H 
 
LIBEARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Theological Seminary, 
 
 PRINCETON, N.J. 
 
 Case, Div+si on 
 
 HJtelf. Section 
 
 Hook, U&,. 
 
 A DONATION 
 
 FROM 
 i 
 
 Beceiued 
 
 30 c ) 
 
VITAL CHRISTIANITY: 
 
 ESSAYS AND DISCOURSES 
 
 ON 
 
 THE RELIGIONS OF MAN AND THE RELIGION OF GOD. 
 
 BY 
 
 ALEXANDER VINET, D.D. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY IN LAUSANNE, SWITZERLAND. 
 
 TRANSLATED, WITH AN INTRODUCTION, 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT TURNBULL, 
 
 PASTOR OF THE HARVARD STREET CHURCH, BOSTON, 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 T. & T. CLARK, 38 GEORGE STREET; 
 
 LONDON: HAMILTON, ADAMS & CO. ; 
 
 DUBLIN: JOHN ROBERTSON. 
 
 MDCCCXLVI. 
 
EDINBURGH : MACPHERSON & SYME, PRINTERS 
 
 31 East Rose Lane. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Introduction by the Translator, 
 
 I. Religions of Man and the Religion of God, 
 
 II. The Mysteries of Christianity, 
 
 III. The Gospel comprehended by the Heart, 
 
 IV. Folly of the Truth, 
 V. The Genius of the Gospel, 
 
 VI. Natural Faith, 
 
 VII. Christian Faith, 
 
 VIII. Atheism of the Ephesians, 
 
 IX. Grace and Law, 
 
 X. Man deprived of all Glory before God, 
 
 XI. Same Subject continued, 
 
 XII. The Principle of Christian Morality, 
 
 XIII. Necessity of becoming Children, 
 
 XIV. Claims of Heaven and Earth adjusted, 
 XV. The Pursuit of Hubian Glory, 
 
 XVI. The Power of the Feeble, 
 
 XVII. The Intolerance of the Gospel, 
 
 XVIII. The Tolerance of the Gospel, 
 
 XIX. The Work of God, 
 
 XX. Same Subject continued, 
 
 XXI. Christian Joy, » 
 
 XXII. Peace in Heaven, 
 
 page 
 5 
 
 31 
 43 
 
 54 
 65 
 81 
 95 
 106 
 116 
 126 
 138 
 148 
 167 
 179 
 190 
 204 
 217 
 227 
 236 
 247 
 263 
 291 
 308 
 
TESTIMONIALS. 
 
 From Rev. Robert Baird, D. D. 
 These discourses, or essays rather, are among the very best, in any 
 language, that I have ever seen. Dr Vinet is decidedly the ablest Chris- 
 tian Philosopher in Europe, and is, as Dr Merle D'Aubigne calls him, 
 the " Chalmers of Switzerland." I have examined several portions of the 
 translation, and do not hesitate to say that it is excellent, 
 
 From M. G. de Felice, Prof 'essor of Theology at Montauban, in France, 
 and Correspondent of the New York Observer. 
 Dr Vinet is fond of philosophical subjects, and discusses them in a 
 masterly manner. What would embarrass others, has no difficulty for 
 him. He is naturally profound and lofty, and he can pursue his thoughts 
 even to the remotest abstractions. He dwells constantly in the regions 
 of pure thought, and there displays freely the full force* and whole ex- 
 tent of his mind. — Letter to the N. Y. Observer. 
 
 From Profs. Edwards and Park, Andover Theological Seminary. 
 In our opinion, the discourses of Prof. Vinet bear the impress of an 
 acute and vigorous intellect, combined with earnest Christian feeling. 
 
 From Rev. Thomas H. Skinner, D. D., New Yorh. 
 Vinet's style is exceedingly pure and lucid, and the translation, so far 
 as I have been able to judge, is faithful and elegant. 
 
 From Barnas Sears, D.D., Pres. of Newton Theological Seminary. 
 
 I am gratified to learn that the Rev. Mr Turnbull has translated some 
 of the popular discourses and essays of so profound a thinker and elo- 
 quent a writer as Prof. Vinet of Lausanne. His discourses upon various 
 religious subjects give tokens of the same power of intellect and elevation 
 of moral sentiment. 
 
 From Rev. Edward N. Kirk, Boston. 
 It affords me much gratification to see the writings of Dr Vinet in an 
 English garb. Their merits are of the first order ; and they cannot fail 
 greatly to enrich our own literature. Dr Vinet holds the first rank as a 
 Christian philosopher, of whom I have spoken as a Frenchman, because 
 French Switzerland is, for the purposes of moral influence, a part of 
 France. 
 
 From Rev. William R. Williams, D. D., New Yorh 
 There are in Prof. Vinet's mind and writings many things to remind 
 a reader of John Foster. There is the same searching analysis and 
 profound thought, united to a flowing eloquence to which, generally, 
 Foster cannot lay claim. 
 
 
1* 
 
 * - 
 
 
 -■- 
 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The attention of the translator was first called to the writings of 
 Vinet by Dr Merle D'Aubigne, the well known author of the " His- 
 tory of the Reformation." Having, in the course of conversation, 
 asked him concerning the published discourses of the most distin- 
 guished preachers in France and Switzerland, he particularly recom- 
 mended those of Vinet, speaking of him as the CJialmers of Switzer- 
 land. He referred also to the work which he had recently pub- 
 lished on the " Profession of Religious Convictions, and the Union 
 of Church and State," as having produced a very great sensation in 
 that part of the world. He admitted that Vinet differed from 
 Chalmers in some respects, but intimated that he possessed a more 
 profoundly philosophical spirit. Every one familiar with the writ- 
 ings of both men, will readily allow that they resemble each other 
 in breadth and energy of mind, originality of conception, and splen- 
 dour of diction. Chalmers, we think, has more of energy and passion, 
 but less of philosophical acumen and delicacy of perception ; more 
 of oratorical force and affluence of imagery, but less of real beauty, 
 perspicacity, and power of argument. His discourses resemble 
 mountain torrents, dashing in strength and beauty, amid rocks and 
 woods, carrying every thing before them, and gathering force as 
 they leap and foam from point to point, in their progress to the sea. 
 Vinet's, on the other hand, are like deep and beautiful rivers, pass- 
 ing with calm but irresistible majesty, through rich and varied 
 scenery ; now gliding around the base of some lofty mountain, then 
 sweeping through meadows and corn-fields, anon reflecting in their 
 placid bosom some old castle, or vine-covered hill, taking villages 
 and cities in their course, and bearing the commerce and population 
 of the neighbouring countries on their deepening and expanding 
 tide. The diction of Chalmers is strikingly energetic, but some- 
 what rugged and involved, occasionally, too, rather unfinished and 
 
VI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 clumsy. Vinet's is pure and classical, pellucid as one of his own 
 mountain lakes, and yet remarkably energetic and free. 
 
 Another thing in which they differ has reference to the mode in 
 which they develope a subject. Chalmers grasps one or two great 
 conceptions, and expands them into a thousand beautiful and striking 
 forms. His great power lies in making luminous and impressive 
 the single point upon which he would fix his reader's attention, 
 running it, like a thread of gold, through the web of his varied and 
 exhaustless imagery. Vinet penetrates into the heart of his sub- 
 ject, analyzes it with care, lays it open to inspection, advances from 
 one point to another, adds thought to thought, illustration to illus- 
 tration, till it becomes clear and familiar to the mind of the reader. 
 His intellect is distinguished as much by its logical acumen as by 
 its powers of illustration and ornament. He seldom repeats his 
 thoughts in the same discourse, and rarely fails in clearness of con- 
 ception and arrangement. Chalmers delights and persuades by the 
 grandeur of his ideas, and the fervour of his language, but he adds 
 little to the stock of our information. He abounds in repetitions, 
 and is not unfrequently confused in his arrangement, and somewhat 
 negligent in his statements. Though eloquent and powerful, his 
 discourses are not remarkably instructive. But this is not the case 
 with those of Vinet. While they charm by their beauty, and con- 
 vince by their persuasive power, they abound in original views, and 
 lead the mind into fresh channels of reflection and feeling. While 
 one is satisfied with reading the productions of the great Scottish 
 divine once or twice, he recurs again and again to those of his Swiss 
 compeer. They abound in " the seeds of things," and possess a re- 
 markable power to quicken and expand the mind. On this account 
 they ought to be read, or rather studied, slowly and deliberately. 
 Like the works of John Howe, which Robert Hall was accustomed 
 to read so frequently, they will repay many perusals. 
 
 Both of these distinguished men are truly evangelical in their 
 theological views ; they develope with equal power the peculiar 
 doctrines of the gospel, and in their several spheres have done much 
 to promote evangelical religion among the higher and more intelli- 
 gent circles of society. Both have laid their great literary and 
 scientific attainments under contribution to illustrate and adorn the 
 religion of the cross, and have devoted much time and attention to 
 those great moral and politico-ecclesiastical questions which at pre- 
 sent are agitating the whole Christian world. On most of these 
 questions, the views of Vinet are more thorough and consistent, and 
 
INTRODUCTION. Vll 
 
 aim at a complete separation of the church from the state ; a result, 
 however, to which Chalmers has come in practice, and which he 
 will, unquestionably, yet reach, even in theory. They are alike in 
 this, — that both of them are possessed of great simplicity and ear- 
 nestness of character. Both are men of genius, and men of God. 
 As a writer, Vinet leads the movement in Switzerland and France 
 against formalism and scepticism in the church, and particularly 
 against the union of church and state. Chalmers is doing the same, 
 at least by means of action, in Scotland and England. Both of 
 them have been professors in the colleges of their native lands ; 
 both have seceded from the national church, and yet occupy im- 
 portant places as theological teachers, They have written largely 
 and successfully on the subject of moral science, in connection with 
 Christianity, and have been called by their published discourses, 
 especially to address men of high station and cultivated minds. 
 
 It is but justice to say that Chalmers, as a preacher, is probably 
 more popular than Vinet, and that his writings, thus far, have se- 
 cured a wider circulation. This, however, will not, in our judg- 
 ment, be the case permanently. Vinet must become popular, if not 
 with the mass, yet with the thoughtful and cultivated, wherever he 
 is known. His reputation in Switzerland and France is very high ; 
 he is also well known and highly esteemed in Germany, where his 
 discourses and other writings have been translated and read with 
 much interest. His great work, " Sur la Manifestation des Con- 
 victions Religieuses, et sur la Separation de VEglise de VEtat" 
 written, says one of our leading Reviews, with great ability and 
 eloquence," has been translated into German and English ; in the 
 one case by Dr Volkmann, in the other by Charles Theodore Jones, 
 and has attracted much attention, particularly in Germany, where 
 the way was prepared for its reception by the two works of Dr 
 Rettig,* and Pastor Wolff, f on the same subject. It has exerted 
 a great and obvious influence on the mind of Count Gasparin, mem- 
 ber of the Chamber of Deputies in France, whose writings on the 
 subject of religious liberty are destined, we think, to produce the 
 most salutary results. Indeed, this work of Vinet is universally 
 admired on the continent of Europe, except perhaps by some of the 
 friends of the alliance of church and state. The great number of 
 reviews and replies it has called out, is a striking proof of its 
 
 * Die Freie Protestantischen Kirche Giessen, 1832, 
 
 T Zukunft der Protestantischen Kirche in Deutschland, 1838. 
 
Vlll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 value. We are apprehensive, however, that the English version 
 gives but an inadequate conception of its force and eloquence. It 
 seems to us wanting in freedom and elasticity. Faithful and labo- 
 rious it undoubtedly is, but it does not reach the strength and beauty 
 of the original. 
 
 As a writer, Vinet has many qualities akin to those of John Fos- 
 ter, one of the most powerful thinkers and vigorous writers England 
 has ever produced. He has the same earnest and contemplative 
 spirit ; the same freshness and originality of thought ; the same 
 beauty and strength of diction, with more of ease and gracefulness 
 of expression. The thoughts of Foster, to borrow a figure of Ro- 
 bert Hall's, are presented to us in the shape of large and brilliant 
 masses of bullion. Vinet's are wrought into beautiful and elegant 
 forms. 
 
 Merle D'Aubigne, Gaussen, and Vinet in Switzerland, the two 
 Monods, Grandpierre, Audubez and Gasparin in France, are the 
 leaders of a noble host of ministers and laymen, who are devoting 
 themselves, with great strength and ardour, to the regeneration of 
 the church of Christ in continental Europe. Some of them are 
 dealing heavy blows against the Papal church, as well as against all 
 formal and secular systems of religion. They breathe the spirit of 
 Christian love and freedom, and are evidently destined to accom- 
 plish great and lasting good for the cause of Christ. Indeed they 
 seem to be the pioneers of a new reformation in the Helvetic and 
 French churches ; on which account their writings ought to possess 
 a peculiar interest to the people of this country, to those of them 
 at least who have consecrated themselves to the cause of God and 
 of human liberty. God bless and aid them in their noble and self- 
 denying labours ! 
 
 Of the distinguished men who are engaged in this second refor- 
 mation, Dr Merle D'Aubigne and Dr Alexander Vinet are manifestly 
 the master spirits, the one as a historian of great research and un- 
 rivalled dramatic and descriptive power, the other as a deep philo- 
 sophical thinker, an able controversialist, and an eloquent preacher. 
 They are intimate friends, living some fifty miles from each other, 
 on the banks of the same beautiful lake, the one at La Graveline, 
 just beyond the walls of Geneva, and the other at Lausanne, situ- 
 ated on high ground, ascending about half a mile from the lake, 
 and overlooking the whole extent of that splendid sheet of water. 
 Between these two places easy and constant intercourse is enjoyed 
 by means of small and rapid steamers, which are constantly plying 
 
INTRODUCTION. IX 
 
 on the lake. Dr Merle differs from Vinet on one or two theological 
 points, as he himself has informed me, in a brief commnnication 
 recently received, but the difference is slight, and in my humble 
 judgment in favour of the latter. He objects to the view given by 
 Vinet on the subject of faith, in his two essays on the Work of God, 
 which appear to me to be, not only interesting and striking, but 
 remarkably just and scriptural. For, if the affections have any thing 
 to do, in the act of faith, if faith is more than an assent of the mind, 
 or a mere intellectual reception of the truth, then is it a work 
 demanding the whole energy of our spiritual and moral natures. 
 " With the heart man belie veth unto righteousness ;" he cannot 
 therefore be justified without a right state of the affections. " Strive 
 to enter in at the strait gate," says our Saviour ; and this striving 
 has reference as much to the exercise of faith as to the performance 
 of external duties. The reception of moral truths cannot even take 
 place in a passive state of the mind. It is never more active or 
 energetic than when seizing or embracing the mighty facts and doc- 
 trines of the gospel, which are fitted alike to quicken the intellect 
 and transform the heart. This work of faith, it is true, differs 
 essentially from those works of the law by which no man can be 
 justified. It implies no merit, and cannot therefore be the procuring 
 cause, or the basis of our acceptance before God. Still it is a moral 
 pre-requisite, without which it is impossible to please God. It re- 
 ceives the truth " in the love of it," cleaves to it as its portion, and 
 works it up into the whole texture of its spiritual and immortal 
 nature. On this subject some of the Swiss and French evangelical 
 preachers cherish, we fear, imperfect and erroneous notions. Even 
 Luther, and some of the early reformers, had somewhat narrow and 
 exaggerated views of faith, and did not sufficiently dwell on its re- 
 lation to moral character. Edwards, in his book on the Affections, 
 has set the matter in its true light ; and we are pleased to see so 
 profound a thinker as Vinet urging, essentially, the same principles 
 as those of the great American metaphysician and divine. 
 
 The following are the principal events in the life of our author, 
 so far as we have beeen able to ascertain them. 
 
 Alexander Vinet was born 17th June 1797, in Lausanne, capital 
 of the Canton Vaud, Switzerland, certainly one of the most beau- 
 tiful cities in the world, lying as it does upon the high and sloping 
 bank of lake Leman, or the lake of Geneva, as already stated ; adorn- 
 ed with squares and gardens, fine edifices, and delightful prome- 
 nades ; in sight also of the high Alps, with their snow-clad peaks ; 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and in the neighbourhood of Vevay, Chillon, Villeneuve, and other 
 places of classic and romantic interest ; at one time the residence 
 of Beza, and the chosen dwelling-place of Gibbon, the historian of 
 Rome. An Academy of considerable celebrity has existed here 
 since 1536, which in 1806, was elevated into an Academic Institute 
 (what in this country would perhaps be called a University), with 
 fourteen professors and a rector. It was also re-organized in 1838, 
 and separated, if I mistake not, from all immediate connection with 
 the national church. From its origin, Lausanne has been distin- 
 guished for its high literary culture, its refined and agreeable so- 
 ciety. It is the residence of many foreigners. 
 
 Destined to the ministry by his father, who regarded the clerical 
 profession as the most desirable and honourable of all, Vinet was 
 placed at the Academy of his native city, and pursued the ordinary 
 course of studies, occupied however more with literature than theo- 
 logy. Fortunately his mind was attracted, at an early period, to 
 the study of moral science, for which he possessed a decided genius, 
 and which exerted a very favourable influence, not only upon his 
 theological inquiries, but upon- his religious character. 
 
 At the age of twenty, two years before the legal termination of 
 his studies, he accepted a place as professor of the French language 
 and literature, in the Establishment of Public Instruction or Uni- 
 versity, at Bale (German, Basle), capital of the Canton of that name, 
 a fine old city on the banks of the Rhine, distinguished for its 
 Cathedral and University, once the residence of Oecolampadius, 
 the friend of Zuinglius, and one of the most eloquent preachers of 
 the Reformation, and also the burial-place of the celebrated Eras- 
 mus. Such an appointment is an incontestable evidence of the su- 
 periority of Vinet's talents, and the high reputation for scholarship 
 he had acquired even at that early period of his life. He made a so- 
 journ in Lausanne, in 1819, in order to submit to the requisite exa- 
 minations, and receive ordination as a minister of the gospel. He 
 returned to Bale, and continued there till 1837, as professor of the 
 French language and literature. It was during his residence in this 
 place that he published the most of his earlier writings, and esta- 
 blished his reputation as a preacher. In 1830, he published two 
 discourses, the one on the Intolerance of the Gospel, the other on the 
 Tolerance of the Gospel, which attracted great attention. They were 
 prefaced in the following style, furnishing a beautiful specimen of 
 the simplicity and modesty of his character. " Persons advanced 
 in Christian knowledge will find, we fear, little nutriment in these 
 
INTRODUCTION. XI 
 
 discourses. Nor is it to them we have felt ourselves called to 
 speak ; it would better become us to hear them. We have for- 
 bidden our words to transcend the limits of our personal emotions ; 
 an artificial heat would not be salutary. Nevertheless we hope 
 that to many persons we have spoken a word in season ; and we 
 cast it into the world, commending it to the Divine blessing, which 
 can make some fruits of holiness and peace to spring from it, for 
 the edification of the Christian church." 
 
 In this brief preface a peculiarity of all our author's productions, 
 and especially of his discourses, reveals itself. They are " born, 
 not made,'"' originated, not manufactured. His soul has never been 
 cast into any artificial mould. It has great clearness, elasticity and 
 strength. He is therefore entirely free from hackneyed phrases, and 
 stereotyped modes of thought. His discourses are drawn fresh from 
 his own profound spirit. While perusing them, you feel as if you 
 were listening, not to the mere preacher, but to the deep thinker 
 and the man of God. He never transcends the limits of his own 
 personal experience ; but that being the experience at once of a 
 great and a good man, it possesses a peculiar warmth and beauty. 
 "One must breathe the spirit," says Pindar, "before he can speak." — 
 " Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaketh," is the 
 testimony of Jesus Christ. Our author, we think, understands this, 
 and hence approaches as near as possible to the model which John 
 Foster has in his mind, when he insists so strongly on the necessity, 
 in evangelical writings, of naturalness and entire freedom from cant. 
 Indeed Vinet distinctly acknowledges the great importance of this 
 quality, and urges the same views as those of Foster's Essay on the 
 Aversion of Men of Taste to Evangelical Religion. In the Intro- 
 duction to the volume from which we have derived the greater part 
 of the Discourses which follow, he says : — " Feeble, I address my- 
 self to the feeble. I give to them the milk which has nourished my- 
 self. When some of us become stronger than the rest, we will to- 
 gether demand the bread of the strong. But I have thought that 
 those who are at the commencement of their course need some one, 
 who placing himself in their point of view, should speak to them 
 less as a preacher than as a man who precedes them by scarcely a 
 single step, and who is anxious to turn to their account the little 
 advance he has made upon them. 
 
 " It is perhaps desirable that every one, according to the measure 
 of knowledge which has been given him, should labour for the evan- 
 gelization of the world. In the number of those whom 1 may be 
 
Xll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 permitted to call candidates of the truth, there are perhaps some 
 souls that are particularly attracted by the kind of preaching I have 
 employed, and employed without choice ; for I could not choose it. 
 I say perhaps, and nothing more ; but what I affirm with more con- 
 fidence is, that it is important that each one should show himself 
 such as he is, and not affect gifts he has not received. 
 
 " I believe I am not mistaken in saying that among those who 
 speak or write on divine things there is an exaggerated craving for 
 uniformity. I know indeed that community of convictions and 
 hopes, the habit of deriving instruction from the same sources, the 
 intimate nature of the relations that subsist in Christian society, 
 must have produced, as their result, a unity of thoughts, of intel- 
 lectual habits, and even to a certain extent, of expression ; but 
 while we ought to admire this unity when it is produced, we ought 
 to make no effort to produce it. The generous freedom of Christianity 
 is repugnant to that timid deference for a conventional language 
 and a vain orthodoxy of tone and style ; nor does sincerity permit 
 us to adopt, as an expression of our individuality, a common type, 
 the imprint of which is alwaySj in some degree, foreign to us ; the 
 interest of our religious development demands that we should not 
 conceal from ourselves our real condition ; and nothing would be 
 more fitted to conceal it from ourselves than the involuntary habit 
 of disguising it to others. In fine, the beauty of the evangelical 
 work, and even unity itself, demand that each nature should mani- 
 fest itself with its own characteristics. Confidence is felt in unity, 
 when it produces itself under an aspect of variety ; community of 
 principle is rendered more striking by diversity of forms ; while uni- 
 formity being necessarily artificial, is always more or less suspected, 
 and involuntarily suggests the idea of constraint or dissimulation." 
 
 It was probably in Bale that Vinet formed those decidedly spiri- 
 tual views of religion, so clearly developed in all his discourses and 
 other writings. In this place, an evangelical influence in greater or 
 less degree, has existed ever since the time of the Reformation. 
 The labours of Oecolampadius, whom the good people of the city 
 were accustomed to call their bishop, the occasional presence and 
 preaching of the great Swiss reformer, Zuinglius, the decided piety 
 and activity of several of their most distinguished pastors and 
 preachers in subsequent times, and more recently the prevalence of 
 a noble missionary spirit, have conspired to impress an evangelical 
 character upon the place. It has of course suffered, like all other 
 cities in Switzerland and Germany, from the prevalence of rationa- 
 
INTRODUCTION. Xlll 
 
 lism, formalism, and infidelity ; still the fire of divine love has con- 
 tinued to burn upon its altars, with a pure, and we hope, brighten- 
 ing flame. The following extract from a historical sketch of the 
 Bale Missionary Society, written by one of its members, will give 
 some idea of the kind of influence prevalent there. 
 
 " Scarcely has a missionary or other religious German society 
 been favoured with a body of directors, richer in Christian graces 
 and spiritual gifts, than those men who gave one another the right- 
 hand of fellowship for the establishment of a missionary institution 
 at Basle in 1816. 
 
 " The twelve members of the Committee residing at Basle, were 
 clergymen and laymen belonging to different German and Swiss 
 churches ; namely, to the Reformed Church of Basle, the Lutheran 
 Church of Wurtemburg, and the Union of the Moravian brethren. 
 Yet never in these twenty-four years has the bond of peace been 
 broken on account of dogmatical differences. Loving and serving 
 one Lord, they have been one in his Spirit. The President of the 
 Committee for twenty-two years was one of the fathers of the Basle 
 Reformed Church, the Secretary one of the most enterprising Chris- 
 tians of the south of Germany, the originator, or co-originator of 
 many of the Christian institutions which have sprung up in the 
 neighbourhood of Basle, since the beginning of this century ; the 
 treasurer, one of the members of the Senate of Basle, and head of 
 one of the greatest mercantile houses of the city ; the principal of 
 the college, down to the end of the year 1838, the Rev. C. G. Bern- 
 hardt. The memory of these chief men among the Lord's people 
 in our country, and their worthy associates, will ever be dear to the 
 hearts of all the brethren of our mission. Dear father Von Brunn, 
 the senior of the Basle clergy, retired in 1838 from the chair of the 
 president. He is still alive, a venerable octogenarian, waiting in a 
 child-like spirit for his entrance into his eternal home. He was a 
 man mighty in the Scriptures, and mighty in prayer, powerful in 
 love, and skilful in comforting the troubled and heavy-laden. He 
 was, as the head of another Swiss church called him, the high-priest 
 of the mission. May his end be peace and his reward glory ! The 
 Rev. C. Blumhardt, who departed in December 1838, was a man 
 especially prepared, as it would seem, by the Lord, for the difficult 
 task of conducting the first German missionary institution of this 
 century, through a generation careless of religion, opposed to vital 
 godliness in every form, and scornful of every undertaking origina- 
 ting with the superstitious, bigoted and narrow-minded pietists. 
 
X *V INTRODUCTION. 
 
 When he died he left tho mission and the College flourishing, gain- 
 ing ground in public esteem and confidence, and prepared for more 
 extended action, and for the contemplation of enterprises of which 
 it would have appeared adventurous so much as to dream during an 
 earlier period of the mission." * 
 
 In 1836, Vinet published, in Paris, his " Discours sur quelques 
 Sujets Religieux" and some time after his " Nouveaux Discours," 
 which have passed through several editions, and attracted universal 
 admiration. It is from these two works we have selected the con- 
 tents of our volume, under the head of Vital Christianity, or Essays 
 and Discourses on the Religions of Man and the Religion of God. 
 On the whole we have decided to give to some of these composi- 
 tions the title of Essays, rather than of Discourses or Sermons, 
 because they are not all sermons, in our use of the term. Some of 
 them were never preached, and not even written for the pulpit, 
 though designed for a public assembly, before which they were 
 read. Hence they are at once philosophical and practical, didactic 
 and oratorical. To a great extent they combine all the advantages 
 of the lecture and the oration, the dissertation and the sermon. 
 The author has himself referred to this circumstance, expressing 
 his apprehension that it may be regarded as a defect, and states, in 
 his second volume, that if divested of certain forms of expression, 
 the discourses of that volume might be called studies, rather than 
 sermons. They are addressed, as we shall presently see, to a par- 
 ticular class of persons, and have a style of their own, although well 
 adapted to be useful to all who may read them. They develope 
 what the author styles the Religion of God, and contain one of the 
 ablest and most philosophical defences of evangelical Christianity. 
 They abound in acute and cogent reasoning, as well as splendid 
 illustration. Their logic is as striking as their oratory .t 
 
 * Am. Baptist Magazine, vol. xxiv, p. 301. 
 
 T That we have not overrated Vinet may be seen from the following extract 
 of a letter by the able correspondent of the New York Observer, M. G. de 
 Felice, Professor in the Theological Seminary at Montauban in France. 
 Speaking of his work on Church and State, he says : " It is a volume of 500 
 pages in 8vo, which bears the impress of the author's mind. M. Vinet is fond 
 of philosophical subjects, and discusses them in a masterly manner. What 
 would embarrass others, has no difficulty for him. He is naturally profound 
 and lofty, and can pursue his thoughts to the remotest abstractions. He is a 
 theoretical, rather than a practical man ; he dwells constantly in the regions 
 
INTRODUCTION. XV 
 
 In 1837, his native Canton tendered Vinet an invitation to suc- 
 ceed the Professor of Theology, in the Academy or College of Lau- 
 sanne, who, in consequence of age, had resigned his place; This 
 appointment was confirmed at the re-organization of the Academy 
 in 1838. Two years after he resigned his title as one of the na- 
 tional clergy, being unwilling to adhere, even by implication, to the 
 principles of the new ecclesiastical law, which, as Vinet himself says, 
 in a letter to the writer, places the church in the hands of the 
 State, and makes the ministers judges of each other's doctrines, 
 after having abolished all rule or system of theological instruction. 
 But the people, with whom Vinet is highly popular, insisted on his 
 retaining his professorship ; and thus having, in 1838, ceased to be 
 connected with the ecclesiastical establishment, he felt that he 
 could conscientiously discharge its duties. He occupies this sta- 
 tion at the present time, revered and loved by all who can appre- 
 ciate talent united with moral excellence. 
 
 Vinet has suffered some persecution for his enthusiastic adherence 
 to the cause of religious liberty. He was the subject, at one time, 
 of a civil prosecution, on account of certain expressions in one of 
 his writings, supposed, by the authorities of the Vaudois govern- 
 ment, to be seditious, or at least dangerous in their tendency. No 
 judgment, however, was rendered against him. It was the occasion 
 of his publishing an Essay on " Conscience and Religious Liberty," 
 the most of which is occupied with a personal defence. We per- 
 ceive by an extract from the Semeur, a religious periodical publish- 
 ed in Paris, and circulated in France and Switzerland, that a de- 
 cided movement has been made in the Cantons of Vaud and Geneva 
 in favour of the voluntary support of religious institutions, a result 
 to which the writings of Vinet have greatly contributed. " French 
 Switzerland," says the London Patriot, " has been occupied for 
 some time with discussion. The ecclesiastical law of the Canton 
 Vaud ; the recent revolution at Geneva ; the efforts of the minority 
 in Neufchatel to obtain their political rights ; the affair in the con- 
 vents in Argovia, and the civil conflicts in the Valais, have render- 
 ed it necessary to investigate, in the names of religion and philo- 
 sophy, the question of religious independence. It appears the mo- 
 ment has arrived to take more public measures." A convention on 
 the subject has been held in the city of Lausanne, the result of 
 
 of pure thought, in which he freely displays the full force and extent of his 
 mind." 
 
XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 which we have not yet learned, but it cannot fail to exert a favour- 
 able influence on the canse of religious freedom.* 
 
 The publications of our author are pretty voluminous, comprising 
 some ten or twelve volumes, with many fugitive pieces, published 
 in the Semeur and other periodicals. Some of these are prize essays, 
 couronne, crowned, as the expression is, by the Society of Christian 
 Morals. Nearly all of them have been translated into German, and 
 have passed through several editions. His productions on the sub- 
 ject of Christian morals are exceedingly valuable, and indeed all of 
 them abound in original and beautiful thoughts, and breathe an en- 
 larged spirit of Christian love and zeal. 
 
 The Essays and Discourses we have translated, are addressed 
 particularly to that large class of cultivated minds who have some 
 prepossessions in favour of Christianity, but who, from the influence 
 of latent scepticism, do not yield their hearts to its direct and all- 
 controlling influence. This circumstance, as already suggested, 
 stamps upon them a peculiar character. It has rendered them at 
 
 * "While the above was going through the press, a letter, published in the 
 New York Observer, from M. G. de Felice, gives the following information 
 relative to the meeting referred to : — 
 
 " The meeting was numerous ; members came from several cities of French 
 Switzerland. After long deliberations, the four following articles were adopt- 
 ed:— 
 
 " B I. They declare that they desire to act only in a manner conformed to 
 the word of God. Hence, in order to render unto Csesar the things that 
 are Cassar's, they recognize that it is their duty to obey the magistrate in all 
 that is not contrary to the word of God. They will employ, therefore, to ob- 
 tain the object they propose, only such means as are conformed to this word. 
 And in order to render unto God the things that are God's, they consider that 
 they are under obligation to do all in their power for the advancement of the 
 kingdom of God, namely, for the triumph of the doctrines of the faith, for 
 purity of worship and morals ; and it is for this end that they are met. 
 
 " ' IT. They believe that God forbids alike to Church and State, all claim 
 to interfere, as such, in one another's domains. 
 
 " ' III. One of the characteristic doctrines of the Scriptures is, in their 
 view, that religious acts are not agreeable to God, unless they are voluntary and 
 spontaneous. 
 
 " ' IV. They think that it is at once the duty and the precious privilege of 
 Christian churches to govern themselves, according to the word of God only, 
 under the direction of the Holy Spirit, and under the supreme authority of 
 Jesus Christ, the sole Head of the Church.' 
 
 " It is also announced, that a Society is about to be formed in French Swit- 
 zerland for the promotion and advancement of the voluntary system. Time 
 will shcfcw what hold this work has on public sentiment." 
 
INTRODUCTION. XVI! 
 
 once profound and practical. But it has also given rise to some in- 
 convenience in the use of words, as the author himself acknow- 
 ledges. For example, the words reason, nature, life, are occasion- 
 ally used in their strict and philosophical sense, then again in their 
 more loose and general import. At one time, reason is commend- 
 ed and exalted as the gift of God, and the criterion of truth ; at ano- 
 ther, it is contemned and rejected as an impostor and a cheat. In 
 the one case, he evidently refers to reason legitimate and true, oc- 
 cupying its own sphere, and performing its proper work ; in the 
 other, to reason perverted and false, transcending the limits which 
 God has assigned it, assuming extravagant pretensions, and trampling 
 upon the plainest principles of science and revelation. Indeed, as 
 the author suggests, the word in these instances is used in two dif- 
 ferent senses. " So far as the words nature and reason designate 
 that foundation of moral and intellectual truth which we carry with- 
 in us, those universal and immutable principles, to which all sys- 
 tems appeal, which are admitted in the most opposite theories, 
 and on the common ground of which opponents the most decided 
 are compelled to re-unite, at least for a moment, nature and reason 
 merit the homage I have rendered them ; for if, in my discussions, 
 I had not set out from this given point, whence could I set out ? 
 But so far as reason and nature, instead of receiving the light of 
 God, instead of appealing to it, and using its rays to illuminate 
 their pathway, pretend to create that light, or to speak more exact- 
 ly, so far as it is pretended, in the name of nature and reason, which 
 disavow such an undertaking, to communicate to man an illumina- 
 tion, and a power, which must come from on high, I erect myself 
 against that abuse. And if, in conforming to a usage, more oratorical 
 than philosophical, I designate that abuse by the name of those 
 powers which give occasion for it, if I call nature and reason those 
 pretensions which are raised in the name of nature and reason, I 
 confide in the attention and good faith of my readers, without con- 
 cealing what the severity of philosophical language might demand 
 from me." With this explanation, every intelligent reader will 
 make the distinctions, clearly indicated by the spirit and scope of 
 the author's reasoning. 
 
 " Philosophers and men of the world," says Vinet, in the intro- 
 duction to the first volume of his discourses, " invite us, in some 
 sense, to meet them ; having lingered long in the precincts of phi- 
 losophy, they approach towards the sanctuary. The secret of life, 
 its final word, is demanded from all quarters ; and should we, who 
 
XV111 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 know that final word, be avaricious of it ; should we refuse to speak 
 it, because we must speak it to philosophers in a language less fa- 
 miliar to us than to them 1 That word is of all languages ; it is sus- 
 ceptible of all forms : it has a thousand different expressions ; for 
 it is found at the termination of all questions, at the close of all 
 discussions, at the summit of all ideas. Long or short, direct or 
 indirect, every road is true that conducts to the foot of the cross." 
 
 The author, however, modestly disclaims all pretension of 
 " preaching Christ in the Areopagus, or entering the lists with the 
 doctors," — but adds, that he had involuntarily turned towards " that 
 numerous class of cultivated men, who, educated in the bosom of 
 Christendom, and imbued, if the expression may be allowed, with 
 Christian prepossessions, feebly struggle either against their own 
 heart, frightened by the solemn aspect of Christianity, or against 
 that too general impression, that Christianity, so necessary, so 
 beautiful, so consoling, cannot be justified in the eyes of reason." 
 
 As to the first difficulty, he proceeds to say, " The Christian 
 writer will not consider it his duty to remove it by abstracting any 
 thing from the serious character of the gospel. On the contrary, 
 he is gratified to find this prepossession established ; it is one error 
 less to eradicate. The fear which the gospel has produced is a 
 commencement of adhesion. It is this very seriousness which the 
 minister of the gospel ought to cultivate to maturity. As to the 
 second difficulty, which turns," says he, " on the old opposition be- 
 tween faith and reason," he makes the following admirable remarks. 
 
 " He who speaks of revealed religion, speaks of a system which 
 reason cannot discover ; because it is necessary that God himself 
 should communicate it to us, by supernatural means. The Chris- 
 tian, then, rejects reason, so far as it professes to produce or create 
 the truth, he does, in his sphere, what the true philosopher does in 
 his ; for the latter admits, by virtue of an internal revelation, facts 
 for the discovery of which reason is of no use. The philosopher 
 has not to demonstrate, a priori, the facts of internal revelation, a 
 revelation without antecedents, and anterior to all other acquisi- 
 tions. The theologian, on his part, recognizes, in revealed facts, an 
 acquisition superior to all acquisitions ; he no longer proves these 
 facts, for to prove them would be to create them. By acting thus, 
 he does not deny reason ; on the contrary, he makes use of it. And 
 this is the place to observe, that reason, that is to say, the nature 
 of things, in whatever point of view we place ourselves, will always 
 be to us the criterion of truth and the basis of faith. The truth 
 
INTRODUCTION. XIX 
 
 without us must always be measured and compared with the truth 
 within us : with that intellectual conscience, which, as well as the 
 moral conscience, is invested with sovereignty, gives judgments, 
 knows remorse ; with those irresistible axioms which we carry 
 within us, which form a part of our nature, and are the support and 
 groundwork of all our thoughts ; — in a word, with reason. In this 
 sense, every doctrine is held to be reasonable ; which, however, is 
 not to say that every doctrine is held to be accessible to reason ; 
 nothing hinders it from receiving that which surpasses it. More- 
 over, beyond this inviolable limit, the theologian finds space and 
 employment for his reason ; he even applies it, in two different 
 ways, to the facts of the supernatural revelation he announces. 
 First of all, he developes the proofs of the authenticity of such a 
 revelation ; then he applies himself to prove its necessity, as well 
 as its harmony, with the immutable nature of the human heart, — 
 in a word, the perfect reasonableness of a system which reason has 
 not discovered. Nay, the further this system is removed in its 
 principles, from the discoveries of human reason, the more does its 
 coincidence with it become striking and admirable. Thus, in 
 Christian preaching, reason abdicates on one point, but only on one ; 
 it is satisfied not to comprehend, not to be able to construct, a 
 priori, the principal facts of Christianity, and transfers them to the 
 heart, which embraces them, elaborates and vivifies them ; but it 
 finds, in a neighbouring sphere, the rich indemnities we have just 
 indicated. By itself alone it cannot form the Christian, but it pre- 
 pares him ; it conducts from the natural to the supernatural, those 
 whom the powerful energy of the Holy Spirit has not transported, 
 without intermediate steps, into the high sphere of the faith of the 
 heart. Thus the essential opposition which is proclaimed between 
 reason and faith has no real existence ; they are two powers reign- 
 ing in two distinct spheres. Those, therefore, who would make 
 Christianity faith alone, and those who claim that it should be reason 
 alone, are equally mistaken ; it is both ; — it takes possession at once 
 of thought and feeling ; it withdraws from examination, and lends 
 itself to it by turns ; it has its darkness and its light. The theo- 
 logian is bound to prove himself well informed ; he ought to con- 
 ciliate to the gospel the respect of reason itself ; but he ought by no 
 means to place the gospel on the same level with reason ; nay, he 
 ought carefully to guard against this. 
 
 " Between the two extremes we have exhibited, the rationalist 
 preachers appear to seek a middle ground ; but he would be very 
 
XX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 simple who did not perceive that one of these extremes attracts 
 them powerfully and claims them wholly. How ungrateful, too, 
 their task ! To reduce every thing to the principles of nature, is 
 evidently their pretension ; to cause reason to usurp the place of 
 faith, to extirpate from religion, by little and little, every thing 
 serious, is the obvious aim of their labours. But when they have 
 succeeded, they will find themselves, like ordinary philosophers, 
 face to face with mystery. What have they gained ? Absolutely 
 nothing ; except to have taken a longer and more expensive route. 
 I suspect unbelieving logicians find the rationalists indifferent 
 philosophers. 
 
 " Is it perhaps that in rationalizing the gospel, they have found a 
 system more perfect than those which philosophy can produce ? 
 As to certainty, their system possesses nothing more than any 
 other ; as to intrinsic value, they might find one as good and 
 plausible, without making use of the gospel. That meagre Chris- 
 tianity, which they put in the place of the true, has nothing peculiar 
 or individual, nothing which elevates it above the theories of mere 
 reason. They imagine that by retrenching the facts of a transcen- 
 dental sphere, that is to say, supernatural facts, they are merely 
 drawing the blade from its scabbard ; let them say rather, they 
 have cast away the blade, and that the hilt only remains in their 
 hands. Stripped of the great fact of expiation, and all that cluster 
 of ideas connected with it, what, I ask, is Christianity 1 For ordi- 
 nary minds, an ordinary morality ; for others, an abyss of incon- 
 sistencies.* 
 
 * A striking evidence of this is found in the following passage from Lessing, 
 a distinguished German critic, but unfortunately a sceptic on the subject of 
 Christianity, as quoted by Dr Pye Smith, in his Scripture Testimony to the 
 Messiah, Vol. III., p. 236. Speaking of the liberal or rationalist divines of his 
 country, he says, " Under the pretence of making us rational Christians, they 
 have made us most irrational philosophers. * * I agree with you that our 
 old religious system is false ; but I cannot say, as you do, that it is a botch- 
 work of half philosophy and smatterings of knowledge. I know nothing in 
 the world that more drew out and exercised a fine intellect. A botch-work 
 of smatterings and half philosophy is that system of religion which people now 
 want to set up in the place of the old one ; and with far more invasion upon 
 reason and philosophy than the old one ever pretended to. If Christ is not 
 the True God, the Mahomedan religion is indisputably far better than the 
 Christian, and Mohammed himself was incomparably a greater and more 
 honourable man than Jesus Christ ; for he was more truth- telling, more cir- 
 cumspect in what he said, and more zealous for the honour of the one and 
 only God, than Christ was, who if he did not exactly give himself out for God, 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXI 
 
 " I am persuaded that true philosophers will find that evangelical 
 preachers have taken a position more solid and philosophical. 
 And we attach value to this suffrage ; for if philosophy as a science 
 does not inspire us with much confidence, so far as it relates to the 
 solution of the great problem of life, it is not so with philosophy as 
 a method, or with the philosophical spirit. The art of abstracting, 
 of generalizing, of classifying principles, will never be disdained by 
 enlightened Christian preachers ; besides, there is a Christian phi- 
 losophy. Retained within certain limits, it has its use in preach- 
 ing, and even in life. 
 
 " If it is a means, it ought to be employed. The times are omi- 
 nous. Society is evidently in a state of crisis. Never was the 
 impotence of human wisdom, to consolidate the repose of nations 
 and the welfare of humanity, more completely proved. Philosophy, 
 deserting in despair its ancient methods, is abandoning itself to 
 mysticism. In its need of some other light than its own, it has 
 recourse to revelations, it is giving itself things to believe ; it will 
 believe them so long as it thinks it has invented them. It is ours 
 to point out to it what has never entered the heart of man, — ours 
 to render it more and more sensible of that obscure want which 
 begins to have some consciousness of itself, that longing to attach 
 reason to faith, and science to something revealed." 
 
 That there is a Christian philosophy, a religion of God, as far 
 superior to all human philosophies and all human religions as the 
 heavens are higher than the earth, no believer in divine revelation 
 can doubt. Tt is not, however, a speculation or a theory, but a 
 system of absolute and authoritative truth, so simple and so prac- 
 tical, that all, even the unlettered peasant and the degraded slave, 
 can receive it and apply it as the power of God unto salvation. 
 After rejecting with contempt the wisdom or philosophy of [this 
 world, the apostle Paul adds : " Howbeit, we speak wisdom (philo- 
 sophy) among them that are perfect, yet not the wisdom of this 
 world, nor of the princes of this world which come to nought ; but 
 we speak the wisdom of God in a mystery." That is to say, this 
 philosophy, or religion of God, is a revelation from above, or the 
 developement by God himself of what otherwise would be a mys- 
 
 yet at least said a hundred two-meaning things to lead simple people to think 
 so ; while Mohammed could never be charged with a single instance of double- 
 dealing in this way." How true it is, that to abstract the doctrines of the 
 Godhead and atonement of Jesus Christ from the New Testament, is to leave 
 it an abyss of inconsittencies / 
 
 B 
 
XX11 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tery or secret, a philosophy therefore of original and positive truths, 
 a definite, absolute, authoritative philosophy. It is thence to be 
 received, not as a deduction of reason, but as an inspiration from 
 on high, a doctrine, altogethar peculiar, altogether divine, "the 
 wisdom of God in a mystery, even the hidden wisdom which God 
 ordained before the world, to our glory ; — for it is written, Eye 
 hath not seen, ear hath not heard, neither have entered into the 
 heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that 
 love him." These things are the original facts spoken of by our 
 author, as equivalent in authority to the great intuitive truths 
 which all philosophers admit without proof, and antecedent to all 
 speculation. Of such revealed facts, philosophy has never dreamed. 
 Her eye has never seen them. Her ear has never heard them ; her 
 soul has never conceived aught even resembling them. They are 
 hidden from the world entirely. For what man, to quote the lan- 
 guage of St Paul, knoweth the things of man, save the spirit of man 
 that is in him 1 And who but the Spirit of God knows the things 
 of God ? Man may know himself ; man can alone know what passes 
 in his own interior nature. No being in the universe, but God and 
 himself, can know the facts of his own mental experience. But 
 while man may be conversant with his own mind, he cannot be 
 conversant with the mind of God. Therefore the Spirit of God 
 must give us a religion, in other words, reveal to us the mind of 
 God. It is as impossible for man to give us a perfect religion, as it 
 is for one born blind to give us the knowledge of colours. It is 
 true that man is made in the image of God ; and he may thence 
 infer, in a general way, that God is an intelligent, designing and 
 governing Being, and that he will be controlled by the principles of 
 righteousness and benevolence ; but a finite mind can never be the 
 gauge of one that is infinite. No creature can take upon himself to 
 reveal the designs, and mark out the conduct of his Creator, in all 
 the possible cases in which it may be necessary for him to inter- 
 pose in the affairs of mankind. Man may perfectly manifest him- 
 self, but he cannot perfectly manifest God. It would be an infinite 
 presumption for him to announce the principles on which the Al- 
 mighty will dispose of imperfect and sinful beings, and what pro- 
 vision he will make for them in the everlasting future. This is a 
 matter pertaining to the mind or Spirit of God ; it is a subject for 
 an exclusive and authoritative revelation. " But God hath revealed 
 them unto us by his Holy Spirit." Hence the religion of God, or 
 Christianity, is not a deduction, but a testimony, not a system of 
 
INTRODUCTION. XX111 
 
 opinions, but a manifestation of truth. The natural man, that is 
 the uninspired or unenlightened man, cannot know, cannot discover 
 " the things" of such a revelation ; for they are spiritually dis- 
 cerned. They shine only in their own light, can be seen only in 
 their own light. Properly speaking, they cannot be proved, they 
 do not need to be proved.* Like the sun, or the stars of heaven, 
 they need only to be seen. They decline all attestation and sup- 
 port from man's philosophy. They infinitely transcend all his 
 science and logic. In a word, they are divine, they proceed from 
 the Infinite Mind, are matters of pure revelation, and are to be re- 
 ceived, in adoring reverence, on the simple ground of his indisput- 
 able authority. Man can measure the stars, and subdue the light- 
 ning ; he can descend into the bowels of the earth, and bring together 
 the petrified relics of past generations, and thence write the his- 
 tory of the earth's revolutions ; nay, he can analyze his own feel- 
 ings, and construct a mental philosophy ; but he cannot enter the 
 mind of God, he cannot fathom the depths of his infinite counsels. 
 " Who by searching, can find out God, who can find out the Al- 
 mighty to perfection ? It is higher than heaven, what can we do, 
 deeper than hell, what can we know 1 The measure thereof is 
 longer than the earth, and broader than the sea.*' Who then will 
 venture to sit in judgment on " the things that are freely given us 
 of God ;" or arraign the wisdom of a scheme for the redemption of 
 man originating in the mind of Jehovah ? 
 
