ fluenced me to make it a part of my daily prayers, that I might be directed to a right understanding of the word of God: yet, my pride and addictedness to controversy had, as some desperate disease, infected rav whole soul, and was not to be cured all at once. — I was very far indeed from being a little child, sit¬ ting humbly and simply at tbe Lord’s feet, to learn from him the very first rudiments of divine knowledge. I had yet no abiding suspicion, that all which I had heretofore accounted wisdom was foolishness, and must be unlearned and counted loss, before I could attain to the excellency of the true knowledge of Jesus Christ: for, though I began to allow it proba¬ ble that in some few matters I might have been in an error, yet I still was confident that in the main my scheme of doctrine was true. When I was pressed with objections and arguments against any of mv sentiments, and when doubts began to arise in my mind; to put off the uneasiness occasioned by them, my constant practice was, to recollect as far as I could, all the reasonings and interpretations of Scripture, on the otherside of the question: and when this failed of affording satisfaction, I had recourse to controversial writings. This drew me aside from the pure word of God, rendered me more remiss and formal in prayer, and furnished me with defensive armour against my convictions, with fuel for my pas¬ sions, and food for my pride and self-sufficiency.' At this time, Locke’s e< Reasonableness of Chris¬ tianity,” with his “ Vindications” of it, became my favourite pieces of divinity. I studied this and many 72 other of Mr. Locke’s works, with great attention, and a sort of bigotted fondness ; taking him almost implicitly for my master, adopting his conclusions, borrowing many of his arguments, and imbibing a dislike to such persons as would not agree with me in my partiality for him. This was of a great dis¬ service to me; as, instead of getting forward in my inquiry after truth, I thence collected more ingeni¬ ous and specious arguments, with which to defend my mistakes.* But one book which I read at this time, because mentioned with approbation by Mr. Locke, was of singular use to me: this was Bishop Burnet’s c< Pas¬ toral Care,” I found little in it that offended my pre¬ judices, and many things which came home to my conscience respecting my ministerial obligations. I shall lay before the reader a few short extracts which were most affecting to my own mind. Having men¬ tioned the question proposed to those who are about to be ordained Deacons, “ Do you trust that you are inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost to take upon you this office and ministry, to serve God for the pro¬ moting of his glory, and the edifying of his people?” he adds, “ Certainly the answer that is made to this ought to be well considered: for if any one says, * After having spoken so freely of Mr. Locke’s divinity, which I once so highly esteemed; it seems but just to acknowledge the vast obligation, which the whole religious world is under to that great man for his “ Letters concerning Toleration,” and his an¬ swers to those who wrote against them. The grounds of reli¬ gious liberty, and the reasons why every one should be left to his own choice, to worship God according to his conscience, were, perhaps, never generally understood since the foundation of the world; till by these publications Mr. Locke unanswerably made them manifest. 73 ‘ I trust so,’ that yet knows nothing of any such motion, and can give no account of it, he lies to the Holy Ghost, and makes his first approach to the al¬ tar with a lie in his mouth, and that not to men but to God.” And again, 44 Shall not he [God] reckon with those who dare to run without his mission, pre¬ tending that they trust they have it , when perhaps they understand not the importance of it; nay, and perhaps some laugh at it, as an enthusiastical ques¬ tion, who yet will go through with the office ! They come to Christ for the loaves; they hope to live by the altar and the gospel, how little soever they serve at the one, or preach the other; therefore they will say any thing that is necessary for qualifying them to this, whether true or false.” Again, having interwoven a great part of the ex¬ cellent office of the ordination of priests into his ar¬ gument, concerning the importance and weight of the work of the ministry, he adds : 44 Upon the whole matter, either this is all a piece of gross and impu¬ dent pageantry, dressed up in grave and lofty ex¬ pressions, to strike upon the weaker part of mankind, and to furnish the rest with matter to their profane and impious scorn; or it must be confessed that priests come under the most formal and express en¬ gagements to constant and diligent labour, that can be possibly contrived or set forth in words.” He concludes this subject, of the ordination-offices, by exhorting all candidates for orders to read them fre¬ quently and attentively, during the time of their preparation; that they may be aware before-hand of the obligation which they are about so solemnly to enter into; and to peruse them at least four times iu D 34, 74 a year, ever after their ordination, to keep in their minds a continual remembrance of their important engagements. How necessary this counsel is, eveij minister, or candidate for the ministry, must deter¬ mine for himself. For my part, I had never once read through the office when I was ordained, and was in great measure a stranger to the obligations under which I was about to enter, till the very period; nor did I ever afterwards attend to it till this advice put me upon it. The shameful negligence, and ex¬ treme absurdity, of my conduct in this respect are too glaring, not to be perceived with self-application, by every one who has been guilty of a similar omis¬ sion. I would therefore only just mention, that hearty earnest prayer to God, for his guidance, help, and blessing, may be suitably recommended, as a proper attendant on such a perusal of our obliga¬ tions. • Again, he thus speaks of a wicked clergyman: ts His whole life has been a course of hypocrisy, in the strictest sense of the word, which is the acting of a part, and the counterfeiting another person. His sins have in them all possible aggravations; they are against knowledge, and against vows, and con- trary to his character; they carry in them a deliberate contempt of all the truths and obligations of reli¬ gion ; and if he perishes, he doth not perish alone, but carries a shoal down with him, either of those who have perished in ignorance through his neglect, or of those who have been hardened in their sins through his ill-example.”