 Those that convey this revelation to us demand investigation as 
 divine messengers. They court it even, they glory in it. For this 
 purpose they present divine credentials, miracles, prophecies, in- 
 spiration, that is, indisputable and well known facts, which he who 
 runs may read ; but they will not allow this message itself to be 
 questioned by a human tribunal, to which, from the very nature of 
 the case, it cannot submit. That message they convey to us as a 
 testimony from Heaven, a philosophy from the Infinite, a religion 
 from God. And who shall say that it is not refulgent with the 
 light which irradiates the eternal throne ? 
 
 That Jesus Christ, his apostles and ministers existed, that they 
 wrought stupendous miracles, 1 that they fully authenticated their 
 mission, who that knows history, who that has read the New Tes- 
 tament, can doubt 1 Reason decides this point, and decides it on 
 
 * We use the term proved here in its strict logical sense, as equivalent to 
 demonstrated. No one needs to prove that the sun shines. He sees it, he 
 feels it. 
 
XXIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the same principles on which it proves any fact in science and his- 
 tory. But the communication which these divine messengers bring 
 to the world, is another thing. While it is revealed through selected 
 instrumentalities, it proceeds from God, and has no taint of human 
 imperfection. In the great truths of Christianity, we have abso- 
 lutely and truly the mind of God. This was the constant claim of 
 Christ and his apostles ; and if their credentials cannot be sus- 
 tained, the whole falls to the ground as a deception or a dream. 
 That man who disputes the miracles and the historical facts, call- 
 ing them myths and legends, denies the gospel, rejects Christianity. 
 He makes the Son of God an impostor, and his apostles fanatics, 
 fools or knaves. He would leave us without a revelation, and 
 prove himself a more honest, and a more able man than Jesus or 
 Paul. But the credentials of the Christian witnesses can be sus- 
 tained, the miracles of Christ and his apostles can be proved. The 
 Son of God must have risen from the dead ; or all history lies, all 
 testimony is false, all virtue is a cheat. A spiritual Christianity, 
 and a perfect system of morals, at once written and embodied, is an 
 impossibility without a historical Christianity. It is the life with- 
 out the man. As well then might you destroy the body for the 
 purpose of saving the life, as abstract the soul of Christianity from 
 the outward form in which its divine Author enshrined it. 
 
 Having ascertained, by means of reason, the reality of the histo- 
 rical facts of Christianity, we are thus compelled to receive the 
 revelation which it conveys to us, as the religion of God. 
 
 Well, then, it may be asked, shall " the mind of God" permit 
 itself to be questioned by the mind of man ? Shall the decisions 
 of Infinite Wisdom appear before a human tribunal ? Shall a di- 
 vine philosophy, a method of pardon and eternal life from God 
 himself be submitted to the meagre philosophy and the petty logic 
 of the men of this world 1 Shall the gospel of Christ, the religion 
 of the ever blessed God, bow down and do homage to the gross 
 materialism of one set of philosophers, or the transcendental mys- 
 ticism of another ? Above all, shall it be forced to cast off all its 
 glories, and lie in the dust a withered and degraded thing, to gra- 
 tify the pride of some rhapsodizing spiritualist, who believes him- 
 self wiser than Christ, and all his apostles ? No ! the foolishness 
 of God is wiser than man, and the weakness of God is stronger than 
 man. Christianity is either true or false, divine or human. If 
 true, if divine, it is absolutely true, absolutely divine. It is a mat- 
 ter of infinite obligation, and must be received in all its length and 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXV 
 
 breadth of authority and application. We do not want simply to 
 think, to hope, to imagine : we want to know, to believe, to rejoice. 
 In man, however, we can never confide. A philosophy, either all 
 human, or half human and divine, we cannot trust. We need a 
 religion from God, an absolute religion, a perfect and indestructible 
 faith, a religion for life, a religion for death, a religion for immor- 
 tality ; so that " our faith may stand, not in the wisdom of man, 
 but in the power of God." With this, we shall be safe, with this, 
 happy and triumphant, 
 
 " Amid the wreck of matter, and the crash of worlds !" 
 The world by wisdom never knew God, never can know God, 
 All attempts to discover, that is, to work out and excogitate a per- 
 fect religion, must, from the nature of the case, prove utter failures. 
 In fact, the thing involves an impossibility ; for, as water can never 
 rise above its own level, — since the part is never equal to the 
 whole, — since imperfection and sin can never comprehend the in- 
 finite and the holy, — so man can never give us the knowledge of 
 the true God and eternal life. Never can he solve the mighty 
 problem, " How shall man be just with God V ' How shall the 
 unclean unite itself with the pure, the finite with the infinite, the 
 fallen with God 1 The Father of spirits must himself interpose, 
 and give us such clear and explicit information, that no sincere and 
 humble man may err, upon points of such vast and thrilling inte- 
 rest. 
 
 If, then, philosophy cannot discover a perfect religion, it cannot 
 certainly modify and improve the one already given us by God. 
 Like the sun, this may have its obscurities, nay, it may be dark 
 from excess of brightness. But this is no more than might have 
 been expected. Indeed, this very circumstance is one of the most 
 striking evidences of its divinity. A religion from God must have 
 its aspect of mystery and difficulty. It belongs to the infinite, it 
 runs into eternity. Its truths are the stars of a boundless expanse, 
 and are set in a firmament of gloom. All nature is mysterious ; 
 but who would think of improving it 1 Can any one give sweeter 
 hues to the rose of Sharon, or the lily of the valley 1 Can he whiten 
 the driven snow, or impart a deeper blue to the arch of heaven ? 
 Can he give a nobler curve to the neck of the war-horse, or add a 
 more beautiful green to the grass of the fields 1 Can he dispose the 
 stars above him in more perfect order, or add a deeper lustre to their 
 silvery light ! What, then, can speculative philosophy do for the 
 Christian religion 1 What can reason add to the power of God, 
 
XXVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and the wisdom of God ? Above all, shall philosophy dare to re- 
 move a single tint, a single leaf or flower, not to speak of a branch 
 or limb, from the great Christian tree 1 Shall we permit it to tar- 
 nish the glory of God manifest in the flesh, the worth of Christ's 
 atoning sacrifice, or the beauty and perfection of the new-born soul ? 
 No ! it has nothing to do with religion, but to adore it, to fall pro- 
 strate at the feet of the Son of God, and " crown him Lord of all." 
 
 And yet, speculative philosophy has ever been tampering with 
 Christianity, ever debasing its purity, ever weakening its power. 
 By commingling her own imaginations with the plain declarations 
 of God, she has produced what Lord Bacon calls " malasana ad- 
 mixtio" infinitely worse than positive error itself ; for the corrup- 
 tion of a good thing, as Horace suggests, ever becomes the worst of 
 all. Nay, more, philosophy has even asserted a sort of supremacy 
 over Christianity, now modifying this, now changing that, now add- 
 ing one feature, and then abstracting another, till religion, in her 
 hands, has been transformed from an angel of light into a hideous 
 phantom, or an unsubstantial ghost. What ! human philosophy 
 superior to religion ! Human reason above divine ! Why, that is 
 to cast down Jehovah from his supremacy, and exalt man to the 
 throne. 
 
 But what is philosophy 1 The speculations of one man, and 
 nothing more. In its last analysis it is reduced to this. For it has 
 no existence separate from the mind of an individual, and no autho- 
 rity but what it derives from this source. It is the system of 
 Spinoza or of Descartes, of Leibnitz or of Wolf, of Kant or of Hegel, 
 of Locke or of Helvetius. It is the notions, perhaps, of JoufFroy, of 
 Cousin, of Carlyle, or of some inferior spirits. A number of such 
 persons may unite in defending their favourite theories or peculia- 
 rities. They may form a school, and give currency to a system; 
 but their combination, in this case, gives their opinions.no additional 
 authority. They are still the speculations or notions of distinct 
 and independent individuals. To be received they must pass into 
 other individual minds, into mine or thine, as it may happen, and 
 thus possess no weight except as the probable reasonings or plau- 
 sible speculations of a single fallible intellect. They may be true, 
 but they are just as likely to be false, nay, they are more likely to 
 be false than true. Hence they are ever fluctuating and passing 
 away. One theory supersedes another, and all become feeble and 
 effete with age. Time will devour the whole of them. And the 
 reason of this is found in the simple fact that they consist of 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXV11 
 
 speculations on subjects and relations which lie beyond the bounds 
 of the finite mind, and in nine cases out of ten, are but the splen- 
 did imaginations of gifted but erring men. In such a case, then, to 
 assume a superiority over the religion of God, is to deify the indi- 
 vidual reason, to dethrone God and worship self. 
 
 Reason, as Vinet clearly shews, has her province, and a noble one 
 it is. It is hers to examine the credentials of the divine messen- 
 gers, to question their character and purposes, to hear the voice of 
 God, and in some cases to explain and enforce its meaning ; for she 
 is conversant with man, in whose language God speaks to us, and 
 with whose modes of thought, feeling and expression, reason is 
 entirely familiar. It is hers to admire and develope the beauty and 
 harmony of the religion of God ; when received and authenticated, 
 to trace the connections of its various parts, the analogy of its 
 principles to the teachings of nature, and the consistency of its 
 facts with the profoundest experience of the human heart. Reason 
 has been called " lucerna Dei," " the candle of the Lord within 
 us ;" but certainly it is not fitted to illuminate the sun. It has 
 also been denominated, " the eye of the soul ;" and if it is so, most 
 assuredly its proper function is simply to receive the light, not to 
 mingle it with its own visions and obscurities. In that light it 
 may see things new and strange, perhaps startling ; nevertheless it 
 must receive them without a murmur. It is not placed in the soul 
 to create the light, or to change it in any way, but to receive it as 
 it shines from the heaven of heavens. 
 
 But men talk of reason, as if it were a God, as if they themselves 
 were God ; and thence plunge headlong into the infinite ocean of 
 speculation and uncertainty. In their adventurous course, their 
 heated imagination may see many strange sights, and their pen may 
 describe them in language of surpassing eloquence ; but they will 
 soon find themselves in the very abyss of doubt, perhaps of despair. 
 Indeed we learn, from the whole experience of the past, that the 
 abandonment of an authoritative revelation, and an eager, consist- 
 ent pursuit of what is called " the truth," meaning by this, the ab- 
 solute nature of things, ever conducts to infidelity or mysticism, to 
 transcendental and impalpable spiritualism, or to absolute and 
 atheistic doubt. i 
 
 For the same reason, much of the religion which is popular and 
 fashionable in certain quarters, or what is sometimes dignified with 
 the title of rational Christianity, is not religion, but philosophy, 
 not absolute faith, but human opinion. It consists perhaps of an 
 
XXV111 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 admixture of philosophical speculation with Christianity, or it is 
 Christianity eviscerated and withered, by the refining process of 
 rationalistic criticism. Hence it is ever changing in its character, 
 and gradually but irresistibly tends to infidelity, to whose ranks it 
 is constantly transferring its votaries. It is ever learning, ever 
 advancing and improving, as its abettors would say, but never 
 comes to the knowledge of the truth. In one case, it is transcen- 
 dentalism and the gospel, in another, materialism and Christianity ; 
 in a third, a vague mixture of all sorts of notions ; and in a fourth, 
 a single feature or element of the gospel, surrounded with the 
 grossest scepticism, like a single tree or fountain in a boundless 
 desert. 
 
 How clear, then, it is, that we need to be believers, not specula- 
 tors ; men of God, not mere philosophers. The soul of man longs 
 for certainty and rest, absolute security and untroubled repose. 
 Where shall we find it 1 In the dreams of speculative philosophy ? 
 In transcendental mysticism ? In cold and heartless rationalism ? 
 In the endless diversities, the beautiful but ever-shifting visions of 
 rational or liberal Christianity 1 No ! — but in the cross of Christ ; 
 in the atonement and intercession of the great Mediator ; in that 
 good hope through grace, inspired, not put, begotten, not made, by 
 the indwelling Spirit of the Son of God. 
 
 The importance of these principles is receiving the most striking 
 illustrations in the present day. Not understanding them, and not 
 finding sure anchorage in the haven of absolute and authoritative 
 revelation, some are driven abroad upon the open sea of conjecture 
 and doubt ; now impelled towards the rocks of infidelity ; now 
 imagining they have discovered the promised land ; the Eldorado 
 of philosophy and religion, in some new and visionary theory, or in 
 some singular and unheard-of system of Biblical interpretation ; then 
 contending with the waves of scepticism ; and finally engulphed in 
 the roaring surge of atheism and despair. One rejects the divinity 
 and inspiration of Christ, justification by faith, and the regenera- 
 tion of the soul by the Holy Spirit ; — and, in order to maintain his 
 theory, casts away some portions of the word of God, and subjects 
 others to a most tortuous and ungenerous criticism. Another 
 spiritualizes the whole, and establishes his philosophy or his creed, 
 on the ruins of common sense and all established principles of 
 scriptural criticism. While a third, wiser forsooth than all the 
 rest ! rejects one-half of the word of God as puerile, and makes 
 myths and legends of the rest ; casts away the prophecies and the 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXIX 
 
 miracles ; denies the incarnation and resurrection of Christ ; in- 
 sists that Jesus was only a man, a good and a noble-hearted man, 
 but nothing more ; maintains that other Christs may yet arise, 
 greater even than he was ; and that all of Christianity is transient, 
 except one or two great principles ; and pours contempt on the 
 mediation and atonement of Christ, which the whole company of 
 apostles, and the church of all ages, have regarded as the power 
 of God and the wisdom of God unto salvation ! 
 
 Others there are, who, after infinite wanderings, and the most 
 strange and startling changes, " ever learning, but never coming to 
 the knowledge of the truth," like Cain, vagabonds in the realm of 
 spiritual things, seeking rest and finding none, finally abandon the 
 pursuit as hopeless, and neglecting the great salvation, rush into 
 the open arms of Rome, renounce their individuality, and find re- 
 pose in the absolute and infallible dogmas of a corrupt and super- 
 stitious church. Such persons may imagine they have entered a 
 magnificent palace, but it will be found that they are enclosed 
 within the walls of a horrid prison. They have mistaken the des- 
 potism of man for the religion of God. 
 
 We have been constrained to make these remarks introductory 
 to the Essays of our author, because we deem them of great mo- 
 ment at the present time, and in the hope that they may dispose 
 some to read, with greater interest, his lucid and striking delinea- 
 tions of the religion of God. 
 
 As to the translation, we may be permitted to say that we have 
 endeavoured to steer a middle course between a rigidly literal, and 
 a very free version. It has been our aim, as much as possible, to 
 preserve the peculiarities of the author ; but we have not felt our- 
 selves bound, in every case, to give the exact turn or order of 
 expression, particularly in those cases in which a literal rendering 
 would have been a bad, or a clumsy one. Still, in several instances, 
 we have retained the French idiom, believing that its occasional 
 use gives interest and vivacity to the translation. Vinet is by no 
 means an easy author to translate. The original and philosophical 
 cast of his thoughts, the delicacy of his conceptions, and the refined 
 but beautiful turns of his expression, are not easy to transfer into 
 clear and elegant English. Indeed, a perfect rendering of any book 
 is scarcely attainable, but an approximation to it may be made by 
 repeated efforts. After all, much of the beauty and power of a 
 great and original work must be lost by the transference, like the 
 delicate bloom of flowers, which is liable to vanish in the process 
 
XXX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of transplantation. But we have done what we could, to present 
 the thoughts and expression of our author to English readers ; and 
 " we cast it into the world," to use his own words, "commending 
 it to the Divine blessing, which can cause some fruits of holiness 
 and peace to spring from it for the benefit of the Christian church." 
 Should this volume be acceptable to the public, it may be fol- 
 lowed by another of a similar kind, containing the author's remain- 
 ing discourses. 
 
 R. T. 
 Boston. 
 
YITAL CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 i. 
 
 THE KELIGIONS OF MM AOT THE KELIGION OF GOD. 
 
 " Things which have not entered into the heart of man." — 1 Cob. ii. 9. 
 
 Humanity hath separated itself from God. The storms of 
 passion have broken the mysterious cable which retained the 
 vessel in port. Shaken to its base, and feeling itself driven 
 upon unknown seas, it seeks to rebind itself to the shore ; it 
 endeavours to renew its broken strands ; it makes a desperate 
 effort to re-establish those connections, without which it cannot 
 have either peace or security. In the midst of its greatest 
 wanderings, humanity never loses the idea of its origin and 
 destiny; a dim recollection of its ancient harmony pursues and 
 agitates it ; and without renouncing its passions, without ceasing 
 to love sin, it longs to re-attach its being, full of darkness and 
 misery, to something luminous and peaceful, and its fleeting 
 life to something immovable and eternal. In a word, God has 
 never ceased to be the want of the human race. Alas ! their 
 homage wanders from its proper object, their worship becomes 
 depraved, their piety itself is impious ; the religions which 
 cover the earth are an insult to the unknown God, who is their 
 object. But in the midst of these monstrous aberrations, a 
 sublime instinct is revealed ; and each of these false religions 
 is a painful cry of the soul, torn from its centre and separated 
 from its object. It is a despoiled existence, which, in seeking 
 
32 THE RELIGIONS OP MAN, 
 
 to clothe itself, seizes upon the first rags it finds ; it is a dis- 
 ordered spirit, which, in the ardour of its thirst, plunges, all 
 panting, into fetid and troubled waters ; it is an exile, who, in 
 seeking the road to his native land, buries himself in frightful 
 deserts. 
 
 From the brutal savage, who kisses the dust from the feet of 
 some hideous idol, to the magi of the East, adoring in the sun 
 the immortal soul of nature, and the principle of all existence, 
 to those unhappy nations who think to render him homage, by 
 the most shameful excesses, the religious principle every where 
 makes itself known. Man cannot renounce either his sins or 
 God ; his corruption chains him to this world, a mysterious in- 
 stinct impels him towards that which is invisible. Between 
 these two opposing forces he makes no choice : he attempts to 
 reconcile two incompatible elements ; he confounds his morality 
 with his devotion ; he makes gods resembling himself, in order 
 to offer them a worship analogous to his own evil thoughts ; he 
 erects even his vices into divinities ; his religion becomes the 
 faithful mirror of his natural corruption ; in a word, he de- 
 grades the idea of the Divinity, but he cannot do without it ; 
 and he prefers infamous gods rather than adore nothing. 
 
 But what do all these different religions procure for him ? 
 Nothing but a torment added to all his other torments ; a pain- 
 ful, humiliating subjection ; frequently the necessity to do vio- 
 lence to the most cherished feelings of his nature ; no solid hope ; 
 no internal repose ; no moral perfection ; such is the value of 
 that mysterious instinct, a species of importunate craving which 
 he can neither stifle nor satisfy. So that he who looks upon 
 religion in the various terrestrial forms with which it has clothed 
 itself, might say, with an appearance of reason, that it is one 
 of the greatest evils nature has inflicted on humanity. 
 
 These fabulous creeds, it is true, disappear before Christian- 
 ity ; for the least effect of that august religion, is to produce a 
 disgust with all others. No new worship will establish itself 
 on the earth ; the field of invention in the matter of positive 
 religions is irrevocably enclosed. But in the shadow of Chris- 
 tianity, and in the very bosom of the church itself, there flou- 
 
AND THE RELIGION OF GOD. 33 
 
 rish certain religions, without a history, without form and name, 
 which, to many persons, take the place of Christianity. These 
 religions, which owe more to it than their votaries imagine, are 
 nothing more than an effort of the different faculties of the 
 soul, of their own accord, to put themselves in communication 
 with the Deity. It is the imagination, the sentiment, the rea- 
 son, and the conscience, seeking together, or each by itself, to 
 satisfy the longing they have for God. And it is worthy of 
 remark, that these different religions are particularly those of 
 cultivated minds, who wish to find a neutral ground between 
 Christianity, which appears to them too simple and unintellec- 
 tual, and atheism, by which they are appalled. But let us 
 inquire if these religions are better fitted than gross pagaDism 
 to satisfy the various wants of the human soul. 
 
 What, in reference to religion, are the wants of man ? He 
 is ignorant of divine things; he needs a religion to enlighten 
 him. He is unhappy from the evils of this life, and the un- 
 certainty of his future destiny ; he needs a religion to console 
 him. In fine, he is a sinner ; he needs a religion to regenerate 
 him. Let us seek these various characteristics in the four reli- 
 gions of the imagination, the intellect, the sentiment, and the 
 conscience. 
 
 To some, the Deity is revealed only in that which is fitted 
 to strike the imagination. It is not the essence of the Being 
 of beings, uor his moral character, nor his will, which chiefly 
 occupies their attention, but that part of his being by means of 
 which he is rendered, in some measure, sensible to our regards. 
 It is the universe, that is to say, time, space, forms, in which 
 are reflected his eternity, his greatness and his power. If the 
 spectacles of nature in themselves are grand and sublime, how 
 much are they elevated by the idea of that Word which called 
 from nothing all their magnificence ; of that Intelligence whicli 
 presides over all those mighty movements, which encloses as 
 many wonders in the worm that dies under our feet, as in the 
 formation and government of suns ! What charm and what 
 beauty are added to the splendour of the starry heavens, to the 
 savage harmony of the raging seas, to the smiling landscape of 
 
34 THE RELIGIONS OF MAN, 
 
 fields and woods under the beams of the morning sun, by the 
 thought of the universal Spirit, which silently circulates through 
 all beings, and which seems to reveal its immortal existence, 
 and utter its voice divine, amid all the motions and all the 
 sounds of the universe ! So that, frequently, man, absorbed in 
 the contemplation of these wonders, unites himself, by his en- 
 thusiasm, to the concert of the creation ; his imagination feasts 
 on the idea of God, and he believes himself to possess religion. 
 
 The imagination, the reason, the sensibility, the conscience, 
 however, are four altars set up, between which the sacred flame 
 is divided ; but imagination is not the whole of man ; it is not, 
 by far, his best part. When the imagination has been excited 
 in this way, is man any more like God ? Is he more worthy 
 of God ? And not to go even so far, has he more of peace or 
 consolation ? No ! the charm is evanescent ; from those heights 
 to which imagination raises him, man falls back upon himself, 
 and finds not God there ;. and the mighty spectacles in which 
 he has mingled, only make him feel the enormous dispropor- 
 tion between the universe so full of God, and his soul so void 
 of God. 
 
 Others, in smaller number, seek to bring themselves into 
 union with the Divinity by intelligence. To analyze the divine 
 attributes, to harmonize them, to explain the connection of the 
 Creator with the creation ; in a word, to form, with reference 
 to God and divine things, a body of systematic doctrine, is the 
 task they impose upon themselves ; and such labours, it must 
 be confessed, are a noble exercise of thought. But a principal 
 defect of this form of religion is, that it is less a religion than 
 a study. Ordinarily the man who stops here seeks less to 
 satisfy a want of his heart than a curiosity of his mind. Ab- 
 stracted from himself, isolating himself from the things he con- 
 templates, in order the better to contemplate them, application, 
 practice, his personal relation to these high truths, occupy his 
 attention but feebly ; he acquires some additional ideas, but 
 these ideas produce in him neither emotion nor change. And, 
 indeed, how can he be changed by the things which always re- 
 main uncertain to his mind ? The field of religious ideas, 
 
AND THE RELIGION OF GOD. 35 
 
 when it is trodden by the foot of natural reason, is only a field 
 of problems and contradictions. The further one advances, the 
 more his darkness increases ; and he ends by losing even those 
 primary notions and instinctive beliefs which he possessed be- 
 fore he entered it. This is the experience of all the systems of 
 all the schools in every age of the world. The history of phi- 
 losophy teaches us that these investigations, whenever eagerly 
 and incautiously pursued, lead to the most terrible doubts, to 
 the very borders of the abyss. It is there, face to face with 
 the infinite, the jDhilosopher sees realities dissolve, certainties 
 the most universal vanish, his own personality become a prob- 
 lem ! There he sees world and thought, observation and ob- 
 server, man and God, swallowed up and lost, before his terrified 
 vision in the boundless immensity of a horrible chaos ! It is 
 there that, seized with a mysterious dread, he asks back, with 
 anxious emotion, the world of finite beings and intelligible 
 ideas, which he wishes he had never abandoned. Thus his 
 religion, all thought, neither enlightens, converts, nor consoles 
 him ; and he finds himself as far removed from his aim as be- 
 fore his laborious investigations.* 
 
 * That speculative philosophy has been a fruitful source of scepticism and 
 irreligion, no one at all acquainted with its history will deny. The class of 
 philosophers of whom Benedict Spinoza and G. W. F. Hegel are fair repre- 
 sentatives, have generally rejected the Christian faith, and not only so, but the 
 existence of a personal God, and the immortality of the soul. Nor is this a 
 matter of surprise ; for they transcend the boundaries of all fair and legitimate 
 inquiry. Contemning the slow and laborious investigation of facts and evi- 
 dence, as empirical and shallow, and speculating fearlessly upon 
 '■' Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute, 11 
 
 they lose themselves in the untried and desolate regions which lie beyond the 
 limits of human inquiry. Now they seem to make every thing matter ; then 
 they seem to make every thing mind ; anon they talk learnedly of " the whole," 
 as if nature were God, and God nature, without any distinction, except that 
 which exists between the absolute and relative, the real and phenomenal. 
 Occasionally they appear to admit the existence of an independent and per- 
 sonal God, at other times to deny it altogether. They spurn the common, and 
 especially the Christian notion of a supreme Jehovah, distinct from and supe- 
 rior to all the works of the creation, and adopting a profounder strain, repre- 
 sent the Deity as the eternal movement of the universal principle, the ever- 
 streaming immanence of spirit in matter, which constantly manifests itself in 
 individual existences, and which has no true objective (real) existence but in 
 
36 THE RELIGIONS OF MAN, 
 
 Feeling this, many persons reject these idle speculations and 
 acknowledge no religion but that of sentiment. This, they say, 
 is good ; and certainly, all religion that proceeds not from the 
 heart is sterile and vain. Let us, however, examine. We are 
 speaking of a religion of sentiment. Without doubt this sen- 
 timent is love, and a love which has God for its object ; — in 
 which case it must be acknowledged that the best kind of reli- 
 gion is also the rarest, or that the love spoken of is a feeling 
 exceedingly barren, an affection, so to speak, without result. 
 Many great things are done on the earth, things at least that 
 men call great. The activity of the mind responds to the acti- 
 vity of outward life. Each day sees some new plans brought 
 to light, some new enterprises begun. But amid all these ac- 
 tions, form an estimate of those which have for their principle 
 the love of God, and you will admit, if the religion of love be 
 the best, it is not the practice of a great number. In fact, the 
 love of God, if by this you mean a love, real, earnest, domi- 
 nant, is not natural to the heart of man. And let us be 
 honest ; how can we love, with such love, a God from whom 
 we are far removed by our sins and the worldliness of our af- 
 fections ; a God, who, in our better moments, cannot appear to 
 us except in the aspect of a judge ; a God, whose paternal 
 
 these individuals, which pass away again into the infinite." These are the 
 words of Strauss, author of the " Leben Jesu^ whose rejection of a historical 
 Christianity is the legitimate fruit of his speculative philosophy, just as a simi- 
 lar rejection of the Christian miracles, and particularly the miracle of Christ's 
 resurrection, by Theodore Parker, is the fruit of the metaphysical system, 
 which, as he remarks himself, " underlies" his theology. " Strauss," says 
 Professor Tholuck, in his " Anzeiger," for May 1836, "is a man who knows 
 no other God than him who, in the human race, is constantly becoming man. 
 He knows no Christ but the Jewish rabbi, who made his confession of sin to 
 John the Baptist ; and no heaven but that which speculative philosophy re- 
 veals for our enjoyment on the little planet we now inhabit." To the same 
 purpose is Strauss 's own language : — " As man, considered as a mere finite 
 spirit and restricted to himself, has no reality, so God, considered as an infinite 
 Spirit, restricting himself to his infinity, has no reality. The infinite Spirit 
 has reality only so far as he unites himself to finite spirits (or manifests him- 
 self in them), and the finite spirit has reality only so far as he sinks himself in 
 the infinite." — LebenJesu, p. 730. 
 
 Such is the last result of that boasted philosophy, which begins by explain- 
 ing every thing, and ends with doubting every thing. — T. 
 
AND THE RELIGION OF GOD. 37 
 
 providence is veiled from our minds, because we know no bet- 
 ter, or do not know at all, the adorable secret of all his pro- 
 cedure toward us ? How can we love him, so long as we can- 
 not account for the disorders of the physical and the moral 
 worlds, and while the universe appears to us a vast arena, in 
 which chance puts in competition justice and injustice, and 
 coldly decides between them ? A doubt, a single doubt on the 
 end of life, arid the intentions of God would serve to tarnish, 
 nay more, to extinguish, in the anxious heart, the first germs 
 of love. But this is, more or less, the condition we are in, 
 without the light of revelation. To what then is love reduced, 
 and by consequence, the religion of sentiment, in the greater 
 number of the persons who appear to have approached the 
 nearest to its attainments. What ! does he, think you, love 
 God, who opens his heart merely to the fugitive emotion, which 
 is excited by the view of his beneficence spread over the whole 
 face of nature ? Does he love him, who, following the degree 
 of sensibility with which he is endowed, yields to an involun- 
 tary tenderness, at the thought of that immense paternity which 
 embraces all animated beings, from the seraph to the worm ? 
 One may experience this kind of love, and never be changed. 
 If anything is evident, it is that the sensibility which frequently 
 overflows in tears, often leaves in the heart a large place for 
 selfishness ; just as our fellow-men do not always derive any 
 advantage from the tenderness we have felt at a distance from 
 them. Love, true love of God, is a love of his truth, of his 
 holiness, of his entire will ; true love is that which is reflected 
 in obedience ; that which renews and purifies the conscience. 
 
 This brings us to the fourth religion, which man makes for 
 himself, that of conscience. It is well, then, if in our turn we 
 can say, this is good. For what is conscience, but the impulse 
 to do the will of God, and to resemble Him ? And what do we 
 want when we have arrived at this ? Let us congratulate those 
 who cleave to the religion of conscience, and regret that their 
 number is so small. But what am I saying ? Congratulate them ! 
 Let us think a little ! Have we reflected on the course that 
 opens before them ? The religion of conscience ! Is it not that 
 
38 THE RELIGIONS OF MAX, 
 
 which commands us to live for God, to do nothing but for God ; 
 to devote ourselves, body and soul, entirely to Him ? Is it not 
 that which teaches us that to refuse any thing to Him, is to rob 
 Him; because by sovereign right, everything within and with- 
 out us belongs to Him ? Is it not that which teaches that we 
 cannot do too much for Him, and that all our future efforts can 
 never compensate for a single past neglect ? Is it not that, then, 
 which condemns our life, absolutely and irrevocably, and pre- 
 sents us before Him, not as children, not even as supplicants, 
 but as condemned criminals ? Say, then, if the religion of con- 
 science is good ! Yes ! for consciences free, indulgent to them- 
 selves, without delicacy, and without purity ; but the greater 
 your attachment to your duties, the more scrupulous you are to 
 fulfil them, the more severe and complete the idea you have 
 formed of the divine law, the more shall that religion be ter- 
 rible to you ; and, so far from offering you consolations, it will 
 take away from you one by one all those you might derive 
 from yourselves. Quit, for a moment, the scenes of the pre- 
 sent, and the circle of Christianity; observe, at a glance, the 
 religion of mankind, enter all their temples, look upon all their 
 altars ; — what do you see ? Blood ! Blood to honour the Deity ! 
 Ah ! we are compelled to say that blood is there, for a thousand 
 virtues neglected, a thousand obligations broken, a thousand 
 enormities committed ; that blood is the cry of a thousand con- 
 sciences, which demand, from their entire nature, an impossible 
 reparation, that blood is the solemn and terrible acknowledge- 
 ments of the truth I urge upon you. And would you form an 
 idea of this need of expiation ? Know, then, that the impossi- 
 bility of solving the problem, the anguish of turning for ever 
 in a circle, without issue, has driven man to a kind of despair, 
 a despair which has become barbarous. For the sake of find- 
 ing a worthy victim, man has recourse to man himself ; — human 
 blood has flowed in the temples, and the torment has not ceased ; 
 human blood has effaced nothing ! To what victim, then, should 
 man resort ? To a God ? But how should such a thing enter 
 into the heart of man ? 
 
 "We have passed in review all the systems of religion which 
 
AND THE RELIGION OF GOD. 39 
 
 would seem possible without Christianity. We think we have 
 presented them with fidelity ; we have done them justice ; we 
 have taken nothing from them. We might have demanded 
 from them an account of what they owe to Christianity, and 
 caused them to do honour to that holy religion, by a greater 
 part of what they possess of what is specious, good, and in- 
 teresting, but we have abstained from that ; we have confined 
 ourselves, without further examination, to showing you the 
 strength and the weakness of these systems. You are now, 
 therefore, in a condition to pronounce judgment upon them. 
 So far as it relates to us, here is our conclusion. In vain has 
 man, in his search for the supreme good, called into exercise 
 his reason, his imagination, his heart, and his conscience ; in 
 vain has he laid all his powers under contribution ; in vain 
 has he done all that it is possible for man to do ; every where 
 in his systems there appear chasms wide and deep. The triple 
 object of all religion, to enlighten, console, and regenerate, is 
 fulfilled neither by the one nor the other of these religions, nor 
 by all of them together. Is the religion of the imagination the 
 subject of inquiry ? That is the charm of a few fugitive mo- 
 ments ; it is neither the light, the support, nor the sancti fixa- 
 tion of the soul. Do we try the religion of thought ? Its only 
 reasonable pretension is to enlighten ; but it fulfils it so badly, 
 that it does nothing more than deepen the gloom which rests 
 on religion. Do we address ourselves to the religion of senti- 
 ment ? It moves the surface of the soul ; it does not reach its 
 depths, it does not regenerate it. In fine, the best of all these 
 religions, that of conscience, by its very excellence, demon- 
 strates the impotence of man to form a religion for himself. It 
 can only show us the chasm which sin has made between us 
 and God ; but it cannot fill it up. It teaches us, that in order 
 to be united to God, two things are necessary, which it does 
 not give us, and which none of our faculties can give us, — 
 Pardon and Regeneration. The man who pretends to ac- 
 complish, by his own power, the work of his salvation, must 
 first pardon, and then regenerate himself. It, is necessary he 
 should efface the very last vestige of all his former sins, that 
 
40 THE RELIGIONS OF MAN, 
 
 is to say, that he should do what cannot be done. It is more- 
 over necessary, that, declaring war with his nature, he should 
 force it to love God, to love the good, to hate the evil ; that he 
 should renew his inclinations from their foundation ; in a word, 
 that he should destroy the old man, and create in himself the 
 new. To ask you, if you can do such things, is to ask, if a 
 criminal, alone in the bottom of his dungeon, can provide his 
 own letters of pardon, or a combatant, chained hand and foot, 
 can promise himself the victory. It is to ask you, if you can 
 do that to-morrow, which you cannot do to-day ; it is to ask 
 you, if it will ever be possible, with the powers of your nature 
 alone, to re-make that nature. 
 
 Nevertheless, there is not without this, a religion complete 
 and satisfying, — say rather there is no religion at all. And 
 without this, you have reason to believe yourselves abandoned 
 by God. Ah ! why should you not turn your attention to that 
 gospel, which seems to have divined all the secrets of your na- 
 ture, and which meets all the wants of your soul ! Why should 
 not the view of the cross, where your pardon is written, the 
 promise of the Holy Spirit, source of Regeneration, cause 
 you to leap for joy ! Why should you not with ardour, desire 
 that the doctrine which remedies all, harmonizes all, satisfies 
 all, should be as true as it is beautiful ! Why can you give 
 yourself a moment's repose, before you enlighten your minds 
 respecting it, by all the means in your power ? If such a reli- 
 gion has not been given to man, he must die ; yes, die of grief 
 for having been condemned to live, — die of grief for having 
 been formed with insatiable desires after perfection, with an 
 ardent thirst for God, and to feel that these desires, and this 
 thirst, are only a cruel deception, a fatal mockery of the un- 
 known power that created us ! 
 
 But shall I hear from Christians, not the joyous accents of 
 souls convinced, but the anxious appeals of hearts that are doubt- 
 ing still ? No ! let us together hail with our benedictions, that 
 religion, alone complete, which responds to all the wants of 
 man, in offering to each of his faculties an inexhaustible aliment ; 
 a religion of the imagination, to which it offers magnificent pro- 
 
AND THE RELIGION OF GOD. 41 
 
 spects ; a religion of the heart, which it softens by the exhibi- 
 tion of a love above all love ; a religion of thought, which it 
 attaches to the contemplation of a system, the most vast and 
 harmonious ; a religion of the conscience, which it renders at 
 once more delicate and tranquil ; but, above all, a religion of 
 the grace and love of God ; for it is necessarily all these com- 
 bined. Why should not the truth entire, satisfy man entire ? 
 Let us hail, with admiration, that religion which reconciles all 
 these contrasts, a religion of justice and grace, of fear and love, 
 of obedience and liberty, of activity and repose, of faith and 
 reason ; for if error has cut up and divided every thing in man, 
 if it has made of his soul a vast scene of contradictions, truth 
 brings back all into unity. Such is the religion which never 
 entered into the heart of man, even in the highest culture of 
 his moral sense, and the most extensive development of his in- 
 telligence ; or, as the apostle expressss it, " which none of the 
 princes of this world have known." 
 
 That which remained concealed from philosophers and sages, 
 in the most brilliant periods of the human intellect, twelve poor 
 fishermen, from the lakes of Judea, quitted their nets to an- 
 nounce to the world. Certainly they had not more of imagi- 
 nation, of reason, of heart, or of conscience, than the rest of 
 mankind ; yet they put to silence the wisdom of sages, emptied 
 the schools of philosophers, closed the gates of every temple, 
 extinguished the fire on every altar. They exhibited to the 
 world their crucified Master, and the world recognized in him 
 that which their anxious craving had sought in vain for three 
 thousand years. A new morality, new social relations, and a 
 new universe sprung into being, at the voice of these poor 
 people, ignorant of letters, and of all philosophy. It remains 
 with your good sense to judge, if these twelve fishermen have 
 used their own wisdom, or the wisdom which cometh from 
 above. 
 
 "We stop at this point, — man is found incapable of forming 
 a religion, and God has come to the aid of his weakness. Bless, 
 then, your God, from the bottom of your heart, you, who after 
 long search, have, at last, found an asylum. And you who 
 
42 THE RELIGIONS OF MAN, AND THE RELIGION OP GOD. 
 
 still float on the vast sea of human opinions, you who, violent- 
 ly driven from one system to another, feel your anguish in- 
 creasing, and your heart becoming more and more tarnished ; 
 you who to this day have never been able to live with God, 
 nor without God, — come and see, if this gospel, scarcely noticed 
 by your heedless eyes, is not perhaps that, for which you call 
 with so many fruitless sighs. And, thou, God of the gospel ! 
 God of nations ! Infinite Love ! reveal thyself to wounded 
 hearts, make thyself known to fainting spirits, and cause them 
 to know joy, peace, and true virtue. 
 
43 
 
 II. 
 THE MYSTEEIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 « Things which have not entered into the heart of man."— 1 Cor. ii. 9. 
 
 We have seen that we are not in a condition to give our- 
 selves a religion, and that God, in his goodness, has conde- 
 scended to aid our weakness. But the reason of man does not 
 voluntarily permit itself to be convinced of impotence ; it does 
 not willingly suffer its limits to be prescribed ; it is strongly 
 tempted to reject ideas which it has not conceived, a religion 
 which it has not invented ; and if the doctrines proposed to it 
 are, in their nature, mysterious and incomprehensible, this feel- 
 ing of dissatisfaction proceeds to open revolt, and in the case of 
 many, results in an obstinate scepticism. 
 
 I do not comprehend, therefore I do not believe ; the gospel 
 
 is full of mysteries, therefore I do not receive the gospel ; 
 
 such is one of the favourite arguments of infidelity. To see 
 how much is made of this, and what confidence it inspires, we 
 might believe it solid, or, at least, specious ; but it is neither 
 the one nor the other ; it will not bear the slightest attention, 
 the most superficial examination of reason; and if it still en- 
 joys some favour in the world, this is but a proof of the light- 
 ness of our judgments upon things worthy of our most serious 
 attention. 
 
 Upon what, in fact, does this argument rest ? Upon the 
 claim of comprehending every thing in the religion which God 
 has offered or could offer us. A claim equally unjust, unrea- 
 sonable, useless. This we proceed to develope. 
 
 In the first place, it is an unjust claim. It is to demand of 
 
 / 
 
44 THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 God what he does not owe us. To prove this, let us suppose 
 that God has given a religion to man, and let us further sup- 
 pose this religion to be the gospel ; for this absolutely charges 
 nothing to the argument. We may believe that God was free, 
 at least, with reference to us, to give us or not to give us a re- 
 ligion ; but it must be admitted that in granting it, he contracts 
 eno-ao-ements to us, and that the first favour lays him under a 
 necessity of conferring other favours. For this is merely to 
 say, that God must be consistent, and that he finishes what he 
 has begun. Since it is by a written revelation he manifests 
 his designs respecting us, it is necessary he should fortify that 
 revelation by all the authority which would at least determine 
 us to receive it ; it is necessary he should give us the means of 
 judging whether the men who speak to us in his name are 
 really sent by him ; in a word, it is necessary we should be 
 be assured that the Bible is truly the word of God. 
 
 It would not indeed be necessary that the conviction of each 
 of us should be gained by the same kind of evidence. Some 
 shall be led to Christianity by the historical or external argu- 
 ments ; they shall prove to themselves the truth of the Bible, 
 as the truth of all history is proved ; they shall satisfy them- 
 selves that the books of which it is composed are certainly those 
 of the times and of the authors to which they are ascribed. 
 This, settled, they shall compare the prophecies contained in 
 these ancient documents with the events that have happened in 
 subsequent ages ; they shall assure themselves of the reality of 
 the miraculous facts related in these books, and shall thence 
 infer the necessary intervention of Divine power, which alone 
 disposes the forces of nature, and can alone interrupt or modify 
 their action. Others, less fitted for such investigations, shall 
 be struck with the internal evidence of the Holy Scriptures. 
 Finding there the state of their souls perfectly described, their 
 wants fully expressed, and the true remedies for their maladies 
 completely indicated ; struck with a character of truth and 
 candour which nothing can imitate ; in fine, feeling themselves, 
 in their inner nature, moved, changed, renovated, by the mys- 
 terious influence of these holy writings, they shall acquire, by 
 
THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 45 
 
 such means, a conviction of which they cannot always give an 
 account to others, but which is not the less legitimate, irresis- 
 tible, and immovable. Such is the double road by which an 
 entrance is gained into the asylum of faith. But it was due 
 from the wisdom of God, from his justice, and, we venture to 
 say it, from the honour of his government, that he should open 
 to man this double road ; for if he desired man to be saved by 
 knowledge, on the same principle, he engaged himself to fur- 
 nish him the means of knowledge. 
 
 Behold, whence come the obligations of the Deity with refe- 
 rence to us, — which obligations he has fulfilled. Enter on this 
 double method of proof. Interrogate history, time and places, 
 respecting the authenticity of the Scriptures ; grasp all the dif- 
 ficulties, sound all the objections ; do not permit yourselves to 
 be too easily convinced ; be the more severe upon that book, 
 as it professes to contain the sovereign rule of your life, and 
 the disposal of your destiny ; you are permitted to do this, nay, 
 you are encouraged to do it, provided you proceed to the inves- 
 tigation with the requisite capacities and with pure intentions. 
 Or, if you prefer another method, examine, with an honest 
 heart, the contents of the Scriptures ; inquire, while you run 
 over the words of Jesus, if ever man spake like this man ; in- 
 quire, if the wants of your soul, long deceived, and the anxieties 
 of your spirit, long cherished in vain, do not, in the teaching 
 and work of Christ, find that satisfaction and repose which no 
 wisdom was ever able to procure you ; breathe, if I may thus 
 express myself, that perfume of truth, of candour and purity 
 which exhales from every page of the gospel ; see, if, in all 
 these respects, it does not bear the undeniable seal of inspira- 
 tion and divinity. Finally, test it, and if the gospel produces 
 upon you a contrary effect, return to the books and the wisdom 
 of men, and ask of them what Christ has not been able to give 
 you. But if, neglecting these two ways, made accessible to 
 you, and trodden by the feet of ages, you desire, before all, 
 that the Christian religion should, in every point, render itself 
 comprehensible to your mind, and complacently strip itself of 
 all its mysteries ; if you wish to penetrate beyond the veil, to 
 
 D 
 
46 THE MYSTERIES OP CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 iind there, not the aliment which gives life to the soul, but that 
 which would gratify your restless curiosity, I maintain that 
 you raise against God a claim the most indiscreet, the most 
 rash and unjust ; for he has never engaged, either tacitly or 
 expressly, to discover to you the secret which your eye craves ; 
 and such audacious importunity is fit only to excite his indig- 
 nation. He has given you what he owed you, more indeed 
 than he owed you ; — the rest is with himself. 
 
 If a claim so unjust could be admitted, where, I ask you, 
 would be the limit of your demands ? Already you require 
 more from God than he has accorded to angels ; for these eter- 
 nal mysteries which trouble you, — the harmony of the divine 
 prescience with human freedom, — the origin of evil and its 
 ineffable remedy, — the incarnation of the eternal Word, — the 
 relations of the God-man with his Father, — the atoning virtue 
 of his sacrifice, — the regenerating efficacy of the Spirit-com ■ 
 forter, — all these things are secrets, the knowledge of which is 
 hidden from angels themselves, who, according to the word of 
 the apostle, stoop to explore their depths, and cannot. If you 
 reproach the Eternal for having kept the knowledge of these 
 divine mysteries to himself, why do you not reproach him for 
 the thousand other limits he has prescribed to you ? Why not 
 reproach him for not having given you wings, like a bird, to 
 visit the regions which till now have been scanned only by 
 your eyes ? Why not reproach him for not giving you, be- 
 sides the five senses with which you are provided, ten other 
 senses which he has perhaps granted to other creatures, and 
 which procure for them perceptions of which you have no 
 idea ? Why not, in fine reproach him, for having caused the 
 darkness of night to succeed the brightness of day invariably 
 on the earth ? Ah ! you do not reproach him for that. You 
 love that night which brings rest to so many fatigued bodies 
 and weary spirits ; which suspends, in so many wretches, the 
 feeling of grief ; — that night during which orphans, slaves and 
 criminals cease to be, because over all their misfortunes and 
 sufferings, it spreads, with the opiate of sleep, the thiek veil of 
 oblivion ; you love that night, which, peopling the deserts of 
 
THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 4? 
 
 the heavens with ten thousand stars, not known to the day, re- 
 veals the infinite to our ravished imagination. Well, then, 
 why do you not, for a similar reason, love the night of divine 
 mysteries, — night, gracious and salutary, in which reason 
 humbles itself, and finds refreshment and repose ; where the 
 darkness even is a revelation ; where one of the principal attri- 
 butes of God, immensity, discovers itself much more fully to 
 our mind ; where, in fine, the tender relations he has permitted 
 us to form with himself, are guarded from all admixture of 
 familiarity, by the thought, that the Being who has humbled 
 himself to us, is, at the same time, the inconceivable God who 
 reigns before all time, who includes in himself all existences 
 and all conditions of existence, — the centre of all thought, the 
 law of all law, the supreme and final reason of every thing ! 
 So that, if you are just, instead of reproaching him for the 
 secrets of religion, you will bless him that he has enveloped 
 you in mysteries. 
 
 But this claim is not only unjust towards God ; it is also in 
 itself exceedingly unreasonable. 
 
 What is religion ? It is God putting himself in communi- 
 cation with man ; the Creator with the creature, the infinite 
 with the finite. There already, without going further, is a 
 mystery ; a mystery common to all religions, impenetrable in 
 all religions. If, then, every thing which is a mystery offends 
 you, you are arrested on the threshold, I will not say, of Chris- 
 tianity, but of every religion ; I say, even of that religion which 
 is called natural, because it rejects revelation and miracles ; 
 for it necessarily implies, at the very least, a connection, a com- 
 munication of some sort between God and man, — the contrary 
 being equivalent to atheism. Your claim prevents you from 
 having any belief; and because you have not been willing to 
 be Christians, it will not be allowed you to be deists. 
 
 " It is of no consequence," you say, " we pass over that dif- 
 ficulty ; we suppose between God and us connections we cannot 
 conceive ; we admit them because they are necessary to us. 
 But this is the only step we are willing to take ; we have 
 already yielded too much to yield more." Say more, — say 
 
48 THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 you have granted too much not to grant much more, not to 
 grant all ! You have consented to admit, without compre- 
 hending it, that there may be communications from God to 
 you, and from you to God. But consider well what is implied 
 in such a supposition. It implies that you are dependent, and 
 yet free, — this you do not comprehend ; — it implies that the 
 Sjjirit of God can make itself understood by your spirit, — this 
 you do not comprehend ; — -it implies that your prayers may 
 exert an influence on the will of God, — this you do not com- 
 prehend. It is necessary you should swallow all these mys- 
 teries, in order to establish with God connections the most 
 vague and superficial, and by the very side of which atheism 
 is placed. And when, by a powerful effort with yourselves, 
 you have done so much as to admit these mysteries, you recoil 
 from those of Christianity ! You have accepted the founda- 
 tion, and refuse the superstructure ! You have accepted the 
 principle, and refuse the details ! You are right, no doubt, so 
 soon as it is proved to you that the religion which contains 
 these mysteries does not come from God ; or rather, that these 
 mysteries contain contradictory ideas. But you are not justi- 
 fied in denying them, for the sole reason that you do not under- 
 stand them ; and the reception you have given to the first kind 
 of mysteries, compels you, by the same rule, to receive the 
 others. 
 
 This is not all. Not only are mysteries an inseparable part, 
 nay, the very substance of all religion ; but it is absolutely im- 
 possible that a true religion should not present a great number 
 of mysteries. If it is true, it ought to teach more truths re- 
 specting God and divine things, than any other, than all others 
 together ; but each of these truths has a relation to the in- 
 finite, and by consequence, borders on a mystery. How should 
 it be otherwise in religion, when it is thus in nature itself ? 
 Behold God in nature ! The more he gives us to contemplate, 
 the more he gives to astonish. To each creature is attached 
 some mystery. Each grain of sand is an abyss ! Now, if the 
 manifestation which God has made of himself in nature suggests 
 to the observer a thousand questions which cannot be answered, 
 
THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 49 
 
 how will it be, when to that first revelation, another is added ; 
 when God the Creator and Preserver reveals himself under 
 new aspects as God the Reconciler and Saviour ? Shall not 
 mysteries multiply with discoveries ? With each new day shall 
 we not see associated a new night ? And shall we not pur- 
 chase each increase of knowledge with an increase of igno- 
 rance ? Has not the doctrine of grace, so necessary, so con- 
 soling, alone opened a profound abyss, into which, for eighteen 
 centuries, rash and restless spirits have been constantly plung- 
 ing ? 
 
 It is, then, clearly necessary that Christianity should, more 
 than any other religion, be mysterious, simply because it is 
 true. Like mountains, which, the higher they are, cast the 
 larger shadows, the gospel is the more obscure and mysterious 
 on account of its sublimity. After this, will you be indignant 
 that you do not comprehend everything in the gospel ? It 
 would, forsooth, be a truly surprising thing, if the ocean could 
 not be held in the hollow of your hand, or uncreated wisdom 
 within the limits of your intelligence ! It would, be truly un- 
 fortunate, if a finite being could not embrace the infinite, and 
 that, in the vast assemblage of things, there should be some 
 idea beyond its grasp ! In other words, it would be truly un- 
 fortunate, if God himself should know something which man 
 does not know. 
 
 Let us acknowledge, then, how insensate is such a claim 
 when it is made with reference to religion. 
 
 But let us also recollect how much, in making such a claim, 
 we shall be in opposition to ourselves ; for the submission we 
 dislike in religion, we cherish in a thousand other things. It 
 happens to us every day to admit things we do not understand ; 
 and to do so without the least repugnance. The things, the 
 knowledge of which is refused us, are much more numerous 
 than we perhaps think. Few diamonds are perfectly pure ; 
 still fewer truths are perfectly clear. The union of our soul 
 with our body is a mystery ; our most familiar emotions and 
 affections are a mystery ; the action of thought and will is a 
 mystery ; our very existence is a mystery. Why do we admit 
 
50 THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 all these various facts ? Is it because we understand them ? 
 No, certainly, — but because they are self-evident, and because 
 they are truths by which we live. Id religion we have no 
 other course to take. We ought to know whether it is true 
 and necessary ; and once convinced of these two points, we 
 ought, like the angels, to submit to the necessity of being ig- 
 norant of some things. 
 
 And why do we not submit cheerfully to a privation, which 
 after all is not one ? To desire the knowledge of mysteries is 
 to desire what is utterly useless ; it is to raise, as I have said 
 before, a claim the most vain and idle. What, in reference to 
 us, is the object of the gospel ? Evidently to regenerate and 
 save us. But it attains this end entirely by the things it re- 
 veals. Of what use would it be to know those it conceals 
 from us ? We possess the knowledge which can enlighten our 
 consciences, rectify our inclinations, renew our hearts ; what 
 should we gain, if we possessed other knowledge ? It infinitely 
 concerns us to know that the Bible is the word of God ; does 
 it equally concern us to know in what way the holy men that 
 wrote it were moved by the Holy Ghost ? It is of infinite im- 
 portance for us to know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God ; 
 need we know precisely in what way the divine and human 
 natures are united in his adorable person ? It is of infinite im- 
 portance for us to know that unless we are born again we can- 
 not enter the kingdom of God, and that the Holy Spirit is the 
 author of that new birth ; — shall we be further advanced, if 
 we know the divine process by which that wonder is perform- 
 ed ? Is it not enough for us to know the truths that save ? Of 
 what use, then, would it be to know those which have not the 
 slightest bearing on our salvation ? " Though I knew all mys- 
 teries," says St Paul, " and have not charity, I am nothing." 
 St Paul was content not to know, provided he had charity ; shall 
 not we, following his example, be content also without know- 
 ledge, provided that, like him, we have charity, that is to say, 
 life ? 
 
 But some one will say, If the knowledge of mysteries is 
 really without influence on our salvation, why have they been 
 
THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 51 
 
 indicated to us at all ? What if it should be to teach us not to 
 be too prodigal of our icherefores ! if it should be to serve as 
 an exercise of our faith, a test of our submission ! But we will 
 not stop with such a reply. 
 
 Observe, I pray you, in what manner the mysteries of which 
 you complain have taken their part in religion. You readily 
 perceive they are not by themselves, but associated with truths 
 which have a direct bearing on your salvation. They contain 
 them, they serve to envelope them ; but they are not them- 
 selves the truths that save. It is with these mysteries as it is 
 with the vessel which contains a medicinal draught ; it is not 
 the vessel that cures, but the draught ; yet the draught could 
 not be presented without the vessel. Thus each truth that 
 saves is contained in a mystery, which, in itself, has no power 
 to save. So the great work of expiation is necessarily attached 
 to the incarnation of the Son of God, which is a mystery ; so 
 the sanctifying graces of the new covenant are necessarily con- 
 nected with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, which is a 
 mystery ; so, too, the divinity of religion finds a seal and an 
 attestation in the miracles, which are mysteries. Every where 
 the light is born from darkness, and darkness accompanies the 
 light. These two orders of truth are so united, so interlinked, 
 that you cannot remove the one without the other ; and each 
 of the mysteries you attempt to tear from religion, would carry 
 with it one of the truths which bear directly on your regenera- 
 tion and salvation. Accept the mysteries, then, not as truths 
 that can save you, but as the necessary conditions of the merci- 
 ful work of the Lord in your behalf. 
 
 The true point at issue in reference to religion is this : — 
 Does the religion which is proposed to us, change the heart, 
 unite to God, prepare for heaven ? If Christianity produces 
 these effects, we will leave the enemies of the cross free to revolt 
 against its mysteries, and tax them with absurdity. The 
 gospel, we will say to them, is then an absurdity ; you have 
 discovered it. But behold what a new species of absurdity 
 that certainly is, which attaches man to all his duties, regulates 
 human life better than all the doctrines of sages, plants in his 
 
52 THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 bosom harmony, order and peace, causes him joyfully to fulfil 
 all the offices of civil life, renders him better fitted to live, 
 better fitted to die, and which, were it generally received, 
 would be the support and safeguard of society ! Cite to us, 
 among all human absurdities, a single one which produces such 
 effects. If that " foolishness" we preach produces effects like 
 these, is it not natural to conclude that it is truth itself? And 
 if these things have not entered the heart of man, it is not 
 because they are absurd, but because they are divine. 
 
 Make, my readers, but a single reflection. You are obliged 
 to confess that none of the religions which man may invent 
 can satisfy his wants, or save his soul. Thereupon you have a 
 choice to make. You will either reject them all as insufficient 
 and false, and seek for nothing better, since man cannot invent 
 better, and then you will abandon to chance, to caprice of 
 temperament or of opinion, your moral life and future destiny ; 
 or you will adopt that other religion which some treat as folly, 
 and it will render you holy and pure, blameless in the. midst 
 of a perverse generation, united to God by love, and to your 
 brethren by charity, indefatigable in doing good, happy in life, 
 happy in death. Suppose, after all this, you shall be told that 
 this religion is false ; but, meanwhile, it has restored in you 
 the image of God, re-established your primitive connections 
 with that great Being, and put you in a condition to enjoy life 
 and the happiness of heaven. By means of it you have become 
 vsuch that at the last day, it is impossible that God should not 
 receive you as his children, and make you partakers of his 
 glory. You are made fit for paradise, nay, paradise has com- 
 menced for you even here, because you love. This religion 
 has done for you what all religion proposes, and what no other 
 has realized. Nevertheless, by the supposition, it is false ! 
 And what more could it do, were it true ? Rather do you not 
 see that this is a splendid proof of its truth ? Do you not see 
 that it is impossible that a religion which leads to God should 
 not come from God, and that the absurdity is precisely that of 
 supposing that you can be regenerated by a falsehood. 
 
 Suppose that afterwards, as at the first, you do not compre- 
 
THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. 53 
 
 hend. It is apparently necessary you should be saved by the 
 things you do not comprehend. Is that a misfortune ? Are 
 you the less saved ? Does it become you to demand from God 
 an account of an obscurity which does not injure you, when, 
 with reference to every thing essential, he has been prodigal of 
 light ? The first disciples of Jesus, men without culture and 
 learning, received truths they did not comprehend, and spread 
 them through the world. A crowd of sages and men of genius 
 have received, from the hands of these poor people, truths 
 which they comprehended no more than they. The ignorance of 
 the one, and the science of the other, have been equally docile. 
 Do, then, as the ignorant and the wise have done. Embrace 
 with affection those truths which have never entered into your 
 heart, and which will save you. Do not lose, in vain discus- 
 sions, the time which is gliding away, and which is bearing 
 you into the cheering or appalling light of eternity. Hasten 
 to be saved. Love now ; one day you will know. May the 
 Lord Jesus prepare you for that period of light, of repose and 
 of happiness ! 
 
 E 
 
54 
 
 III, 
 
 THE GOSPEL COMPEEHENDED BY THE HEAET. 
 
 " Things which have not entered into the heart of man, but which God hath 
 prepared for them that love him.'" — 1 Cor. ii. 9. 
 
 God has destined the world to be, not only the theatre of 
 our activity, but also the object of our study. He has con- 
 cealed in the depths of nature innumerable secrets, which he 
 invites us to fathom; innumerable truths, which he encourages us 
 to discover. To penetrate these secrets, to discover these truths, 
 it is necessary to possess certain intellectual faculties, and to have 
 them suitably exercised, but nothing more. The dispositions 
 of the heart have no direct influence on the acquisition of this 
 kind of knowledge. It is with this knowledge as it is with 
 " the rain, which God causeth to fall on the just and the un- 
 just, and the sun which he maketh to shine upon the good and 
 the evil." To acquire it does not necessarily suppose a pure 
 heart or a benevolent character; and, unhappily, it is too 
 common to see the finest gifts of genius united with the most 
 deplorable selfishness and the deepest depravity of manners. 
 God seems to have prepared the truths of human science in- 
 differently for his friends and enemies. It is not thus with the 
 truths of religion. God, it is said, in the Scriptures, " hath 
 prepared them for those that love him." Not that he has ex- 
 cluded from the possession of them, men of learning and genius ; 
 but neither learning nor genius is sufficient here as in the other 
 sciences. Love is the true interpreter of the truths of the 
 gospel. The " wisdom of this world and of the princes of this 
 
THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 55 
 
 world," is vanquished by the simplicity of love, love and 
 wisdom among them that are perfect, conformably to that 
 declaration of St John, " He that loveth God is born of God 
 and knoweth God." 
 
 That which is often seen occurring between two persons of 
 different languages, takes place between God and man ; it is 
 necessary that a person versed in both languages should inter- 
 vene between the two parties, and listening to the words of the 
 one, put them within reach of the other, by rendering them 
 into the idiom he understands. But between God and man, 
 between the gospel and our soul, that interpreter is love. Love 
 renders intelligible to man the truths of the gospel, — not, 
 indeed, those abstract truths which relate to the essence of 
 God, the knowledge of which, as we have seen, is equally in- 
 accessible and useless to us, — but those other truths, which 
 concern our relations to God, and constitute the very founda- 
 tion of religion. These are the truths which escape from 
 reason, and which love seizes without difficulty. 
 
 You are surprised, perhaps, to see filled by love, by a senti- 
 ment of the heart, a function which seems to you to belong 
 only to reason. But please to reflect that the greater part of 
 our knowledge is derived to us immediately from another 
 source than reason. When we desire to obtain a knowledge 
 of a natural object, it is, primarily, our senses we make use of, 
 and not our reason. It is at first by sight that we acquire a 
 knowledge of the size and form of bodies ; by hearing, that of 
 sounds ; and by smell, that of odours. It is necessary that 
 reason should afterwards perform a part, and connect its opera- 
 tions with those of the organs ; but whatever may be the im- 
 portance of its intervention, we must admit that the knowledge 
 of sensible objects and their properties is derived essentially 
 from the senses. 
 
 Things transpire in no other way in the moral world. It is 
 not by the intellect alone, nor by the intellect first, that we 
 can judge of things of this order. To know them we must 
 have a sense also, which is called the moral sense. The intel- 
 lect may come in afterwards as an auxiliary ; it observes, com- 
 
56 THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 
 
 pares and classes our impressions, but it does not produce them ; 
 and it would be as little reasonable to pretend that we owe 
 them to it, as to affirm that it is by the ear we obtain the 
 knowledge of colours, by sight that of perfumes, and by smell 
 that of sounds and harmonies. The things of the heart are not 
 truly comprehended but by the heart. 
 
 Permit us to dwell a moment upon this idea ; for we feel the 
 necessity of explaining it thoroughly. In saying that the 
 heart comprehends, do we say that it becomes reason, or that 
 it conducts a process of reasoning ? By no means. The heart 
 does not comprehend like the reason ; but it comprehends as 
 well, if not better. As to the reason, what is it to compre- 
 hend ? It is to seize the thread of logical deduction, the chain 
 of ideas which joins together two or more facts ; it is to attain 
 conviction, assurance, by means other than experience ; it is to 
 be placed by the intellect in relative connection with those 
 objects, an immediate contact with which is denied us. The 
 comprehension of the mind, to speak plainly, is nothing more 
 than a supplement to the inevitable chasms in our experience. * 
 These chasms occur either from the absence of the objects 
 themselves, or from their nature, which has no point of contact 
 with ours. If these two obstacles did not exist, or if it were 
 possible to remove them, man would have nothing to compre- 
 hend; for he would touch, he would grasp, he would taste 
 every thing. Reason in him would be replaced by intuition. 
 Wherever intuition has place, there is no more comprehension, 
 for it is more than comprehension ; or if any one chooses that 
 it should be comprehension, it is a comprehension of a new 
 
 * The word experience is here used in its strictly philosophical sense. It 
 embraces the facts of sensation and consciousness, the emotions and perceptions 
 of the mind. These constitute an assemblage of facts, which it is the prdvinoe 
 of reason first to analyze, and then combine, under general heads or systems : 
 and thus supply the deficiencies or chasms in our experience. It especially 
 perceives and classifies relations, and deduces from the whole those general 
 ideas which embody, in their comprehensive range, an infinite number of 
 scattered, but related facts. Reason, therefore, is a supplement to our experi- 
 ence, and is a purely intellectual process. It involves no feeling or affection, 
 and may exist, in the greatest perfection, without a single holy or virtuous 
 impulse. — T. 
 
THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 57 
 
 nature, of a superior order, which explains every thing without 
 effort, to which every thing is clear, but which it cannot com- 
 municate, by words, to the reason of another. 
 
 But it is the same with the comprehension of the heart. 
 Doubtless it has its precise limits. It extends to every thing 
 within the domain of sentiment, but to nothing beyond. 
 Reason, however, has its limits, also, quite as distinctly marked, 
 and can no more overleap them than the heart those which 
 belong to it. Applied to things which belong exclusively to 
 the sphere of sentiment, it wanders in obscurity ; it passes by 
 the side of sentiment as if it were a stranger ; it neither under- 
 stands nor is understood ; and retires from a useless struggle, 
 without having either taken or given any thing. Reason on 
 the one side, and the heart on the other, do not comprehend 
 each other. They have no mutual agreement, except in that 
 of a disdainful pity. 
 
 To render this truth more evident, suppose on the one hand, 
 a generous man, a hero, a soul ever burning with the lofty 
 flame of devotion ; and on the other, a man of quick intelli- 
 gence, of reason vast and profound, but deprived, were it pos- 
 sible, of all sensibility, do you not believe that the first would, 
 all his life long, be an enigma to the other ? How indeed 
 could the latter conceive of those transports of enthusiasm, 
 those acts of self-denial, and those sublime expressions, the 
 source of which never existed in his own soul ? " The spiritual 
 man," says St Paul, "judgeth all things, and no one (unless 
 spiritual) can judge him." Let us, by supposition, apply this 
 expression, to the sensitive and generous being of whom we 
 speak ; no one, unless he has the germs of the same emotions, 
 can form a judgment of him ; — a fact distinctly recognized by 
 those who have said, that great souls pass through the world 
 without being understood. 
 
 Affectation ! hypocrisy ! is the cry frequently heard, in 
 view of certain manifestations, and especially of religious 
 manifestations. An ardour which glows in the depths of the 
 soul, which engrosses all the faculties, and which is incessantly 
 renewed from its own proper source, appears to some too strange 
 
58 THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 
 
 to be credited. In order to believe it, they need only to feel 
 it ; but certain it is, that unless they do feel it, they cannot 
 conceive of it. And they will continue to tax with affectation 
 and hypocrisy, a sentiment which perhaps restrains itself, and 
 discovers only half of its energy. A mistake, how natural ! 
 All the efforts of the most active intellect cannot give us the 
 conception of the taste of a fruit we have never tasted, or the 
 perfume of a flower we have never smelt, much less of an affec- 
 tion we have never felt. 
 
 It is with the heights of the soul, as it is with the sublimities 
 of the firmament. "When on a serene night, millions of stars 
 sparkle in the depths of the sky, the gorgeous splendour of the 
 starry vault ravishes every one that has eyes ; but he to whom 
 Providence has denied the blessing of sight, would in vain 
 possess a mind open to the loftiest conceptions ; in vain would 
 his intellectual capacity transcend what is common among men. 
 All that intelligence, and all the power he might add by 
 study to his rare gifts, will not aid him in forming a single 
 idea of that ravishing spectacle ; while at his side, a man, 
 without talent or culture, has only to raise his eyes, to embrace 
 at a glance, and in some measure enjoy, all the splendours of 
 the firmament, and, through his vision, to receive into his 
 soul the impressions which such a spectacle cannot fail to pro- 
 duce. 
 
 Another sky, and one as magnificent as the azure vault 
 stretched over our heads, is revealed to us in the Gospel. 
 Divine truths are the stars of that mystic sky, and they shine 
 in it, brighter and purer than the stars of the firmament ; but 
 there must be an eye to see them, and that eye is love. The 
 gospel is a work of love. Christianity is only love realized 
 under its purest form : and since the light of the world cannot 
 be known without an eye, love cannot be comprehended but 
 by the heart. 
 
 You may have exhausted all the powers of your reason, and 
 all the resources of your knowledge, to establish the authen- 
 ticity of the Scriptures ; you may have perfectly explained the 
 apparent contradictions of the sacred books ; you may have 
 
THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 59 
 
 grasped the connection of the fundamental truths of the gospel. 
 You may have done all this, yet if you do not love, the gospel 
 will be to you nothing but a dead letter, and a sealed book ; 
 its revelations will appear to you but as abstractions, and naked 
 ideas ; its system but a speculation unique in its kind ; nay, 
 more, whatever in the gospel is most attractive, most precious 
 and sweet, but an arbitrary conception, a strange dogma, a 
 painful test of your faith, and nothing more. 
 
 But let love, sweet, gracious, luminous, interpreting, come 
 between the gospel and the human soul, and the truth of the 
 gospel shall have a meaning, — and one as clear as it is pro- 
 found. Then shall your soul find itself free and happy, in the 
 midst of these strange revelations. Then shall those truths 
 you have accepted, through submission and obedience, become 
 to you as familiar and as necessarily true, as those common 
 every-day truths, upon which depends your existence. Then 
 shall you penetrate, without an effort, into the marvellous sys- 
 tem, which your reason dreaded, so to speak, to see too near, 
 in a confused apprehension of being tempted to infidelity. 
 Then shall you probably be astonished that you had never 
 perceived, conjectured, discovered it ; that previous to revela- 
 tion, you had never found out that such a system was as neces- 
 sary to the glory of God, as to the happiness of man. 
 
 So long as man, with reason alone, has climbed up Calvary, 
 and gone around the cross, he has seen nothing but darkness in 
 the divine work of expiation. For whole ages might he remain 
 in contemplation before that mysterious fact, but would not 
 succeed in raising from it the veil. Ah ! how can reason, 
 cold reason, comprehend such a thing as the substitution of the 
 innocent for the guilty ; as the compassion which reveals it- 
 self in severity of punishment, in that shedding of blood, with- 
 out which, it is said, there can be no expiation. It will not 
 make, I dare affirm, a single step towards the knowledge of 
 that divine mystery, until casting away its ungrateful specula- 
 tions, it yields to a power more capable the task of terminating 
 the difficulty. That power is the heart; which, fixes itself en- 
 
60 THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 
 
 tirely on the love that shines forth in the work of redemption ; 
 cleaves without distraction to the sacrifice of the adorable vic- 
 tim ; lets the natural impression of that unparalleled love pene- 
 trate freely, and develope itself gradually, in its interior. O 
 how quickly, then, are the veils torn away, and the shadows 
 dissipated for ever ! How little difficulty does he that loves 
 find in comprehending love ! How natural to him does it ap- 
 pear, that God, infinite in all things, should be infinite also in 
 his compassion ! How inconceivable to him, on the other hand, 
 that human hearts should not be capable of feeling the beauty 
 of a work, without which God could not manifest himself entire ! 
 How astonished is he at the blindness of those who read and 
 re-read the Scriptures without comprehending the central truth ; 
 who pass and re-pass before a love all divine, without recog- 
 nizing or even perceiving a work all divine ! 
 
 The Holy Scriptures have spoken to him of prayer, as a 
 powerful means of attracting the grace of God ; as a force to 
 which divine power is willing to submit, and which seems, in 
 some sense, to share with the Deity the empire of the universe. 
 Before such an idea reason remains confounded. There is no 
 objection it does not involuntarily raise against a doctrine, 
 which, after all, belongs to the very essence of religion. But 
 to the heart, how beautiful is this doctrine ; how natural, how 
 probable, how necessary ! How eagerly the heart embraces it ! 
 How it hastens to put it in the rank of its most cherished con- 
 victions ! And how wretchedly and foolishly wise do those ap- 
 pear to it, who, feeling on the one hand, that religion without 
 ])rayer is not religion, and on the other, that the bearing 
 of prayer upon their destinies is inexplicable, resolve to re- 
 main in uncertainty on the subject, waiting and not praying 
 at all ! 
 
 It is the same with many other mysteries of Christianity, or 
 rather with Christianity as a whole. Even to those who re- 
 ceive it as a divine religion, and believe it intellectually, it is 
 veiled, it is empty, it is dead, so long as they do not call the 
 heart to their aid. Among sincere believers, there are many 
 
THE GOSFEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 61 
 
 who have gone around Christianity, a religion of their intellect, 
 as around an impenetrable sanctuary, knocking in turn at all 
 the doors of that asylum, without finding one open, and return- 
 ing without success to those already tried many times, believing 
 and not believing at the same time, Christians by their wishes, 
 pagans by their hopes, convinced but not persuaded, enlightened 
 but not consoled. To such I address myself; I appeal to their 
 sincerity, and ask them, Whence comes it that you believe, and 
 and as yet have only the responsibilities, not the blessings, of 
 faith ? How happens it, that you carry your faith as a yoke 
 that oppresses and weighs you down, not as wings which raise 
 you above your miseries and the world ? How comes it, that, 
 in the bosom of that religion you have accepted, you are stran- 
 gers, exiles, and as if out of your natural atmosphere ? How 
 is that you are not at home in your father's house ? Let us 
 put the finger upon the wound. It is that your heart is not 
 yet touched. The heart of Lydia must be opened, before she 
 can understand the things spoken by Paul. So also your heart 
 must be opened, in order to understand the truths which only 
 the heart can understand. Or, to use the energetic language 
 of Scripture, the heart of flesh must take, in your bosom, the 
 place of the heart of stone. 
 
 Alas ! with a conviction firmly established, with an ortho- 
 doxy the most perfect, how many do we see, strangers to true 
 faith, how many sceptical believers, how many who have not 
 doubted the truth of the Scriptures a single day of their life, 
 who read them assiduously, who know them even by heart, 
 and who, notwithstanding all this, do not believe at all ! Ah, 
 it is that faith is something else than the product of the intel- 
 lect ; it is that faith is love. Knowledge may give us con- 
 victions ; love alone gives us life. 
 
 The first advice that reason ought to give us, should be to 
 refuse reason in every thing which does not belong to its juris- 
 diction. But reason is proud, reason is dogmatic ; it will not 
 submit. What then does our Heavenly Father do when he 
 desires to save a soul ? He leaves it for a time, to struggle 
 with its speculations, and to vex itself with their impotence. 
 
62 THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 
 
 When it is weary and despairing, when it has acknowledged 
 that it is equally incapable of stifling or of satisfying its crav- 
 ing for light, he takes advantage of its humiliation ; he lays his 
 hand upon that soul, exhausted by its efforts, wounded by its 
 falls, and compels it to sue for quarter. Then it humbles 
 itself, submits, groans ; it cries for succour ; it renounces the 
 claim to know, and desires only to believe ; it pretends not to 
 comprehend, it only aspires to live. Then the heart commences 
 its functions ; it takes the place of reason ; anguish and crav- 
 ing, the heart is such as God would have it. It sues for grace, 
 and lo ! there is grace ; it asks for aid, and aid comes ; it 
 craves salvation, and salvation is given ! On that heart, con- 
 fused and miserable, is then bestowed, nay, lavished, all that 
 was refused to reason, proud and haughty. Its poverty en- 
 ables it to conceive what its wealth kept it from knowing. It 
 comprehends with ease, it accepts with ardour, the truths 
 which it needs, and without which no human soul can enjoy 
 peace or happiness. And thus is fulfilled the word of wisdom : 
 " Out of the heart proceed the springs of life." 
 
 Will ye come, proud spirits, and demand from such an one 
 an account of his faith ? Certainly he will not explain to you 
 what is inexplicable ; in this respect he will send you away 
 poorly satisfied. But if he says to you, if he can say to you, — 
 I love ! — ought not such a response to satisfy you ? If he can 
 say, — I no longer belong to myself, nor to honour, nor to the 
 world ; my meat is to do the will of my heavenly Father ; I 
 aspire to eternal good ; I love, in God, all my brethren, with 
 a cordial affection ; I am content to live, I shall be happy to 
 die ; henceforth, all is harmony within me ; my energies 
 and activities, my destiny and desires, my affections and 
 thoughts, are all in accordance ; the world, this life, and hu- 
 man things are not the mystery which torments me, nor the 
 contradiction that causes me to despair ; in a word, I am raised 
 to newness of life. If he says, if he can say to you all this, 
 and his whole life corroborates his words, ah, then, do not waste 
 on him vain reasonings ; try not to refute him ; he has truth, 
 for he has life. He touches with his hands, he sees with his 
 
THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 63 
 
 eyes, he perceives, in some sort, with all his senses, a truth 
 which all the arguments in the world could not establish with 
 so much certainty, which all the arguments in the world can- 
 not shake. Does the person who enjoys sight need to be told 
 there is light ? Can one in good health be persuaded he 
 is sick ? These are irrefragable verities, the proof of which 
 is in himself, nay more, of which he is himself the living 
 proof. 
 
 Thus the truths of the gospel have changed his heart ; but 
 the Spirit of God must, first of all, have prepared it to receive 
 them. Let us not lose sight of these two facts : — it is the gos- 
 pel which renews us, and it is the Spirit of God which enables 
 us to receive the gospel into our heart. When we have re- 
 ceived it, when, in our heart, lately sick and insane, love has 
 established his immutable empire, that love becomes an abund- 
 ant source of light. By it a thousand obscurities of the word 
 are cleared away. Its flame imparts no less light than heat. 
 Delightful thought ! the more we love the more we know. 
 Such is the experience of the Christian. Do you not wish to 
 feel it, slaves of reason, melancholy victims of a knowledge 
 which mistakes its limits and exaggerates its rights ? Ye who 
 know, but do not live, will ye not ask from God love in order 
 to comprehend love, love in order to know, love in order to 
 live? 
 
 0, God, whom we should never have known hadst thou not 
 deigned to discover thyself to us in the light of the gospel, 
 complete the great work thou hast begun. Give us a heart to 
 understand the truths thou hast revealed ! Let the light of 
 love, shed in our hearts by thee, disperse all the obscurities of 
 thy word ! Let thy goodness, let thy marvellous wisdom, keep 
 from us no other secrets than those which are useless for us to 
 know ; teach us by love the most perfect of all wisdom ; ren- 
 der the most simple wise in the science of salvation ! Thy 
 Spirit, Lord, is love, as thou thyself art love. Diffuse it 
 through the whole earth ; spread, in every place, that holy 
 flame ; attract all hearts to thyself ; make of] all souls one 
 
64 THE GOSPEL COMPREHENDED BY THE HEART. 
 
 single soul, in a common sentiment of adoration and devotion ! 
 Lord ! we shall know all, when we know how to love ; we 
 shall rejoice in a light which is not the product of laborious 
 study, but one which sanctifies and consoles ! Then truly shalt 
 thou have spoken to us in the gospel. Then shall it be seen 
 that thou hast given to us a message of love and peace ; and 
 our conviction, cold, sterile, useless, shall be changed into a 
 living faith, full of hope, full of good fruits. 
 
65 
 
 IV. 
 FOLLY OF THE TEUTH.* 
 
 " We preach Christ crucified, . . to the Greeks foolishness.'" — 1 Cor. i. 23. 
 
 Christianity has not left to infidelity the satisfaction of 
 being the first to tax it with folly. It has hastened to bring 
 this accusation against itself. It has professed the bold design 
 of saving men by a folly. Upon this point it has suffered no 
 illusion ; it knew that its doctrine would pass for an insane 
 one, it knew it before experience of the fact, before any one 
 had said it ; and it went forth, with this folly on its lips, this 
 folly for a standard, to the conquest of the world. If then, it 
 is foolish, it is so consciously and voluntarily ; and those who 
 reproach it on this account, will at least be obliged to confess 
 that it has foreseen their reproach, and braved it. 
 
 Never did so calm a foresight, so just an appreciation of ob- 
 stacles, means and chances, distinguish the author of a system, 
 or the founder of a religion. Never did any one enter so fully 
 into the spirit of his opponents, and transport himself so com- 
 pletely from his own point of view to theirs. When it is seen 
 in what respect Christianity judges itself contrary to the world, 
 and the world contrary to it, we have an idea of incompati- 
 bility so essential and profound, that we cannot help asking, 
 with what hope, and so to speak, with what right, does such a 
 religion propose itself to the world ; and a choice remains only 
 
 * The word folic is used by French medical writers for insanity ; and it is 
 to madness, rather than simple folly, to which our author in this discourse 
 refers. — T. 
 
66 FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 
 
 between two suppositions, that of an extravagance absolutely 
 unparalleled, or of a secret inspiration and a supernatural 
 power. 
 
 Of course, we should not dream of pretending that this cha- 
 racteristic of a doctrine was, by itself, a j>resumption in favour 
 of its truth. Error, too, may have the appearance of folly, for 
 error is sometimes a folly ; I mean in the judgment of men ; 
 for it is doubtless such in the eyes of God. But this we say, 
 that, if religion were destitute of such a characteristic, we 
 could not presume it to be true. A religion which should ap- 
 pear reasonable to the whole world, could not be the true one ; 
 in that general assent accorded to it, without opposition, I re- 
 cognize the fact, that God has not spoken ; the seal is not 
 broken, the light has not burst forth ; I must still wait. 
 
 This idea itself is not a folly ; and if its truth does not strike 
 at first, if it does not present itself as a revelation of common 
 sense, it is deduced without difficulty from other truths which 
 common sense reveals, and which no man, unless deprived of 
 this very common sense, dreams of disavowing. Every one, if 
 he will reason a little, will range himself on the side of this 
 paradox, and will see this strange idea gradually become an 
 obvious truth. Every one will acknowledge that true religion 
 must, at its first appearance among men, be saluted from all 
 sides with that accusation of folly which Christianity has so 
 loftily braved. 
 
 Let us leave to philosophers and physicians the task of ex- 
 actly defining insanity. It has, at least, one constant charac- 
 teristic, that it renders a man unfit for human life, taking life, 
 in this instance, only in its essential conditions. The madman 
 and the idiot do not form a part of society, to which the weak- 
 est, the most ignorant, and I will almost say, the most savage 
 of men are not permitted, in all the force of the term, to belong. 
 Insanity, which in other respects has no connection with crime, 
 must, at least, have this, in common with it, that it throws us 
 violently out of the pale of humanity. It is a monstrosity in 
 the sphere of intellect. But as the evidence of such monstro- 
 sity is to believe or see something which no man, rightly con- 
 
FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 67 
 
 stituted, and healthy in body and mind, believes and sees, — 
 since it is necessarily under such an aspect that insanity mani- 
 fests itself, — it follows, that wherever this characteristic- dis- 
 covers itself, it awakens the idea of insanity. So that even a 
 man who is not destitute of any of the conditions which com- 
 pose our idea of humanity, is, nevertheless, for the want of a 
 better term, designated a fool, when by his opinions he is found 
 alone in the midst of his nation or his age ; and if he meets 
 with partizans, real or pretended, they share with him, so long 
 as their number is small, the same title and the same disgrace. 
 Not only an opinion which all the world rejects, but a hope 
 which no one shares, or a plan with which no one associates 
 himself, brings the charge of folly, before the multitude, against 
 the rash man who has conceived it, and who cherishes it. His 
 opinion may seem just, and his aim reasonable ; he is a fool 
 only for wishing to realize it. His folly lies in believing pos- 
 sible what all the world esteems impossible. Nay, he is a fool 
 at a cheaper rate than even this. If, renouncing hope, he does 
 not abandon desire ; if he makes his happiness depend upon an 
 end impossible to be attained, or an improvement impossible to 
 be accomplished ; if, in the absence of a good which appears to 
 him indispensable, of an ideal, which has become, as it were, 
 a part of his soul, he judges his life lost, and finds no relish in 
 any of the joys which it offers to the rest of mankind, though 
 in other respects he fulfil all the duties which his condition as 
 a man imposes on him, the victim and sport of a fixed idea, he 
 is a madman, at least with reference to that particular point ; 
 and the respect which others feel for him does not hinder 
 them from pronouncing insane a grief which they do not under- 
 stand. 
 
 They do not always apply to him this opprobrious epithet ; 
 but what they do not say, they think ; what they do not pro- 
 claim, they permit to be seen. That man, they say, is not in- 
 deed a fool, but he has a foolish notion. For insanity is not 
 necessarily a darkness in which the whole soul is enveloped ; 
 it is sometimes only a dark spot in a brilliant light. The 
 shadows are more or less thick, more or less diffused. There 
 
68 FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 
 
 are degrees of insanity ; after all, it is insanity. We need not 
 dispute about a term ; and the world will ever call him foolish 
 who desires to be wise all alone. 
 
 In other respects, indeed, the world is willing that one 
 should be wise. It says so, at least ; but it does not recognize 
 any wisdom contrary to the opinion and practice of the ma- 
 jority. It honours principles ; it is willing, indeed, that we 
 should regulate ourselves by them ; but it might be said, that 
 it really knows none but the authority of numbers. At least 
 numbers and also time are, in its eyes, so strong a presumption 
 of truth, that it rarely gives itself the trouble to examine if 
 one or a few individuals may not be right in opposition to all ; 
 and it appears as if it would compel the truth, which has no- 
 thing in common with space and time, to derive itself entirely 
 from space and time. 
 
 This prepossession is not without some foundation. It is not 
 natural to suppose that truth was made to be the portion of a small 
 number. It was a part, and the best part, of the heritage of 
 humanity ; it was not to lie dormant for ages, to awaken at a 
 given moment ; nor to lose itself at a distance from the spirit 
 of humanity, to be recovered in the thoughts of some favoured 
 individual. The truth, necessary to all, was to be within the 
 reach of all, and present itself unceasingly to the mind of all. 
 Such was the condition of truth, in the healthy, and regular 
 condition of human nature. But those, who derive truth from 
 the opinion of the majority, either do not believe that man has 
 departed from that primitive state, or they forget the fact ; or 
 finally they believe in the fall, without believing its principal 
 consequences. They do not reflect that one of its first conse- 
 quences must be the stupefaction of the moral sense, and the 
 obscuration of our natural light. They do not consider that 
 the knowledge which depends upon a certain state of the soul, 
 changes with that very state, and that a conscience which has 
 become dormant, permits all kinds of error to enter the mind. 
 They do not perceive, that our soul is not a mirror, in which 
 truth is reflected by itself, but an opaque surface, on which it 
 has always to be graven afresh ; that, since the fall, faith is so 
 
POLLY OP THE TRUTH. 69 
 
 little independent of the will, that, on the contrary, the will is 
 a condition and an element of faith ; that truth has no longer 
 an irresistible evidence, nor, consequently, the power of making 
 the same impressions on the minds of all, and subjecting them 
 at once to its sway. On the other hand, they do not see that 
 humanity, having been corrupted at its source, it is with great 
 difficulty, that certain elementary principles, necessary to the 
 existence of society, are preserved, and still less, we must ac- 
 knowledge it, preserved as true, as well as necessary. They 
 do not remind themselves of the fact, that certain errors, adapted 
 to all, have been able easily to enter the world by a door so 
 poorly guarded as that of the heart, there to usurp authority, 
 to establish themselves on a respectable footing, to become the 
 rule of conduct, and the test of morals. Will they deny that 
 there have been universal errors ? What will they say of 
 slavery, that appalling evil, for which, during ages, no one had 
 the slightest shame or remorse, which has not retired, except 
 step by step, before the advancing light of Christianity, and, 
 which, O mournful condition of human nature ! some civilized 
 men, who believe in Jesus Christ, yet defend ? When these 
 errors come to be torn from the human mind, it is from the 
 roots, it is for ever ; the conscience of humanity never restores 
 any of its conquests. But such errors have reigned ; ages have 
 transmitted them intact and vital ; and if universal consent is 
 the seal of truth, they are as irrefragably true, as any of the 
 truths which have universal consent for their basis. Are you 
 surprised at this ? Be appalled, but do not be surprised ; for 
 if the fall of man has not had these consequences, I am igno- 
 rant of what consequences it could have, and should be reduced 
 to the necessity of deeming it a pure fiction, or of all truths, 
 the most insignificant and powerless. 
 
 Many reason upon this subject, as if nothing had happened, 
 since the day when God, looking upon his work, saw that 
 what he had made was good. They speak of truth, as if its 
 condition amongst us were always the same. They love to re- 
 present it, enveloping and accompanying humanity, as the at- 
 
 F 
 
70 POLLY OF THE TRUTH. 
 
 niosphere envelopes and accompanies our earth, in its journey 
 through the heavens. But it is not so ; truth is not attached 
 to our mind, as the atmosphere to the globe we inhabit. Truth 
 is a suppliant, who, standing before the threshold, is for ever 
 pressing, towards the hearth, from which sin has banished it. 
 As we pass and re-pass before that door, which it never quits, 
 that majestic and mournful figure fixes for a moment our dis- 
 tracted attention. Each time it awakens in our memory, I 
 know not what dim recollections of order, glory and happiness ; 
 but we pass, and the impression vanishes. We have not been 
 able entirely to repudiate the truth ; we still retain some un- 
 connected fragments of it ; what of its light our enfeebled eye 
 can bear, what of it is proportioned to our condition. The 
 rest we reject or disfigure, so as to render it difficult of recog- 
 nition, while we retain, — which is one of our misfortunes, — 
 the names of things we no longer possess. Moral and social 
 truth is like one of those monumental inscriptions* over which 
 the whole community pass as they go to their business, and 
 which every day become more and more defaced ; until some 
 friendly chisel is applied to deepen the lines in that worn-out 
 stone, so that every one is forced to perceive, and to read it. 
 That chisel is in the hands of a small number of men, who 
 perseveringly remain prostrate before that ancient inscription, 
 at the risk of being dashed upon the pavement, and trampled 
 under the heedless feet of the passers-by ; in other words, this 
 truth dropped into oblivion, that duty fallen into disuse, finds 
 a witness in the person of some man who has not believed, 
 without any other consideration, than that all the world are 
 right, simply and solely, because it is all the world. 
 
 The strange things which that strange man says, and which 
 some other repeats after him, will not fail to be believed sooner 
 or later, and finally become the universal opinion. And why ? 
 Because truth is truth ; because it corresponds to every 
 thing, satisfies every thing ; because, both in general and 
 in detail, it is better adapted to us than error ; because, 
 
 * The monumental inscriptions here referred to, are supposed to be level 
 with the ground. — T. 
 
FOLLY OP THE TRUTH. 71 
 
 bound up by the most intimate relations, with all the order in 
 the universe, it has in our interests and wants, a thousand in- 
 voluntary advocates ; because every thing demands it, every 
 thing cries after it ; because error exhausts and degrades itself ; 
 because falsehood, which at first appeared to benefit all, has 
 ended by injuring all ; so that truth sits down in its place, va- 
 cant, as it were, for the want of a suitable heir. Enemies concur 
 with friends, obstacles with means, to the production of that 
 unexpected result. Combinations of which it is impossible to 
 give account, and of which God only has the secret, secure 
 that victory. But conscience is not a stranger here ; for there 
 is within us, whatever we do, a witness to the truth, a witness 
 timid and slow, but which a superior force drags from its re- 
 treat, and at last compels to speak. It is thus, that truths, the 
 most combated, and, at first, sustained by organs the most de- 
 spised, end by becoming, in their turn, popular convictions. 
 This is our hope with reference to that truth which includes 
 all truths, or in the bosom of which they are all formed anew. 
 We firmly believe, conformably to the divine promise, that a 
 time will come, when the gospel of Jesus Christ, if not loved 
 by all, will at least be believed and professed by all. 
 
 This, however, does not prevent all such truths from being 
 combated, and their first witnesses from passing for madmen. 
 At the head of each of those movements which have promoted 
 the elevation of the human race, what do you see ? In the 
 estimation of the world, madmen. And the contempt they 
 have attracted by their folly, has always been proportioned to 
 the grandeur of their enterprise, and the generosity of their 
 intentions. The true heroes of humanity have always been 
 crowned by that insulting epithet. And the man, who to-day 
 in a pious enthusiasm, or yet more, to please the world, cele- 
 brates those men whose glory lies in having dared to displease 
 the world, would, during their life, have perhaps been asso- 
 ciated with their persecutors. He honours them, not because 
 they are worthy of honour, but because he sees them honoured. 
 His fathers have killed the prophets, and he their son, subdued 
 by universal admiration, builds the tombs of the prophets. 
 
t 2 FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 
 
 The world demands, — and it is always by a forgetfulness of 
 the condition into which we are fallen that it does so, — that 
 truth should present itself with the advantage of simplicity and 
 clearness. Many wish to make this a condition of truth ; they 
 wish to recognize it by this mark. That is all very well ! But 
 in order that it may appear simple, let us first have an eye 
 simple like it. Is it the fault of truth, if our heart being di- 
 vided, our intellect should be divided also, and that the axioms 
 of man innocent, are the problems of yl^q. fallen ? But with- 
 out insisting on this reply, which may not perhaps be received 
 by those who do not believe in the first fall, let us give an- 
 other, which may be within the view and reach of all. If we 
 make clearness and simplicity the test of truth, we run the 
 risk, in many cases, of embracing error, instead of truth ; for 
 error, in most instances, has over the truth the advantage of sim- 
 plicity. Error, very often, has nothing to do but to suppress 
 one of the elements of a question, to procure for it, by that 
 arbitrary suppression, a similitude of unity. Every truth, in 
 the actual condition of human nature, is composed of two 
 terms, which must be harmonized, and which does not become 
 truth in our minds but by their reconciliation.* There are 
 
 * The reference here is obviously to that principle of the Baconian philoso- 
 phy, so clearly developed in the Novum Organum, by which all facts and 
 truths are to be investigated, on what Bacon calls their negative and affirma- 
 tive sides. Things are often not what they seem. All questions have two 
 aspects ; and negative instances are uniformly to be reconciled to positive, in 
 order that truth may be evolved and established. Take, for example, the 
 principle or fact of gravitation, by which all bodies tend to their centre, in the 
 inverse ratio of their distance. This is proved by innumerable facts. But 
 many things seem opposed to it, such as the rising of smoke, gases, vapours, 
 and the like. These constitute the negative side of the question, and must be 
 shown to be in harmony with the facts on the affirmative side. The earth re- 
 volves round the sun ; but the sun appears to revolve round the earth ; it 
 seems to rise and set, while the earth appears stationary. These facts must be 
 harmonized, by reference to a single principle, or class of principles, in which 
 they all unite. 
 