— Again, having copiously discoursed on the studies befitting ministers, espe¬ cially the study of the Scriptures, he adds, “ But to 7 5 give all these their full effect, a priest that is much in his study, ought to employ a great part of his time in secret and fervent prayer, for the direction and blessing of God in his labours, for the constant assistance of his Holy Spirit, and for a lively sense of divine matters: that so he may feel the impres¬ sions of them grow deep and strong upon his thoughts: this, and this only, will make him go on with his work without wearying, and be always re¬ joicing in it. But the chief benefit with accrued to me from the perusal was this : — I was excited by it to an atten¬ tive consideration of those passages of Scripture, that state the obligations and duties of a minister, which hitherto I had not observed, or to which I had very loosely attended. In particular, (it is yet fresii in my memory), I was greatly affected with consider¬ ing the charge of precious souls committed to me, and the awful account one day to be rendered of them, in meditating on Ezekiel xxxiii. 7 — 9. te So thou, O son of man, I have set thee a watchman unto the house of Israel: therefore, thou shalt hear the word at my mouth, and warn them from me. When I say unto the wicked, O wicked man, thou shalt surely die: if thou dost not speak to warn the wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity, but his blood will I require at thine hand. Nevertheless, if thou warn the wicked of his way, to turn from it: if he do not turn from his way, he shall die in his iniquity; but thou hast delivered thy soul.” For I was fully convinced, with Bishop Burnet, that every minister is as much concerned in this solemn warning, as the prophet himself was. — D 2 Acts xx. 17 — 35. was another portion of Scripture which, by means of this book, was brought home to my conscience; especially ver. 26, 27, 28, which serve as an illustration of the preceding Scripture: “ Wherefore I take you to record this day that I am pure from the blood of all men: for I have not shunned to declare unto you all the counsel of God. Take heed, therefore, unto yourselves, and to all the flock, over which the Holy Ghost hath made you overseers, to feed the church of God which he hath purchased with his own blood.” In short, I was put upon the attentive and re¬ peated perusal of the Epistles to Timothy and Titus, as containing the sum of a minister’s duty in all ages. I searched out and carefully considered every text that I could find in the whole Scripture which re¬ ferred to this argument. 1 was greatly impressed by I Cor. ix. 16. 44 For necessity is laid upon me, yea, woe is me if I preach not the Gospel.” Nor was I less struck with Coloss. iv. 17. 44 Say to Archippus, Take heed to the ministry which thou hast received in the Lord, that thou fulfil it.” This was brought to my conscience with power, as if the apostle had in person spoken the words to me. But especially I was both instructed and encouraged by meditating upon 1 Peter v. 2 — 4. 44 Feed the flock of God which is among you, taking the oversight thereof, not by constraint, but willingly ; not for fil¬ thy lucre, but of a ready mind; neither as being lords over God’s heritage, but being ensamples to the flock: and when the chief Shepherd shall appear, ye shall receive a crown of glory that fadeth not away.” I hope the reader will excuse my prolixity in 77 speaking on this subject, because in itself it is very im¬ portant; and though I obtained no new views of gos¬ pel-truth from (( The Pastoral Care,” yet I received such a deep conviction of the difficulty and impor¬ tance of that work, in which I had thoughtlessly en¬ gaged, and of the imminent danger to which my soul would be exposed, should I neglect to devote myself wholly to it; as laid the foundation of all my subse¬ quent conduct and change of sentiments. I was, indeed, guilty of very criminal procrastination, after I had been thus convinced; and, being ' engaged more than I ought in other matters, I for some time postponed and neglected complying with the dictates of my conscience. But I never lost sight of the in¬ struction which I had received, nor ever enjoyed any comfortable reflection, till, having broken off* all other engagements, I had given myself up to those studies and duties, which pertain to the work of the minis¬ try. And I have cause to bless God, that this book ever came in my way. Still, however, ray self-confidence was very little abated, and I had made no progress in acquiring the knowledge of the truth. I next read Tillotson’s Sermons and Jortin’s Works: and my time being otherwise engaged, I for a while gave into the in¬ dolent custom of transcribing their discourses, with some alterations, to preach to my people. This pre¬ cluded free meditation on the word of God, and led me to take up my opinions on trust. My preaching was in general that smooth palatable mixture of law and gospel, which corrupts both; by representing the gospel as a mitigated law, and as accepting sincere instead of perfect obedience. This system, by flat- tering pride and prejudice, and soothing the con¬ science, pleases the careless sinner and self-righteous formalist, but does real good to none j and is in fact a specious, fatal, but unsuspected, kind of Antinom- ianism. About this time I foolishly engaged in a course of diversion and visiting, more than I had done since my ordination: this unfitted me for secret prayer and close meditation, and rendered the Scriptures, and other religious studies, insipid and irksome to me, a never-failing consequence of every vain compliance with the world. For a season, therefore, my ardour was damped, my anxiety banished, and my inquiries retarded. I was not, however, permitted entirely to drop my religious pursuits: generally I made it a rule to read something in the Scriptures every day, and to perform a task of daily devotion ; but in both I was very formal and lifeless. Yet not long after, I was engaged in earnest me¬ ditation on our Lord’s discourse with Nicodemus. (John iii.) I felt an anxious desire to understand this interesting portion of Scripture ; especially to know what it was to be