 In moral or spiritual truths, the fact under consideration is still more ob- 
 vious. Is man a spiritual and immortal being ? This is generally conceded, 
 and the proof is satisfactory. But many facts seem opposed to it. For man 
 sleeps, he decays, he loses his reason, he dies. This is the negative side of the 
 question, and must be shown to be in harmony with the other, before the truth 
 
FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 73 
 
 always two elements to be reduced to a single one, either by 
 the conciliation or the suppression of one of them. The first 
 step towards the truth, is to recognize the existence of two ele- 
 ments : the second is, to re-unite, without destroying them. 
 Now, in what position in reference to these, are the greater 
 part of sincere and thoughtful men ; or, to speak more pro- 
 perly, in what position is humanity ? In the first ; that is to 
 say, it recognizes this duality. The human mind, in general, 
 is not in that state of simplicity which some would make the 
 characteristic and mark of truth. Who, then, will appro- 
 priate to themselves this mark and characteristic ? Those, 
 doubtless, who will rid themselves of one of the elements of 
 the question, or one of the parts of the truth, that they may 
 occupy their attention only with one. Hence, it is their opi- 
 nion only which will appear simple ; and, in a certain sense, it 
 will be so in reality. And since this simplicity flatters at once 
 the indolence and impatience of the human mind, and since, on 
 the other hand, the mind ever carries within it the sentiment 
 that there is no truth but in unity, man, dazzled with that false 
 
 can be established. God is good and merciful. This is the affirmative side of 
 a most important fact. But many things seem opposed to it, such as the uni- 
 versal ignorance and wretchedness of man, the apparent disorders, in the na- 
 tural and moral worlds, which are permitted, if not inflicted, by the Divine 
 Being. The two sides of the question, then, must be reconciled, by the inter- 
 vention of some other principle, or fact, such as the justice of God, the free- 
 agency of man, or the indissoluble connection, between sin and misery. This 
 duality of truth, if it may be so called, is, if possible, still more obvious in re- 
 velation. 1 1 is affirmed, for example, that Jesus Christ is God ; but he is also 
 spoken of as man, with all the feelings and infirmities of man. He loves, he 
 suffers, he dies. In one case he acts the sovereign, in another the servant. 
 Now he wields the energies of omnipotence. Anon he groans beneath the 
 pressure of calamity. Now he lies in the grave guarded by Roman soldiers, 
 then he breaks the bands of death, and ascends " far above all principality, 
 and power, and might, and dominion, and every name that is named, not only 
 in this world, but also in that which is to come." Where, then, is the fact, the 
 consideration, or the principle, which must harmonize these two classes of op- 
 posing facts, the negative and positive sides of the problem relative to the 
 mystery of Christ? Is it not found in the fact, that Jesus is both God and 
 man, or, as the New Testament expresses it, " God manifest in the flesh ?" 
 If this can be shown, then the two terms of the question are reconciled, and 
 the truth in the case is established. — T. 
 
74 FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 
 
 and artificial unity, will eagerly abandon himself to opinions 
 which present it to him, and will maintain them, until con- 
 strained to acknowledge their falseness in their consequences, 
 which violate at once his own nature, and the nature of things. 
 
 What has given success to the most pernicious errors, -whe- 
 ther in matters of religion or of social order ? Their great air of 
 simplicity. What has been alleged in their favour ? Common 
 sense. The vulgar, the whole world, indeed, permits itself to 
 be caught by that bait. But human life obstinately refuses to 
 settle down upon such a basis. Common opinion originates no 
 doctrine with which man can remain satisfied. The ideas to 
 which he is obliged to remount in order to give dignity to his 
 life, possess much more the character of paradoxes than of com- 
 mon sense notions. Doubtless there was a time when man ob- 
 tained them by immediate intuition, and not through the inter- 
 vention of reflection ; because such ideas were not distinguished 
 from his very existence.* But that time is no more; the pure 
 light is broken in the prism of sin ; the power of collecting the 
 scattered rays is not within us ; and common sense has not fill- 
 ed the place of intuition. If man yet accomjdishes great and 
 sublime things in the world, it is not under the inspiration of 
 common opinion, but under some glimmering of primitive light ; 
 nor is it to common opinion they are ascribed, for it is in its 
 name they are condemned. In the eyes of the mass, self-denial, 
 humility, and martyrdom are not common sense. 
 
 Thus have I called attention to a fact, and given an expla- 
 nation of it. It is that a general contempt has often covered 
 those who have recalled to the notice of men some principle of 
 eternal rectitude, some truth essential to the elevation of human 
 nature; and the explanation I have given of it is, the fall. 
 Let us, if you please, for the present, leave the explanation, 
 and confine ourselves to the fact. We ask only that it be 
 affirmed or denied. But we can scarcely believe that any one 
 will deny it. For, that certain individual opinions, which have 
 subsequently become universal, have caused their first partizans 
 
 * They formed a part of himself. He acted upon them naturally and spon- 
 taneously. His mind was clear, and his heart innocent. — T. 
 
FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 75 
 
 to be treated as madmen or criminals, who would wish to dis- 
 pute ? And yet to maintain that these opinions, now become 
 universal, were, after all, errors, would argue a disposition of 
 mind, and even a state of moral feeling, which we are not per- 
 mitted to anticipate. I remind you only that torture, slavery, 
 the degradation of the female sex, and compulsion in matters 
 of religion, have existed amongst us as truths of public recog- 
 nition, and almost as articles of faith ; and that there is a coun- 
 try, where the man who should wish to prevent widows from 
 burning themselves with the dead bodies of their husbands, 
 would be considered a madman or an infidel. Suppose, then, 
 that the fact in question is admitted by all our readers ; let us 
 occupy ourselves only with appreciating its nature. 
 
 If the defenders of the most necessary, and, in the present 
 day, the most evident truths, have, in all epochs and in all 
 countries, gone by the name of fools ; if they have been hated, 
 despised, and persecuted ; if the truth of which they were the 
 messengers has not penetrated, except slowly and by a san- 
 guinary road, into common opinion, laws, and manners ; if it 
 had to submit to that exile of ages, in order to reach, as we 
 have said, from the threshold to the hearth, what, we ask, is 
 the condition of truth on the earth, and the position of man 
 with reference to it ? We say nothing of the fall ; let us admit 
 that man has not fallen ; let us not ask what he might have 
 been formerly ; let us look only at what he is at present, that, 
 is, since the remotest era to which we can go back by the aid 
 of historical monuments. What is the disposition of a being 
 respecting the truth who at first rejects it ; who despises those 
 who proclaim it ; who, when he accepts it, submits to it rather 
 than accepts it ; who receives it only by little and little, and 
 in a shattered and fragmentary state ; who finally attaches him- 
 self to it, I acknowledge, and does not abandon it, but, like a 
 husband, who, during long years, has shown himself stupidly 
 insensible to the virtues of his wife, and finally yields only to 
 the inconceivable obstinacy of a patience and an affection al- 
 most superhuman. 
 
 That effort, that sanguinary struggle, with which humanity, 
 
76 FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 
 
 wrestling, so to speak, against himself, seizes, one by one, the 
 most necessary truths ; the bad grace with which it is done, 
 and the incapacity of not doing otherwise, indicate two things 
 at once ; the first, that man cannot do without the truth ; the 
 second, that he is not in fellowship with the truth. But truth 
 is one ; and all those truths successively discovered, are only 
 parts, or diverse applications of it. All the truths which are 
 sometimes called principles are the consequences of a first prin- 
 ciple. That principle includes all, unites all ; it is from this 
 source they derive their evidence, their life, their immortality. 
 .That principle is the first truth which must be honoured, the 
 first lig-lit that must be kindled. It will itself kindle all ex- 
 tinguished truths, shed over them an equal radiance, and nourish 
 all their scattered lamps with a divine oil, the source of which 
 is inexhaustible, because it is divine. We must have a key to 
 all problems, a primary idea, by means of which all else may 
 be known ; truth is one, because man is one ; it is one, or it 
 is nothing. 
 
 We here say nothing new. This is the very idea which the 
 human mind has best preserved of its ancient heritage. It has 
 always endeavoured to attach all its thoughts, all its life, to 
 one grand and unique principle. This effort has given birth 
 to all religions ; for that primary principle could be nothing 
 but God ; and the great question at issue has been to form an 
 idea of God. But man has never failed to make God after his 
 own image, and his various religions have never surpassed him- 
 self ; for if by these he imposes on himself acts and privations 
 which he would not otherwise impose, these toils, which are of 
 his own choice, do not raise him above himself. Hence these 
 religions do not change the principle of his inner life ; they 
 subject him to an external sway, only to leave him free at 
 heart ; in a word, they do not substitute the new man for the 
 old. And since they take man at a given point in space and 
 duration, they are necessarily temporary, and retire before a 
 new degree of culture, and a new form of civilization. But at 
 their first appearance, however absurd they may be, they are 
 by no means taxed with folly ; because they are only a form 
 
FOLLY OP THE TRUTH. 77 
 
 given to the moral condition of all, — a form which is itself the 
 result of time, place, and traditions ; it is born and grows up 
 with the people ; it is itself as appropriate and natural as their 
 manners ; and they will take care not o accuse of extravagance 
 their own work, and their own thought. 
 
 But let a doctrine present itself, which, so far from being 
 formed in the image of man as he is, appears, on the contrary, 
 formed in the image of man as he is not ; a doctrine which 
 compels man to surpass himself, and which changes the charac- 
 ter, not of a particular class, or of a single energy or faculty, but 
 of the entire human life ; a doctrine which places the object of 
 humanity higher than it is placed by any individual, or by 
 mankind generally, how, think you, will it be received ? What ! 
 the particular applications of the principle have cost those who 
 proposed it, contempt and insult, while the very principle of 
 all these applications, that which included them all, and dis- 
 covers many others like them, does not bring upon its defenders 
 insult and contempt ! What ! hate the consequences ! and yet 
 not hate the principle which sanctions them, enforces them, and 
 will continually give rise to others of a similar kind ! We do 
 not think so. That principle will not escape hatred, unless by 
 contempt, or rather it will suffer both by turns ; the hatred of 
 those who cannot help suspecting its truth ; the contempt of 
 others, who, looking on it only as a prejudice different from 
 their own, will not believe it formidable enough to deserve 
 their hatred. Let us rather say, that both of them will be 
 forced to regard it as a folly. For what is that principle, which 
 has created, so to speak, another human nature. It cannot be 
 an abstraction ; it must be a fact. It must be a fact of a new 
 order, because ordinary facts would leave us in our ordinary 
 condition. It is, then, a divine fact ; for to God only does it 
 belong to create a fact of a new order. Hence it is a fact 
 which we could not foresee. And since we could not foresee 
 it, we cannot comprehend it. It is not a natural but a super- 
 natural fact ; it is a miracle ; it is a folly. Indeed, it is not a 
 religion such as that which man makes for himself. True re- 
 ligion is a revelation of God ; and if God has spoken, what he 
 
 G 
 
78 FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 
 
 has said is necessarily a folly to those who do not believe. 
 Those, too, who convey this revelation, or relate this fact, or 
 announce this message, will excite in the world an immense 
 surprise ; will revolt the wise, alarm the timid, irritate the 
 powerful. They will see let loose against them the ignorant 
 as well as the wise ; for it is not necessary to be learned in 
 order to discern folly. As to the effects which this fact has 
 produced upon them, and the internal revolution they have 
 undergone, if they speak of them, they will not be believed ; 
 their most certain experiences will appear but as vain fancies. 
 And since the world do not comprehend their principles, neither 
 will they comprehend their conduct ; they will complain of 
 them as enthusiasts ; they will ridicule them as mystics, until 
 that power of truth, of which we have spoken, has acted upon 
 the most rebellious spirits, subdued contempt, and finally forced 
 the wisest to confess and to bless that folly. 
 
 The history I have just recounted, is that of the gospel. 
 Christian truth, simply because it was the truth, must at its 
 first appearance, have had all the world against it. It has be- 
 come, externally, the religion of nations ; and governments 
 have done themselves the honour to protect it, or to be pro- 
 tected by it. It would, indeed, be difficult to say, with pre- 
 cision, what the nations have adopted under the name of the 
 Christian religion. They never believe, with the same faith as 
 individuals. A nation has its manner of being Christian, just 
 as an individual has his. One must be a Christian according 
 to the standard of the world, not to be a fool in its judgment. 
 The world has abstracted from Christianity a part of its folly ; 
 it has rendered it almost wise, at least, in practice ; so that, 
 even in the midst of a Christian nation, the Christian who ac- 
 cepts all that folly, passes for a foolish man. It is not, then, 
 necessary to go amongst the Mussulmans, or the followers of 
 Budh, to hear ourselves denominated insane on account of 
 Christianity ; the occasion will never be wanting in Christen- 
 dom, and even in the bosom of a people the most attached to 
 the worship of their fathers. The folly of the cross will always 
 spring from the book of the gospel : it will always break out in 
 
FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 7!) 
 
 the profession and conduct of those who have accepted it ear- 
 nestly and without restriction. The Christian, consequently, 
 will always be tempted to dissemble his faith ; and it will there- 
 fore ever be one of his duties to brave popular contempt, and 
 confess himself tainted with that sublime folly. 
 
 But if any one supposes that the whole matter at issue turns 
 on confessing his faith in Christ once for all, he is greatly mis- 
 taken. Christianity is something more than an assemblage of 
 dogmas ; it is especially the principle of a new life. The folly 
 of the Christian does not always consist in the doctrines he 
 adopts. It consists more, much more, in the maxims which 
 serve to regulate his conduct. He is foolish in practice, as well 
 as in theory. He separates himself from other men in a 
 thousand ways, the greater part of which, I allow, are not 
 visible, but remain secret between himself and God. But it is 
 impossible that this separation should not sometimes be obvious 
 and public ; if he does not seek occasions for it, it is certain he 
 will not avoid them. The same Christianity which teaches 
 him maxims inconceivable to the rest of the world, teaches him 
 to follow them without fear and dissimulation. Such courage 
 is the first law and the first mark of a true Christian. Every 
 Christian is, first of all, a witness ; every witness is, by antici- 
 pation, a martyr. 
 
 Christianity has effected this revolution in the world. It 
 has given to truth a dignity independent of time and numbers. 
 It has required that truth should be believed and respected for 
 itself. It has claimed that every one should be able to judge of 
 its merits ; that the most ignorant and the most isolated should 
 find in himself sufficient reasons to believe ; that in order to de- 
 cide regarding it, he should not inquire if others around him 
 believe it, but that he should be ready, when occasion requires, 
 to be alone in his opinion, and to persist in it. So many men 
 make no use of their conscience ; so many who practise a duty 
 would not even suspect that it was a duty, if they found that 
 opinion prevalent ; so many who have no doubt respecting a 
 duty, do not expect to recognize and discharge it, until they see 
 it performed by those of their fellow-men in whom they have 
 
SO FOLLY OF THE TRUTH. 
 
 the greatest confidence ! They believe so much in man, so much 
 in numbers, so much in antiquity, and so little in truth ! 
 But Christianity was designed to produce a race of men who 
 should believe in truth, not in numbers, nor in years, nor in 
 force, — men, consequently, who should be ready to pass for fools. 
 ********* 
 
 O, then, let us daily ask God to form around us an immense 
 void, in which we shall see nothing but Him, — a profound 
 silence, in which we shall hear nothing but Him ! Let us be- 
 seech Him to raise our souls to an elevation, where fear of the 
 judgments of the world shall not reach us ; where the world 
 itself shall disappear and sink away beneath ! Let us entreat 
 Him to envelope us in his radiance, and inspire us with the 
 holy folly of his gospel, and especially, to penetrate our souls 
 with a love " to him that hath loved us," so intense and domi- 
 nant, that it would cost us more to descend from that height to 
 the world, than it has cost us to ascend thither from the world. 
 Let us not only pray without ceasing, but let us unceasingly 
 watch, unceasingly strive ; — no means, no effort is too much to 
 disengage us from the restraints of worldly wisdom, to make 
 us die to that vain wisdom, and enable us to taste, in the 
 bosom of God, the plenitude of truth, and the plenitude of life. 
 
81 
 
 V. 
 THE GENIUS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 " And I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting 
 gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, 
 and kindred, and tongue, and people.''' — Rev. xiv. 6. 
 
 Among sceptics who resist, with the greatest pertinacity, the 
 arguments of the defenders of Christianity, there are none, 
 doubtless, who would not be ready to declare, that a sensible 
 proof, an authentic miracle, would not find them incorrigible. 
 Shew us, they will say to you, what St John is said to have 
 seen, " an angel flying in the midst of heaven, having the 
 everlasting gospel to preach to them that dwell on the earth, 
 and to every nation, and tribe, and tongue, and people," and 
 we shall be converted. This is to promise what is beyond their 
 power ; miracles do not convert ; the sight of them can only 
 convince the understanding ; the heart needs that demonstra- 
 tion of power which belongs only to the Spirit of God. But 
 if miracles, clear and well attested, are capable of producing on 
 the mind an impression which predisposes it to receive the 
 message of salvation, let sceptics cease to demand the vision of 
 St John ; they have something of still greater value ; that 
 vision is an image of which they have the reality. They can, 
 as well as St John, and in some sense, better than he, see that 
 angel who bears through the heavens the everlasting gospel to 
 those that dwell on the earth. I mean, that they can discover 
 in Christianity a character of perpetuity and universality, as 
 striking at least to the reason, as the sight of an angel flying in 
 
82 THE GENIUS 0F THE GOSPEL. 
 
 the expanse of heaven, would be to the eyes and the imagina- 
 tion. If they require a miracle here is one. For to what will 
 they give the name of a miracle, if they refuse it to a fact 
 unique in its kind, inconceivable in its production, contrary to 
 all probabilities, inaccessible to all induction, and which, before 
 seeing it realized, every one would have judged impossible ? 
 Let them lend us such attention as the subject demands, and 
 we shall hope that the facts we are about to present will make 
 such an impression on them as will induce them to extend their 
 investigations, and inform themselves more thoroughly respect- 
 ing the gospel. 
 
 This is the question we propose for discussion. Is it in the 
 nature of things that a doctrine, the principal ideas of which 
 are not susceptible of being proved, still less discovered by 
 mere reason, should live in all times, and be introduced among 
 all nations ; and not only so, but should become, in all times, 
 and in all nations, the vivifying principle of morality, and the 
 beneficent auxiliary of the progress of the human mind ? 
 
 Have the goodness to reply ; but recollect, that the examples 
 you shall cite must want none of the conditions enumerated in 
 my questions. The doctrine under consideration is one which 
 can neither be demonstrated, nor discovered by reason. It is 
 one capable of embracing all times, and all nations. It is one 
 which takes the principal direction of the conduct of those who 
 embrace it. It is one favourable to the progress of the human 
 mind, and the onward march of civilization ; — four conditions, 
 each of which is essential. 
 
 I see, indeed, a doctrine common to all times, and all nations, 
 that of the existence of God, and the immortality of the soul ; 
 two inseparable truths, the union of which forms what is called 
 natural religion. It is natural, in fact, because nature ap- 
 pears every where to have taught its elements to the human 
 soul. It is every where one of the first products of reason, one 
 of the first results of its intellectual activity. It is the conclu- 
 sion of a reasoning so simple, and so rapid, that the reasoning, 
 so to speak, disappears, and the soul appears to obtain it by in- 
 tuition. It is universal, if you please, because it is natural. 
 
THE GENIUS OF THE GOSPEL. 83 
 
 It is not, however, a natural, but a positive religion, in which 
 we demand this character of universality.* As soon as natural 
 religion professes to clothe itself in determined forms, unanimity 
 ceases, no human power can establish it. Natural religion, 
 the instant it becomes positive, ceases to be capable of being 
 the religion of the human race.t 
 
 But it will be said, if a positive religion cannot be universal, 
 at least it may regain on the side of time what it loses on the 
 side of space. Suppose this granted ; but it must be acknow- 
 ledged, that it is only half of the condition we have proposed. 
 We have not spoken of all times only, but of all places ; so 
 that after we have been shown a positive religion, mistress of 
 a corner of the globe, from the origin of the world till now, we 
 should have a right to reject such an example. We accept it, 
 nevertheless, by way of accommodation, and for want of a bet- 
 ter. There are religious doctrines of an amazing antiquity. 
 With some variations in the details, the elementary principles are 
 permanent, and these appear unchangeable, as the physical con- 
 stitution of the nation that professes them, immovable as the soil 
 that bears them. If they are destitute of universality, perpe- 
 tuity ought, in a certain sense, to be accorded to them. But 
 
 * By a positive religion, the author means one which is clothed in set forms, 
 which consists of specific articles,— or what, in theological phrase, is some- 
 times called dogmatic. — T. 
 
 f When Robespierre, who, with all his enormities, had some political saga- 
 city, saw the havoc which atheism was working in France, he induced the 
 Convention, which had abolished all forms of religion, to restore the doctrines 
 of the existence of a Supreme Being, and of the immortality of the soul. The 
 reign of absolute infidelity, and the worship of reason, in the person of a beau- 
 tiful but lewd woman, brought from one of the brothels of Paris, was of short 
 duration. But deism, in a positive form, could not be established by all the 
 efforts of the government, backed by the philosophers. The theophilanthropists, 
 as they called themselves, aided by the public funds, opened some fifteen or 
 twenty churches, delivered orations, and sang hymns, in honour of the Deity, 
 and the immortality of the soul, but the attendance became less and less, and 
 the interest, even of those who were most enthusiastic in the project, gradually 
 declined. So that, by the end of 1795, scarcely a vestige of an organized sys- 
 tem of religious belief and worship remained in France. The whole scheme 
 was abandoned as hopeless. No ! Deism cannot be established as a positive 
 religion. It fails to meet the wants of the human soul ; it gives no assurance 
 of the divine favour, and supplies no pledge of a blessed immortality.— T. 
 
84 THE GENIUS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 are they competent, as I have required, to. serve as a moral 
 force ; and are they favourable to the natural and progressive 
 development of the human race ? No ; some of them have 
 no harmony with life ; others pervert the heart, and the social 
 relations ; and all of them chain the mind in immovable forms. 
 All present the phenomenon of a people, who, surprised, as one 
 might believe, by a sudden congelation, preserve, in the most 
 advanced periods of their existence, the attitude, manners, opi- 
 nions, costume, institutions, language, in a word, the whole 
 manner of life, in the midst of which they were seized by that 
 sudden catalepsy. If, on the other hand, any one claims that 
 it is the spirit of the people that has determined their faith, and 
 that their manners have made their religion, then this religion 
 is not such as we have required, namely, a doctrine capable of 
 influencing the life, and determining the conduct. 
 
 In going over the different known religions which divide the 
 nations, we shall find none that meets all the conditions we 
 have laid down. Mohammedism, besides owing its progress 
 to the power of the sword, fails to favour the progressive ad- 
 vancement of the human mind, nay more, represses it. It is 
 not suited to penetrate into all countries ; because it necessarily 
 carries along with it polygamy and despotism, antagonisms of 
 civilization. The religion of Hindostan fails to be moral, and 
 is unfavourable to culture and liberty ; every where it would 
 need its own earth and sky, for which alone it is made. Uni- 
 versality is equally wanting to the Jewish religion ; for it does 
 not desire it, nay more, repels it. It is a religion entirely na- 
 tional and local ; beyond Palestine it is exiled. The deficiency 
 which exists in all the religions we have just named, exists 
 also in all others. They want universality, perpetuity, moral- 
 ity, and sympathy with progress. 
 
 Such already is the answer to the question we have proposed ; 
 for no positive religion is found which has united all the condi- 
 tions enumerated. We may say, with some degree of confi- 
 dence, that such a thing is not possible. If it were, would it 
 not have happened ? And if it has not happened, will it ever 
 happen ? 
 
THE GENIUS OF THE GOSPEL. 85 
 
 But even in consulting the nature of things, independent of 
 the teachings of history, the same answer will be obtained. No 
 man can give a religion to humanity. If natural religion be 
 referred to, it is nature that gives it ; and all that a man can 
 do is to give form to its dogmas, by reducing its teachings to 
 order; he can only restore to humanity what he has received 
 from it. But, is it a positive religion which is referred to ; 
 one, I mean, the dogmas of which human reason could not, of 
 itself, have discovered ? Then, I ask, what elevation of heart, 
 of imagination, of reason, what stretch of genius, what won- 
 drous divination, are supposed to belong to a man, to admit 
 that the dogmas of his invention, the dogmas which nature has 
 not given, shall be received in all countries, shall preserve 
 their adaptation in all times, shall be applicable to all the con- 
 ditions of humanity and of society, in a word, shall be able to 
 constitute, and shall actually constitute, the religion of the hu- 
 man race ! 
 
 It is with some degree of inconsiderateness that some men 
 are spoken of as advancing beyond their age, and impressing 
 their own individual character upon generations. These are, 
 most of the time, men who have, better than others, understood, 
 reduced into forms more precise, and expressed with greater 
 energy, the dominant opinions of their era. They have proved 
 what their age carried in its bosom. They have concentrated, 
 in the burning-glass of their genius, the rays of truth, which, 
 scattered in the world, have not yet been able to set it on fire. 
 But their genius, the faithful and powerful expression of a time 
 and a country, which have made them what they are, cannot 
 be as vast as the genius of humanity. Men have done the 
 work of men, partial, relative, limited. But let an individual, 
 isolating himself from his country, from his time, nay more, 
 from his individuality, divine the fact, the idea, the doctrine 
 which shall renew, convert, and vivify mankind in all times 
 and in all places, — such an one is not a man, he is a God ! 
 
 Observe particularly that I do not require that his religion 
 shall become, in fact, the religion of all times, of all places, 
 and of all men. In the first instance, he must have time to 
 
SG THE GENIUS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 establish it ; and we do not claim that at the beginning of its 
 career it shall conquer the whole world. Further, we have 
 not all time before us ; and inasmuch as the future fate of the 
 world cannot be fully ascertained, we are not able to say with 
 precision that a thing is of all time. Finally, all true religion 
 supposes freedom, and freedom supposes the possibility of re- 
 sistance on the part of individuals. We shall demand only, 
 and the matter must be thoroughly understood, that a sufficient 
 number of experiments have proved that the doctrine in ques- 
 tion is such that no climate, no degree of culture, no form of 
 politics, no circumstances of time or place, no physical or 
 moral constitution, a barrier to it, are a fatal limit which it 
 cannot pass ; or to express ourselves more briefly, that it corre- 
 spond to the universal and permanent wants of humanity, inde- 
 pendent of all accidental, temporary and local circumstances. 
 
 If there is a religion of God upon the earth, it ought to have 
 this character of universality and perpetuity. For who can 
 doubt that the love of God embraces all mankind ; or suppose 
 that he could not speak to all mankind ? In such a case, God 
 cannot have in view one time, one country, one people only, 
 but all who possess the heart of humanity. When he speaks, 
 it is for the whole human race. Should it please him to distin- 
 guish one nation among the nations of the earth, it would yet 
 be for the sake of the human family. What he might say to 
 that people in particular, would not have an infinite and eternal 
 range ; that alone would be invested with such a character, 
 which, through that separate nation, would be addressed to 
 universal humanity. His revelation would not constitute the 
 fleeting existence of one nation, except, by this means, to form 
 a people taken out of all the nations of the earth, a spiritual 
 people, a nation of holy souls. 
 
 We return, then, to the proposition, and say : If such a reli- 
 gion exists, it must be from. God. It is on this ground, that is 
 to say, its universality, that we have already acknowledged 
 natural religion to be from him. But if, besides natural reli- 
 gion, there is in the world a positive religion, invested with the 
 character we have in view, we maintain that it also is from 
 
THE GENIUS OP THE GOSPEL. 87 
 
 God. Because it belongs to God alone to form an adequate 
 conception of man, whom he has made, and meet the wants of 
 his entire nature ; because, in consequence of this, God only 
 knows how to speak to man ; because he is confined to no 
 places, and restricted by no circumstances. And if the arbi- 
 trary appearance of the principles of a positive religion arrests 
 our attention, let us reflect that what is necesssary for God, and 
 a consequence of his nature, may very well appear arbitrary to 
 us ; and that what is strange and unexpected in his revelations, 
 is not less the necessary and indispensable result of his perfec- 
 tions, the faithful and spontaneous imprint of his character and 
 relations to the world. 
 
 Let us, then, hold for certain, that if there is in the world a 
 positive religion, which, fitted to control the life, and favour- 
 able to the progressive advancement of the human mind, finds 
 no limits in any circumstances of time and place, such a reli- 
 gion is from God. 
 
 This being settled, let us inquire, if there is such a religion. 
 
 A little more than eighteen hundred years ago, a man ap- 
 peared in an obscure corner of the world. I do not say that a 
 long succession of predictions had announced the advent of this 
 man ; that a long train of miracles had marked, with a divine 
 seal, the nation from which he was to spring, and the word it- 
 self which announced him ; that from the heights of a far dis- 
 tant future he had projected his shadow to the feet of our first 
 parents exiled from Paradise ; in a word, that he was encircled 
 and authenticated by an imposing array of proofs. I only say 
 that he preached a religion. It is not natural religion ; — the 
 doctrines of the existence of God and the immortality of the 
 soul are every where taken for granted in his words, but never 
 proved. They do not consist of ideas deduced from the primi- 
 tive concessions of reason. What he teaches, what forms the 
 foundation and essence of his system, are things which confound 
 reason ; things to which reason can find no access. It pro- 
 claims a God upon earth, a God man, a God poor, a God cru- 
 cified. It proclaims vengeance overwhelming < the innocent, 
 pardon raising the guilty from the deepest condemnation, God 
 
88 THE GENIUS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 himself the victim of man, and man forming one and the same 
 person with God. It proclaims a new birth, without which 
 man cannot be saved. It proclaims the sovereignty of the grace 
 of God, and the entire freedom of man.* 
 
 I do not soften its teachings. I present them in their naked 
 form. I seek not to justify them. No, — you can, if you will, 
 be astonished and alarmed at these strange dogmas ; — do not 
 spare yourselves in this particular. But when you have won- 
 dered sufficiently at their strangeness, I shall present another 
 thing for your astonishment. These strange doctrines have 
 conquered the world ! Scarcely made known in poor Judea, 
 they took possession of learned Athens, gorgeous Corinth, and 
 proud Rome. They found confessors in shops, in prisons, and 
 in schools, on tribunals and on thrones. Vanquishers of civili- 
 zation, they triumphed over barbarism. They caused to pass 
 under the same yoke the degraded Roman and the savage 
 Scandinavian. The forms of social life have changed, — society 
 has been dissolved and renewed, — these have endured. Nay 
 more, the church which professed them, has endeavoured to di- 
 
 * When our author speaks of God as a victim, and subjected to suffering, 
 he must always be understood as referring to God manifest in the flesh, that 
 is, to Jesus Christ in his whole nature as human and divine. Some, I know, 
 object to such expressions as those in the text, as being unphilosophical and 
 unscriptural. But in this they may be mistaken. Our philosophy of the di- 
 vine nature is exceedingly shallow and imperfect. God is not the cold and 
 impassive Being which it too often represents him. Perfect and ever blessed 
 he certainly is ; but that he is incapable of every thing like sentiment or emo- 
 tion, is exceedingly questionable. Such is not the view given of him in the 
 Scriptures. Are we not expressly informed that the Word was made flesh, 
 that he might suffer death for every man, and that it behoved him in all things 
 to be made like unto his brethren ? If he suffered at all did not his whole 
 being suffer ? Was there not a profound and mysterious sympathy between 
 his human and his divine natures ? How else can we account for the infinite 
 value and efficacy attached to his sufferings and death ? How else explain the 
 adoring reverence of the primitive church in view of his agony in the garden 
 and on the cross ? Besides, suffering is by no means an evidence of imperfec- 
 tion ; nay, the experience of it may be necessary to the highest felicity, on the 
 part even of pure and perfect natures. In this respect, the sinless and ador- 
 able Saviour was made perfect through sufferings, as much, perhaps, for his 
 own sake as for ours. But this is a subject which philosophy does not under- 
 stand ; and we can only say devoutly, " Great is the mystery of godliness ; God 
 was manifest in the flesh ?" — T. 
 
THE GENIUS OF THE GOSPEL, 89 
 
 minish their power, by beginning to corrupt their purity. 
 Mistress of traditions and depositary of knowledge, she has used 
 her advantages against the doctrines she ought to have defended ; 
 but they have endured. Every where, and at all times, in cot- 
 tages and in palaces, have they found souls to whom a Re- 
 deemer was precious and regeneration necessary. Moreover, 
 no other system, philosophical or religious, has endured. Each 
 made its own era, and each era had its own idea ; and, as a ce- 
 lebrated writer has developed it, the religious sentiment, left to 
 itself, selected forms adapted to the time, which it broke to 
 pieces when that time had passed away. But the doctrine of the 
 cross continued to re-appear. If it had been embraced only by 
 one class of persons, that even were much, that perhaps were 
 inexplicable ; but you find the followers of the cross among 
 soldiers and citizens, among the rich and the poor, the bold 
 and the timid, the wise and the ignorant. This doctrine is 
 adapted to all, every where, and in all times. It never grows 
 old. Those who embrace it never find themselves behind their 
 age ; they understand it, they are understood by it ; they ad- 
 vance with it, and aid its progress. The religion of the cross 
 appears no where disproportionate to civilization. On the con- 
 trary, civilization advances in vain ; it always finds Christian- 
 ity before it. 
 
 Do not suppose that Christianity, in order to place itself in 
 harmony with the age, will complacently leave out a single 
 idea. It is from its inflexibility that it is strong ; it has no 
 need to give up anything in order to be in harmony with 
 whatever is beautiful, legitimate, and true ; for Christianity is 
 itself the type of perfection. It is the same to-day as in the 
 time of the Reformers, in the time of the Fathers of the Church, 
 in the time of the Apostles and of Jesus Christ. Nevertheless 
 it is not a religion which flatters the natural man ; and world- 
 lings, in keeping at a distance from it, furnish sufficient evi- 
 dence that Christianity is a system foreign to their natures. 
 Those who dare not reject it, are forced to soften it down. 
 They divest it of its barbarisms, its myths, as they are pleased 
 to call them ; they render it even reasonable, — but, strange to 
 
90 THE GENIUS OP THE GOSPEL. 
 
 say, when it is reasonable, it Las no power ; and in this, is like 
 one of the most wonderful creatures in the animal world, which, 
 when it loses its sting, dies. Zeal, fervour, holiness, and love 
 disappear with these strange doctrines ; the salt has lost its 
 savour, and none can tell how to restore it. But, on the other 
 hand, do you not, in general, perceive that when there is a revi- 
 val of these doctrines, Christianity is inspired with new life, 
 faith is re-animated, and zeal abounds ? Do not ask, Upon 
 what soil, or in what system, must grow these precious plants ? 
 You can reply in advance, that it is only in the rude and rough 
 soil of orthodoxy, under the shadow of those mysteries which 
 confound human reason, and from which it loves to remove as 
 far as possible. 
 
 This, then, among all religions, is the only one which is 
 eternally young. But perhaps physical nature will do what 
 moral nature cannot. Perhaps climates will arrest that angel 
 which carries the everlasting gospel through the heavens. Per- 
 haps a certain corporeal organization may be necessary for the 
 reception of the truth. But you may pass with it from Europe 
 to Africa, from Ethiopia to Greenland, from the Atlantic to 
 the Southern sea. Every where will this message be heard ; 
 every where fill an acknowledged void ; every where perfect 
 and renew the life. The soul of the negro slave receives from 
 it the same impressions as the soul of Isaac Newton. The lofty 
 intelligence of the one and the stupidity of the other have, at 
 least, one great thought in common. And let it be well re- 
 marked, the effects are every where the same. The cross sheds 
 a light that illumines all. As if by instinct, not by painful 
 reasoning, they reach, every where, the same conclusions, re- 
 cognize the same duties, and, in different forms, commence the 
 same life. Wherever Christianity is introduced, civilized man 
 draws nearer to nature, while the savage rises towards civiliza- 
 tion ; each in his turn, and in an inverse sense, makes some 
 steps towards a common centre, which is that of true sociability 
 and true civilization. 
 
 It will, perhaps, be objected, that this civilizing power of 
 Christianity is found only in the sublime morality of the gospel ; 
 
THE GENIUS OF THE GOSPEL. 91 
 
 and that it is not by the positive doctrines, but rather in spite 
 of them, that savages are converted, and then civilized. This 
 assertion is false in whatever aspect it may be viewed. 
 
 In readily conceding- to the evangelical morality a decided 
 superiority to all other systems of morals, we wish it to be ob- 
 served, that this superiority holds less with reference to the 
 precepts, than their basis or motives ; in other words, the mys- 
 terious and divine facts which distinguish Christianity as a po- 
 sitive religion. The gospel has not invented morality ; many 
 of its finest maxims were, for a long time previous, in circula- 
 tion in the world. The gospel has not so much promulged 
 them, as placed them on a new foundation, and quickened them 
 by a new spirit. The glory of the gospel consists less in announ- 
 cing a new morality, than in giving power to practise the old. 
 
 But let us not dispute. We admit that the morality of the 
 gospel contains many things absolutely new ; but it must be 
 conceded that there was in the world, and particularly in the 
 writings of the ancient sages, as fine a morality ; and that, if 
 morality has a power within itself, an intrinsic virtue, we should 
 expect to see practice in some proportion to theory. But in 
 former times, now, and always, in each man, and in humanity 
 generally, we are struck with a singular disparity between 
 principles and conduct ; and are constrained to acknowledge, 
 that in this sphere, at least, what is done responds poorly to 
 what is known ; and that the life by no means harmonizes with 
 convictions. The knowledge of morality is not morality ; and 
 the science of duty is not the practice of duty. 
 
 These general remarks are fully confirmed by the history of 
 the evangelization of the heathen. If one fact is known and 
 acknowledged, it is that it has never been by the preaching of 
 morality, — not even of evangelical morality, — that their hearts 
 have been gained. Nay, it is not more so by the teaching of 
 natural religion. Pious Christians, deceiving themselves on 
 this jDoint, wished to conduct the people of Greenland metho- 
 dically by natural to revealed religion. As long as they rested 
 in these first elements, their preaching did not- affect, did not 
 gain a single soul ; but the moment that, casting away their 
 
92 THE GENIUS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 human method, they decided to follow that of Christ and of 
 God, the barriers fell before them, and once more the folly of 
 the cross was found to be wiser than the wisdom of man. The 
 schools teach us to proceed from the known to the unknown, 
 from the simple to the composite ; but in the kingdom of God, 
 things occur which derange all our ideas. There we must be- 
 gin at once with the unknown, the composite, the extraordi- 
 nary. It is from revealed religion that man ascends to natural 
 religion. He is transported at a single bound into the centre 
 of mysteries. He is shewn God-man, God crucified, before he 
 is shewn God in glory. He is shewn the mass before the de- 
 tails, the end before the beginning. Do you wish to know 
 why ? It is that the true road to knowledge in religion is not 
 from God to man, but from man to God ; that before knowing 
 himself he cannot know God ; that the view of his misery, and 
 of his sins, conducts him to the atonement, and the atonement 
 reveals to him, in their fullness, the perfections of his Creator. 
 It is, to repeat the celebrated saying of Augustine, that " man 
 must descend into the hell of his own heart, before he can as- 
 cend to the heaven of God." The Christian religion is not 
 merely the knowledge of God, but the knowledge of the rela- 
 tions of man with God. It is the view of these relations which 
 sheds the most light upon the character and attributes of God 
 himself. And hence it is quite correct to say that revealed re- 
 ligion, which is precisely the discovery of these relations, con- 
 ducts to natural religion, namely, to that which is more ele- 
 mentary, to the idea of the infinite, whence natural religion is 
 derived, to religious feeling and the conceptions which are called 
 natural, but which ought to be called supernatural. These are, 
 ordinarily, but little familiar, seldom present, and not altogether 
 natural to our minds. In fact, how many men has the gospel 
 taken from the depths of materialism, and conducted, by the 
 way of Christian doctrine, to a belief in the existence of God, 
 and the immortality of the soul."* 
 
 * The following, taken from the Biblical Repository, Vol. 1, second series, 
 p. 383, is a striking illustration of what our author asserts : — 
 
 " Francis Junius, whom, at his death, it was remarked by Scaliger, the 
 
THE GENIUS OF THE GOSPEL. 93 
 
 It is, then, the doctrines, the mysteries, the paradoxes of the 
 gospel, we must carry to the savage, if we would gain his heart 
 to natural religion, from which he is estranged, and to . pure 
 morality, of which he knows still less. But even if our adver- 
 saries could reverse all this, they would not the less remain 
 under the pressure of an overwhelming difficulty. If natural 
 religion and morality suffice to make converts, will they not 
 suffice also to make preachers ? Find U3, among those who do 
 not believe in the positive doctrines of Christianity, men dis- 
 posed to undertake that laborious and dangerous mission. 
 Come, let the philosophers and rationalists bestir themselves ; 
 let us see their faith by their works ; let their zeal serve to 
 prove, to corroborate their system ; let them, from love of mo- 
 rality and natural religion, quit parents, friends, fortune, habits, 
 plunge into ancient forests, traverse burning plains of sand, 
 brave the influences of a deadly climate, in order to reach, con- 
 vert, and save some souls ! Might they not do for the kingdom 
 of God half of what so many courageous travellers have done 
 and suffered for science, or the temporal prosperity of their 
 country ? What ! no one stir ! no one even feel ! This appeal 
 has not moved a single soul of those friends of religion and 
 morality, for whom the cross is folly ! Why, it would appear 
 that they had no love for God, no care for souls, none of the 
 pious proselytism found among the partizans of the strange 
 doctrines of the fall of man, a bloody expiation, and a new 
 birth ! My brethren, does this evidence satisfy you, and do 
 you believe that there can be any other means, than by these 
 
 whole world lamented as its instructor, was recovered from atheism, in a re- 
 markable manner, by simply perusing St John i. 1-5. Persuaded by his father 
 to read the New Testament, ' At first sight,' he says, ' I fell unexpectedly on 
 that august chapter of St John the evangelist, " In the beginning was the 
 Word," &c. I read part of the chapter, and was so struck with what I read, 
 that I instantly perceived the divinity of the subject, and the authority and 
 majesty of the Scripture to surpass greatly all human eloquence. I shuddered 
 in my body, my mind was confounded, and I was so strongly affected all that 
 day, that I hardly knew who I myself was ; but thou, Lord my God, didst 
 remember me in thy boundless mercy, and receive me, a lost sheep, into thy 
 fold. 1 " 
 
 II 
 
94 THE GENIUS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 doctrines, of establishing the kingdom of God on the earth ? 
 Thus Christianity is clearly the positive religion, which com- 
 bines all the conditions enumerated in our question. 
 
 These are not arguments we present to the adversaries of 
 Christianity ; they are facts. They have only to recognize 
 this striking characteristic of Christianity, to see, with us, that 
 angel who flies through the heavens, having the everlasting gos- 
 pel to preach to all that dwell upon the earth, and to every 
 tribe, and tongue, and people. These are facts which we claim 
 to offer them. If they are false let them be proved so. If 
 they are true let any one dispute the conclusion, if he can. 
 Let him explain by natural causes, a phenomenon unique in 
 its kind. Let him assign, if he can, a limit to that power, that 
 influence of Christianity. But will any one give himself the 
 trouble of doing this ? In truth, it is more easy to shut the 
 eyes, and, repeating with confidence some hearsays, to assure 
 us that, according to the best information, Christianity has 
 gone by ; that it has had its era to make, and has made it, — 
 its part to play, and has played it ; and that " the only homage 
 we can render it now, is to throw flowers upon its tomb." This 
 tomb would be that of the human race. Christianity yet pre- 
 serves the world from the wrath of God. It is, perhaps, with 
 a view to its propagation, that events are pressing onward, and 
 that nations are agitated with a fearful crisis. Shall a few 
 sceptics, with frivolous hearts, give the lie to the most high 
 God, and the immense pressure of circumstances prove a false 
 standard of providence ? Let us pray for the progress of the 
 everlasting gospel, and the conversion of those proud spirits 
 who, till now, have disdained to recognize it. Let us pray 
 that it may constantly become more precious to ourselves, and 
 that its laws may be as sacred as its promises are sweet. 
 
95 
 
 VI. 
 NATUKAL FAITH. 
 
 " Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed." — John xx. 29. 
 
 The apostles did not profess to convey to the world any 
 thing but a message, good news, the news of that fact which 
 the angels announced to the shepherds of Bethlehem, in these 
 words : " Glory to God in the highest ; on earth peace, good- 
 will to men !" Faithful, but not indifferent messengers, deeply 
 moved themselves, by the good news they carried to the world, 
 they spoke of it with all the warmth of joy and love. Preach- 
 ers of righteousness, they urged with force, the practical conse- 
 quences of the facts they announced, and in their admirable 
 instructions, a leading sentiment, gratitude, was expanded into 
 a multitude of duties and virtues, the combination of which 
 forms the purest morality. But at this point, their ministry 
 terminated ; and certainly they made no pretension of intro- 
 ducing a new philosophy into the world. Nevertheless, they 
 have done so, and those who, in modern times, devote them- 
 selves to ascertain what ideas are concealed under the great 
 facts of the gospel, to penetrate into its spirit, and, if we may 
 so express ourselves, construct the system of it, cannot re- 
 frain from admiration, while reflecting on the connection of 
 parts or that great whole, their perfect harmony with one an- 
 other, and the harmony of each, with the permanent character- 
 istics and inextinguishable wants of human nature. This phi- 
 losophical character of the gospel would have been striking., 
 
96 NATURAL FAITH. 
 
 even if the apostles had appeared to impress it voluntarily upon 
 their instructions ; but how much more is this the case, and 
 how well fitted to make us perceive the divinity of the gospel, 
 when we see that its writers had no consciousness of the fact, 
 and that it was in spite of themselves, so to speak, that it was 
 stamped upon their work ! This philosophical character would 
 be striking even in a simple religion, one apparently rational, 
 approaching, in a word, to natural religion, as much as a posi- 
 tive one can ; but how much more striking it is, when we con- 
 sider that this religion is a complete tissue of strange doctrines, 
 the first view of which appals the reason. If these doctrines, 
 so arbitrary in appearance, involve ideas eminently natural, 
 and a system perfectly consistent, who will not be struck with 
 it ; and who will not wish to ascertain, by what secret, reason 
 the most sublime springs from the folly of the cross, philosophy 
 from dogma, and light from mystery ? 
 
 No where, as it appears to us, is this philosophical character 
 of Christianity so vividly impressed, as on the doctrine of the 
 gospel concerning faith. Not only is the general necessity of 
 faith recognized, as in all religions ; but this principle holds a 
 place in it, enjoys an importance, and exhibits effects, which 
 prove that the gospel alone has seized the principle in all its 
 force, and applied it in all its extent ; in a word, that it alone 
 has thoroughly discovered, and fully satisfied the wants of 
 human nature. The following proposition, then, will form a 
 subject worthy of our attentiou. The religions of man, and the 
 religion of Jesus Christ, are, with reference to the principle of 
 faith, philosophically true, with this exception, that in the first, 
 there is only a feeble and unprofitable beginning of truth, and 
 in the second, the religion of Jesus Christ, it is found in all its 
 plenitude, and all its power. To prove this proposition, we 
 propose to develope, in its various applications, the language of 
 our Saviour : " Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet 
 have believed." 
 
 I remark, first, that human religions have rendered homage 
 to philosophical truth, in placing faith at their foundation ; or 
 rather, that they are themselves a homage to that truth, inas- 
 
NATURAL FAITH. 97 
 
 much as, by their existence alone, they have proclaimed the 
 necessity and dignity of faith. This is the first idea we have 
 to develope. 
 
 The necessity and dignity of faith ; — nothing can be more 
 philosophical, nothing more reasonable than this idea. And 
 yet, if we are to believe vulgar declamation, and the sayings of 
 people of the world, faith can be the portion only of weak 
 minds and diseased imaginations. On the contrary, it is, in a 
 certain degree, the common heritage of the human race ; and 
 in the highest degree, the peculiar gift of elevated characters, 
 of noble spirits, and the source of whatever in the world bears 
 the impress of greatness. 
 
 The entire life of man, considered in its essence is composed 
 of three things, thought, feeling, action. Feeling is the motive 
 of action ; knowledge is the point of departure for both, and 
 therefore is the basis of life. From this every thing j>roceeds, 
 to this every thing returns. Before all, it is necessary to know ; 
 but the first glance enables us to see how little proportion there 
 is between the means of knowledge and the multiplicity of its 
 objects. It is impossible, indeed, that we should see every 
 thing, and have experience, in all the cases, in which know- 
 ledge is desirable. A vast chasm, then, very frequently ex- 
 tends between knowledge and action ; over that abyss a bridge 
 is thrown by faith, which, resting on a given fact, upon a pri- 
 mary notion, extends itself over the void, and conveys us to the 
 other side. Some kind of experience, physical or moral, a view 
 external, or internal, of observation or intuition, is the point of 
 departure, or the reason of faith. This first fact itself neither 
 demands nor requires faith ; but its consequences, its logical 
 deductions, are not embodied, do not become a reality for man 
 but by means of faith, which presents them to his mind, and 
 constructs for him a world beyond that which personal expe- 
 rience has revealed. 
 
 We are accustomed to oppose reason and faith to each other ; 
 we ought rather to say, that the one perfects the other, and 
 that they are two pillars, one of which could not, without the 
 
98 NATURxVL FAITH. 
 
 other, sustain life. Man is pitied, because he cannot know 
 every thing, or rather because he cannot see every thing, and 
 that he is thence compelled to believe. But this is to complain 
 of one of his privileges. Direct knowledge does not call into 
 requisition the living forces of the soul ; it is a passive state, 
 honoured by no spontaneity. But in the act of faith (for it is 
 an act, and not a state), the soul is in some sort creative ; if it 
 does not create the truth, it draws it from itself, appropriates, 
 realizes it. Under its influence, an idea becomes a fact, a fact 
 for ever present. Thought, supported by a power of the soul, 
 then manifests all its dignity in revealing its true independence ; 
 man multiplies his life, extends his universe, and attains the 
 perfect stature of a thinking being. His dignity is derived 
 from believing, not from knowing. 
 
 Faith is invested with a character still more elevated, when 
 it takes its point of departure from the word of a witness, whose 
 soul ours has penetrated, and recognized its authority. Then, 
 under a new name, that of confidence, it attaches itself to the 
 noblest elements of our nature, sympathy, gratitude, and love ; 
 it is the condition of the social relations, and constitutes their 
 true beauty. Far from contradicting reason, it is the fact of a 
 sublime reason, and one might say, that it is to the soul, what 
 genius is to the intellect. When the apostles recognized, by 
 his words, their risen Master, when Thomas, sceptical as to 
 their testimony, wished to put his finger into the wounds of 
 Jesus, — who was rational, if not the apostles, and irrational, 
 if not Thomas? And, notwithstanding, for how many people 
 would not Thomas be the type of prudence, if he had not be- 
 come by tradition, that of doubt ? 
 
 Let us resume. That power which supplies evidence, that 
 power, which, at the moment when a man, advancing upon the 
 ocean of thought, begins to lose his footing, and feels himself 
 overwhelmed by the waves, lifts him up, sustains him, and 
 enables him to swim through the foam of doubt to the pure and 
 tranquil haven of certainty, is faith. It is by faith, according 
 to the apostles (Heb. xi. 1 ), that what we hope for is brought 
 nigh, and what we see not is made visible. It is faith which 
 
NATURAL FAITH. 9<) 
 
 supplies the place of sight, the testimony of the senses, personal 
 experience and mathematical evidence.* 
 
 Faith is not the forced and passive adherence of a spirit van- 
 quished by proofs ; it is a power of the soul, as inexplicable in 
 its principle as any of the native qualities which distinguish 
 man amongst his fellow-creatures ; a power which does not 
 content itself with receiving the truth, but seizes it, embraces 
 it, identifies itself with it, and permits itself to be carried by it 
 towards all the consequences which it indicates or commands. 
 
 Faith is not credulity ; the most credulous man is not always 
 he who believes the best. A belief, easily adopted, is as easily 
 lost; and the firmest convictions are generally those which 
 have cost the most. Credulity is but the servile compliance of 
 a feeble mind ; while faith demands the entire sphere and energy 
 of the soul. 
 
 Let us add, that it is a capacity and a function, the measure 
 and intensity of which vary with individuals, while the direct 
 evidence is for all equal and identical. Among the partizans 
 of the same doctrine, and the equally sincere defenders of the 
 
 * The facts of which we have no personal knowledge or experience, are, so 
 to speak, without us. They have, what the Germans call, an objective, but 
 not a subjective reality. They exist, but, so far as we are concerned, might 
 as well not exist. We cannot be said, in any proper sense of the word to 
 possess them. How, then do they become ours ? By faith in the testimony 
 of others, is the common reply. But a mere belief, or a passive reception of 
 testimony, would leave them as much without us as ever. They would exist 
 for us, but not in us. But faith is an active principle. It seizes and appro- 
 priates the truth, and lodges it as a living element in the soul. It is thus, 
 as our author shows, a sort of mental creation, giving, as it does, reality and 
 power to the invisible and the future. " It is the substance (realization) of 
 things hoped for, the evidence (conviction, vision) of things not seen." By 
 means of it we know what would otherwise be unknown, and do what would 
 otherwise be undone. It is an energetic principle, and, in the department of 
 religion, " worketh by love, and overcometh the world." By its aid, we are 
 made to live, even while on earth, in the spiritual and eternal world. " We 
 walk by faith, not by sight." Yet faith, as Vinet beautifully remarks, is the 
 vision of the soul. 
 
 " The want of sight she well supplies, 
 
 She makes the pearly gates appear, 
 Far into distant worlds she pries, 
 
 And brings eternal glories near." — T. ' 
 
100 NATURAL FAITH. 
 
 same truth, some believe more strongly; the object of their 
 faith is more real, — is nearer and more vividly present to their 
 minds. "While others, whose conviction is full and free from 
 doubts, do not possess so strong a conception, so vivid a view 
 of the object of faith. 
 
 It might be supposed that when reasoning has produced con- 
 viction, there can be no further use or place for faith. This is a 
 mistake. Reasoning leaves the truth without us. To become 
 a part of our life, a part of ourselves, it requires to be vivified 
 by faith. If the soul * concur not with the intellect, certainly 
 the most legitimate would want strength and vivacity. There 
 is a courage of the intellect like the courage of the soul, and 
 thoroughly to believe a strange truth, supposes, in some cases, 
 a power which all do not possess. In vain will some persons 
 try to do this ; for the conclusions to which they have come 
 by a series of logical deductions, with difficulty produce upon 
 their minds an impression of reality. A great difference will 
 always exist between reasoning and seeing, between draw- 
 ing a conclusion, and making an experiment. It would seem, 
 after all, that the mind has yet need of sight ; that it does not 
 yet possess that strong and efficacious conviction which it de- 
 rives from a sensible impression ; and it is for this that faith is 
 useful ; it is a sort of sight. Moreover, even when we have 
 gathered together all the elements of certainty, the most satis- 
 factory reasoning does not always in itself secure perfect re- 
 pose to our minds. It might be said that, in the case of many 
 persons, the more the road from the premises to the conclusion 
 was Ions; and circuitous, the more their conviction loses in full- 
 ness, as if it were fatigued by its wanderings, and had arrived 
 exhausted at the end of its reasoning. Often will an obstinate 
 doubt come to place itself in the train of the most logical de- 
 ductions, a peculiar doubt, which brings no proofs, which makes 
 no attempt to legitimate itself, but which, after all, throws a 
 shadow over our best acquired convictions. When it is not 
 
 * Here, as in many other instances, the term soul is used in a peculiar and 
 restricted sense, as signifying the sentimental and imaginative part of our na- 
 ture. — T. 
 
NATURAL FAITH 10 i 
 
 born from within, it comes from without ; spread in the crowd 
 that surrounds us, it besieges us with the mass of all strange 
 unbeliefs. It is not known how difficult it is to believe in the 
 midst of a crowd which does not believe. Here is a noble ex- 
 ercise of faith ; here its grandeur appears. This faith in con- 
 tested truths, when it is calm, patient, and modest, is one of the 
 essential attributes of all those men who have been great in " the 
 order of minds." What is it that gives so much sublimity, in 
 our imaginations, to the great names of Galileo, Descartes and 
 Bacon, unless it be their faith in the truths with which they 
 had enriched their minds ? A Newton reigns with majesty 
 over the world of science, but he reigns without combat ; his 
 image is that of a sovereign, not of a hero. But we feel more 
 than admiration for the great names I have mentioned ; grati- 
 tude, mingled with tenderness and respect, is the only senti- 
 ment which can become us. Our soul thanks them for not 
 having doubted, for having preserved their faith in the midst 
 of universal dissent, and for having heroically dispensed with 
 the adherence of their contemporaries. 
 
 Shall I say it, even ? Yes, but to our shame. Faith finds 
 its use even in the facts of personal experience. Such is our 
 mind, such, at least, is it become, that it distinguishes between 
 external and internal experience, and yielding without hesita- 
 tion to the testimony of the senses, it costs it an effort to yield to 
 the testimony of consciousness. It requires submission, and by 
 consequence, a species of faith, to admit those primitive truths 
 which it carries within it, which have no antecedents, which 
 brine; no other warrant but their own existence, which cannot 
 be proved, but which are felt. Irresistible in their nature, 
 still some require an effort in order to believe them. Have we 
 not seen some such who have endeavoured to draw their no- 
 tions of justice from those of utility, so as to go back, by this 
 circuit, to matter, and consequently to physical experience ? * 
 
 * Our author here refers to the sensual philosophy of such men as Condil- 
 lac and Helvetius, who, taking Locke's idea that all our knowledge is derived 
 from sensation and reflection, have carried it out to the most extreme and ab- 
 surd consequences, proving thus that there must be some defect in the system 
 
 I 
 
102 NATURAL FAITH. 
 
 It might be said that it was painful to them to see the road to 
 knowledge shortened before them, that they regretted the ab- 
 sence of that circuitous path which God wished to spare them ; 
 and it is this strange prejudice that obliges us, in some sort, to 
 do violence to the nature of things, and exhibit, as an act of 
 faith, what is only a manifestation of evidence. 
 
 However this may be, faith, that is to say in all possible 
 spheres the vision of the invisible, and the absent brought 
 nigh, is the energy of the soul, and the energy of life. We 
 do not go too far in saying that it is the point of departure for 
 all action ; since to act is to quit the firm position of the pre- 
 sent, and stretch the hand into the future. But this, at least, 
 is certain, that faith is the source of everything in the eyes of 
 man, which bears a character of dignity and force. Vulgar 
 souls wish to see, to touch, to grasp ; others have the eye of 
 faith, and they are great. It is always by having faith in 
 others, in themselves, in duty, or in the Di vanity, that men 
 have done great things. Faith has been, in all time, the 
 strength of the feeble and the salvation of the miserable. In 
 great crises, in grand exigencies, the favourable chance has al- 
 ways been for him who hoped against hope. And the great- 
 ness of individuals or of nations may be measured precisely by 
 the greatness of their faith. 
 
 It was by faith that Leonidas, charged with three hundred 
 
 of Locke, or at least in his method of stating it. These material and Epi- 
 curean philosophers refer all our notions of justice to utility, all our feelings 
 of reverence, affection and gratitude to mere emotion and sensation. In their 
 analysis, the loftiest sentiments are reduced to the images and impressions of 
 material forms. The very soul is materialized, and the eternal God is either 
 blotted from existence, or represented as the shadowy and infinite refinement 
 of physical existence. 
 
 The Abbe" Condillac, who was a worthy man, and a beautiful writer, never 
 intended to go so far as this, but his successors soon ran down his system to 
 absolute atheism, which, for a long time, was the prevalent philosophy in 
 France. A better system is beginning to prevail there ; still, even the spiri- 
 tual philosophy is liable to run to the same extreme as gross materialism. 
 The great difficulty with such philosophers as Cousin and others, is, that 
 they have not the fear of God before their eyes. Their transcendentalism is 
 liable to become as sceptical and irreligious as the sensualism of Helvetius 
 and Voltaire.— T. 
 
NATURAL FAITH. 103 
 
 men for the salvation of Greece, encountered eight hundred 
 thousand Persians. His country had sent him to die at Ther- 
 mopylae. He died there. What he did was by no means 
 reasonable, according to ordinary views. All the probabilities 
 were against him ; but in throwing into the balance the weight 
 of his lofty soul, and three hundred heroic deaths, he did vio- 
 lence to fortune. His death, as one has happily said, was 
 " well laid out." Greece, united by so great an example, 
 pledged herself to be invincible. And the same spirit of faith, 
 — faith, I mean, in her own power, — was the principle of all 
 those actions in that famous Persian war which secured the in- 
 dependence of Greece. 
 
 "What was it that sustained amid the wastes of the ocean, 
 that intrepid mortal, who has given us a new world ? It was 
 an ardent faith. His spirit convinced, had already touched 
 America, had already trodden its shores, had there founded 
 colonies and states, and conveyed, by a new road, shorter 
 though indirect, the religion of Jesus Christ to the regions of 
 the rising sun.* He led his companions to a known land ; he 
 went home. Thus, from the moment that he received this 
 conviction, with what patience have you seen him go from so- 
 vereign to sovereign, entreating them to accept a world ! He 
 pursued, during long years, his sublime mendicity, pained by 
 refusals, but never affected by contempt, bearing every thing, 
 provided only that he should be furnished with the means of 
 giving to some one that marvellous land which he had placed 
 in the midst of the ocean. Amid the dangers of an adven- 
 turous navigation, amid the cries of a mutinous crew, seeing 
 his death written in the angry eyes of his sailors, he keeps his 
 faith, he lives by his faith, and asks only three days, the last 
 of which presents to him his conquest. 
 
 What power had the last Brutus, at the moment when he 
 abandoned his faith ? From the time of his melancholy vision, 
 produced by a diminution of that faith, it might have been 
 
 * That is to say, Columbus believed that by going west, he would reach the 
 eastern hemisphere, by an easier, yet more indirect route, and convey to those 
 distant regions the blessings of Christianity. — T. 
 
104 NATURAL FAITH. 
 
 predicted, that his own destiny and that of the republic were 
 finished. He felt it himself ; it was with a presentiment of 
 defeat that he fought at Philippi. And such a presentiment 
 always realizes itself. 
 
 The Romans, at their origin, persuaded themselves that they 
 could found an eternal city. This conviction was the principle 
 of their disastrous greatness. Perpetuated from generation to 
 generation, this idea conquered for them the world. An un- 
 heard-of policy caused them never to treat with an enemy, ex- 
 cept as conquerors. How much value did they attach to faith, 
 when, after the battle of Cannae, they thanked the imprudent 
 Varro for not having despaired of the salvation of the repu- 
 blic ? It would certainly make a vicious circle, to say, we be- 
 lieve in victory, therefore we shall conquer. But it is not 
 always the people who reason the best, that are the strongest ; 
 and the power of man generally lies more in his conviction it- 
 self, than in the goodness of the proofs by which it is sus- 
 tained. 
 
 Whence is derived the long duration of certain forms of go- 
 vernment, and of certain institutions, which to-day we find so 
 little cod formed to right and reason ? From the faith of the 
 people, from a sentiment, slightly rational, and by no means 
 clear, but energetic and profound, a sort of political religion. 
 It is important that a government should be just, a dynasty 
 beneficent, an institution reasonable ; but faith, up to a certain 
 point, can take the place of these things, while these do not 
 always supply the want of faith. The best institutions, in re- 
 spect to solidity and duration, are not the most conformed to 
 theory ; faith preserves them better than reason ; and the 
 most rational are not quite consolidated, until after the con- 
 victioDS of the mind have become the property of the heart, 
 until the citizen, no longor searching incessantly, for the rea- 
 sons of submission, obeys by a certain lively and voluntary im- 
 pulse, the principle of which is nothing but faith. 
 
 Another thing still more surprising ! faith often attaches it- 
 self to a man. There are great characters, powerful wills, to 
 which has been given a mysterious empire over less energetic 
 
NATURAL FAITH. 1 05 
 
 natures. The greater part of men live by this faith in power- 
 ful men. A small number of individuals lead in their orbit the 
 whole human race. They do not weigh all the reasons which 
 such men give ; they do not calculate all the chances which 
 they develope ; they do not judge them, they only believe in 
 them. Many men, for decision, for action, for faith, follow 
 the impulse of these privileged natures ! And who can suffi- 
 ciently wonder at it ? Their feebleness is transformed into 
 strength under that powerful influence, and they become capa- 
 ble, by sympathy, of things, which left to themselves, they 
 would never have imagined, thought of, nor desired. Amid 
 dangers, when fear is in all hearts, the crowd derive courage 
 and confidence from the assured words of a man, who has no 
 one to trust but himself. Every one confides in kim who con- 
 fides in himself; and his audacious hope is often the best re- 
 source, in a moment of general anxiety. 
 
 But we leave to others the task of multiplying examples. 
 We are sure that from all points of history, proofs arise of the 
 truth we exhibit. Wherever man has given to the future the 
 vividness of the present, and to the representations of his own 
 mind the power of reality, wherever man believes in others, in 
 himself, or in God, he is strong. I mean, with a relative 
 strength ; strong in one respect, feeble perhaps, in all others ; 
 strong for an emergency, feeble perhaps beyond it ; strong for 
 good, strong also for evil. 
 
 Human religions, then, have rendered homage to a truth, 
 and comprehended a general want, in furnishing to man an ob- 
 ject of faith, superior in its nature to all others. They have 
 fully acknowledged, that in the rude path of life, man has not 
 enough, in what he knows, and in what he sees ; that his most 
 solid supports are in the region of the invisible, and that he 
 will always be less strong by realities, than belief. They give 
 support to numerous souls who cannot confide in themselves ; 
 and, by placing in heaven, succour and hope, they govern 
 from on high, the events which envelope and protect the whole 
 life. 
 
106 
 
 VII. 
 CHRISTIAN FAITH. 
 
 " Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed." — John xx. 29. 
 
 We have sufficiently exalted human faith, let us abase it 
 now. Having spoken of its marvels, let us recount its miseries. 
 
 Human religions have recognized a want of our nature ; 
 they have excited and cherished it, but they have deceived it. 
 In the first place, they were pure inventions of man. Not 
 that faith, considered as a motive of action, and a source of 
 energy, should absolutely need to repose upon the truth, but 
 that what is false cannot last, and must, at the very least, give 
 place to a new error. Faith in human inventions may be firm 
 and lively so long as there is a proportion between them and 
 the degree of existing mental culture. That epoch past, faith 
 gradually evaporates, leaving dry, so to speak, one class of so- 
 ciety after another ; the dregs of belief then remain with the 
 dregs of the people ; the more elevated classes are sceptical or 
 indifferent ; and the thinkers are fatalists or atheists. If in 
 some extraordinary cases, the old religion continues, it is, as 
 we have seen in a preceding discourse, at the expense of intel- 
 lectual advancement and every other kind of progress. These 
 old religions, instead of giving energy to the soul, exhaust it ; 
 instead of sustaining, oppress it. 
 
 In another aspect, the faith of the heathen is still less com- 
 mendable. It is entirely alien to the moral perfection of man ; 
 often, indeed, directly opposed to it. It proposes to console 
 man, it more frequently tyrannizes over him. No where has 
 it for its final aim to regenerate him ; no where does it rise to 
 
CHRISTIAN FAITH. 10? 
 
 the sublime idea of causing him to find his happiness in his re- 
 generation. 
 
 Shall we say aught respecting the faith of deists ? Thorough- 
 ly to appreciate it in an epoch like ours, it ought, at the very 
 first, to be divested of what it has involuntarily borrowed from 
 the gospel. The deism of our day is more or less tinctured 
 with Christianity ; this is the reason why it does not, like that 
 of antiquity, lose itself in fatalism. But whatever it may be, 
 and taking it in its best forms, we must acknowledge that the 
 faith of the deist is only an opinion ; an opinion, too, exceed- 
 ingly vague and fluctuating, and which, as a motive of action, 
 does not avail so much as the faith of the heathen. Let deism, 
 at least, have its devotees, who, to please their divinity, permit 
 themselves to be crushed beneath the wheels of his car, and we 
 will acknowledge that deism is a religion. 
 
 Thus it is not without a kind of pleasure that we behold the 
 sceptics of our day, not knowing what to do with their natural 
 religion, and haunted by a desire to believe, frankly addressing 
 themselves to other objects, and, strange to tell, making for 
 themselves a religion without a divinity. I do not speak here 
 of the covetous, who, according to St Paul, are real idolaters, 
 nor of the sensual, who, according to the same apostle, " make 
 a God of their belly." It is of souls not sunk so low, souls 
 who, less sceptical originally, have retained their craving, their 
 thirst for the infinite, but have mistaken its true import. This 
 craving for God and religion, which unconsciously torments 
 them, induces them to seek upon earth some object of adoration ; 
 for it is necessary that man should adore something. It is dif- 
 ficult to say how they come to invest with a character of infi- 
 nity, objects whose finite nature must continually strike us ; 
 but it is certain that this illusion is common. Some make 
 science the object of their passionate devotion. Others evoke 
 the genius ' of humanity, or, as they say, its ideal, devoting to 
 its perfection^and triumph, equally ideal, whatever they pos- 
 sess of affection, of thought, and of power. Others, and, in 
 our day, the greatest number, have made for themselves a reli- 
 gion of political liberty. The triumph of certain principles of 
 
108 CHRISTIAN FAITH. 
 
 right in society, is to them what the kingdom of God and eter- 
 nal life are to the Christian. They have their worship, their 
 devotion, their fanaticism ; and those very men who smile at 
 the mysticism of Christian sects, have also their mysticism, less 
 tender and less spiritual, but more inconceivable. 
 
 Thus, in spite of all their efforts to the contrary, and, not- 
 withstanding all their pretensions, each one, we doubt not, has his 
 religion, each lias his worship, each deifies something, and when 
 he knows not what idea to make divine, he deifies himself. 
 
 It was in this way that infidelity commenced in the garden 
 of Eden ; and as such was its beginning, such also is its final 
 result. In reality, all other apotheoses, if we examine them 
 carefully, come to this. In science, in reason, in liberty, it is 
 himself to which man renders homage. But faith in one's 
 self originates a particular kind of worship, which it is im- 
 portant to notice. It consists of a circle, the most vicious 
 and absurd. The subject and the object are confounded in the 
 same individual ; the adorer adores himself, the believer be- 
 lieves in himself ; that is to say, since worship always supposes 
 a relation of inequality, the same individual finds himself in- 
 ferior to himself; and since faith supposes an authority, the 
 authority in this case submits to the same authority. This con- 
 fusion of ideas no longer strikes us when we have permitted 
 the inconceivable idea to enter our minds, that we are some- 
 thing beside ourselves, — that the branch can subsist without 
 the trunk ; whence it would follow that we must be at once 
 above and beneath ourselves, while the same persons find them- 
 selves at once their own masters and their own servants. Thus 
 live by choice and system some men who pass for sages. They 
 have faith in themselves, in their wisdom, energy, will, and 
 virtue ; and when this faith succeeds in rooting itself firmly in 
 the heart, it is capable of producing, outwardly, very great 
 effects. I have said great, but upon this point I refer you to 
 Jesus Christ himself, who says, " that which is highly esteem- 
 ed among men is abomination with God." 
 
 Do you prefer this faitli in ideas, and this faith in self, to the 
 faith of the heathen in their imaginary gods ? And why not 
 
CHRISTIAN FAITH. 109 
 
 see that, independently of the pride and irreligion which cha- 
 racterize these two forms of faith, they are, even humanly 
 speaking, extremely defective ? Here it is proper to notice the 
 imprudence with which some have exalted subjective faith, ac- 
 cording to the name given it by the schools, above objective 
 faith, by intimating that the main thing is to believe firmly, 
 whatever, in other respects, be the object of faith ; intending, 
 doubtless, to apply this maxim only to the variations of the 
 truth, not to the truth itself. But how easy is the transition 
 from the one to the other. Why deny that the men of whom 
 we have just been speaking possess, in a high degree, subjective 
 faith ; and that such faith may be in them a quick and intense 
 energy, fitted equally for resistance and movement ? But is 
 this the only question to be asked respecting it ? Are we to 
 be satisfied with its being powerful, without demanding an ac- 
 count of the manner in which it uses its power ? What, then, 
 are the effects of this much vaunted faith of man in man ? 
 Does it not leave in his interior nature immense deficiencies ? 
 Does it not cultivate it, to speak more plainly, in the wrong 
 direction, and in a way to corrupt it X When all the fluids of 
 the body are conveyed to one part of the system, what becomes 
 of the rest ? When all the devotions of man are addressed to 
 man, what becomes of God ? And what a monstrosity is that 
 faith which has become erroneous and false to such an extent 
 as this ? 
 
 But do not believe that this faith, even in its own sphere, 
 has all the prerogatives ascribed to it. There are, I allow, in- 
 flexible spirits, whom age only hardens, and who die in their 
 superstition, fanatical, to the last, touching enlightenment, civi- 
 lization and freedom. But the greater number disabuse and 
 free themselves before they die. Some of them have been seen 
 smiling at their former worship, and trampling under their feet 
 with disdain the ruins of their former idols. The soul is easily 
 satiated with what is not true ; and disgust is then proportioned 
 to previous enthusiasm. Ye will come to this, ye who believe 
 in the regeneration of the human race by political freedom ; ye 
 who have never known that, until man becomes the servant of 
 
110 CHRISTIAN FAITH. 
 
 God he can never enjoy true freedom ; ye will groan over your 
 dreams, when popular passions have perhaps coloured them 
 with blood ! Ye will come to this, ye who are confident in 
 your native generosity, in the liberality of your sentiments and 
 the purity of your intentions, in a word, ye that have faith in 
 yourselves. When a thousand humiliating falls have convinced 
 you of your weakness, when disabused with reference to others, 
 ye shall be disabused also with reference to yourselves, when 
 ye shall exclaim, like Brutus, " virtue, thou art only a 
 phantom !" what will then remain to you ? That which has 
 remained to so many others, the pleasures of selfishness or of 
 sensuality, the last bourne of all errors, the vile residuum of all 
 false systems. If, indeed, it shall not then be given you to 
 accept in exchange for the faith which has deserted you, a 
 better faith, which will never desert you, and which it now re- 
 mains for us to announce. 
 
 We declare to you the faith of the gospel ; study its charac- 
 teristics, and become acquainted with its excellence. 
 
 No where is the importance of faith so highly estimated as 
 in the gospel. In the first place, you learn, at the very first 
 glance, that it is faith which saves, not for time, but for eter- 
 nity. " By faith ye are saved," says St Paul. " If thou con- 
 fess Jesus Christ with thy mouth, and believe with thine heart 
 that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved." 
 " Christ is the author of salvation to all them that believe." 
 This is the first characteristic of Christian faith, that salvation 
 depends on it. 
 
 But do not, on this account, consider it as a meritorious act. 
 While in other religions faith is an arbitrary work to which it 
 has pleased the Divinity to attach a merit and a recompense, a 
 work without any other value than an accidental one, commu- 
 nicated to it by the promise from on high ; in the gospel, faith 
 is represented as having an intrinsic power, a virtue of its own, 
 a direct influence upon the life, and by the life upon salvation. 
 Faith, in the gospel, does not save, except by regenerating. It 
 consists in receiving into the heart those things which are fitted 
 to change it. The Christian, with reference to God, to himself, 
 
CHRISTIAN FAITH. Ill 
 
 to life, has convictions entirely different from those of the world, 
 if, indeed, the world has upon these subjects any thing which 
 resembles convictions. But such is the doctrine of the gospel, 
 that when it penetrates a spirit agitated by remorse and the 
 terrors of the judgment to come, it produces in it a gratitude 
 and a joy, the inevitable effect of which is to impel it in a di- 
 rection opposite to that which it has hitherto followed. The 
 believer has found peace ; can he abandon the source of peace ? 
 Can he wander away to shattered cisterns that can hold no 
 water, when within his reach he has fountains of living waters 
 springing up into everlasting life ? Can he fail to obey Him, 
 who, for his benefit, became obedient unto death, even the 
 death of the cross ? Will he not submit to the providence of 
 that God, who, having given to him his only begotten Son," has 
 proved to him, that in all things, He can desire nothing but his 
 happiness ? Will he, who loves his Father in heaven, hate any 
 of his brethren on earth ? And will he fail to pray, who 
 knows that the very Spirit of God makes intercession for him 
 with unutterable sighs ? Yes ! Christian faith is the victory 
 over the world ; Christian faith contains all the elements of a 
 holy life. And what proves this better than all reasonings is, 
 the many holy lives, so consistent and harmonious, of which 
 Christianity alone supplies the model, and especially those 
 wondrous revolutions which render persons truly converted 
 new creatures ; which subdue to sweetness so many angry souls, 
 to patience, impetuous natures, to humility, haughty spirits, 
 to sincerity, dissembling characters, to tranquillity, troubled 
 hearts ; which, in a word, creates in man a new soul, capable 
 of all the virtues the very opposite of the vices which tyran- 
 nized over him. 
 
 The unity of life ought to correspond to the unity of prin- 
 ciple, and not only so, but to its immensity. Faith in some- 
 thing finite, can produce only finite results ; faith in any thing 
 imperfect or fleeting, only imperfect and fleeting results. But 
 God is the principle which includes all principles ; he is more, 
 he is the principle which regulates and quickens all. Every 
 thing is false and mutilated if it relate not to God ; but all is 
 
112 CHRISTIAN FAITH. 
 
 true, complete, united, fruitful, which has the true God for its 
 principle. What part of the field of morals can remain sterile 
 and useless under an influence from which nothing can escape ? 
 Over what virtue cannot God preside ? With what duty can 
 He dispense ? How shall He, who is justice, goodness, and 
 beauty supreme, fail to attract to himself whatever is just, and 
 great, and beautiful ? It is on this account that the knowledge 
 of God, of the true God, is the only principle of a perfect mo- 
 rality ; and most insensate is he who would ascribe to God any 
 other. 
 
 But do not demand of Christian faith only splendid things. 
 It has these, it is true, but it holds in tension all the strings of 
 the soul at once, and extends its influence to all points at the 
 same time. We have seen Leonidas perish at Thermopylae for 
 the salvation of Greece. Christian faith would teach a Chris- 
 tian to do as much as that ; but it would also render him ca- 
 pable, every day, of a thousand little sacrifices. It would arm 
 his soul against all internal assaults of anger, of envy, and of 
 false glory. Could the faith of Leonidas do all these things ? 
 
 This infinite variety, this immensity of application of the 
 Christian faith, is better explained by a reference to its domi- 
 nant characteristic, which is love. Love prescribes no limits. 
 Were a sentiment only of legal justice in the heart of a Chris- 
 tian, he would try to measure his task, he would trace for him- 
 self precise limits, he would know where to stop ; but obeying 
 because he loves, loving Him whom he cannot love too much, 
 he abandons himself to the impulse of his heart as the world- 
 ling abandons himself to his passion. He never says, and he 
 never can say, it is enough. He would fear that he loved no 
 longer when he could say to his love, " Hither shalt thou come, 
 and no further." Love knows neither precaution nor reserve ; 
 it ever desires more ; it is inflamed by its own movement, it 
 grows by sacrifices themselves, expects to receive in the mea- 
 sure that it gives, and is itself its own reward ; for the true re- 
 ward of love is to love still more. Where, then, in its appli- 
 cations, shall a faith stop which resolves itself into love ? 
 It is scarcely necessary, after all this, to prove that Chris- 
 
CHRISTIAN FAITH. 113 
 
 tian faith is an energetic principle of action. To abstain and 
 sustain constitute but half of the morality founded upon love. 
 Very far from confining itself to a character of obedient passi- 
 vity, the holy impatience of love seeks and multiplies occasions 
 of testifying its ardour towards the Saviour God from whom it 
 has emanated. Faithful to the express commands of the gos- 
 pel, and the example of Jesus Christ, whose holy activity never 
 relaxed, Christian love, each moment, creates for itself new 
 spheres of labour, and new domains to conquer. Will not even 
 the enemies of Christianity be the first to admit an activity 
 which vexes and alarms them daily ? Do not those who ac- 
 cuse Christian faith of fanaticism render a beautiful homage to 
 the force of action which dwells in it ? Christ well character- 
 ized the faith which he brought into the world, when he said, 
 with so much energy, — " If ye had faith as a grain of mustard 
 seed, ye would say to this fig tree, be thou plucked up by the 
 roots, and be thou cast into the midst of the sea ; and it shall be 
 done." Such, indeed, is the power of Christian faith, that, 
 long before the appearance of Christ, when it was nourished 
 only in the shadow of Him that was to come, already Chris- 
 tians by anticipation, under the ancient covenant, were ren- 
 dered capable, by their faith, of the most heroic efforts and the 
 most extraordinary works. Read in the eleventh chapter of 
 the Epistle to the Hebrews, the picture of what this faith en- 
 abled the Christians of the ancient covenant to do; bring to- 
 gether that picture and the one presented from the days of the 
 apostles to ours, and you will not doubt, that if faith, in gene- 
 ral, is an energetic principle of action, Christian faith is the 
 most energetic of all. 
 
 A last characteristic of this faith is its certainty. I do not 
 speak of that array of external proofs which form the imposing 
 bulwark of the Christian revelation ; proofs for which the scep- 
 tics of our day affect a contempt so little philosophical, and 
 which scarcely one in a hundred gives himself the trouble to 
 examine. I do not speak of them here, for they are not equally 
 within the reach of all the faithful. But the Christian has a 
 proof better still ; he has God present in the heart ; he feels, 
 
114 CHRISTIAN FAITH. 
 
 every moment, the influence of the Spirit of God, in his soul. 
 He loves ; therefore he has the truth. His proof is not of a 
 nature to be communicated by words ; but neither can words 
 take it away. You cannot prove to him that he does not love 
 God ; and if he loves God, will you dare to insist that he does 
 not know him ? I have already asked it once, and I ask it 
 again : Can he who loves God be deceived ; is he not in the 
 truth. And if Christianity alone gives him power to love 
 God, is not Christianity exclusively the truth ? Such is the 
 certainty in which the faithful rejoice. I do not add that it is 
 cherished and quickened by the Holy Spirit. I only speak of 
 obvious facts, facts respecting which the unbelieving as well as 
 the believing can satisfy themselves. And I limit myself to 
 saying, that the faith of the true Christian has for its peculiar 
 characteristic a certainty which elevates it above that of any 
 other belief. 
 
 Behold, ye men of the world, ye thinkers, ye great actors in 
 the concerns of time ! behold the faith which I propose to your 
 hearts, empty and famishing for faith, deceived rather by faith 
 itself. Certainly it does not depend upon me to make you ac- 
 cept it, by the picture I have traced, nor upon you to become 
 its votaries, through this simple exposition. Arguments do 
 not change man ; it is life which teaches life ; it is God who 
 reveals God. But is what we have said without some attain- 
 able end and application ? No, if we have succeeded in mak- 
 ing you understand at least the imperfections of your faith, and 
 the superiority of Christian faith with reference to life and ac- 
 tion. As to the first point, it is, I believe, beyond contradic- 
 tion. As to the second, we have proved, it appears to us, all 
 all that we had to prove. We have not demonstrated that the 
 Christian religion is true, that the revelations upon which it 
 rests are authentic. Our only object was to demonstrate that 
 like all other beliefs, it renders homage to a want of the human 
 soul, and, what no other belief has yet done, that it has satis- 
 fied this want ; that it furnishes to man a principle of energy 
 and action, the distinctive features of which are not found 
 united in any other faith ; that it has an intensity, a generality 
 
CHRISTIAN FAITH. 115 
 
 of application, an elevation of tendency, and, in fine, a cer- 
 tainty which no other possesses ; that in all these respects it 
 presents a type of perfection which has never been realized in 
 any human invention ; and that if God himself has given a 
 faith to the world, it is impossible that he should have given a 
 better in any respect. After this, it would appear quite super- 
 fluous to inquire if the Christian religion is true. To us, this 
 proof is sufficient ; and we earnestly pray that it may strike 
 others as it strikes us. May such, by the grace of God, be the 
 result of this meditation. 
 
116 
 
 VIII. 
 
 ATHEISM OF THE EPHESIANS. 
 
 " Without God in the world."— Eph. ii. 12. 
 
 These words were addressed by St Paul to the recently con- 
 verted Christians, at Ephesus, and form a part of the chapter, 
 in which that great apostle reminds them of the state of dark- 
 ness, of moral depravity and condemnation, in which they were 
 plunged, before the messengers of salvation had proclaimed to 
 them Jesus Christ. The painful truth included in this text, 
 being established by the infallible authority of the divine word, 
 and being found in accordance with the whole current of Chris- 
 tian revelation, we might dispense with the task of seeking any 
 other proofs of it. But God has not forbidden us to prove, 
 and illustrate the perfect and wonderful harmony of his word, 
 with the clearest principles of reason and nature. On this ac- 
 count, we invite you to investigate with us the proofs of that 
 proposition of St Paul, that the Ephesians, before knowing 
 Jesus Christ, were without God in the world. 
 
 Aid us by your attention. And if you involuntarily feel 
 some prejudices against the position we are about to sustain, be 
 willing to repress them for a few moments. I am not going to 
 prove that the Ephesians, before their conversion, did not be- 
 lieve in God ; that were an untenable position. The belief in 
 God is so inherent in the human race, so essential to our reason, 
 that the most depraved persons can with difficulty free them- 
 selves from it. Not every one that wishes it is an atheist ; the 
 
ATHEISM OF THE EPHESIANS. 117 
 
 very devils believe and tremble. How could Paul say such, 
 a thing of the Ephesians, in sight, as it were, of the temple of 
 their Diana ? How could he say so, when at Athens, behold- 
 ing altars every where, he had reproached the inhabitants of 
 that celebrated city with being, in some sort too devout ? What 
 he wished to say, and what we seek to prove, is, that in the 
 case of an unconverted Ephesian, nay more, of the most en- 
 lightened Ephesian, of him, who in the steps of the philoso- 
 phers had risen to the idea of the divine unity, it would have 
 been the same thing, not to believe in God, as to believe in 
 him, as he did. 
 
 And if this even should appear to some hard to believe, I 
 beg them to give attention to the following question. What 
 is it to believe in the existence of a being ? Is it not to be- 
 lieve that there is a subject, in which certain qualities unite, 
 that distinguish it from all others ? Do not these qualities, or 
 properties, make the particular object or being what it is, and 
 not something else ; and when we deny all these qualities, 
 or properties, one after another, does it not amonnt to denying 
 the object itself ? 
 
 What would you say of a people, who had resolved to give 
 themselves a king, who had even invested a man with that 
 illustrious dignity, but who, from some motive, should take 
 from him successively, the right to raise armies, and to make 
 war and peace, the privilege of nominating to offices, and the 
 revenues necessary to sustain his dignity, and finally those 
 marks of respect, which his title appears to demand ? You 
 would say that this people had no king. In vain would a man 
 exist among them whom they called king ; he is not one, since 
 he cannot be such, without certain qualities and prerogatives ; 
 which qualities and prerogatives he has not. This is a repub- 
 lic, under the name of a monarchy. 
 
 What, in like manner, would you say of a man, or of a so- 
 ciety, who should say, we acknowledge a God, but who should 
 refuse to that God, the attributes most essential to his dignity, 
 and most inseparable from the idea of his perfection ; and re- 
 duce him, so to speak, to nothing but a name ? Assuredly. 
 
 K 
 
118 ATHEISM OF THE EPHESIANS. 
 
 you would say, that such a man, and such a society, do not 
 believe in God, and that under the name of religion, they pro- 
 fess atheism. 
 
 Very well, it will be said, the principle is incontestable ; but 
 who dreams of disputing it ? Is there in the world any one, so 
 unreasonable, as to deny the perfections of God, such as his 
 goodness, his justice, and his providence ? Yes, there is one in 
 the world who denies them. It is the Ephesian before his con- 
 version. 
 
 Here we have a second step to take. We have seen that to 
 deny the attributes, essential to the nature of God, is to deny 
 God ; you must also grant us now, that to deny the acts, which 
 are a necessary consequence of his attributes, is to deny those 
 attributes themselves. In other words, it is to deny the per- 
 fections of God, to refuse to him the exercise of these perfections. 
 But what is a perfection without its exercise ? What is holiness 
 without its application ? What is it but a useless power ? It is 
 a name, it is nothing. 
 
 You believe in the justice of God, St Paul might say to the 
 Ephesians. You believe then, that God sustains, defends, and 
 vindicates a moral order, which he has established, for the be- 
 nefit of his creatures, and for his own glory. You believe that 
 this justice, being infinite, cannot be satisfied, but by an obe- 
 dience, entire and unreserved. You believe that this justice, 
 being spiritual, demands the obedience, not of the hands only, but 
 of the heart, and the will. You believe, that this justice being 
 inviolable, can receive no stain, without demanding a repara- 
 tion, sudden, complete, absolute. You believe all this, you 
 say ; consequently, you believe also, that your sins ought to be 
 punished, that your heart which is not given to God, ought to 
 be condemned ; that your penitence effaces none of your trans- 
 gressions, since what is done cannot be undone, and violated 
 order is not less violated ; that your good works can no more 
 do so, since the good you have done in reparation of your sins, 
 ought to be done just as much as if you had no sins for which 
 to make reparation. You believe, then, that you are condemn- 
 
ATHEISM OF THE EPHESIANS. 119 
 
 ed, necessarily condemned. If you do not believe it, you have 
 a God without justice, that is to say, you have no God. 
 
 I suppose, however, might St Paul say, that you believe in 
 his justice ; but do you believe in his goodness ? You believe 
 in it, you say. But certainly not in a goodness limited, 
 mingled with weakness, liable to change. You believe that 
 God loves his creatures with an everlasting love ; that no ten- 
 derness in the world, not even that of a mother, is comparable 
 to his ; that it is not only your body, but your soul, that God 
 loves ; and that this love is as active as it is eternal. Is it not 
 true, that you believe all this? Ah! who does not believe it; 
 who does not need to believe it ? Is it not under the features 
 of love, that you are pleased to represent the Supreme Being ? 
 It is so. But between you and his goodness, what frightful 
 phantom rises, and covers, as with boding wing, his face full of 
 benignity ? It is the phantom of his justice, the image of your 
 sins. Try to invoke, as a Father, him whom you have never 
 ceased to offend ! Try to believe in all the goodness of God, in 
 spite of his vengeance ! * Terrible alternative, not to be able to 
 admit the goodness of God, without denying his justice, nor to 
 believe in his justice without denying his goodness. No, not 
 to you, is he the gracious God ; but he shall be, if you will 
 listen to the marvellous fact, we are charged to announce to 
 you. A Redeemer has been found ; the great mediation, so 
 often shadowed on earth, in all the religions of the nations, has 
 been realized in heaven. God has given his Son, and his Son 
 has given himself, to offer to his Father, the only satisfaction 
 he could accept, the only atonement which could be efficacious, 
 the only reconciliation which " reconciles all things." If he 
 had not given himself, justice, which nothing can arrest, would 
 have had its course. But can you, who have not received 
 Jesus Christ, believe in God, as a gracious God ? Can you, 
 from the depths of your misery and rejection, cry to him, " Our 
 Father who art in heaven ?" You have in the world, a master, 
 an accuser, a judge ; have you truly a God ? 
 
 * Vengeance here means, simply the administration of justice, particularly 
 in the infliction of punishment. — T. 
 
120 ATHEISM OF THE EPHESIANS, 
 
 You believe in providence, might St Paul say to the Ephe- 
 sian. Ah ! blessed is he who believes in so great a mystery ! 
 It is a proof that he has passed from death to life. But do 
 you know thoroughly, what it is to believe in providence ? 
 Alas! I doubt it; for why, when an event occurs, which in- 
 volves your welfare, do you immediately speak of fate or 
 chance ? And why, when you receive some benefit from men, 
 does your gratitude stop with them, instead of rising to the 
 Eternal ? And why, when you receive some evil from them, 
 do you think only of being indignant towards the mortal hand 
 which strikes you, and never think of adoring with awe the 
 divine authority, without whose permission you could not have 
 been struck ? And why, in view of the revolutions of the 
 world, do you perceive nothing but secondary causes, which 
 indeed ought to be carefully studied, but from which you never 
 rise to the Great First Cause ? Is that to believe in providence ? 
 But what we have just referred to, is only a part of the sphere 
 of the activity of Jehovah. If he controls the world of things, 
 he governs also, under another name, the world of morals ; and 
 that name is the Holy Spirit. Do you believe in the Holy 
 Spirit ? Do you believe that from him proceed all good resolu- 
 tions and all good thoughts ? Do you believe that his influence 
 is freely given by our Heavenly Father, to all those who ask 
 it ? It would seem to require no great effort to believe that. 
 No doctrine is more reasonable. We cannot, without absur- 
 dity, deny to God, who has made our minds, the power to in- 
 fluence and direct them. But if you do not believe in the Holy 
 Spirit, in that quickening soul of the moral world, I ask you, 
 what God do you possess ? 
 
 Behold, my brethren, what St Paul might have said to the 
 Ephesians before their conversion. Behold, too, what he could 
 not say to them, after their conversion. The Christian sees 
 manifested, and developed, in perfect harmony, the justice, the 
 goodness, and the providence of God, In Jesus Christ they 
 are consummated, realized, enthroned. In him the divine jus- 
 tice has been accomplished, — by him the goodness of God has 
 been proclaimed, — by him, in fine, the government of the Holy 
 
ATHEISM OF THE EPHESIANS". 121 
 
 Spirit, and a moral providence have been placed beyond a 
 doubt. These truths are the whole substance and aim Of the 
 gospel. The Christian alone knows God ; the Christian alone 
 has a God. 
 
 I feel as much as any one, all that is paradoxical and harsh, 
 which such an assertion at the first moment presents. But I 
 ask, what is that God, who should have no right either to our 
 adoration, our confidence, or our love ? And, indeed, how can 
 we adore a God, whose justice, pliable and soft, should accom- 
 modate itself to the corruption of our hearts, and the perversity 
 of our thoughts ? How, on the other hand, love a God, whom 
 we could not behold, but under the aspect, and with the attri- 
 butes of a severe and inexorable judge ? How could we con- 
 fide in a God, who, indifferent to our temporal interests, and 
 to those of our souls, should exercise no supervision over our 
 conduct and destiny? And, we ask once more, what is a God, 
 whom we can neither know, adore, nor love ? In truth, my 
 brethren, for it serves little purpose to soften the words, the 
 profession of the faith of the Ephesian is an involuntary pro- 
 fession of atheism. St Paul might to say him, do not exile your 
 God, amid the splendours of a distant glory, whence the sun of 
 righteousness can never warm the moral world, and shed upon 
 it the purifying influence of its rays ; or, if such be the God 
 you wish, do not, I pray you, mock yourselves so cruelly ; and 
 at least respect, by never pronouncing, a name, which you can 
 no longer regard as holy. Or rather pronounce it unceasingly, 
 as the name of a being for ever absent, and lost ; cultivate, 
 and, so to speak, enhance, by your tears, that idea, the grandeur 
 of which will remind you of your destitution ; but do not abuse, 
 do not flatter yourselves, by imagining you have a God, when 
 you have nothing more than the idea. Acknowledge to your- 
 selves, not that the universe has no God, a thing you have 
 never been able to doubt, but that you, in some sense, fallen 
 below the rest of created beings, are without God in the 
 world. 
 
 Behold, what reason, honestly interrogated, furnishes us 
 touching the religion of the Ephesian before his conversion. 
 
122 ATHEISM OP THE EPHESIANS. 
 
 But as his religion, such also will his life be. For it is impos- 
 sible that he that is without God in the world should live like 
 him who has a God. And to prove it, we do not require to 
 develope to you his moral conduct, and show you how far he is 
 removed from that holiness of which God is at once the source, 
 the motive, and the model. Without running over the whole 
 circle of his relations, it is sufficient to say what he is with 
 relation to God ; in other words, to point out the place which 
 God occupies in his moral life. That place, alas ! how small 
 it is ! The idea of God is neither the centre of his thoughts, 
 nor the soul of his life, but an idea accessory, supernumerary, 
 very often importunate, and associated indifferently with his 
 other thoughts. If God did not exist at all, the circle of his 
 ideas would not be less complete, nor his reason less satisfied. 
 When he is occupied with the idea of God, it is as a simple 
 view of the intellect, not. as a real fact, which determines the 
 aim of existence, and the value of life. He applies it less to 
 practical purposes than the astronomer the figure of the earth, 
 the course of the stars, and the measure of the heavens. His 
 belief in God is almost purely negative. It permits God to 
 exist, not being able to do otherwise ; but this belief neither 
 controls his life nor regulates his conduct. He believes in God ; 
 he says so when occasion requires it ; but it does not gratify 
 him to speak of it to his family or his friends ; he never enter- 
 tains his children with it, and he makes no use of it in their 
 education. In a word, his thought is not full of God, does not 
 live upon God ; so that we might say of him, in this first rela- 
 tion, that he is without God in the world. 
 
 Yet there is one voice in the universe. The heavens declare 
 the glory of God ; though they have no language, properly 
 speaking, their voice is heard, even by the dullest ear ; and 
 through the ear, that voice sometimes penetrates to the heart. 
 Yes, in view of that magnificent aspect of nature, all full of 
 love and life, the heart of the Ephesian is sometimes softened. 
 I will not ask him, why, in gazing upon these beauties, his 
 heart soon aches, and his bosom heaves with sighs ; I will not 
 ask him whence comes that involuntary sadness, which succeeds 
 
ATHEISM OF THE EPHESIANS. 123 
 
 the rapture of the first view. I will not say that what then weighs 
 upon his thoughts is the contrast between nature so beautiful, 
 and a soul degraded; between an order so perfect, and the dis- 
 order of his feelings and thoughts ; between that exuberance of 
 life, spread through immensity, and the consciousness of a 
 fallen existence, which dares not reflect upon its duration. I 
 will not ask him to observe that this feeling is so appropriate 
 to a soul like his, that he recurs to it at each emotion of joy, 
 as to a signal, appointed to poison and to tarnish it. And I 
 will not conclude, as I might do, that all this comes from the 
 fact, that God is absent. No, I shall only ask, What is that 
 emotion ? What does it prove ? Does it give you a God ? 
 Alas, that confused feeling has moved the souls of millions who 
 have gazed upon these beauties, and has left them such as they 
 were. Nature, which excites alternately pleasure and pain, 
 regenerates no one. Observe the Ephesian, whom it has 
 touched. That fleeting emotion, as soon as dissipated, restores 
 him wholly to the world. Even if he rendered worship to his 
 Creator, his life is not a worship ; it is not devoted to the Lord 
 of heaven and earth. His conduct obeys a thousand impulses 
 by turns, but he does not know the meaning of that admirable 
 precept, " Whatsoever ye do, do it for the Lord, and not for 
 man ; glorify God in your spirits, and in your bodies, which 
 are his." It is not for God that he is a literary man, a 
 merchant, an artizan, a man of property, a labourer, a citizen, 
 or the head of a family ; it is for himself. He is his own God 
 and his own law. 
 
 Events adverse and prosperous come by turns. They succeed 
 each other without interruption, and always find him without 
 God. Happy, — he has no emotion of gratitude to the Lord. 
 Unhappy, — he does not receive the occasion of it as a reproof 
 or a counsel. Sick, — he thinks not of the great Physician. 
 Dying, — he has no hope of heaven. In a word, that thought 
 of God which must be every thing or nothing in the life, is 
 nothing in his ; nothing, at least, worth estimating. He yields 
 nothing to it, sacrifices nothing, offers nothing. And, after all 
 this, he will tell us that he has a God ! 
 
124 ATHEISM OF THE EPHESIANS. 
 
 But we have spoken long enough of this imaginary being, 
 this unregenerate Ephesian. Are there, in your opinion, no 
 no sceptics but in Ephesus ? Is there no heathenism but in the 
 heathen world ? Is the portrait we have drawn applicable only 
 to an extinct race ? And is it not applicable to those thousands, 
 alas ! to those millions of the heathen of Christianity, who 
 also live without God in the world ? Let there be no delu- 
 sion here ; this description is either false or true. False, it 
 applies to no one, and to the Ephesian idolater no more than 
 another ; true, it has its originals in all ages, in all countries, 
 and, without doubt, also among us. 
 
 God forbid that I should make but one class of all the per- 
 sons who do not believe the gospel. There are those among 
 them who are climbing towards the truth, with a slow but 
 persevering pace. There is already something of Christianity 
 in those serious and tender souls, who are seeking, on all sides, 
 another God than that which the world has provided for them. 
 For already, without having a clear notion of the gospel, they 
 have received from the Holy Spirit a secret impulse, which 
 urges them to seek a God, invested with those attributes which 
 the gospel has revealed, a God of infinite justice, a God of in- 
 finite goodness, a God of providence. Religion stretches out 
 her hands to them, and salutes them with a gentle name, even 
 at the time they would seem to resist her ; for she discerns in 
 them a thirst for righteousness and peace, which she only is 
 capable of satisfying. And she waits for the happy moment, 
 when, recognizing the striking harmony between the Christian 
 revelations and the imperfect revelations they have received 
 from the voice within, these Christians by anticipation, these 
 Christians by desire and want, shall become such in fact and 
 profession. 
 
 But this takes nothing from the truth we have established, 
 touching the unbeliever who is living without God in the world. 
 And whither would this lead us, were we to pursue the sub- 
 ject? We have spoken only of his opinions, of his interior 
 feelings. And his actions, do not they prove that his thoughts, 
 according to the energetic language of the prophet, are all as 
 
ATHEISM OF THE EPHESIAXS. 125 
 
 if there were no God ? This I should aim to show, if the li- 
 mits of this discourse permitted it. I should discover it to you, 
 as much in the virtuous as in the vicious unbeliever. I should 
 shew you in both the same forgetfulness of God, the same in- 
 difference to his glory, 'the same idolatry of self. But a subject 
 of such importance requires space. It is not in a few words 
 that we can clear up all the difficulties with which it is con- 
 nected. 
 
 But why do I occupy your attention with these things ? 
 Have they reference to you ? Or is this sermon not made 
 rather for a pagan than for a Christian temple ? But is it that 
 doubt and error never come to sit in a Christian church ? 
 They may enter thither to seek for light ! God bless so good 
 an intention, for there is piety even in that ! In such a case, 
 it is proper to speak of these things. But even in an audience, 
 all the members of which are penetrated with the truths I have 
 discussed, such a subject is also appropriate. The Christian 
 cannot but gain something by inquiring diligently into the 
 foundations and privileges of his faith. He ought to love to 
 review the titles of his adoption. He ought also to learn how 
 to exhibit them with dignity, and explain them with gentle- 
 ness, to those who ask from him an account of his glorious 
 hope. And although the gospel can prove itself true by its 
 own power, and without any human aid, to a soul thirsting for 
 righteousness, nevertheless the examination of these proofs, so 
 rich and so beautiful, is a natural means which God often uses 
 to produce or confirm faith. May such, in some degree, be the 
 effect of this discourse. May you return to your houses, more 
 convinced and affected with the wonderful attractions of the 
 gospel. May you exclaim with the sacred poet, " God, I 
 rejoice in thy word as one that hath found great spoil. It shall 
 be a lamp to my feet, and a light to my path. Thou hast 
 made me to know the way of life. I shall ever be with thee ; 
 thou hast held me by thy right hand. Thou wilt guide me by 
 thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory !" 
 
126 
 
 IX. 
 GEACE AND LAW. 
 
 " By grace ye are saved." — Eph. ii. 5. 
 
 In no language is there a more attractive word than grace ; 
 in the gospel, there is none more offensive to the men of the 
 world. The idea of being saved by grace offends their pride, 
 shocks their reason. And they prefer, a thousand times, to 
 the word grace, so sweet and touching, that of law, so formi- 
 dable and severe. They desire us to speak to them of the pre- 
 cepts of the gospel, of the morality of the gospel, but they are 
 not pleased when we call their attention to the gratuitous par- 
 don it announces. We shall not, at present, explain the causes 
 of this predilection and of this repugnance, which appear to 
 contradict the deepest tendencies of human nature. But we 
 shall endeavour to shew that, so far from these two things, 
 grace and law, being irreconcileable, the one conducts necessarily 
 to the other ; that the law conducts to grace, and grace, in its 
 turn leads back to the law. 
 
 After we have deduced this truth from the very nature of 
 things, we shall appeal to experience, and enable you to see 
 that whosoever truly admits the one never fails to admit also 
 the other. Thus, if it should please God to aid us, one of the 
 principal objections which the world raises against the gospel 
 will be removed. 
 
 I say, then, that the law conducts naturally to grace. To 
 convince you of this, will you consider the law with reference 
 to four things, or four points of view which it offers to our con- 
 
GRACE AND LAW. 127 
 
 teniplation ? — its nature, its extent, its authoritative character, 
 and finally, its sanction or guaranty. 
 
 If you consider the nature of this law, you will see that the 
 question has little to do with ceremonies, customs, and external 
 performances. Upon this point there is no difference of opi- 
 nion. If these things were commanded by Heaven, they would 
 doubtless form a part of our duties. But the law, such as 
 Christians and even pagans conceive of it, is the moral law, the 
 law which subjects the life to the conscience. And this law 
 commands us, not merely to act justly, but to be just ; not only 
 to do right, but to feel right ; that is to say, it demands our 
 heart. 
 
 As to the extent of this law, a word will suffice ; it is the 
 law of perfection. He who understands it, resembles that hero 
 so frequently celebrated in history, who believed that he had 
 done nothing, so loug as any thing remained for him to do. No 
 relation of his life, no moment of his career, no part of his duty, 
 can be withdrawn from this universal empire of the moral law. 
 To obey in every thing, to obey always, to obey perfectly, such 
 is the unchangeable rule of his conduct.""" 
 
 In the third place, this is not a mere choice, a plan, or a cal- 
 culation, on his part ; he is bound to the law by the chains of 
 an imperious and absolute obligation. In his eyes, the only 
 
 * That this is a just view is evident from the fact that perfection, which is 
 the absence of all sin, and the possession of all virtue, is absolutely necessary 
 to our happiness. God cannot require less of his creatures than what will se- 
 cure their permanent well-being. The spirits of just men made perfect, and 
 the angels of God, are happy because they are holy. They " obey in every 
 thing, obey always, obey perfectly. 1 ' Hence we are enjoined to pray, " Thy 
 will be done on earth as it is in heaven." Our heavenly Father, then, has 
 given us a perfect law, in order that he may secure for us a perfect felicity. 
 He has forbidden all wrong, he enjoins all virtue ; for all wrong is injurious, 
 all virtue is beneficial. One sin, sanctioned or permitted, one virtue, neglected 
 or not commanded, would tarnish our felicity, and introduce disorder into the 
 divine administration. The law, then, is the law of perfection. It has no 
 limits but those of possibility. It forbids all sin, it enjoins all purity, in 
 thought, word and deed. Like its author, it is " holy, just and good," and 
 therefore immutable and eternal. If, then, it bears severely upon us, if it con- 
 demns us utterly and irrevocably, this only proves that we need pardon and 
 regeneration. — T. 
 
128 GRACE AND LAW. 
 
 thing necessary is to obey. Happiness, power, life, are not the 
 end, but the means of fulfilling the moral law. The question 
 with him is not about enjoyment, or power, or life, but about 
 obedience. The laws of nature may change, those of duty re- 
 main. The universe may dissolve, the moral law continues. 
 In the confusion of all things, and amid universal disorder, the 
 will to do right does not cease to belong to him ; and his ac- 
 tivity would fail of its objects, and his efforts of their end, if he 
 did not for ever feel under obligation to be righteous. 
 
 That he may never forget it, a sanction is attached to the 
 law. Happiness has been invariably attached to obedience, 
 misery to disobedience. On earth, disgust, remorse, and terror, 
 indicate to rebellious man the most terrible punishments con- 
 cealed in the shadows of the future. " The wrath of God is 
 revealed from heaven against every soul of man that doeth 
 evil." 
 
 Try to deduct any thing from this formidable enumeration ; 
 try, and you will see, with each attempt, the burden aggra- 
 vated by new weights. Say that obedience has its limits, and 
 we shall ask you to point them out. Say that a compromise 
 may be made between heaven and earth, and we shall demand, 
 by virtue of what authority you dare to make such a compro- 
 mise. Say that each man has his standard, and we shall in- 
 quire of each one of you, if he has reached that standard. Say, 
 that God has no need of your sacrifices, we shall wish to know 
 if the commandments of God are regulated by his needs ; and 
 we shall compel you to acknowledge, that on such a supposi- 
 tion, God would not command anything, since assuredly God 
 has no need of any thing. Say that many of the duties im- 
 posed upon you are doubtful ; but whence come the greater 
 part of these doubts, if not from your reluctance to obey ? 
 Moreover, do you fulfil those duties of which you do not doubt ? 
 Say that obedience is impossible ; but shew us how, while you 
 find it impossible, it yet appears to you highly reasonable ; 
 shew us why your conscience persists in declaring authorita- 
 tive a law, whieh your experience declares impracticable ; shew 
 us why, after each transgression, you have in vain said, I could 
 
GRACE AND LAW. 129 
 
 not have done otherwise ; and why remorse does not cry the 
 less vehemently in your soul. Remove this contradiction, if 
 you can ; as for us, we cannot remove it. 
 
 To present to God our bodies and spirits a living and holy 
 sacrifice ; to devote to him our whole life ; to seek nothing but 
 his approbation ; " to love our neighbour as ourselves ; to use 
 the world as not abusing it ;" — such is a feeble sketch, a rapid 
 outline of the divine law. Let others seek to efface, to obli- 
 terate the distinctive features ; we shall deepen the impression. 
 Let them seek to lighten the burden, we shall press it with all 
 our might. We shall, if possible, overwhelm with it the pre- 
 sumptuous creature who seeks to shake it off, in order that, 
 under the oppressive weight of this terrible and inexorable law, 
 he may utter that desirable and salutary cry which implores 
 grace, and to which the gospel alone has responded. 
 
 If, then, you have formed a just idea of the moral law, if 
 you have accepted it, not enfeebled and mutilated, but in all 
 its strictness and majesty, you will acknowledge yourselves 
 violators of that divine law. You will feel yourselves capable 
 neither of fulfilling all its precepts together, nor even one of 
 them in a manner full and perfect ; and in the profound con- 
 viction of your misery and danger, you will either abandon 
 yourselves to an inconsolable despair, or you will cast your- 
 selves at the foot of the eternal throne, and beg grace and 
 pardon from the Judge of your life. 
 
 It is thus the law leads to grace. But observe particularly 
 that I have not said that the law explains grace. The work 
 of redemption is a mystery, and will always remain a mystery ; 
 the gospel itself only announces it, does not explain it. All I 
 meant to say is, that to him who contemplates the holy image of 
 the law, there is an imperious necessity to rely on grace or 
 perish in his sins. 
 
 It is at this point that St Paul has again exclaimed, " Do 
 we make void the law, through faith? God forbid? yea we 
 establish law." This is the second truth we have announced ; 
 o-race, in its turn, leads back to the law. 
 
 In the first place, you will consider that grace, as it is manL 
 
130 GRACE AND LAW. 
 
 fested in the gospel, is the most splendid homage, the most 
 solemn consecration, which the law can receive. This grace is 
 of a peculiar character. It is not the soft indulgence, and the 
 easy indifference of a feeble father, who tired of his own 
 severity, shuts his eyes to the faults of a guilty child. It is 
 not the weakness of a timid government, which, unable to 
 repress disorder, lets the laws sleep, and goes to sleep along 
 with them. It is a holy goodness ; it is a love without feeble- 
 ness, which pardons guilt, and executes justice, at the same 
 time. It is not possible, that God, who is the supreme sanction 
 of order, should tolerate the shadow of disorder, and leave un- 
 punished the least infraction of the holy laws he has given. 
 Thus, in the work of which we speak, condemnation appears 
 in the pardon, and pardon in the condemnation. The same 
 act proclaims the compassion of God, and the inflexibility of 
 his justice. 
 
 God could not save us without assuming our nature, nor assume 
 our nature, without sharing our misery. The cross, the triumph 
 of grace, is the triumph of law. Penetrate this great mystery, 
 and you will acknowledge that nothing is more beyond reason, 
 and yet nothing more conformed to it. Among all the inven- 
 tions of men, you will seek in vain, for another idea, which 
 exhibits in harmony, all the attributes which compose the per- 
 fection of God.* 
 
 * To every unsophisticated reader of the Scriptures, nothing can be more 
 evident, than the sacrificial, or substitutionary character of our Saviour's suf- 
 ferings. That Christ was sinless, all will admit ; that he was treated as if he 
 were a sinner ; that he was thus treated by the appointment of God, as well 
 as his own voluntary choice, and that his sufferings were a part of a great 
 scheme, devised by infinite wisdom, for the redemption of man, will also be 
 acknowledged. Moreover, that he suffered for us, suffered what we ought to 
 have suffered a thousand times over, but which we could not have suffered, 
 without utter perdition, and that God accepts his sufferings, not as a full, or 
 commercial equivalent for our punishment, but as an expiation, or atonement 
 for our sins, on the ground of which, our faith in Christ is accounted for 
 righteousness, and procures for us pardon and eternal life, will scarcely be 
 denied by any serious and candid believer in divine revelation. " He who 
 knew no sin was made sin for us, that we might be made righteousness of 
 God in him." Here then is the sinless suffering for the sinful, the innocent 
 dying for the guilty ; and if this be not sacrifice, expiation, substitution, we 
 !-rov; not what it is. The case indeed, is peculiar. There is nothing like it, 
 
GRACE AND LAW. 131 
 
 Thus, then, in the idea of evangelical grace, the moral law 
 is found highly glorified. Why should it not be found equally 
 glorified, in the hearts of those who receive grace ? How can 
 we believe seriously, in that bloody expiation, without perceiv- 
 ing all that is odious in sin, vowing towards it a profound 
 hatred, and desiring, if I may so express it, to do honour to 
 that ineffable and unmerited grace ? What ! has Christ died 
 for our sins, and can we love our sins ! What ! has Christ 
 died because there is a law, and shall we not feel ourselves 
 bound to redouble, and constantly to renew our respect, for the 
 law ? Human nature must have lost all its essential traits, all 
 the fibres of the heart must have been broken, when the con- 
 viction of so great a benefit has failed to excite all our love ; 
 and it would be a strange love, which did not produce obedi- 
 ence. He who says in his heart, " Let us sin, that grace may 
 abound V must be a man, who has neither understood nor re- 
 ceived grace ; for the natural and reasonable conclusion is this, 
 
 there can be nothing like it, in the transactions of men. But the infinite 
 Jehovah, the supreme sovereign of the universe, the source and embodiment 
 of all law, as well as of all grace, may accept such a sacrifice, in place of the 
 direct execution of his laws, and present it to the world, as his selected plan 
 for the salvation of the guilty. Thus is he just, and yet the justifier of him 
 that believeth in Jesus. The fitness and efficiency of such an appointment 
 are shown in its effects. A priori it might seem foolishness, but experience 
 has proved it to be the power of God, and the wisdom of God, not only for the 
 relief, but for the reformation of them that believe. Our author then is 
 justified in speaking of the cross of Christ as an exhibition of justice and of 
 grace. While it relieves the conscience of the sinner from the burden of guilt, 
 and inspires him with an immortal hope, it strikes a death-blow at his sin, 
 and penetrates diis heart with gratitude and love. " A cold and sceptical 
 philosophy," says Robert Hall, Works, Vol. I. p. 277, " may suggest specious 
 cavils against the doctrines of revelation upon this subject ; cavils which derive 
 all their force, not from the superior wisdom of their authors, but solely from 
 the inadequacy of human reason to the full comprehension of heavenly 
 mysteries. But still there is a simple grandeur in the fact, that God has set 
 forth his Son to be a propitiation, sufficient to silence the impotent clamours of 
 sophistry, and to carry to all serious and humble men a firm conviction, that 
 the law is exalted, and the justice of God illustriously vindicated and asserted 
 by such an expedient. To minds of that description, the immaculate purity 
 of the divine character, its abhorrence of sin, and its inflexible adherence to 
 moral order, will present themselves in. the cross, in a more impressive light 
 than in any other object." — T. 
 
332 GRACE AND LAW. 
 
 since grace abounds, let us sin no more ! Thus, as I said, at 
 the commencement of these remarks, grace leads back to the 
 law. 
 
 I say more than this ; I say that it alone leads thither. Of 
 this you will have no doubt, if you consider attentively what the 
 law is. The law is not perfectly fulfilled, except by love. 
 But love is not commanded, it is inspired. The severest in- 
 junctions, and the most formidable threatenings could not 
 create, in the soul, a single emotion of tenderness to God ; love 
 alone gives birth to love. Thus, as long as we have before us 
 only the law with its threatenings, we do not fulfil it in the 
 spirit by which it ought to be fulfilled, that is, we do not ful- 
 fil it at all. The gospel has said that, " love casteth out fear ;" 
 it is also just to say, that fear casteth out love ; for we cannot 
 love when we fear. It is the privilege, and the glory of the 
 gospel, to give to the soul enlargement, and freedom ; grace 
 being proclaimed, and fear banished, we dare love, we can love. 
 " I will run in the way of thy commandments, says the Psalm- 
 ist, " when thou shalt enlarge my heart." The heart opens 
 and expands, under the gentle warmth of divine love, and the 
 sweet rays of hope. Obedience becomes joyous ; it is no longer 
 a painful effort, but a spontaneous and involuntary soaring of 
 the renovated soul. As the waves of a river, once impelled in 
 the direction of their channel, do not require, every moment, 
 a new impulse to continue therein, so the life, which has re- 
 ceived the impulse of love is borne away entire, and with rapid 
 waves, towards the ocean of the divine will, where it loves to 
 be swallowed up and lost. Thus perfect obedience is the fruit 
 only of love, and love is the fruit only of grace. 
 
 This idea receives additional force, from a more complete 
 view of grace. Grace is something more than pardon ; pardon 
 is only the inauguration of grace. God exercises grace to- 
 wards us, when he forgives our sins ; and he exercises it again, 
 when he acts upon our hearts, to incline, and form them to 
 obedience ; or, if you prefer it so, when-he cherishes, and per- 
 petuates the first impressions we have received from his mercy ; 
 when he incessantly awakens in us the recollection, the idea> 
 
GRACE AND LAW. 133 
 
 the feeling of these impressions ; when he prevents the dust 
 and gravel from obstructing the blessed fountain he has caused 
 to spring from the rock, cleft asunder by his divine hand. 
 All this he has promised ; all this he has pledged to us ; all 
 this, then, is grace. But what effect will such promises, such 
 assurance have upon the heart, but to soften and encourage it ? 
 What disposition will he be likely to cherish towards God, 
 who knows not only that God has loved him once, but that he 
 loves him always, that he thinks of him, provides for him, 
 watches over him continually, conducts him gently and care- 
 fully, as a shepherd conducts one of his flock, from the moun- 
 tain, to the plain, bears him in his arms, and caresses him as a 
 nurse bears and caresses a child ; in a word, to borrow the 
 language of Scripture, " is afflicted in all his afflictions ?" * 
 This, we repeat, is grace ! Is it, or is it not, favourable to the 
 law ? In other words, is it adapted to develope, or is it only 
 fitted to stifle in us, the principle of love ? 
 
 Who, having considered the nature of the law and of grace, 
 can now say, that law and grace are incompatible ? The 
 matter is beyond dispute. But we have a corroboration of 
 this truth in experience. It fully confirms what reason has 
 already proved. 
 
 In the first place, we affirm that those who admit grace, ad- 
 mit also the law. Here, it is quite evident, we do not speak 
 of that dry dogmatism, that dead orthodoxy, which is no more 
 Christianity, than a statue is a man. We grant that there is 
 a way of receiving the doctrines of the church which leaves 
 them without influence upon the life. But we speak only of 
 those whose Christianity is vital, of those who have accepted 
 grace, with the same feeling, that a shipwrecked mariner seizes 
 the saving plank, which is to sustain him above the waves and 
 carry him to the shore. Well, have you remarked, that those 
 Christians by conviction and feeling, who confess that they are 
 saved only by grace, have less respect than others for the law ? 
 On the contrary, have you not observed that what distinguishes 
 them, is precisely their attachment and zeal for the law ? And 
 
 * Isaiah lxiii. 14 ; lxvi. 12 ; lxiii. 9. 
 
134 GRACE AND LAW. 
 
 yet, strange to tell ! some have succeeded, by means of certain 
 sophisms, in spreading the idea that the doctrine of such Chris- 
 tians is subversive of morality, that their faith is a pillow of 
 security, that it extinguishes the necessity for good works, and 
 opens the door to every vice. But their conduct has refuted 
 all these sophisms. The flesh might say, let us sin, for grace 
 abounds, but the spirit teaches them a very different logic. It 
 is true, they expect every thing from grace, but they labour as 
 if they exjDected every thing from themselves. In the world 
 we are surprised to see men, who long since have made their 
 fortune, rising early and retiring late, and eating the bread of 
 carefulness, as if they had yet their fortune to make. Well, 
 then, those of whom we are speaking, have also made their 
 fortune, — they are saved, — they say so ; but every thing which 
 a man would do, who thus far had not the least assurance of 
 his salvation, they do assiduously, and without ceasing. And 
 they not only labour, but they pray ; they supplicate the Spirit 
 to sustain them in their feebleness ; with fervour, they exclaim, 
 " Oh, who shall deliver us from this body of death?" "With 
 the great apostle they repeat, " As for me, I have not yet reached 
 the goal ; but this I do, leaving the things that are behind me, 
 and marching to those that are before, I advance to the goal, 
 to the prize of the heavenly calling of God in Christ Jesus." 
 In a word, the conduct of these disciples of Christ is such, that 
 it would be difficult to find among the partizans of the law a 
 single individual as careful to bridle his tongue, to repress the 
 risings of passion, to observe every iota of the law, and to fill 
 up his life with good works. And yet they attach to none of 
 their works the hope of their salvation. What proof can be 
 stronger, that grace and law are by no means contradictory ! 
 
 If it is true, that those who admit grace, admit also the law, 
 it is, unhappily, no less true, that those who do not admit grace, 
 do not admit the law. This assertion will not surprise us, if 
 we recollect what the law is, and what it is to admit it. Who, 
 in the elevated and spiritual sense we have given to these ex- 
 pressions, admit the law, who wish to do so completely ? Not 
 those certainly who reject grace. Every where among the 
 
GRACE AND LAW. 135 
 
 children of the world, the law of God is taken at a discount. 
 Each accepts of it whatever he finds proportioned to his powers, 
 and convenient to his circumstances ; each makes a law ac- 
 cording to his own standard. Morality changes its form and 
 dimensions with each individual. And, what is especially 
 worthy of notice, in this connection, is, that they make only 
 those sacrifices to the law which cost them nothing, those in- 
 deed which are no sacrifices at all. But each appears to de- 
 mand favour for every cherished inclination, for every reserved 
 vice, for every idol he has not the courage to break ; the ava- 
 ricious man, for the mania of gain and accumulation, the sen- 
 sual for the indulgences he cannot renounce, the vain for the 
 distinctions by which he is flattered. In a word, behind con- 
 science, and amid the deep shadows of the soul, each cherishes, 
 perhaps unknown to himself, some idolatrous altar. It is this 
 which explains the strange preference, which worldlings give 
 to the law over grace. Never would they prefer the law, if 
 they saw it entire ; and they prefer it only because the delicate 
 point, the wounding point, if I may so express myself, remains 
 hidden from them, and only its flattering aspects, its smooth 
 sides, its easy duties, are familiar to their minds. But with 
 whom do you find this disposition to attenuate the law, or 
 rather this incapacity to admit it ? With the partizans of grace, 
 or with those who reject grace ? With the disciples of the world, 
 or with the children of the gospel ? 
 
 But are there not, you will say to me, even among those 
 who do not admit salvation by grace, men penetrated with the 
 holiness of the law, and desirous of fulfilling it ? Ah ! my 
 friends, you speak of a class of men very remarkable, and very 
 interesting. There are men, I am far from denying, to whom 
 God appears to manifest himself as he did to Moses on Sinai, 
 with all the majesty of a lawgiver and a judge. By a celestial 
 favour, which may be called a commencement of grace, they 
 have felt the grandeur, necessity, and inflexibility of the moral 
 law, and at the same time, have believed themselves capable of 
 realizing it in their lives. Full of this idea, they have set 
 themselves to work ; now retrenching, now adding, and now 
 
136 GRACE AND LAW. 
 
 correcting ; — ever occupied with the desire of perfection, they 
 have subjected their souls and bodies to the severest discipline. 
 But when they have seen that the task had no end, the process 
 no result ; when one vice extirpated has only enabled them to 
 discover another ; when, after all these corrections in detail, 
 the sum of the life and the foundation of the soul were not 
 essentially changed ; that the old man was still there, in his 
 ill-disguised decrepitude, that the disease of which they had to 
 relieve themselves, was not a disease, but death itself; that the 
 great thing at issue, was not how to be cured, but how to live ; 
 when, in a word, they have seen that their labour did not bring 
 peace, and at the same time, have felt their craving for peace 
 increasing with the efforts they made to satisfy it, — then was 
 verified in them what Jesus Christ has said, " "Whosoever will 
 do the will of my Father, shall know whether my doctrine 
 comes from God, or from man." Yes, that doctrine which is 
 nothing else than grace, they have acknowledged as one which 
 proceeds from the good and holy God ; as the only key to the 
 enigma which torments them. They have embraced it with 
 affection ; they have sold all to purchase " that pearl of great 
 price ;" and have thereby once more proved what we seek to 
 establish, that " the law is a schoolmaster, leading to Christ ;" 
 and that by the road of the law, we arrive at grace. A great 
 number of conversions which rejoice the church have no other 
 history. 
 
 Thus, if there are among us those who have not yet resolved 
 to accept salvation from God, as a gratuitous gift, as the price 
 of the sufferings of Jesus Christ, I will state the reason of it, 
 without circumlocution. It is because, they do not yet know the 
 law. They may speak, if they will, of righteousness, of per- 
 fection, and even of love ; there are many things of a terres- 
 trial nature to which they might apply each of these words ; it 
 is long since human language has rashly usurped the words of 
 the language of Heaven. But how far is that which they call 
 righteousness, perfection, and love, from what our Lord has 
 denominated such ! Ah ! if they had but the faintest idea, 
 and the feeblest desire of perfection ; if the august image of 
 
GRACE AND LAW. 337 
 
 regeneration, of the life in God, did but once shine upon their 
 minds, what a revolution would be made in their ideas ! how 
 life would change its aspect in their eyes ! how their views of 
 happiness and of misery would be suddenly displaced ! How little 
 would every thing be to them, in comparison with that peace 
 of God, to which they did not expect to come, but by way of 
 the law ! When, after having panted, for a long time, under 
 the iron yoke of the law, and traced, in the field of duty, so 
 many barren furrows, they should see shining upon them, at 
 last, the divine promise, when the Desire of nations, the Desire 
 of their hearts, should present himself before their eyes, with 
 the touching dignity of Mediator ; when he should teach them 
 to breathe the gentle name of Father, which their lips could 
 never before utter ; when they should see the links of an 
 ineffable communion, formed between their unhappy souls, and 
 the eternal Spirit, then would they love, would they com- 
 prehend, would they accept that grace which to-day is to them 
 only an object of scandal and derision. Open their eyes, 
 Lord, to the majestic splendours of thy holy law, to the sweet 
 and tender light of thy compassion ? Penetrate them with a 
 reverence for thy commands, and then with love for thy love. 
 Lead them by the road of the law, to the secure port, the eter- 
 nal asylum of thy grace in Jesus Christ ! 
 
 Note. — We would here say, what perhaps we ought to have said before, 
 that in translating passages of Scripture, we have usually given the author's 
 renderings, except in most of the texts at the head of the discourses. 
 
138 
 
 X. 
 
 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 
 
 " All have sinned and come short of the glory of God. 1 ' — Rom. hi. 23. 
 
 FIRST DISCOURSE. 
 
 The two truths, to which we invite your attention to-day, 
 have not met the same fate in the world. The first is not dis- 
 puted ; there is no one who does not acknowledge that " all men 
 have sinned ;" but there are few persons disposed to admit that 
 " man is deprived of all glory before God." 
 
 There is such an agreement as to the first of these proposi- 
 tions, that it would not be necessary to dwell upon it, if those 
 who are unanimous in receiving it, did not strangely differ from 
 one another, and sometimes even from themselves, touching 
 the extent and meaning of this declaration. Some of them re- 
 gard sin as essentially a negative thing ; that is, as an absence, 
 a want, a defect ; in their belief, no element of positive evil 
 resides in the heart of man. Others, on the contrary, believe 
 that sin consists in a direct preference of evil to good ; that 
 vice in man is not a weakness, but a depraved force ; that the 
 will is not seduced but corrupted. You hear some explain sin 
 as an accident of human nature ; the result of the action of ex- 
 ternal circumstances upon the soul. Evil, according to them, 
 does not proceed from the soul, but comes to it ; the soul re- 
 ceives it, does not produce it. Again, you hear others main- 
 tain that the germ of sin is in the heart ; that it seeks occa- 
 sions to manifest itself; that every thing may become an occa- 
 
MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 139 
 
 sion to it, and that man is not a sinner by accident, but by na- 
 ture. The one, while recognizing, in the heart of man, a ten- 
 dency to evil, regards that tendency as a primitive law of his 
 being, an interior force, rivalling the moral element which gives 
 it an opportunity of displaying its force, and triumphing, with 
 so much greater merit and honour. The others maintain that 
 God has not made evil ; that an adversary has come and sown 
 impure tares among our wheat ; and that harmony, not com- 
 bat, is the regular and healthy state of every soul. 
 
 Reason sheds very little light upon all these questions. How 
 many philosophers and profound thinkers have they not al- 
 ready completely defeated ! Nevertheless, from all the intrica- 
 cies of logic, and from the hands of all the sophists, one truth 
 has always escaped, intact, entire and invincible ; it is, that 
 men have sinned ; that all, more or less, live in disorder ; that, 
 as long as they are in the flesh, they are enveloped in sin ; and 
 that, by an inexplicable contrast, they join, with the conscious- 
 ness of their servitude or captivity, an irresistible feeling of 
 guilt and responsibility. 
 
 As to a more perfect knowledge of the nature, the extent, 
 and the consequences of sin, we shall never obtain it, unless 
 we have recourse to the Christian revelation. This revelation 
 does not confine itself to saying that all men have sinned ; it 
 throws a vivid light upon this declaration by the words which 
 terminate my text : " They are deprived of all glory before 
 God." To every one that adopts this second sentence, the 
 meaning of the first becomes perfectly clear and precise. It is 
 then to prove that man has no subject of glory before God that 
 we are to apply it. 
 
 We have already said, that this declaration meets with more 
 who deny it than the first. What does it, in fact, mean ? It 
 means thai man has nothing in him which he can urge as a 
 distinction in the eyes of God, as a merit or a defence ; nothing 
 which can, in itself, assure us of his good- will. Is not this 
 truth disputed ? 
 
 We by no means dispute it, some will say ; for it is quite 
 evident that all we are we owe to God ; our good qualities are 
 
140 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL 
 
 his work ; and, in this view, the most virtuous man is included 
 with all others in the application of this sentence : " They are 
 deprived of all occasion of glory before God." 
 
 We admit it willingly, and the apostle himself would equal- 
 ly admit it. It was St James who said to the primitive Chris- 
 tians, " Every good gift and every perfect gift cometh down 
 from the Father of lights ;" he alone produces in us both the 
 execution and the will, according to his good pleasure. " What 
 have we that we have not received from him ; and if we 
 have received it, why do we boast as if we had not received 
 it V* But it is clear that it is from another point of view that 
 the apostle reasons in the chapter where our text is found, and 
 that it has another meaning than the one which these persons 
 would give it. 
 
 It is not merely a homage which the apostle would render 
 to the author of every perfect gift ; it is a condemnation he 
 would pronounce. Upon whom ? Upon man in every condi- 
 tion ? No ; but upon man unregenerate, upon man in his na- 
 tural state. And the expression of the apostle eA T idently signi- 
 fies that as long as man has not accepted the benefit of redemp- 
 tion by Jesus Christ, he is, with relation to God, in a state of 
 reprobation, from which he has in himself absolutely nothing 
 that can deliver him. This proposition, I believe, will find a 
 considerable number of opponents. 
 
 We do not wish to burden this sentence with what evidently 
 does not belong to it. We do not wish to confound two dis- 
 tinct spheres. In the presence of his fellow-man man is not 
 absolutely without glory. Man can offer to man something to 
 be admired and praised, or at least to be respected. Indeed, 
 it would be to belie our own consciousness, and place ourselves 
 in an untenable position, in all cases to refuse a sentiment of 
 approbation to the conduct of our fellow-creatures. In other 
 words, man is frequently forced to recognize in man something 
 which be is obliged to call virtue. 
 
 Virtue he discovers and recognizes not merely in the Chris- 
 tian, whose moral nature has been renewed by the gospel, but 
 in others. Far from all admiration being confined to that 
 
GLORY BEFORE GOI>. H T 
 
 quarter, the admiration of men, nay more, of Christians, is 
 frequently directed towards the natural or unregenerate man. 
 Whatever may be the harsh assertions of an ill-understood or- 
 thodoxy, it is certain that the Christian who is the most dis- 
 posed, in theory, to refuse all reality and all value to human 
 virtues, every moment contradicts himself in practice. A bene- 
 fit received from one of his fellow-men moves his heart ; he 
 speaks of gratitude, he is, in reality, grateful ; that is to say, 
 he recognizes, in his benefactor, a benevolent and disinterested 
 intention ; he attributes to the action, for which he has occa- 
 sion to rejoice, another value than the personal profit he de- 
 rives from it, an intrinsic, or a moral value. His benefactor is 
 something else in his eyes than a tree, well planted, which 
 bears spontaneously good fruits ; he sees in him a generous 
 will, which, without being incited from without, has used its 
 capacity and means to procure an advantage to a sensitive 
 being. I know, indeed, that a narrow system may, at length, 
 re-act upon the soul, and reduce it to its own standard, but it 
 cannot tear from the soul those instincts so deeply rooted in it. 
 And all that such a system can do, with reference to the essen- 
 tial nature of the soul, is to reduce it to silence, but not to 
 stifle it. 
 
 In favour of the reality of human virtue, in some degree, we 
 boldly invoke the testimony of all men, if not their express and 
 voluntary testimony, at least that sudden and irresistible testi- 
 mony which may be called the voice of nature. We shall ob- 
 tain from them a testimony even more explicit than this, if we 
 can, for a moment, induce them to descend into the arena where 
 the facts wait to be combated. Of these facts we shall, with- 
 out hesitation, abandon to them a great number. We shall 
 consent to reject as far from the sphere of virtuous actions all 
 those which may be explained by custom or prejudice ; all those 
 in reference to which, interest, gross or delicate, may have 
 played a part ; all those which the applause of men might or 
 could follow. They may do with such actions what they 
 please; we defend them not; our cause can dispense wit I. 
 
 M 
 
242 MAN DEPRIYED OF ALL 
 
 them. But as to those in which virtue can be explained only 
 by virtue, — those which have been performed far from the eyes 
 of man, and without any reasonable hope of ever attracting 
 their attention, — those which, so far from having been able to 
 count upon their suffrage, had, in prospect, only their contempt, 
 — those in which opprobrium could not be converted into glory 
 by the enthusiastic adherence of a certain number of partizans, 
 — those, in a word, which could never have existed, unless 
 there had been in the hearts of their authors an idea of duty, 
 or a sentiment of disinterestedness ; all such they must leave 
 us ; and however small may be their number, and however 
 widely separated by great distances on the earth, and by cen- 
 turies of time, we believe that they sufficiently protest against 
 a vain denial, and in their mournful rareness, prove the pre- 
 sence and perpetual action of a moral principle in the bosom of 
 the human race. 
 
 We have, in this cause, the gospel itself in our favour. We 
 see there the same writers who have taught us the entire fall 
 and condemnation of man, unhesitatingly according to human 
 virtues those praises which could not be accorded to them in a 
 system which denies all moral value in the actions of men. It 
 is true they acknowledged that, in an elevated sense, there is 
 none righteous, no, not one ; that none doeth good, no, not 
 one ; that all fiesh has corrupted its way ; but, after all, the 
 same writers praise a barbarous people who received them, after 
 their shipwreck, with much humanity (Acts xxviii. 2) ; they 
 return thanks for the affectionate care of a man, who, without 
 knowing them, and without expecting any thing from them, 
 did them all the good their situation required (Acts xxviii. 7). 
 And St Paul, the very one who takes away from man all occa- 
 sion of glory before God, acknowledges in his Epistle to the 
 Romans, that the Gentiles do naturally, at least in a certain 
 measure, the things which are according to law, and by this 
 means he shows, that what is written in the law is also written 
 in their hearts. After these testimonies a Christian can have 
 no difficulty in admitting a principle of action in man, diffe- 
 rent from that of self-interest ; and this principle being once 
 
GEORY BEFORE GOD. 143 
 
 recognized and defined, it is of little consequence by what 
 name it is called. 
 
 Singular thing ! it is among the followers of Christianity, 
 and among them only, that our position ought to find oppo- 
 nents. And we see rising against it, in the ranks of those who 
 oppose Christianity, as great a number of adversaries. It is, 
 sometimes, against the natural man that we have to defend the 
 reality of natural virtues. It is before man himself that man 
 can scarcely find favour. It is man that refuses to man the 
 occasion of glory which we have not hesitated to accord to him. 
 The very same persons who tax Christianity with misanthropy 
 and exaggeration, when it proclaims the nothingness of human 
 virtues, are often, in the practice of life, the most sceptical of 
 all virtue. They demolish, stone by stone, the edifice which 
 they are eager and in haste to re-construct, when the question 
 is agitated about finding a retreat against the overpowering 
 assertions of the gospel. Ready to defend against it, in gene- 
 ral, the goodness, and even perfection of our nature, they con- 
 tradict themselves, in detail, in a manner the most striking. 
 To them all men are good, but each man is bad. Their dis- 
 trust and caprice give credit to no action and to no man. No- 
 thing beautiful or good escapes the corrosion of their cruel in- 
 terpretations. They have in reserve for each good action a 
 bitter and degrading explanation. When a beautiful fruit 
 falls into their hands, their first idea is not to nourish them- 
 selves by it, but to find there the hidden worm which gnaws 
 its interior. Thus their habitual practice belies their theory. 
 But what shall be said of those who admit into their minds two 
 contradictory theories ; of those who, reproaching Christianity 
 with the harshness of its doctrines, have adopted, according to 
 their own estimate, opinions as harsh, and perhaps more so ; of 
 those who, analyzing the human heart, flatter themselves that 
 they have discovered (happy discovery !) that all its fibres vi- 
 brate to that of selfishness ; who ask man to sign with them 
 the sentence of his own dishonour, and yet demand a glory in 
 compensation for that which they have taken away from us ? 
 There are times when this bitter contempt of human nature, 
 
144 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL 
 
 this denial of all moral worth in man, becomes a general belief, 
 and almost a popular instinct. This is seen especially at the 
 termination of great and cruel deceptions on society, when 
 having, through faith in its leaders, given its adherence to se- 
 ducing theories, confirmed by imposing words, it discovers that 
 it has been deceived, and in the disgust which follows its pre- 
 vious intoxication, includes in an equal contempt, all profes- 
 sions of faith, all protestations of benevolence, of justice and 
 devotion. The profanation of words leads to the contempt of 
 things. In morality, as well as in religion, unbelief is the ne- 
 cessary re-action of hypocrisy. In the train of religious con- 
 tests ordinarily comes religious scepticism ; and wars of opi- 
 nion, after an enormous expenditure of maxims, declamations 
 and protestations, end by giving birth to moral scepticism. 
 
 This kind of disgust which usually follows in the train of 
 great social commotions, we produce at pleasure in ourselves, 
 during quiet and ordinary times, by the general contempla- 
 tion of society and the study of history. Those whom their 
 individual relations might have led to accord some respect to 
 humanity, in passing from individuals to the race, insensibly 
 change their views. It is rare that in this aspect of mankind 
 the conviction of the degradation of human nature does not 
 fasten itself strongly upon their soul. A conviction so much 
 more painful, when identifying itself, so to speak, with the 
 consciousness of the whole human race, they feel on its behalf 
 an immense remorse. The guilt of the whole human family is 
 heaped upon their conscience, as that of an accomplice. Their 
 pride yields in spite of them to this humiliating fellowship ; 
 because in view of so many transgressions, revealing, in their 
 own heart, the hidden germ, from which unhappy circumstances 
 might cause the same iniquities to spring forth, they feel them- 
 selves condemned by the crimes of society, degraded by its 
 degradation, humbled by its shame. * 
 
 * If humanity is corrupted in the mass, it would certainly be very difficult 
 to prove that it is pure in the details. If the race has fallen, surely individuals 
 cannot be innocent. That there are among them diversities of character, 
 some being better and some worse, at least with reference to certain aspects 
 
GLORY BEFORE GOD. 145 
 
 This 19 not all. How, say they, confusedly, can generous 
 juices circulate in a tree with that poisonous sap ? And when, 
 not only in the same nation, but also in the same individual, ' 
 we see developed together the most ordinary vices by the side 
 of the loftiest virtues, the most unnatural sentiments by the 
 side of the noblest emotions, are we not led irresistibly to doubt 
 the reality of good in the midst of so much evil ; and, at the 
 sight of these golden particles scattered in the mud, to suppose 
 that this noble metal is not actually there, but that a singular 
 play of light from above has, at times, given to some portions 
 of the mud the appearance and glitter of gold? Let us 
 examine, let us analyze, and we shall be surprised to see how 
 many virtues are entirely false, how many actions, good in 
 themselves, are dishonoured by an unholy motive, how many 
 others by an admixture of impurity. Let us demand from 
 ourselves an account of our admiration; by tarnishing the 
 principle, we tarnish the object. Let us inquire if the enthu- 
 siasm we have felt in view of great historical virtues was 
 entirely pure, and if it had not for its principle, less the love of 
 virtue than the love of glory. Let us inquire if virtue, stripped 
 
 of character, none will deny ; but that the taint of sin has, more or less, 
 reached the heart of every man, all experience and observation go to prove. 
 Even if an individual were conscious of some purity, ought not the very fact 
 that he belongs to a degenerate race, to excite in him some suspicion as to his 
 own integrity ? Can he condemn the whole of his kind and acquit himself ? Can 
 he look upon the wreck of humanity and feel that he alone has escaped ? Can 
 he complacently say, Man is sinful, but I am holy ; man is fallen, but I am 
 safe ? Impossible ! For each man is a part of humanity, and must yield, in 
 spite of himself, to that " humiliating fellowship." If he does not, if he sepa- 
 rates himself from his fellow-sinners, and says, " Stand by for I am holier 
 than thou," what estimate is formed of him by others, and even by those who 
 are the greatest sticklers for the natural innocence of man ? Do they not de- 
 nounce him as a pharisee or a hypocrite ? And do they not thus recognize 
 the truth of what the Scriptures have said, that " there is no difference, for 
 all have sinned and come short of the glory of God ?" We cheerfully admit 
 that man, though fallen, has a noble nature. It is a palace deserted. Enough 
 of its primitive grandeur remains to prove that God once dwelt there. Its si- 
 lence and desolation are mournful, but they are the silence and desolation of 
 a majestic ruin, beautiful even in decay. Besides, the materials are entire, 
 and may yet be re-constructed on a new foundation, and once more attract 
 the presence of the King of kings. — T. 
 
146 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL 
 
 of every poetical circumstance, reduced to the persevering but 
 uniform, the zealous but concealed observance of duties which 
 spring from a vulgar position, if virtue under such a form, and 
 the less suspected on that very account, does not inspire us 
 with an interest comparatively feeble ; and if this be not a 
 sentiment quite as moral as that which transported us from that 
 dull and gloomy horizon to a dazzling one, where great achieve- 
 ments and mighty intellectual powers enhanced in our eyes the 
 qualities of great hearts. If our admiration thus permits itself 
 to be corrupted, will virtue itself be incorruptible ? If glory 
 has deceived our enthusiasm, has it exerted less influence on 
 the great actions which awakened it in us ? And must we not 
 place to its account a part, alas ! a very great part of the vir- 
 tues we admire ? 
 
 You see, thus, that if the opposition of one class of religious 
 men gives a defender of human virtues something to do, the 
 opposition of another class of opponents subjects him to no less 
 embarrassment. For we confess, that after the knowledge of 
 human nature we believe ourselves to have acquired, we should, 
 to-day, find a difficulty, if we wished to do any thing more 
 than saA T e a few remains from the wreck. For we believe in 
 the wreck of humanity ; we believe that its unfortunate ship 
 has perished ; the remains of that great catastrophe float on 
 the waves. A few of these are yet fit for some use, but none 
 of them can bear to the shore the least of the passengers. 
 Convinced fully that man is fallen, we cannot, however, admit 
 that he has become an entire stranger to every moral sentiment ; 
 we think we can see, through his corruption, traces, — some- 
 times brilliant traces, — of justice and benevolence, to which 
 we cannot refuse our admiration ; in a word, we believe that 
 man is not stripped of all occasion of glory before man. 
 
 Let man be satisfied with us ; we have done him justice. 
 Let him surround himself with these splendid rags ; let him 
 admire them ; let him try to clothe and adorn his nakedness 
 with them ; we agree to it ; we go further ; — we respect those 
 rao-s, and we know why. But whatever high value he may 
 place upon his proud indigence, what peace and hope can he 
 
GLORY BEFORE GOD. 147 
 
 derive from that incoherent and contradictory assemblage of 
 the most extravagant moral elements ; that will which acknow- 
 ledges the law, yet tramples it under foot, which loves . duty 
 and yet hates it; that heart which receives, with the same 
 favour, and cherishes together, passions the most brutal, and 
 devotion the most heroic ? Will he persuade himself that all 
 in him is good ; or that the good can compensate for the bad ; 
 or that this mixture constitutes order itself, and that God wills 
 the bad as well as the good ? A craving for unity, stronger 
 than all reasonings, appeals to him against it. An anguish 
 stronger than all the consolations of a false wisdom, repeats to 
 him that there is no safety but in unity. A confused sentiment 
 warns him that a good which does not conquer the bad is not 
 the true good ; and that a virtue which leaves a vice to dwell 
 by its side is not true virtue ; that true virtue dwelling in the 
 centre of the soul, would exclude, by its very presence, every 
 thing which is not virtue ; that what he has honoured, under 
 this name, is not then truly virtue, but its shadow, or its re- 
 membrance ; while a voice of condemnation resounds hoarsely, 
 during the whole of his life, above the applauses which by 
 turns he gives and receives. Cruel doubts ! Frightful sha- 
 dows ! What will disperse you ? What will shed upon the 
 close of this gloomy career a consoling light ? The light which 
 will illumine the past will illumine also the future ; that which 
 will explain the evil will also indicate tie cure ; it is under the 
 ruins of our ancient dwelling that we must seek the founda- 
 tions of the new. Unity, light, and hope we find all at once, 
 in the word which has said to all men without distinction, 
 " Ye are stripped of all glory before God." Let us together 
 consider that great truth. 
 
143 
 
 XL 
 
 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 
 
 " All have sinned and come short of the glory of God." — Rom. in. 23. 
 
 SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 In a preceding discourse, we have said that man has some 
 occasions of glory before man. Poor distinctions which he dis- 
 putes to himself, and which, after a more attentive examina- 
 tion, he very often tears to pieces with a blush. Of what re- 
 mains, of what ought not to be refused him, he cannot make a 
 counterpoise to his misery ; his shame, even in his own eyes, 
 will always be greater than his glory. The general condition 
 of humanity, even in eras of culture and in centres of civiliza- 
 tion, always appears to him one of degradation and ruin. This 
 is a conclusion to which he is almost infallibly conducted by a 
 profound study of human affairs. It is a result also to which 
 many good men are brought by the mere examination of their 
 own hearts, and the rigorous analysis of their actions.* Such 
 
 * It may be thought strange that while good men readily confess their sin- 
 fulness, bad men generally deny it. Sceptics, it is found, are ordinarily proud 
 and self-conceited. But some of them have been compelled to confess their 
 conscious weakness and imperfection. Few men were probably more calmly 
 and proudly self-complacent than Goethe, who with a clear and majestic in- 
 tellect, had an irreligious and sensual heart ; a fact of which he was not alto- 
 gether unconscious. The following, from Eckerman's Conversations, p. 309, 
 is an indirect, but striking testimony to this fact. " It is from olden time," 
 said Goethe, " said and repeated, that man should strive to know himself. To 
 this singular requisition no man either has fully answered, or shall answer. 
 * * * Man is a darkened being ; he knows not whence he comes nor 
 
MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 140 
 
 is the condition of man ; such is his glory ; let him take pos- 
 session of it ; but let him not stretch forth his hand to a higher 
 glory, the glory which comes from God. This we absolutely 
 refuse him. 
 
 Already, by his own reflections, whether he form a moderate 
 or an extravagant estimate of his moral worth, man is neces- 
 sarily driven to acknowledge that he cannot pretend to much 
 glory before God. That God, whose piercing eyes try the 
 hearts and the reins, can see there a thousand imperfections, 
 which we do not see ; and since nothing can corrupt his judg- 
 ment, nothing can induce us to hope that he will fall into the 
 slightest mistake respecting us. Moreover, he is a God, per- 
 fectly holy, " whose eyes," saith the Scripture, " are too pure 
 to look upon iniquity." When he sees evil in the heart, he 
 does not receive from it those feeble impressions which we do. 
 He has a horror of every thing which violates order ; and this 
 horror does not, like ours, attach itself exclusively to those ac- 
 tions which are more repugnant to our feelings than others, or 
 which more sensibly disturb social relations. Far above such 
 distinctions by the majesty of his nature, his divine impar- 
 tiality attaches itself to the principle of actions ; it is by their 
 principle he judges them ; and from this point of view, he does 
 not always mark, with a stronger reprobation, the enormities 
 which appal us, than the defects to which our blame scarcely 
 reaches. His justice, all divine, by disarranging our classifica- 
 tions, raises all to the same level, and gives the name of crime 
 to customs which do not cost us the slightest scruple. Not 
 only our vices, but our imperfections, our pretended indifferent 
 actions, frequently our very virtues, rush at his bidding, to 
 swell the ranks, where already crowd so many obvious crimes. 
 Judged by this holy and formidable Judge, even the good man 
 is transformed into a criminal, and models of righteousness ap- 
 pear as models of iniquity. If it is thus that God judges us, 
 and how can we believe that he judges otherwise, there is 
 
 whither he goes ; he knows little of the world, and less of himself. I know 
 not myself, and may God protect me from it."— T. 
 
 N 
 
150 MAX DEPRIVED OF ALL 
 
 doubtless left us very little occasion of glory before God. But 
 is it not possible for you to judge of this by yourselves, by 
 placing your minds, as far as may be, in the point of view oc- 
 cupied by your Creator ? You can certainly do this, by con- 
 sidering the perfect law, where, as in a mirror, the divine per- 
 fection itself is reflected. The perfect law, or the law of per- 
 fection, has, in its application, no other limits than those of 
 possibility. You need not consider it as a whole ; take only 
 one of its articles, that which commands us to do towards our 
 neighbour, whatever we should desire him to do towards us. 
 I am not afraid that you will refuse this precept ; no one re- 
 fuses it. Those who do not wish to hear us speak of Christian 
 doctrine, willingly receive Christian morality ; they pride them- 
 selves on feeling its beauty ; they exalt it above all others. 
 Singular prepossession ! For the morality ought to be much 
 more offensive to them than the doctrine ; the doctrine is con- 
 soling, the morality discouraging. But however that may be, 
 judge yourselves by this one article ; for if this article be true, 
 if it ought to be maintained in all its force, if it does not be- 
 hove you to mutilate or weaken it, acknowledge that it con- 
 demns you. To treat your neighbour as you would that he 
 should treat you ! Such is the precept, — but pray, when have 
 you observed it ; or rather what day, what hour have you not 
 violated it ? This precept, you know, is not negative ; it em- 
 braces all the offices, all the cares, all the devotion and ardour 
 of charity. It supposes that he who would observe it, shall 
 not live for himself ; that the welfare of his brethren shall be- 
 come the principal motive of his life ; that he shall include the 
 whole world in his embrace, by the power of a generous love. 
 Well, this positive aspect of the precept I will give up to you; 
 and suppose, against all philosophical truth, that the negative 
 part is independent of the other, and that charity may be con- 
 fined to abstinence and omission. Thus, if any one abstain 
 from doing to another the evil which he does not wish to re- 
 ceive from him, he is, by that alone, to be regarded as chari- 
 table. "Well, have you, even in this limited sense, fulfilled 
 the law ? Do you fulfil it, when you use your right with 
 
GLORY BEFORE GOD. 151 
 
 rigour, and when no obligation compels you to use it thus ? 
 Do you fulfil it, when you give your neighbour examples which 
 it would be injurious to you to receive ? Do you fulfil it, 
 when, without necessity, you wound his self-love, you whose 
 self-love is so sensitive ? Do you fulfil it, when you refuse 
 him those attentions, which you are yourself so eager to receive? 
 Do you fulfil it, when you judge his actions with an unfeeling- 
 severity, which you would not pardon in him, if he were to 
 exercise it towards you ? Of two duties, one, at least, is im- 
 posed upon you ; either you must abstain from these things, or 
 renounce whatever, up to this moment, you have required from 
 another ; you must either give what you have required from 
 him, or not require from him what you are unwilling to give 
 him. Have you fulfilled this law ? Have you not violated it 
 every moment ? Pass in review, in the same way, all the 
 other articles of the law. Examine yourselves under the vari- 
 ous relations it embraces. Hear its decision ; for it is as if 
 God himself spoke. Then estimate your deficiencies, and see 
 the ground covered with your broken merits, your prostrate 
 virtues. You went to meet God, in pompous apparel, and 
 with a magnificent train ; lo ! you have arrived in his presence 
 through the double hedge of the precepts of the law ; look now, 
 on each side of you, look behind you ! What remains to you 
 of that proud train ? Are you not alone, and without support 
 before God, and reduced humbly to beg mercy from Him, 
 whose justice you came proudly to claim ? 
 
 I have said mercy, for without going further, I can already 
 say it. The law in fact demanded nothing less than its full 
 observance ; your conscience also demanded as much ; for at 
 each duty neglected, at each transgression committed, it failed 
 not in a single instance, to utter the cry of alarm. Even if you 
 had fulfilled all its requirements, you must yet have placed 
 yourselves in the rank of unprofitable servants. If, then, you 
 have not been raised to the rank even of unprofitable servants, 
 what is your position ? And, to go to the bottom of the matter, 
 what do you think of those frequent, those perpetual transgres- 
 sions of the law, except that you have not loved it ? For, if per- 
 
152 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL 
 
 chance you have fulfilled some of its precepts, you did so, because 
 it happened to be agreeable to your inclinations, while the law 
 in itself, the law as law, was hateful to you ; and hence, if you 
 have occasionally fallen in with it, you have never obeyed it. 
 You will, therefore, conclude with me that you are rebels ; that 
 some acts of obedience, apparent and accidental, cannot remove 
 from you that terrible distinction ; and that mercy, not justice, 
 is your only resource. 
 
 At this point, it seems to us, that we have said enough, to 
 reach the end of all Christian preaching, that is to cast the 
 sinner trembling at the foot of mercy. But we do not forget 
 what is the precise subject of this meditation. "We have shewn 
 thus far, or rather we have ascertained with you, that man has 
 few occasions of boasting before God. We must go still further ; 
 we must prove, according to the declaration of the apostle, that 
 " all occasion for boasting is excluded." 
 
 To glorify himself before God ! And for what ? For having, 
 whether in virtue or in vice, incessantly disobeyed him ? For 
 this is the crime which equalizes, among all men, all moral 
 conditions. Other iniquities are individual ; this is the great 
 iniquity of the human race. Virtuous or vicious, we have all 
 excluded God from our thoughts, from our motives of action, 
 from our life. We have all equally violated the first, the 
 greatest of all obligations. We are all, in the same degree, 
 transgressors of eternal order. 
 
 Let a man (I will, for a moment, suppose what is impossible), 
 let a man present himself to us, who can say, I have observed all 
 the commandments of the law from my youth, only I have cared 
 nothing for God. I have fulfilled my duties, only I have ne- 
 glected the one which is most essential. I have been virtuous 
 in every point, only I have committed the greatest of crimes. 
 With how much propriety shall we say to him, you have not 
 been virtuous at all ; that is impossible. From the same source 
 cannot spring sweet water and bitter. The same soul cannot 
 contain elements so contradictory. The mind refuses to con- 
 ceive an alliance so monstrous. And if you persist in calling 
 irtue, acts which we admit enjoy the esteem of men, you com- 
 

 GLORY BEFORE GOD. 153 
 
 pel us to affirm that such acts canuot constitute true virtue 
 Detached from the true principle of all good, they wither, as 
 necessarily as a flower separated from its roots, and "the jea- 
 lous God " can never honour a proud virtue which has never 
 honoured him. 
 
 And let no one say that this is a dispute about words ; that 
 obedience only is essential ; and that he who obeys the law and 
 his conscience obeys God. If the one is identical with the 
 other, if the one costs no more effort than the other, whence 
 comes that universal repugnance to pass from the one to the 
 other, from the law to the lawgiver, from conscience to God ? 
 Whence comes that inconceivable preference of the thing to the 
 person, of the idea to its source, of the abstraction to the living 
 being ? Why will not man obey the voice of God, except in- 
 directly ? Why obstinately refuse an immediate contact with 
 his heavenly Father ? If he respects the law as coming from 
 God, if he honours conscience as the voice of God, whence 
 comes it that God himself is not the direct end and object of 
 his homage ? The truth is, it is not God he honours in the 
 law and in conscience, but himself. He appropriates these two 
 elements and these two authorities to his own use, transforms 
 them into his own being, and by adoring them as a part of him- 
 self, in reality adores himself. 
 
 What imports it, you say, that I neglect the lawgiver, pro- 
 vided I observe the law ? This idea would be admissible, to 
 some extent, in our relations with the lawgivers of this world. 
 They are but men, your equals, mere representatives of the 
 society of which you form a part, simple organs of the ideas of 
 justice and order, which a higher power has deposited in so- 
 ciety. They possess no dignity, the source of which is in them- 
 selves. It is not thus with God ; he represents no one. He 
 is not the organ of law ; he is the living law. The law itself 
 is not law except as it comes from him. He is himself the 
 supreme and final reason of all that he does, the supreme and 
 final reason of all ideas. While it is the law which we honour 
 in the person of the legislator, here it is the legislator that we 
 must honour in the law. To observe the law without respect 
 
154 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL 
 
 to the lawgiver, is actually to violate the law ; for our first 
 duty relates to the lawgiver. To respect the ideas, and neglect 
 him who is their author and source, who is the cause of their 
 truth, and of whom those ideas are only the shadow or the re- 
 flection, is the most appalling of contradictions. To admit 
 conscience and duty, justice and injustice, as realities, and to 
 make an abstraction of the Being who alone is the sanction of 
 these ideas, who alone gives them a basis, who alone binds the 
 chain of them to a fixed point, who alone, we may say, explains 
 their presence in the human mind, and renders them conceiv- 
 able, is a profound absurdity. Finally, let us try to extend 
 and elevate our conception a little. Let us transport it, as much 
 as our feebleness will admit, to the idea of the God of Moses ; 
 of him who named himself I am that I am ; of the necessary 
 Being, the universal Being, say rather, the Being; of that 
 God who is not an idea, a form, an abstraction, but Being ; of 
 that living, infinite personality, who is essentially one ; of that 
 eternal Me, of whom the me of each of us is only a mysterious 
 emanation ; of that Being who is the source of all things, and 
 constitutes our power, our breath, our life, nay, all in us which 
 is positive and true.* 
 
 After this, is there one of us who will dare to say that it is. 
 the law which concerns us, and not the lawgiver ? 
 
 * This is a sublime definition of God, but to say that the me of each of us. 
 in other words, that which constitutes our personality, is an emanation of 
 God, is liable to be misunderstood. If by this expression it is meant that the 
 soul of man was created by God, without any reference to the mode of that 
 creation, then it is true, But if it is meant to convey the idea that the soul is 
 a part of God, a portion of his essence or substance, which has proceeded, or 
 flowed out, so to speak, from his infinite pleroma, or fullness, then we deny it, 
 as unphilosophical and unscriptural. God is a unity, an infinite, undivided 
 and unchangeable essence. He cannot be increased or diminished. Nothing 
 can be given to him, or taken from him. He cannot, therefore, give off por- 
 tions of himself ; nor can these flow from him of their own accord, as rays 
 from the sun, or streams from the fountain. That he has all the treasures of 
 wisdom and knowledge, that he can perform all possible things, and bestow 
 all possible blessings, is cheerfully granted. But he cannot (with reverence 
 be it spoken) impart any portion of his own infinite essence, he cannot divide 
 or diminish, multiply or increase, what properly constitutes himself, his per- 
 sonality, or, as the French and Germans call it, the infinite and eternal Me. 
 
GLORY BEFORE GOD. 155 
 
 You place your Creator on the same level with a human le- 
 gislator, and because the latter demands nothing more than obe- 
 dience, you claim that God will not demand more. But in the 
 divine Legislator, do you recognize nothing more than a legis- 
 
 No creature, then, however highly endowed, is God, or a part of God. He 
 may be made in the image of God, that is to say, he may be created a spiri- 
 tual, intelligent and moral agent ; but he cannot partake of his essence or 
 personality, which is equally incapable of division or multiplication. 
 
 God has the power of creation ; an original and peculiar, as well as myste- 
 rious and amazing power. He speaks, and it is done ; he commands, and it 
 stands fast. But to say that he creates by giving out portions of himself, or 
 parting with his own essence, now forming souls of it, and now bodies, is as- 
 suming what can never be proved, and what seems to contradict our most 
 necessary conceptions of the nature of God. For if God creates thus, then 
 all spirits, and not only so, but all matter, is God. Every thing is God, and 
 God is every thing. This is the idea of Pantheism. It is the very basis of the 
 doctrine of an impersonal God, from which the atheism and impiety of " young 
 Germany" are legitimately born. For if the premises be just, the conclusion 
 is logical and irresistible. But the doctrine of Pantheism, whether it appear 
 in the gorgeous dreams of oriental theosophy, the subtleties of Spinoza and 
 Hegel, or the blasphemous ravings of Gutzkow and Heine, is neither, in its 
 premises nor conclusion, the doctrine of the Bible nor of common sense. For 
 while God is " in all and through all," he is above all and independent of all. 
 The soul of man is a creation, so is his body, so are all souls and all bodies. 
 " In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth." " He said, Let 
 there be light, and there was light." He said, " Let us make man "in our 
 image," and man was made in his image. But while the soul exhibited the 
 image of God, it was neither God, nor a part of God, but a separate being, a 
 free and responsible agent, under law to the Almighty. " Our God made the 
 heavens." " From him cometh every good and perfect gift." The God of the 
 Bible, then, the God of Christianity, is a personal God, an infinite but inde- 
 pendent Intelligence, a holy and ever-blessed u Sovereign, to whom we owe the 
 homage of the heart, the obedience of the life. 
 
 This is a subject of great importance, and cannot be discussed in a note ; 
 but we could not justify ourselves in passing it over in silence. Our author's 
 views are, doubtless, scriptural and philosophical, but the expression in the 
 text required this explanation. His definition of God is remarkably striking, 
 and reminds us of Sir Isaac Newton's, which is the best we have ever seen. 
 We subjoin it with a translation. The original may be found in Dugald 
 Stewart's Dissertations, Part II. p. 10$, Note. 
 
 " Deus eternus est et infinitus, omnipotens et omnisciens ; id est, durat ab 
 aeterno in geternum, et adest ab infinito in infinitum. Non est a?ternitas et in- 
 finitas, sed seternus et infinitus ; non est duratio et spatium sed durat et adest. 
 Durat semper et adest ubique, et existendo semper et ubique, durationem et 
 spatium oonstituit." — " God is eternal and infinite, omnipotent and omniscient ; 
 that is, he endures from eternity to eternity, and is present from infinity to 
 
156 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL 
 
 lator ? Is there nothing but the law between you and God ? 
 Is it the law which has conferred upon you so many means of 
 enjoyment and happiness ? Is it the law which has conceded 
 to you the empire of nature ? Is it the law which has formed 
 between you and your kindred the mysterious and delightful 
 union of hearts ? No ; in these immense benefits, one of which 
 would suffice for the happiness of beings less privileged, the 
 Lawgiver conceals himself, and the Father appears, a father 
 whose goodness transcends all thought. And you think that a 
 cold and servile obedience can acquit you before him ! You 
 think that the power to love which he has planted in your bo- 
 som ought never to remount to him ! That all your obedience 
 should not be love ! That your heart should not seek beyond 
 the law and beyond the Lawgiver, the Father, the Goodness, 
 the Love, from whom proceed for you, life, and even love and 
 felicity ! And you say coldly, unnatural creatures ! We obey, 
 — it is enough ; are we not acquitted ? And of that law which 
 you pretend to fulfil, do you not understand that you have vio- 
 lated the first and the greatest commandment, by refusing to 
 God love for love ! No, — tell me not that in the law you 
 honour the Lawgiver ; unless, perhaps, he should be honoured 
 by fear ! Tell me not that your homage secures your felicity, 
 unless, perhaps, a feeling, which, in all its power, could not 
 draw a demon from hell, may suffice by itself to introduce you 
 into heaven ! The law, practised in such a spirit, kills, does 
 not save you. 
 
 You honour conscience ! Indeed, I believe it. It would be 
 difficult not to honour it, to a certain extent. It would not 
 
 infinity. He is not eternity and infinity, but eternal and infinite ; he is not 
 duration and space, but endures and is present. He endures always and is 
 present every where, and by existing always and every where, constitutes dura- 
 tion and space." 
 What a comment on the I am that I am, of Moses ! 
 
 " Tell them I am ! Jehovah said 
 
 To Moses, while earth heard in dread 
 
 And smitten to the heart, 
 At once above, beneath, around, 
 All nature, without voice or sound, 
 
 Replied, O Lord, thou art P* 
 
GLORY BEFORE GOD. 157 
 
 pardon neglect. Invisible sting, planted by the side of the 
 soul, the least irregular motion impels the soul against that 
 hidden point, and inflicts a painful wound. But if conscience, 
 after God had been exiled from the human heart, still remain- 
 ed there, it would be incessantly to warn it of God. But who 
 receives that warning ? You recognize the authority of con- 
 science ; you say that you have frequently heard it ; but you 
 ascend no higher. Thing truly inconceivable ! Separated from 
 the idea of God, conscience, in our nature, is nothing but a 
 mockery, an enigma, a nonentity. Well, it is on this very 
 footing that the greater part of mankind admit it. Indeed, you 
 see some, to whom the idea of the judgments of God and a final 
 responsibility is completely foreign, who at least reject it, and 
 who, nevertheless, speak fluently of conscience as their internal 
 guide ; forgetting that if conscience has no one from whom it 
 derives authority, and to whom it can appeal, if it does not de- 
 duce its power from God, it has nothing to say, nothing to 
 command. Why is it heard ? Why is it acknowledged ? Be- 
 cause this is not a matter of choice. Conscience is in us; nor 
 does it depend on us that it should not be there ; absent, we 
 cannot recall it, present we cannot deny its presence. But its 
 presence, often otherwise unpleasant, and viewed with an evil 
 eye, is not the presence of God. Conscience is only the per- 
 manent and indelible imprint of a powerful hand, which after 
 having pressed us, is withdrawn from us, or rather from which 
 a hostile force has torn us. The hand is gone, the imprint re- 
 mains. That mysterious impression, which we have not made 
 upon ourselves, leads the man who reflects, to a confused idea 
 of God. It causes him to infer, and to seek after the absent 
 hand ; but, by itself, it cannot enable him to find it. 
 
 Would you have a sensible idea of conscience in man ? An 
 ungrateful child, impelled by infatuated pride, and seduced by 
 evil counsels, escapes from the' paternal roof to taste an inde- 
 pendence which has been represented to him as the greatest of 
 blessings. He plunges into the world, without means or pro- 
 spect. His disorders and excesses, though they may not pro- 
 voke the severity of civil justice, mark him, in all places, un- 
 
158 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL 
 
 der his distinctive traits, as a rebellious and unnatural son. 
 But in the midst of his wanderings, something indicates that 
 he is derived from a good family • in his language, a happy 
 choice of expression ; in his manners, something superior ; in 
 his behaviour, even honourable actions, which form a striking 
 contrast with the general character of his life ; in a word, a lin- 
 gering something which it is difficult to efface from the original 
 habits of a man well brought up, accompanies him into all the 
 2)laces and all the societies where such merit is least appre- 
 ciated. It seems as if we might expect every species of evil 
 from a being who has voluntarily broken the heart of a father ; 
 and yet, quite often, when the seduction of example impels 
 him to overleap the last barriers of honour, he hesitates, he 
 draws back ; self-respect appears to hold him still. Clinging 
 to him, in spite of himself, the recollections of his first condi- 
 tion follow him, surround him, and intercept, on the way to his 
 heart, a part at least, of the pestilential malaria which the 
 world exhales, and prevents him from running from excess to 
 excess, and from fall to fall, through all the possible conse- 
 quences of his first crime. 
 
 Faithful image of man in his state of defection, conscience 
 yet speaks to him. Sometimes he follows it ; but as for Him 
 in whose name it speaks, who has planted it in the bosom of 
 man as a perpetual monitor, as a cry of recall incessantly re- 
 peated, — he hears him not, he serves him not, nay more, he 
 abjures him ; and yet he cannot be still, because, after all, he 
 has, now and then, yielded something to the clamorous impor- 
 tunities of conscience ! Ah ! if he had always heard it, always 
 followed it, the difference would not have been great, for it is 
 not thus that God teaches his rights and our duty. Whatever 
 may be the dignity of conscience, a dignity it borrows from 
 God, God will not be supplanted by it. Far from yielding to 
 it any of his rights, far indeed from abdicating his authority in 
 its favour, as some appear to suppose, God, who will not per- 
 mit prescription to be established in opposition to his claims, 
 has sometimes commanded conscience itself to be silent before 
 him. It is on the idea of his immediate right to obedience that 
 
GLORY BEFORE GOD. 159 
 
 many of the dispensations and decrees of the ancient economy 
 rest. Indeed, if you look at that history as a whole, you see 
 that while God, in general, respects his own work, by recog- 
 nizing and even sanctioning the moral law, which he has wri- 
 ten, from the beginning, in the human heart, you perceive also, 
 that, as he occasionally intervenes by his power, in the work- 
 ing of miracles, without changing in any respects the combina- 
 tion of forces of which he has composed the universe, so like- 
 wise, in the sphere of morals, he imposes a momentary silence 
 on the sensibilities of our nature, and even on our conscience, 
 by commanding what these would not even have permitted. 
 While Abraham is commended for having led his son to the 
 funeral pile, in spite of the murmurs of the paternal heart, and 
 Saul is punished for having obeyed an emotion of pity, and not 
 committing what, on another occasion, would have been called 
 an abuse of victory, do we not recognize in these two terrible 
 facts a striking symbol of the truth which I advocate, namely, 
 that God is above conscience, that it is to him our obedience 
 ought to be addressed, and that his divine jealousy cannot be 
 satisfied at a less price ? * 
 
 * The procedure of God is ever in harmony with conscience and law. So 
 far as these are perfect they are but an expression of the divine character and 
 will. He may seem to suspend their action, as in the case of Abraham and of 
 Saul, but the result shows that he was, all the time, acting in harmony with 
 their fundamental principles. But as the law resolves itself into the will of 
 God, and he has the sovereign disposal of life and death, he has a right to take 
 the life of his creatures, or command it to be taken whenever he pleases. Still 
 he will always act in harmony with law, that is to say, with his own nature. 
 " He cannot deny himself." " Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" 
 But he must be judged by his Own standard ; he must be permitted to inter- 
 pret his own doings. He has, therefore, only appeared, in special exigencies, 
 and for purposes at once good and wise, to suspend the action of natural and 
 moral laws ; but he has never annulled them, never violated them. All has 
 been order in nature ; all has been righteousness in morals. If at any time, 
 his hand has parted the clouds, or laid itself upon the conscience of man, it 
 has been done to show that he is infinite and supreme ; that he is above all 
 law and conscience ; or rather that he is one with a perfect law and a perfect 
 conscience, and can use them, as he pleases, to promote the sublime purposes 
 of his providence and grace. Hence, to pretend to follow the dictates of con- 
 science, or obey the law, independent of the will and authority of the Law- 
 giver, is truly " a profound absurdity." — T. 
 
160 
 
 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL 
 
 Let us confirm these principles by an important considera- 
 tion. It is, that obedience to God, I mean to God immediate- 
 ly, is alone capable of producing virtue. If recalling all that 
 we have conceded, in a preceding discourse, some should find 
 in this assertion a contradiction, as well as a paradox, they will 
 give some attention to what remains for us to say. 
 
 Is virtue a word, or a thing, a fiction, or a reality ? If it is 
 a thing, a distinct reality, it must be one in its principle, one 
 in its origin. If it has several principles, it is several things 
 at once ; it is an artificial assemblage of several phenomena, on 
 which has been imposed a collective name, and the real nature 
 of which remains by itself inexplicable. It must necessarily 
 be admitted, that beyond filial piety, justice, benevolence, ve- 
 racity, chastity, there is one thing which is none of these in 
 particular, and which embraces them all at once ; a principle, 
 according to which we are not only respectful sons, or just, be- 
 nevolent, sincere, or chaste men ; but all this at once, all that we 
 ought to be; a general power which must conform our soul to 
 moral order in all its extent, and cause us to love it in all its 
 applications ; which, in a word, creates in us, not virtues but 
 virtue. Does this word virtue, in its general or abstract sense, 
 signify any thing ? Is it a central fountain, of which particular 
 virtues are the streams, a trunk, of which particular virtues are 
 the branches ? If you deny this, you are on the way to mate- 
 rialism ; for it alone can solve your theory. If, on the con- 
 trary, you affirm it, point out to us this trunk, this source. 
 The discovery of this original principle has been for a long time 
 the task and the despair of moral philosophy. Will you seek 
 for it in the conscience ? From the conscience, in its actual 
 state, you may derive some particular virtues, but their course, 
 followed back, will not enable you to reach the primitive stra- 
 tum, the original treasury, whence these waters flow. What 
 is there, in the conscience of man, more general than that which 
 we have already cited, " As ye would that others should do to 
 you, do ye even so to them V But how far is this from em- 
 bracing the whole extent of moral being ! How should such an 
 axiom contain the obligation to purify the heart ? How could 
 
GLORY BEFORE GOD. 161 
 
 you conclude from it tlie duty of rendering to God the homage 
 which is his due ? Vast as it is, it does not embrace the half of 
 our duties. And in practice, what deficiencies, what incon- 
 sistencies, would it not permit to remain ! "What, then, is hu- 
 man morality, but a disconnected and fragmentary thing, even 
 in the man who is the most distinguished for his character ! 
 In vain do you search there for the common principle of all 
 morality. In a word, he derives from his conscience only some 
 virtues ; he cannot derive from it virtue. 
 
 Hence it is, that virtue ought not be sought after, any where 
 below God, who is its supreme and only source. In fact, the 
 love of God is virtue. The power which produces in man 
 simultaneously, as from a single fountain, all the virtues, dwells 
 only in this sentiment. Thus it is, that in the production of 
 this affection in the human bosom, the Scriptures make re- 
 generation to consist. It does not teach us to be virtuous by 
 successive additions, by placing one virtue, so to speak, side 
 by side with another. It unites us to God by faith ; and this 
 faith which produces love, developes simultaneously in the 
 renewed soul all those qualities and habits, the combination of 
 which forms virtue. And it is because he plants that one 
 germ in the very centre of the soul, and not at different points 
 on its surface, that he attaches a sovereign importance to 
 internal dispositions. The Bible alone has said, with a perfect 
 knowledge of it cause, " From the heart proceed the springs of 
 life." Social virtues, followed as an end, by the ordinary 
 moralist, are in the eyes of the Christian moralist only the 
 developement of internal virtue, the sign and manifestation of 
 its presence in the soul. Human morality, in its most perfect 
 state, is only an ingenious mosaic, the least concussion of which, 
 makes it a heap of variegated rubbish ; Christian morality is 
 the mighty pyramid, every part of which finds the same sup- 
 port in its immense base, immovable as the ground upon which 
 it stands. * 
 
 * The materialists derive the idea of virtue from order, fitness, harmony, 
 utility ; and since the maxim of their philosophy is, nihil est in intellectu 
 quod nonfuii prius in sensu, there is nothing in the intellect, which was not 
 
162 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL 
 
 With, whatever pretensions man may approach his divine 
 Judge, he cannot present himself with virtue ; he has it not, 
 for he has not the love of God. What glory, then, could he 
 find before God ? Acknowledge that all occasion of glorifying 
 himself is excluded ; excluded for the man whom the world 
 despises ; excluded for him whom it esteems. " There is no 
 difference," says the apostle, u for all have sinned." Up to 
 this point, the possibility of a difference may be conceived ; 
 but he adds, " and are deprived of all glory before God." 
 Here differences disappear ; for this sin, which is sin properly 
 speaking, is the same in all. In this point of view, the most 
 generous man has a hard heart, the most just is unrighteous, 
 the most honourable, unfaithful, the most loyal, rebellious, 
 the most pure, adulterous ; for every thing he has spared his 
 fellow-men, he has done to God. * 
 
 first in the senses ; virtue, according to them, is a thing altogether outward 
 and artificial, a matter of mere expediency, or of taste. The Spiritualists, on 
 the other hand, maintain that it is innate and universal. Some of them 
 would perhaps say, that it is reason in its highest state, or that it is God in 
 the soul. This latter view, though an approach to the truth, is yet vague and 
 unsatisfactory. Indeed, every one acquainted with the history of metaphysical 
 inquiries, knows that no subject has more completely bewildered and baffled 
 the profoundest thinkers. But even if the nature of virtue were perfectly 
 understood, the great question would yet remain, How is it to be produced 
 in the human heart ? Our author says, that the love of God is its basis, or 
 source ; and he is unquestionably right. For this affection, the strongest 
 and purest in man, placed on an infinite object is alone fitted to control the 
 whole life. It then becomes universal, resistless and inexhaustible. From its 
 very nature, it renders virtue precious for its own sake, and dearer than all 
 other interests. By enthroning God in the soul, it makes truth and holiness 
 omnipotent and immortal. — T. 
 
 * This, an objector might say, is to confound all moral distinctions. But 
 if the author's premises are true, his conclusions are inevitable. If man is 
 destitute of love to God, the fundamental principle of virtue, he is destitute of 
 all true morality. His heart is corrupt, and his outward and temporary 
 virtues are radicallydefective. They may be useful in society, but they do not 
 unite him to God, nor fit him for immortality. He is condemned by the state 
 of his heart, with which the government of God is chiefly occupied, and must 
 therefore be ranked with the ungrateful and disobedient. He needs, as well 
 as they, to be forgiven and renewed. If saved at all, he must be saved by 
 grace, as much as the Thief on the cross, Mary Magdalene, or Saul of Tarsus. 
 " God hath concluded them all in unbelief (rebellion) that he might have 
 mercy upon all." — T. 
 
GLORY BEFORE GOD. 163 
 
 Do not suppose we are ignorant of all the murmurs, which 
 feeling or natural prejudice may raise against this declaration. 
 "We might confine ourselves to replying that it remains true 
 notwithstanding, and with an evidence stronger than all pre- 
 judices. But the consideration of an interesting fact will 
 double, if it be necessary, the evidence already so great. 
 
 It would be natural to presume, that the more virtuous a 
 man was, the less disposed we should find him to subscribe to 
 the doctrine of our text, or at least to permit himself to be 
 placed, in this respect, on the same level with a man decidedly 
 vicious. I do not deny, that we might easily find, among 
 honourable people, some specimens of this natural pharisaism. 
 But what we often meet with among the noblest souls, and 
 much more frequently among them than others, is a disposition 
 to complain of themselves, and voluntarily to place themselves 
 below those persons who, in the general opinion, are greatly 
 their inferiors. May it not be that these noble spirits, to 
 whom their very superiority may be the commencement of a 
 revelation, perceive dimly, that in the midst of their amiable 
 virtues, virtue itself is wanting? "We go further: let these 
 souls come in contact with Christianity. To whom, according 
 to common notions, is it less necessary than to them ? Have 
 they not already, by virtue of their character, the greater part 
 of what it can give them ? Alas ! many imagine it to be 
 really so ! But many more, and that is sufficient for our pur- 
 pose, judge very differently. In the midst of their virtues, so 
 highly lauded, a want, not of perfection only, but of forgive- 
 ness, and of grace, takes powerful possession of their minds ; 
 they confess frankly that they have no subject of glory before 
 God. Speak to them of their virtues, they ask if these virtues 
 prevent their life from being a continued course of transgressions 
 of the divine law. Speak to them of the intrinsic worth of 
 their virtues, and you will see them smile mournfully ; for they 
 know the defectiveness of these virtues, entirely human, and 
 so far removed from every principle of religious obedience. It 
 is not an easy thing to refuse the testimony of such men ; it 
 would be contrary to all good usage, to place more confidence 
 
164 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL 
 
 in those who boast, than in those who accuse themselves. It 
 would be to suspect the truth in a case where there is the least 
 reason to suspect it, and to deny the wisdom of those to whom 
 you have not been able hitherto to refuse it. It would be to 
 admit that it is impossible that a careful examination of him- 
 self and of the divine law may conduct a man of sense to moral 
 views different from those of persons who have not made such 
 an examination ; in a word, it would furnish evidence of a 
 superficialness which would not be pardoned in any other 
 matter. I am persuaded, that a phenomenon like the one in 
 question, at the very least, is worthy of the most serious atten- 
 tion, and that no one ought to set it aside, before he has ex- 
 plained it. 
 
 For us, if our opinion were asked, we avow that the mad- 
 ness of human pride amazes us. Man bends under the burden 
 of his iniquities ; horrors crowd his bloody history ; an odour 
 of death exhales from the bosom of society ; the life of each 
 man is, from his own confession, a tissue of transgressions, and, 
 considered with reference to the claims of God, a long and 
 persevering infidelity. Terrible assertions, none of which he 
 can disavow. The Son of God comes to seek him in the 
 depths of this appalling degradation. So long as that disho- 
 noured creature can hear him, he calls to him, with the word 
 of grace ; he exhorts him to attach himself to him, and pro- 
 mises that, under his guidance, he shall be able to stand with- 
 out fear in the presence of his Judge. One moment ! — cries 
 the proud criminal, — one moment ! Who hath said that I 
 have need of grace ; and on what ground does he come 4 to 
 offer me that humiliating benefit ? And my virtues, have they 
 been estimated ? Is it pretended that they need grace ? Must 
 I drag, as suppliants, these noble companions of my life, to the 
 foot of a tribunal where crime alone ought to appear ? If my 
 sins have need of indulgence, my virtues claim nothing but 
 justice ; and yet it is pretended to absolve them ! Yes, it is 
 pretended to absolve them, unhappy one, whom pride deceives ! 
 But what difference will it make ? With them, or without 
 them, you are condemned ; midnight is about to strike ; the 
 
GLORY BEFORE GOD. 165 
 
 bridegroom is at the door ! Is your lamp burning ? Is your 
 soul united to God ? Are you his by the dispositions of your 
 heart ? Can you be happy in the society of saints, of Christ, 
 and of God himself ? This, this is the real question, the vital 
 question ; and in this solemn hour, when your terrestrial 
 dwelling is about to fall upon your head, when a single mo- 
 ment only is given you to escape, you lose it, by picking up 
 some useless ruins, with which you cannot live, and by which, 
 on the contrary, you will perish. 
 
 Sinners virtuous, sinners vicious ! hear once more the word 
 of the apostle, " There is no difference, for all have sinned : 
 both the one and the other are deprived of all glory before 
 God." 
 
 But to sinners of every kind, to us all, to the whole world, 
 the man of God cries in the Scriptures, " God hath concluded 
 all in rebellion, that he may have mercy upon all." With him 
 there is no respect of persons, no respect of sins ; he stops not 
 at some shades of difference ; he does not apply to us our own 
 vain measures ; for the original crime is equal in all ; and 
 since he has included all in rebellion, he includes all in mercy. 
 Labourers of the first, of the second, of the eleventh hour ! nay 
 more, ye who were not labourers at all, and who, having arrived 
 at the fatal hour of midnight, having nothing to offer your 
 Master but confusion and tears, there is room for you all in 
 his arms. But you must throw yourselves there ; you must 
 seek no other aid ; you must not expose yourselves to the 
 malediction of the prophet, " Cursed be they who go down to 
 Egypt for help !" That is, cursed be they who, refusing to be 
 saved by pure grace, take refuge in the recollection of their 
 good works, their good will, their good intentions, or in a false 
 pretext of a feebleness which they could not vanquish, or in 
 the impious idea that God will pardon them at the expense of 
 his justice ! The amnesty is doubtless for all, for all equally ; 
 but it must be accepted just as it is offered ; not as a right, 
 but as a gift ; not as an abandonment of the principles of the 
 divine government, but as the price of the sacrifice of Jesus 
 Christ, as a return for the ransom he has paid and the pledge 
 
 o 
 
166 MAN DEPRIVED OF ALL GLORY BEFORE GOD. 
 
 he has offered. Such are the feelings with which we must 
 come before that offended Master, who alone has a right to re- 
 gulate and appoint the terms of the treaty which he will con- 
 clude with us. It would be to sanction and confirm the first 
 rebellion by a second, to dispute about t£e terms of the treaty, 
 to propose modifications of it, to cavil about the clauses, say 
 rather, not to accept it, with all the eagerness of gratitude, 
 and all the fervour of love. Weigh all these things, my dear 
 brethren, and let those who feel internally that they are not 
 reconciled to God, ask themselves without delay : Why do we 
 hesitate to conclude with divine justice? Shall we persist, 
 without a shadow of hope, in making common cause with re- 
 bels ? Do we wish that death should surprise us included in 
 revolt ? Let the world insult our feebleness ; there is no 
 cowardice in capitulating with God. He is mad who would 
 sell, to a vain renown for courage, the hopes of eternity ! Un- 
 happy he who can spend a whole life without loving and serv- 
 ing God ! We are here, then, O Lord ;* take us to thyself, 
 take us wholly ; we would not live to ourselves, we would 
 live only to Him who hath loved us first, loved us with an 
 eternal love ! 
 
16? 
 
 XII. 
 THE PRINCIPLE OF CHRISTIAN MOEALITY. 
 
 " The love of Christ constraineth us."— 2 Cor. v. 14. 
 
 A short time since, one of those fugitive publications which 
 are intended to offer daily aliment to the public curiosity, 
 called the attention of its readers to a new work, which ought, 
 if we might believe the critic, to alarm all the friends of pure 
 morality. That dangerous work developes an idea which shows 
 how the doctrine, and perhaps the intention of the author, is 
 corrupted, namely, that all the efforts of man cannot secure his 
 salvation, and that he can do nothing to merit it. You will 
 ask me what that book so severely criticised is. I know not, 
 for it is not even named ; but it might be the New Testament. 
 For the New Testament also declares that man is not saved by 
 his works ; that the gift of salvation is entirely gratuitous ; and 
 that it is neither of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, 
 but of God that showeth mercy. And since the gospel neither 
 supposes nor admits of any other means of salvation, it clearly 
 follows that no other means which we may attempt would 
 conduct us to that result, not even the greatest efforts we could 
 make to fulfil the will of God. Such is the doctrine in all its 
 nakedness, I was going to say, in all its crudeness. What, 
 then, must we do ? As to the men who call themselves Chris- 
 tians, and yet censure these doctrines, it would, perhaps, be 
 sufficient to reduce them to silence, by showing them that the 
 doctrines they revile are the very doctrines of the gospel, and 
 that the church, for about eighteen centuries, has professed and 
 
168 THE PRINCIPLE OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 
 
 proclaimed them as fundamental truths. But as these inconsi- 
 derate critics exhibit, besides a great ignorance of the contents 
 of the New Testament, a striking want of reflection and of true 
 philosophy, it may be proper to examine the maxim in ques- 
 tion, as a simple idea, as a pure theory, in the light of reason 
 alone. This is what we propose to undertake ; and we hope 
 that the result of this investigation will show that this doctrine 
 is not only reasonable and moral, but that it alone is reasonable, 
 that it alone is truly moral. 
 
 And first of all, let us give a full statement of the difficulty 
 which is presented to us. " A doctrine," it is said, " which 
 teaches that we cannot merit salvation, which denies the suffi- 
 ciency and, consequently, the necessity of good works, is di- 
 rectly contradictory to the idea of morality ; for morality is 
 the science of duty, and in the doctrine objected to, there is no 
 place for duty. Moreover, this doctrine contradicts the New 
 Testament ; for on all its pages it enjoins good works, while 
 this doctrine excludes them." Let us meet this objection. 
 And to those who urge it upon us, let us, in our turn, put some 
 questions. 
 
 If there is a religious morality, that is, a system of duties with 
 reference to our Creator, must we not possess some motive to 
 induce us to practise these duties ? It is admitted. Can there 
 be any other motive than the two following, interest and devo- 
 tion ?* No, it is not possible to conceive of a third. Well, 
 then, to these two motives correspond two systems, which, we 
 proceed to examine. 
 
 According to the first of these systems, every man comes 
 into the world with perfect faculties, with obligations corre- 
 sponding to these, and the expectation of a destiny suited to 
 the manner in which he shall have used these faculties and ful- 
 filled these obligations. Between God and him there exists a 
 tacit contract, a reciprocal obligation. Man promises obedi- 
 ence, and God promises happiness. He that does good shall 
 
 * By devotion, devouement, the author means the disinterested love of vir- 
 tue, benevolence, as some have called it. — T. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 169 
 
 be recompensed ; be tbat does evil shall be punished. This is 
 sufficient to make us practise all our duties. 
 
 In this first system, then, interest is the motive proposed to 
 us ; an interest, doubtless, very elevated, nay, the greatest of 
 all, but still an interest. But who does not, at the first glance, 
 see how insufficient and defective is such motive ? In the first 
 place, this principle introduces into morality a foreign element, 
 we may say a hostile element, since virtue consists essentially 
 in self sacrifice. This principle does not at first manifest all its 
 hostility to the true spirit of morality. But let it work, 
 and you will speedily see it subduing every thing to itself. 
 It will soon teach you that it is the result which gives to ac- 
 tions all their value ; that it is the net profit or loss which de- 
 termines their essential character ; that good is no longer good 
 in itself ; that it is good only as it secures happiness ; and that 
 vice is no longer vice in itself, but that it is vice only as it ex- 
 poses to calamity. Promises have only to be attached to vice, 
 and it will become virtue, threatenings to virtue, and it will 
 become vice. Nevertheless, if morality is not a vain word, 
 virtue, separated from its hopes, must still be something ; and 
 vice, separated from its dangers, must also be something. This 
 is not all ; for we must not forget that we are treating of reli- 
 gious morality ; of duties which have God for their object ; and 
 that the first of all these duties, the only duty, properly speak- 
 ing, is love. The law is not fulfilled except by love. But 
 interest, carried to its utmost perfection, selfishness the most 
 refined, can never rise to love. Under its influence a man may 
 estimate the value of actions ; he may make calculations with 
 reference to the external life ; nay, more, he may give all his 
 goods to feed the poor, and his body to be burned ; but he can no 
 more cause himself, by self-interest, to love, than he can from 
 the collision of two pieces of ice produce the slightest spark of fire. 
 Disgusted with this wholly selfish morality, other minds 
 have dreamed of a different system. They have absolutely 
 excluded interest, and professed to cultivate virtue for its own 
 sake. " Is not virtue," say they, " independent of the advan- 
 tages it procures, worthy to receive our homage, and occupy 
 
170 TEE PRINCIPLE OP CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 
 
 our thoughts ? Is it necessary for God, who is truth, beauty, 
 goodness supreme, to encourage us by promises, to frighten us 
 by threatenings, in order to secure our obedience ? In serving 
 him, we ought to blush to yield to other impulses, than those 
 which result from his perfections themselves ? 
 
 Well, who of us will venture to say that these are not right ? 
 Who will not heartily subscribe to this elevated system ? But, 
 on the other hand, who will realize it ? This system is beauti- 
 ful, it is lofty, it is true. It has only one defect, — it is im- 
 practicable. A truce to reasonings ; let us speak only of facts. 
 Where are those who serve God from pure love ? Nay, where 
 are those who love God at all ? Let us not seek to deceive 
 ourselves. Those fugitive emotions, which the thought of the 
 Creator, or the contemplation of his marvellous works causes 
 us to feel, those superficial impressions, otherwise foreign to so 
 many hearts, are by no means love. If we love God only 
 when we find our happiness in subordinating to him our 
 thoughts, affections, wishes, nay more, our whole life ; if we 
 love God only when we lose our will in his ; if we love God 
 only when offending him appears to us the greatest, the only 
 calamity on earth, and pleasing him the greatest, the only feli- 
 city ; if we love God only when our heart places between Him 
 and creatures the same distance he places himself, — answer, 
 ye who hear me, who is it that loves God ? True, the world- 
 ing quite often exclaims, I certainly love God ; nay, who does 
 not love him ? But nothing marks, with greater clearness, the 
 estrangement of our heart, than the audacity of this preten- 
 sion. He who begins to love God, is the first to be alarmed 
 at his indifference to God. We love God ! — ah ! let us not 
 rashly say so. When we shall cherish for him the tenth, the 
 hundredth part, of the affection, which we cherish for a parent, 
 a friend, or an earthly benefactor, it will be time, perhaps, to 
 say that we love him. Till then, let us be silent, and prostrate 
 in the dust. 
 
 But if we do not love him, what becomes of that disinte- 
 rested morality which we were right to prefer ? What be- 
 comes of that refined system of which we were so proud ? 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 171 
 
 It is true, that in the world, there are men who have set 
 out to serve God. They have acknowledged that he had a 
 right to be served ; they have felt internally, the obligation to 
 devote to him their life. But in what has that attempt termi- 
 nated, except in proving that they did not really love God ? 
 The worldling, the frivolous man, might tell you, with confi- 
 dence, that he loves God ; but go and ask troubled and bur- 
 dened spirits, who laboriously and painfully drag the long 
 chain of the precepts of the law, go and ask them if they have 
 that love in their hearts. Ah ! it is not love of which they 
 will speak, but of fear, that is to say, of interest still. They 
 will tell you of the majesty of the divine law, of its inviolabi- 
 lity, of its threatenings. They will tell you that their sins are 
 a burden greater than they can bear. They will tell you that 
 instead of the Father they were seeking, they have found only 
 a master and a judge ; that his wrath has concealed from them 
 his goodness ; that fear has left no place for love, and that be- 
 fore loving they must hope. 
 
 Mark it well; before they love, they must hope. And 
 this is the method of the gospel. It remains for us to deve- 
 lope it. 
 
 You have seen that interest is not worthy to serve as a mo- 
 tive power to our moral conduct. You have seen on the other 
 hand, that an obedience based only upon love, has no place in 
 the heart of the natural man. Here, then, we experience a 
 double embarrassment ; we must discard interest, and produce 
 love ; but how discard interest, and produce love ? The gos- 
 pel engages to answer these two questions. 
 
 Do this and live, the majority of moralists say to us ; so 
 also do the Scriptures of the Old Testament. That is to say, 
 if we regard the spirituality, the perfection of the law, do what 
 is impossible, and live ; do what is impossible, or perish. 
 
 It was necessary that such a morality should be taught in 
 the world ; it was necessary, also, that God should proclaim it 
 in the old dispensation ; it is still necessary that it should be 
 preached in our days, among those who resist the gospel ; be- 
 cause the blessing must be estimated by the want, the remedy 
 
172 THE PRINCIPLE OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 
 
 by the evil. Those who reject Jesus Christ must learn how 
 far they are from fulfilling the conditions of their existence, 
 and how much they need that the exigency thus created should 
 be met by Him who can meet all exigencies, supply all defi- 
 ciencies, in a word, by Him who only can create ; for the thing 
 to be accomplished is nothing less than a creation. In this 
 way law, or morality, " is a schoolmaster that leads to Christ."* 
 
 But in the case of him whom the conviction of his guilt and 
 impotence has led to Christ, a new order of things commences, 
 a new morality springs up. The law has said, — " do these 
 things, and live," but the language of the gospel is, — " live, 
 and do these things." In the ordinary morality, obedience 
 precedes and produces salvation ; in that of the gospel, salvation 
 precedes and produces obedience. 
 
 Do you perceive that this simple transposition harmonizes 
 every thing? We knew not what to do with interest, nor 
 where to find love. Both of them find a place in this system, 
 but in a new order, and in a new relation. Might I venture 
 to say the gospel expels our selfishness by satiating it, exhausts 
 it by giving it every thing ? It effaces self as its very first 
 act. At the outset, and once for all, the greater part is given 
 to interest, or rather the whole is given to it, every thing that 
 can fill the capacity of the heart of men and of angels ; eternal 
 life, salvation, in the highest and most perfect sense of the 
 word. The gospel begins by declaring that we are saved, not 
 by our works, but independently of them, nay, before our 
 works. It relieves us of the intolerable burden, which caused 
 us to bend under the obligations and terrors of the law. It 
 gives rest and enlargement to the heart. It restores it to 
 liberty. And of this liberty what use do we make ? It is 
 
 * The apostle Paul describes Christians as " new creatures," or, as the ori- 
 ginal reads, " a new creation in Christ Jesus." In another passage, he speaks 
 of them as passing " from death unto life." So that the language of Vinet is 
 fully justified by the word of God. Besides, does not reason itself corroborate 
 this view ? If man is not pure and virtuous, he is morally dead ; in order 
 then to live, he must be born again, that is to say, he must receive a new mo- 
 ral life. He needs two things, pardon and sanctification. The bestowment of 
 these by the gospel is surely nothing less than " a new creation." — T. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 173 
 
 here the beauty of the evangelical system is seen. Joyful over 
 his dissipated fears, happy on account of his deliverance, and 
 tranquil with reference to his future fate, but, above all, 
 admitted to contemplate God in the perfect manifestation of 
 his love, confiding in God, whose goodness knows no change ; 
 in a word, conquered by gratitude, he is seized with a desire 
 to do every thing for Him who hath first loved him, and given 
 himself for him. " He loveth much, because he is forgiven 
 much." Will he neglect the law ? On the contrary, it will 
 become to him more dear and sacred. But he will observe it 
 in another spirit, — as the law of love, as the law of a Father 
 and a Saviour. He will acknowledge that it is perfect, that 
 it is sweeter than honey, that it restores the soul. He will de- 
 light in it after the inward man. He will practise it doubt- 
 less from a sense of obligation, but also from taste, from incli- 
 nation, soon even from instinct ; and he will observe it more 
 and more, as it becomes dearer to his heart by the good fruits 
 which it brings forth. It will no longer be necessary to say to 
 him, In. the name of your eternal interests, in the name of the 
 terrors of the judgment, do this and live ; because his eternal 
 interests have been provided for, and the sentence which con- 
 demns him has been nailed to the cross. But it will be said 
 to him, " Walk in good works, for which ye were created in 
 Christ Jesus. Ye are bought with a price, therefore glo- 
 rify God in your bodies, and in your spirits which are his ;" 
 or, as the apostle says in another place, " I beseech you, by the 
 mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice 
 unto God, holy and acceptable, which is your reasonable ser- 
 vice." 
 
 Doubtless, this fullness of confidence, this victorious assur- 
 ance, is not imparted in the same degree, to all Christians ; and 
 if many possess it in the first moment of their conversion, 
 others arrive at it only by a slow and laborious progress, while 
 others, all their life long, rejoice with trembling. But observe 
 two things particularly ; in the first place, it is certain that in 
 the view of all those to "whom it has been given to believe in 
 the merciful sacrifice of the Saviour, God is love. They know, 
 
 p 
 
1?4 THE PRINCIPLE OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 
 
 they feel that they are loved ; they see that the designs of God 
 respecting them are salvation and peace ; and this conviction 
 which reveals to their mind another God than is known to the 
 world, also inspires them with other dispositions than those of 
 the world. They loved that God who has loved them person- 
 ally and tenderly ; and thus it is that love becomes the prin- 
 ciple of their moral life. Secondly, the gospel, by incessantly 
 declaring that their works cannot save them, by impelling 
 them continually towards the idea of a gratuitous salvation, for 
 ever urges them towards divine love, and forces all their 
 thoughts to concentrate on that great object, — the compassion of 
 the Saviour. With these persuasions, with this constant di- 
 rection of the mind, it is impossible that the life should not be- 
 come a life according to God. These Christians, then, do not 
 form an exception to the position we have laid down. But 
 this is not all. 
 
 Sincere faith is, in reality, full of hope. The individual who 
 firmly believes that the blood of the new covenant has been 
 shed for him, cannot be persuaded that He who has enabled 
 him to believe, hath bestowed a gift illusory and vain. He 
 cannot deny to himself the faithfulness of God. And if some- 
 times the ineffaceable conviction of his own unworthiness, the 
 consideration of that law of the flesh in his members which 
 fights against the law of the spirit, the view of so many de- 
 plorable infidelities in the bosom even of the church may, for a 
 moment, obscure his hope, these very things make him recur 
 with redoubled fervour to Him, who, finding nothing in us to 
 make us acceptable in his sight, has been willing to save us 
 through the faith which he has given. Do not imperatively 
 demand from that Christian soul the triumphant assurance 
 which the Lord has not made the privilege of all believers. 
 He has it not, perhaps ; but he loves ; he has renounced all 
 merit ; he expects nothing from himself, but every thing from 
 his Father. I ask you, if he has not complied with the terms 
 of the gospel ? I ask you, when he obeys from love, without 
 hope in himself, without mercenary and sordid views, if that 
 principle of Christian morality, the superiority of which we 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 175 
 
 have endeavoured to establish, is a stranger to him, and if the 
 occasional shadows which becloud his hope, in any measure de- 
 tract from the system we have developed. 
 
 True, the gospel speaks of a recompense, a reward, a crown. 
 Here is only one truth ; but it may have two aspects. It is 
 quite evident that faith produces love, that love produces obe- 
 dience, and an obedience which makes no calculation. But it 
 is equally true that the works of such an obedience are good 
 works ; that such works lead to happiness as a necessary con- 
 sequence ; that God has not desired, and cannot desire the re- 
 storation of man without the design of rendering him happy ; 
 and that, in this view, the gospel has been able, in God's name, 
 to speak of a recompense and a crown. Thus, then, we find in 
 the same truth two ideas, not contradictory, but correlative ; 
 faith given as a grace, and the fruits of faith as a recompense ; 
 the believer not labouring for a recompense, but God treating 
 him as if he owed him something ; salvation preceding obe- 
 dience, since the cross, the means of salvation has preceded the 
 works of the believer, and in another sense, that is to say, in 
 the order of time, obedience preceding salvation, since the full 
 enjoyment of the blessings promised to the believer does not 
 commence till after he has finished his work. There is, then, 
 no contradiction, but mutual correspondence between the di- 
 verse declarations of the New Testament ; and all the passages 
 which it contains respecting the rewards of the faithful, can- 
 not shake its great, its vital principle, namely, that obedience 
 is the fruit of salvation, and that the believer obeys, not that 
 he may be saved, but because he is already saved. Besides, 
 what need have we to confirm all these ideas, when the facts 
 utter a language so clear ? Seek among all men who make a 
 profession of Christianity, those to whom Christianity is real, 
 vital, efficacious, those who have received the gospel in earnest, 
 and apply it with fidelity in their life, and ask them, in view of 
 their good works, what is the principle of these works ; and 
 there is not one of them but will answer, I obey because I 
 love ; I love because God has pardoned me. 
 
 Even if the common morality, that, I mean, which rejects 
 
76 THE PRINCIPLE OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 
 
 the doctrine of the atonement, should succeed in producing the 
 same effects, the same works as the evangelical morality, the 
 latter would no less possess a striking character of superiority ; 
 for, as a modern writer has judiciously remarked, virtue in the 
 one, is but the means ; in the other, it is the end* In the one, 
 God is served as a means of happiness ; in the other, he is 
 adored for himself. In the one, we cannot free ourselves from 
 mercenary views ; in the other, we obey only from a pure and 
 generous impulse. In the one, it is servile fear ; in the other, 
 filial reverence. " Having such promises, dearly beloved, let 
 us perfect holiness in the fear of the Lord." In the one, there 
 is self-interest, and consequently bondage ; in the other, all is 
 love, that is to say, freedom. 
 
 After these reflections, it will be easy for you to appreciate 
 the criticism which we referred to at the beginning of this dis- 
 course. You can judge if that is an immoral doctrine, which 
 teaches that all our efforts cannot secure our salvation, and 
 that nothing can be done to merit it. You know now that this 
 doctrine is that of love ; and of love in two senses at once, of a 
 merciful love on the part of God, of a grateful love on the part 
 of man. It is not a bargain, but a free covenant between God 
 who has loved us first, and us who love him on account of his 
 very love. What ! is duty less sacred to us because we love 
 him who imjjoses it ? "What ! is the law the less acknowledged 
 by us the more we acknowledge him who has given it ? What ! 
 do we hate sin less, because its expiation has cost the purest 
 blood in the universe ? What ! shall we feel ourselves under 
 less obligation to obey, because we cannot estimate all the im- 
 mensity of the Father's love ? Is a doctrine which doubles the 
 weight of all duties, the force of all precepts, the pressure of 
 all motives, an immoral doctrine ? Is it not rather, as we said 
 at the beginning, the best, the only good morality ? 
 
 That the grace of God may be turned into licentiousness we 
 are not anxious to deny. That such an insult to the majesty 
 of God, to the majesty of divine charity, transcends all other 
 baseness, every one will acknowledge. On this account it must 
 be admitted that the greatest manifestation of the goodness of 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 1?7 
 
 God has given occasion to the greatest manifestation of the 
 wickedness of man. If God had found it necessary to prescribe 
 the use of no other means than such as it would have been im- 
 possible for us to abuse, we might not have fallen so low, that 
 every thing reveals it, or rather we might not have fallen at 
 all. The effects we have described we have presented us natu- 
 ral, and doubtless they are such, but not as certain in them- 
 selves ; the will of God and the grace of his Spirit alone secure 
 them. It is true, then, that many have abused them, and that 
 many will abuse them ; but those who abuse them do so to their 
 destruction, while those who use them, do so to their unspeak- 
 able benefit. The latter have reasoned well, concluded well ; 
 the former have made a deplorable mistake ; and in every case 
 what cuts off all difficulty is, that while a small number only 
 have accepted and fully understood grace, natural morality has 
 never saved a single person, because it cannot regenerate him ; 
 while the dispensation we have explained, is the only one 
 which has proved its efficacy to save the soul. That which 
 changes the heart, which causes it to be born to a new life, 
 which invests all obligations with a sacred authority, and 
 transfers a religious character even to the slightest duties, 
 which, in fine, elevates morality to the region of the absolute 
 and the perfect, is the dispensation of the gospel, and that alone. 
 How far, then, how infinitely far from truth and justice, are 
 those who charge with immorality the doctrine we exhibit. 
 
 That doctrine which has been described to us in the nine- 
 teenth century, as a shocking paradox, is the same as that pro- 
 fessed by all true Christians since Jesus Christ. It is the mo- 
 rality of St Paul and of St John, of Fenelon and of Pascal, of 
 Newton and of Oberlin, — it is Christian morality. Salvation 
 by faith is spoken of in your churches, and you receive that 
 expression. Very well ! this morality is nothing else than sal- 
 vation by faith, or the recovery of the soul, by trust in the di- 
 vine compassion ; and how far will not this make the doctrine 
 go back into the past ? Under the ancient covenant, believers 
 among the Jews already lived by this faith in the gratuitous 
 mercy of the Lord. Ascending from one generation to another, 
 
178 THE PRINCIPLE OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY. 
 
 you see them all drink of the water of this spiritual rock, 
 which is Christ ; you see Moses prefer the reproach of Christ 
 to all the treasures of Egypt ; you see this divine promise 
 throw its pure and consoling light upon the mournful path of 
 our first parents going forth from the shades of Paradise. This 
 is the morality for which, during four thousand years, God pre- 
 pared sick and fallen humanity ; the morality whose majestic 
 foundations, so long prepared in darkness, the death of Christ 
 has brought forth into the light ; the morality of all future time ; 
 in a word the morality of humanity, which can sustain no other. 
 O, if there is one among you, whom prejudices, like those 
 which have given rise to this discourse, still keep far away 
 from the gospel, we conjure him to study the system of the 
 gospel, and after having admired its beauty, consistency and 
 harmony, let him ask himself the question, if it is possible for 
 man to invent it ? Let him ask himself, if there is not here 
 more than a system ; if there is not a fact, vast and divine, the 
 greatest in the entire history of the universe ? Let the cross 
 become to him a reality, Jesus Christ a Saviour, the gospel 
 good news, an authentic message from Heaven ; and let him 
 adopt this morality, alone worthy of God, alone adapted to our 
 wants, and alone capable of regenerating our souls. 
 
179 
 
 XIII. 
 NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDEEN. 
 
 K Verily I say unto you, except ye be converted, and become as little children, 
 ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven. ,, — Matt, xviii. 3. 
 
 I have sought, my dear hearers, in the preceding discourses, 
 to render Christianity acceptable to your reason ; I have con- 
 stantly attached the chain of my arguments to the immutable 
 principles of nature. I have appealed from yourselves to your- 
 selves. I have thus, as it were, erected a tribunal before which 
 the religion of Jesus Christ has appeared to be judged. What 
 I have done, was, in my judgment, permitted to me. Preach- 
 ing ought always to set out from a point admitted by all, in 
 order to arrive at one which is not ; with men convinced of the 
 truth of Christianity, it sets out from the declarations of the 
 gospel itself ; with those who are not thus convinced, it must 
 set out from a point further back, a point which can be nothing 
 else than some one of those convictions which are common to 
 all our hearers, imparted by nature, or acquired by study. We 
 have no regret, then, at the course we have followed ; but we 
 acknowledge that the attitude in which we have been forced to 
 place Christianity, shall we venture to say it, of being accused 
 by you, and defended by us, is not such as we should have pre- 
 ferred ; and we have not been able to conceal from ourselves 
 the danger both to you and to us, almost inseparable from such 
 a method. By continually invoking the testimony of your 
 reason, we had to fear inflating that very reason ; and, on the 
 other hand, of giving to the Christian revelation a false air of 
 
180 NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 
 
 philosophical system and theory. We may also have given 
 some occasion to believe that the work of conversion to Chris- 
 tianity, is accomplished entirely by human means ; that one 
 becomes a disciple of Jesus Christ in no other way, than he 
 becomes a disciple of Plato ; that in this marvellous transfor- 
 mation, reason and philosophy accomplish the whole; in a 
 word, that the proud thinker could make that long and im- 
 portant transition from the world to Christianity, without losing 
 any thing, or yielding any thing on the way. 
 
 It is this impression which we shall now endeavour to de- 
 stroy, if we have permitted it to be formed in you. Christi- 
 anity, which has seen us patiently defending its rights before 
 our petty tribunal, must, from this moment, assume the accent 
 which becomes it, and dissipate the illusions you may have 
 formed touching its position and your own. Have you thought, 
 perhaps, that it sought nothing but your adherence, and, too 
 well satisfied with having gained it, would leave you at rest, 
 as after an affair amicably settled between it and you ? Have 
 you thought, by declaring its pretensions acceptable, by pro- 
 nouncing, so to speak, its sentence of acquittal, you had done 
 all that it required, and that its relations to you would con- 
 tinue on the same footing of equality on which they com- 
 menced ? Assuredly you were greatly deceived. It must by 
 no means, be concluded that you are converted, because you 
 have yielded to the historical, the moral, or the philosophical 
 evidence, with which it is irradiated in every part. That work, 
 to take it in its true nature, is not even begun ; all that we 
 have said, and all that you have believed, is scarcely a preface 
 to it ; you have not yet read a single syllable of the book itself. 
 The road to the kingdom of heaven has been pointed out to 
 you ; but you have not entered that kingdom. Such as you 
 are naturally, you cannot enter it, for, says the Master himself 
 to you, " Except ye be converted, and become as little chil- 
 dren, ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 Remember the reply of Archimedes to the tyrant of Sicily, 
 who grew impatient with the slowness of his method or the 
 difficulty of his theorems, " There is no royal road to science." 
 
NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 181 
 
 "With greater reason, we say the same to you, respecting our 
 subject. Christianity does not offer, does not know, any pri- 
 vileged road. I acknowledge, that so long as you make in- 
 quiry touching the truth of the Christian revelation, the nature 
 of these preliminary investigations is such as to leave undis- 
 turbed the sentiment of your independence and your dignity. 
 This part of the route is wide ; it has room for all your pre- 
 tensions. Here you can enlarge and expatiate at your ease, 
 and occupy it entirely with the sumptuous array of your science. 
 But this road, however wide, terminates for you, and for every 
 one, at a gate so strait and low, that far from being able to 
 pass it, with all your magnificence, you cannot even enter it, 
 excejDt on condition of lessening yourselves, and exchanging, so 
 to speak, the stature of a full-grown man, for that of a little 
 child. '" Except ye be converted, and become as little chil- 
 dren, ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 Is this the same as saying, that at the decisive moment on 
 which depends an entrance into the kingdom of heaven, man 
 is called upon to abandon his reason, to regard as null and void 
 all the knowledge he has acquired, and that the childhood, 
 which is made a condition of his admission, is nothing but ig- 
 norance and stupidity ? Those who can believe this, forget 
 that the New Testament every where supposes the contrary, 
 and that the Christian religion includes in itself the richest 
 source of intellectual developement. They forget that from the 
 very first it has rendered popular the loftiest ideas ; that the 
 apostles were not afraid to say to men already converted, w< We 
 speak as unto wise men ;'.' and that in one of the epistles is 
 found this remarkable antithesis, " Be not children in under- 
 standing ; howbeit in malice be ye children, but in understand- 
 ing be men." 1 Cor. xiv. 20. A man in reason, — a child in 
 heart, — such must the Christian be ; such is the disposition 
 with which every one must enter the kingdom of heaven. I 
 suppose you to have the first ; have you the second ? 
 
 So long as you were only examining, in the pride of your 
 reason, the evidences of Christianity, its records and its testi- 
 monies, every thing was allowed you which is allowed to full- 
 
182 NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 
 
 grown men ; you were required to be nothing else. But when, 
 at the conclusion of these independent researches, your convic- 
 tion has bound you to the doctrine of Christ ; when by any 
 means, you have acquired assurance that Jesus Christ came 
 into the world to save sinners, of which each of you may well 
 say, he is chief; when, to take a particular case, that great 
 thinker, that subtle genius, that learned man, has ascertained 
 that he has been picked up in the highways of the world, as an 
 abandoned child, without protection, without clothing and food, 
 without power to proceed on his way, or even voice to inquire 
 the road, will it become him to affect the airs of a being of 
 importance ? And will he not be bound to confess himself a 
 child, let himself be treated as such, become such in reality ? 
 
 "What, then, in the eyes of God, is he whom the world 
 honours as a wise man ? What is he but an ignorant one ? 
 What he that is strong among men, but weakness itself ? What 
 he that is intelligent, but a fool ? What he that is rich, but a 
 pauper ? Even if he should have discovered new heavens, or 
 founded an empire on the earth, what is he in the eyes of God 
 but a madman who has forgotten the first of truths ; who is in - 
 capable of spelling the first syllable of the name with which 
 the heavens resound, and which angels adore ; who cannot ful- 
 fil, cannot even begin to fulfil, the first, the holiest, and the 
 simplest of his duties, and who with all his knowledge of na- 
 ture, estranges himself so far even from nature, that he adores 
 what he ought to despise, and despises what he ought to 
 adore ! 
 
 That which a little child is, with reference to the knowledge 
 which such a man possesses, he is himself with reference to the 
 knowledge of God. But that which a child has, he has not. 
 The child has, for all power, the consciousness of his feeble- 
 ness ; for all science, the consciousness of his ignorance ; for all 
 wisdom, the instinct which carries him towards his natural 
 protectors. The man of the world has not this wisdom. He 
 wishes, unaided to raise himself from the cradle, where he lies 
 in his weakness. He wishes to find the road for himself, in a 
 region of which he is ignorant. He rejects the hand which is 
 
NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 183 
 
 held out to sustain him, and ever pre-occupied with his part 
 as a full-grown man, he will not recollect that he is only a 
 child. 
 
 This despotism, so natural and so common among those who 
 are destitute of Christian convictions, is often seen perpetuated 
 even among those whose reason has been conquered by the gos- 
 pel. They are ready, in their character of full-grown men, to 
 sign the deed which acknowledges the gospel, but they cannot 
 persuade themselves to become children, that is, to become 
 Christians. It is here they encounter the great stone of stumb- 
 ling which their wisdom had not foreseen. It is here they 
 stop disconcerted, as if caught in a snare. It was not with 
 this in prospect that they embraced Christianity. They were 
 deceived ; they have been led further than they wished to go ; 
 they will not go back, that is henceforth impossible ; but 
 neither will they go forward. 
 
 They must go forward. They must put their heart in har- 
 mony with their intellect. Christianity is not a system out of 
 us, but a life within us. Christianity is a renovation of the 
 soul ; it is nothing less. A Christian is not a man who has 
 expelled from his mind one theory, to give place to another. 
 He is a man humbled ; who feels that he can live only upon 
 mercy ; who adores, who blesses that mercy ; who nourishes 
 himself on the promises of God as his only hope ; who conti- 
 nually renounces himself, and devotes his life daily to the Sa- 
 viour. He does not live himself, but his Saviour lives in him. 
 And the life which he still lives in the flesh, he lives by faith 
 on the Son of God, who hath loved him. 
 
 It would be very agreeable, doubtless, and very flattering to 
 his self-love, to present himself to the world as a man who, 
 amongst all systems, had made his choice, and is ready to fur- 
 nish evidence of his good judgment, by giving an account of 
 the reasons which have led him to embrace Christianity as 
 a system eminently rational. But the question at issue is a 
 very different one from that of a mere profession. Look at a 
 child. He not only does not blush to acknowledge his father, 
 but he glories in it. It never occurs to the mind of that young 
 
184 NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 
 
 creature that the father whom he respects is not respected by- 
 all. He places him in his estimation far above all other men. 
 He yields to him respect and obedience in every place. Even 
 in the one where his father is obliged to take a humble atti- 
 tude, he perceives not that his father is not to every one what 
 he is to him ; or did he perceive it, he would be astonished 
 and afflicted, and say so in sufficiently decisive tones. Ask 
 from him who is yet only a philosophical Christian, these tes- 
 timonies, these acknowledgments, this open and honest pro- 
 fession. Require him to declare, without embarrassment and 
 circumlocution, and in all places equally, his exclusive trust in 
 the blood of the new covenant. Let him place himself at the 
 foot of the cross, humble, poor, and wretched. Let him, full 
 of love for his father, seized with admiration of that glorious 
 goodness, feeling that nothing is great, nothing beautiful by 
 the side of that divine work, give free expression to the emo- 
 tions of his heart, and speak of the news of salvation as news 
 always fresh, always interesting, news to which the attention 
 ought to be devoted by choice, in the midst of all other news. 
 Ask for all this, and you will ask in vain. He has not be- 
 lieved, in order that he might come to such an issue. He did 
 not anticipate this. In truth, you astonish him greatly. 
 
 A little child has, with reference to the relations of society, 
 views more philosophical than any philsopher. To him men 
 are men. Custom does not, in his view, communicate to them 
 any new quality. He loves them if they are good ; he loves 
 them if they love his father. In this respect the Christian is 
 a child. He permits the relations of society to exist ; he ac- 
 cepts social distinctions for temporal use ; and frequently con- 
 forms to them, from Christian prudence ; but his heart, inter- 
 nally levels all these distinctions. Christian love is the great 
 leveller. He is not afraid to treat all men as brethren ; for he 
 sees in them the children of his father ; and if there be any to 
 whom his heart yields a preference, they are those who love 
 his father. The differences of rank not only do not arrest his 
 love, but barriers more difficult to overleap, those which are 
 raised by difference of culture, intelligence, and character, he 
 
NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 185 
 
 scales with equal ease. He has always something to say to the 
 simple, something to learn from the ignorant, some sympathy 
 with characters the most diverse from bis own. Neither weari- 
 ness nor disgust accompanies him into society thus diversified. 
 One great common interest brings all minds into harmony. 
 Here all feel tbemselves equally learned and ignorant, equally 
 foolish and wise. The differences which subsist in another 
 sphere are not remarked. They are, with reference to the 
 final aim of life, of but very little importance. Wherever the 
 Christian meets a Christian, he finds an equal. On the con- 
 trary, nothing is more foreign to the Christian in theory. In 
 order to form a common bond between him and the Christian, 
 something more than Christianity is needed. There must be, 
 if not equality of rank, at least equality of culture. He has 
 nothing to say to the unlettered Christian ; he feels ill at ease 
 in his company ; he dreads it. He must have similitude of 
 views ; a difference disturbs him. He cannot raise himself 
 above the impression which produces an opinion so little ra- 
 tional. He cannot abstract himself from forms, to attach him- 
 self to principles, that is, to Christianity itself. He seeks 
 equals and fellows, rather than brethren. 
 
 A little child can do nothing of himself; but he expects 
 every thing from his father. He knows that he is loved by 
 him, and that he will refuse him nothing that is necessary. 
 He prays. The life of a little child is a prayer. What rea- 
 son has man to think and to act in the same way ? But to pray, 
 says the wise man, to pray ! That is not natural to my heart. 
 Every thing, indeed, which can be said of prayer, I know and 
 hold for truth. But in spite of that, I do not feel inclined to it. 
 It appears as if it were something foreign to me, an affair of 
 another. I seem to myself so singular in prayer, as if I were 
 doing something learnt or copied. Had I thought of all this, 
 in becoming a Christian ? 
 
 A little child believes what his father tells him. It is his 
 father ! Does he not know all that a child needs to know ; and 
 would he deceive him ? This amiable instinct is the instinct of 
 a Christian. He knows what his father has spoken ; that is 
 
186 NECESSITY OP BECOMING CHILDREN. 
 
 enough for him. He will not submit to the control of human 
 wisdom, the authentic communications of divine wisdom. Af- 
 ter having believed that the gospel is from God, he will believe 
 what the gospel says. The Christian in theory is followed by 
 the pride of reason even into the enclosure at the gates of which 
 it ought to have stopped. He still wishes to judge, to choose, to 
 adapt to his use, to prescribe to God what God ought to say, to 
 reform the axioms of revealed truth, to re-make the Bible, after 
 having accepted it. Do you speak to him of submission ? Do 
 you remind him that he has promised it, and that, at least, he 
 ought to leave those mysteries undisturbed, whose inviolability 
 he had previously acknowledged ? His reason, accustomed to 
 enter every where, is surprised that any door should be shut 
 upon it ; he had never estimated the extent of his engagements. 
 He begins to be vexed ; and feeling at once the impossibility 
 of receding or advancing, impelled by pride, retained by fear, 
 he remains immovable and inactive, on the precise limit which 
 separates Christianity from the world. 
 
 The passage from knowledge to possession, from belief to 
 life, our Lord has strikingly represented by the figure, so sin- 
 gular at first sight, of a return from mature age to childhood. 
 While in the world, the preceptor says to the child, Come, act 
 like a man, Jesus Christ, our divine Teacher, says to the man, 
 Act like a child. Be in heart, with relation to God and your 
 fellow -men, what a little child is with reference to his father, 
 and all the persons by whom he is surrounded. The infancy 
 of the heart is the trait which distinguishes the Christian in 
 fact, from the Christian in theory. But that infancy of the 
 heart, what is it but humility ? "What distinguishes a child 
 from a man, if it is not a sort of natural humility ? It is humi- 
 lity, then, which draws the line of demarcation between the 
 Christian who believes, and the Christian who lives. It is 
 humility, then, which is wanting to the former, and which it 
 remains for him to acquire, in order to enter the kingdom of 
 heaven. 
 
 Let us here explain ourselves thoroughly, and not give you 
 occasion to suppose that one virtue is more than another the 
 
NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 1 87 
 
 condition of salvation. Jesus Christ lias only desired us to 
 understand, that his religion is of such a nature, that if any 
 one will not consent to humble himself, he cannot be his dis- 
 ciple. He might equally have said that no one can be such, 
 unless he love. He has said so, and his disciples have re- 
 peated it. But humility itself is a proof that one loves ; he 
 who loves has no difficulty in humbling himself; he who 
 does not humble himself, does not love. He who can see the 
 Son of God descend to the earth, partake of our sufferings, de- 
 grade himself to the rank of a malefactor, and drink oppro- 
 brium like water, that he, a sinner, may enjoy eternal life in 
 the bosom of the Father ; he who sees this, and believes it, 
 and still imagines that the disciple is more than his Master, 
 and the servant more than his Lord ; he who cannot persuade 
 himself to drink one drop of the cup which Jesus has drained ; 
 he who cannot lay at the foot of the cross his frivolous preten- 
 sions, his independence of spirit, his confidence in himself, his 
 petty glory, his vanity ; he who pretends to rest upon a throne 
 in the presence of Jesus bound to the stake of infamy, unques- 
 tionably does not love. And, on the other hand, he who is 
 not affected by such devotion, who can believe in Christ, with- 
 out loving him, whose heart does not permit itself to be caught 
 in the snare of mercy, he doubtless is not humbled. Principles 
 which take each other s places by turns, love and humility, 
 cannot exist separately in the soul. Go down into its depths, 
 and you will find them united there, blended in a single senti- 
 ment, whose different qualities are developed together, by the 
 same emotion, and the same virtue. 
 
 But if reason tells us that the gospel is of such a nature that 
 we cannot receive it in deed and in truth, without becoming 
 children, reason can do nothing more. It abandons us in this 
 affair, as in others, at the point where the true difficulty be- 
 gins. Reason is not the efficient; cause of any of the emotions 
 which spring up within us. All that it can do is to conduct 
 us into the presence of facts ; then it retires, and leaves the 
 facts to affect and modify us. It is thus that it places us in 
 the presence of the fact of redemption, a fact which includes 
 
] 88 NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 
 
 this singularity, that however well fitted it may appear by its 
 nature to touch our hearts, it yet meets there the most formid- 
 able obstacles. In theory, we say to ourselves, that in this fact 
 every thing is so combined as to move the heart ; in practice, 
 it would appear as if it were only fitted to revolt it. Thus the 
 p-ospel does not ascribe to our natural faculties the power to 
 believe in it, and appropriate it to ourselves. " No oue can 
 believe," it says to us, " that Jesus is the Son of God, but by 
 the Holy Spirit;" which doubtless means, that no one can, 
 without the aid of the Holy Spirit, endue himself with the dis- 
 positions of a true disciple of Jesus Christ. No one, to speak 
 after the manner of our text, can enter the kingdom of heaven, 
 except he be converted, and become a little child. 
 
 Hence this transformation into infancy does not even belong 
 to you. All that you can find in yourselves is the conviction 
 that, proud and independent by nature, you must ask God to 
 break down that haughtiness, to reduce you to the measure of 
 little children, to give you their hearts. And it is not you, 
 learned men, and men of genius alone, who need to ask this. 
 Your pride does not surpass that of other men, as your talents 
 surpass theirs. They too, in their mediocrity, are haughty and 
 proud, for they are men ; humble and modest, perhaps, with 
 relation to men, haughty and proud with reference to God. 
 Their reason makes no less pretensions than yours ; their dig- 
 nity is not less exacting ; it costs them as much to abase them- 
 selves, as if, like you, they had their heads in the clouds. To 
 be children, little children, to walk wherever they are led, un- 
 able to quit the hand which guides them, to depend on the 
 divine mercy for the supply of their daily wants, to associate 
 with the humble, to be seen in the company of little ones, to 
 put themselves on equality with the poor in spirit, — what 
 abasement, what disgrace ! Happy, however, they who have 
 accepted that disgrace, and covered themselves with it ! The 
 shame of earth is the glory of heaven. If it yet shocks you, 
 if you are not yet pleased to become the children of God, know 
 that, notwithstanding your professions, you are not yet in the 
 kingdom of heaven ; you are on the threshold of a door open to 
 
NECESSITY OF BECOMING CHILDREN. 1 89 
 
 your inspection, but forbidden to your entrance. You must 
 beseech God to break to pieces your pride, by giving you a 
 lively consciousness of your sinful state, a profound view of 
 your misery, an implacable hatred of yourselves, such as sin 
 has made you, and a solemn conviction of your danger. Tell 
 him to cast you down, to put you so low in your own esteem, 
 that you may feel yourselves but too happy to be born again 
 simple children, under the paternal hand. Then, not only 
 will the religious convictions you have acquired profit you, but 
 they will no longer be a burden, a care, an importunate thought, 
 too oppressive, wherever you may drag it. They will consti- 
 tute the foundation of your peace, the source of your happiness, 
 a life in your life, a life in your death, your hope in time, your 
 glory in eternity. 
 
190 
 
 XIY. 
 THE CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EAETH ADJUSTED. 
 
 " Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth." — Col. hi. 2. 
 
 This precept, and a multitude of analogous declarations 
 spread through the Scriptures, are a subject of offence to many 
 readers. They see in them the providence of God contradict- 
 ed by his word. It is God himself that has placed us on the 
 earth, and it is he who wills that all our thoughts should be in 
 heaven. It is God who has placed us, by our bodies, our wants, 
 and our faculties, in a close and necessary relation with the 
 world ; yet it is he who wishes to bind our hearts to eternity, 
 by indestructible ties. It is he who admits of no division, no 
 compromise, and proposes to us the choice between heaven and 
 earth, as a choice between life and death. 
 
 Ought it to surprise us, say superficial readers of the New 
 Testament, that, pressed between two opposing necessities, we 
 should decide, after some uncertainty, either to throw our 
 whole life into the future, or lose it entirely in the present ? 
 If some minds, struck with the instability of the world, hasten 
 to flee from under the roof of a ruinous edifice, retire into the 
 profound solitude of their own thoughts, concentrate themselves 
 upon a single idea, that of eternity, and renounce the activity 
 of social life, in order to consecrate themselves entirely to the 
 care of their salvation ; while others, abandoned to the influ- 
 ence of external impressions, spirits fickle, active, curious, go- 
 verned by the instinct of sociability, and the charm of life, en- 
 
CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 191 
 
 gage, body and soul, in the bustle of human affairs, and do not 
 permit a single thought to escape towards the invisible world, 
 and the things of eternity, we once more inquire, ought we to 
 be astonished at it ? 
 
 Alas, no, it is not surprising. We need not be astonished 
 to see the false reason of man corrupt and bend to its liking 
 the simple doctrines of the gospel. But if we embrace the 
 whole of its teachings, we shall really find nothing in the gospel 
 which tends, even in the slightest degree, to the separation or 
 divorce of our two lives, to the mutilation of our double nature. 
 We are not taught there, that God, in giving us the gospel, 
 intended violently to rend our nature, and to place in com- 
 petition two necessities, equally imperious. On the contrary, 
 we are persuaded, while reading that divine book, that God 
 has been pleased to establish in our life a perfect and unalter- 
 able unity, to form of the two principles of which man is com- 
 posed, a single being ; not to destroy one activity for the bene- 
 fit of the other, but to give to both one aim, and to the whole 
 life a single significance ; not to kill, but to regenerate man. 
 
 The anchorite of ancient times, the partially enlightened be- 
 liever, who, in our day, would bring back the life of the an- 
 chorite, both misapprehend the design of God. If Christian 
 perfection had required their retirement from this world, God 
 would have made for them a separate world, where the wants 
 of the body, the necessities of physical existence, and the en- 
 gagements of society would never have disturbed the current 
 of their serene contemplations. God has not made such a 
 world. By invincible ties has he bound them to the world of 
 sense, and the relations of society. He has compelled them to 
 labour for their fellow-creatures, and their fellow-creatures for 
 them. And no less has he demanded that they should labour 
 for their salvation. 
 
 Indeed, our situation would be, favourable, and our task easy, 
 if it were only necessary to leave society, in order to find God : 
 if God did not permit us to breathe the dust of the arena, or 
 to hear the noise of combat ; if we could triumph without hav- 
 ing fought ; if religion consisted not in overcoming temptations. 
 
192 CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AMD EARTH ADJUSTED. 
 
 but in encountering none ; if it were permitted us, in order to 
 become saints, to cease to be men ; and if we could cast far 
 away from us the noble burden of humanity ', as a great orator, 
 in ancient times, expressed himself.* 
 
 That the world, in its actual constitution, has its temptations, 
 
 * There was a celebrated people of antiquity (the Spartans), a part of whom 
 had succeeded in subjugating the other, and causing them to accept the se- 
 verest laws. The conquered and the conquerors continued to occupy the 
 same soil, and to form, as it were, a single people. But the difference of their 
 respective positions showed itself in the difference of their employments. The 
 conquerors aimed to arrive, as a people, at an ideal and unexampled perfection. 
 Consequently military exercises, the strictest order, privations the most painful, 
 became the foundation of their life. None of the members of this association 
 were permitted to go beyond the bounds of the republic, nor was a stranger 
 allowed to penetrate within that sacred territory. It might be called a mili- 
 tary monastery, subjected to the strictest rules. But as it was necessary, after 
 all, in the midst of this sublime discipline, to live, the vanquished race were 
 charged with providing for this. On them was imposed the vulgar, but indis- 
 pensable task of cultivating the earth, of exercising trades, in a word, of sup- 
 plying all the material wants, which even the loftiest spirits cannot hinder 
 themselves from feeling. Thus, on the one side, improvement ; on the other, 
 labour ; on the one, intellectual and moral life, on the other, material life and 
 mechanical employments ; on the one, a polity almost become a species of 
 religion, on the other, industry without liberty, and very nearly without 
 thought. Such was the organization of that strange people. This state of 
 things is a feeble image ; still it is an image of the system we oppose. In fact, 
 this system divides mankind into two classes, two communities ; the first of 
 whom save their souls by withdrawing from the obligations of society, while 
 the others destroy their souls by submitting to them. The former seek the 
 food which endureth to life eternal, the latter ruin themselves by seeking the 
 food that perisheth. And, finally, what is not only strange, but abominable, 
 the one class labour, at the expense of their salvation, that the other may be 
 at liberty to secure it ; for in the end it comes to this. However spiritual 
 some may be, they have bodies, temporal interests, and families. They need 
 the products of nature to feed them, the products of art to clothe them, laws 
 to live in peace, and a government to protect them ; and all these wants, re- 
 ducing them only to strict necessity, suppose a developement of knowledge, 
 — a mass of studies, of which it is difficult, at first sight, to form an idea. The 
 possession of so much of these gross and absolutely necessary commodities as 
 would be sufficient to render the return of famine impossible, attaches itself, 
 as all will admit, to the highest speculations of science, and to the most inge- 
 nious inventions of the arts. So that, since it is impossible to live without 
 food, without clothing and laws, it would be absolutely necessary, in the sys- 
 tem under consideration, that one part of the human family must destroy their 
 souls in order to secure the existence of those which are saved. 
 
CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 193 
 
 its dangers, and its snares, we are not permitted to doubt. 
 That it is wise to shun dissipation, to avoid even useless agita- 
 tions, to seek, as much as may be, the repose of a retired life, 
 there to refresh the soul, and very frequently to enter the closet 
 in order to examine ourselves before God, are maxims with 
 which it is important to be thoroughly penetrated. The peace- 
 ful uniformity of the pastoral life did not excuse Abraham 
 from seeking a place favourable to prayer, under the shade of 
 the oaks of Mamre. How often did our Saviour himself retire 
 to the mountain in order to elevate his pure spirit to his Father 
 and ours. But in the same degree that these precautions are 
 conformed to Christian wisdom, so is the idea chimerical, that 
 all that we have to do to flee from the world, is to avoid con- 
 tact with society. 
 
 Vain hope ! in the heart of deserts, and in the deepest soli- 
 tudes we may yet find the world. It is not met with alto- 
 gether in the hurry of business or in the agitations of society. 
 It lies in the depths of our heart. The world consists of our 
 passions, which solitude does not extinguish, and to which it 
 sometimes lends fresh energy. All the evils and troubles of 
 life do not come, to borrow the expression of a great philoso- 
 pher, " from not being able to remain in our chamber." They 
 come from our not being able to escape from our natural cor- 
 ruption ; a corruption which follows us to the recesses of forests 
 and of deserts, as it accompanies us into the streets and squares 
 of our cities ; whilst, in the midst of the most complicated and 
 difficult business, in the anxiety even of high functions, the 
 Christian finds in his heart a solitude, a tranquil world, a re- 
 treat more inaccessible than that of his closet, where he lives 
 by his soul, while his body is given to a thousand cares, where 
 his spirit peacefully composes itself, even when his person 
 seems to be diffused and dissipated. Many a hermit lives in 
 the world ; many a man of the world lives in solitude. 
 
 To renounce the necessities of our earthly sojourn, to regard 
 all temporal activity as perdition, is to insult the wisdom of 
 God, which has imposed them upon us. What ! could he create 
 a world, the necessary effect of which would be to abuse him- 
 
194 CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 
 
 self ? What ! are nature, society, labour, the institutions of 
 his providence, so many things he has cursed ? On the con- 
 trary, is not the world, in the variety of its aspects and move- 
 ments, a temple, all the parts of which are destined for his 
 glory? "What ! do idleness, apathy, isolation, uselessness, 
 alone honour him ? Far from us be such a thought ! It is not 
 by remaining motionless in the heavens, that the stars celebrate 
 his greatness and power, but by revolving swiftly in their im- 
 mense orbits; and it is from our activity, from the free and 
 extensive developement of our powers, that God has been 
 pleased to derive a part of his glory. 
 
 There are dangers in social life ! Certainly, I believe it ; 
 they are such as to make us tremble. But God is doubtless 
 not ignorant of this ; it is not certainly for nothing that he has 
 promised his Holy Spirit ; or that Jesus has said to his dis- 
 ciples, " In the world ye shall have afflictions ; but be of good 
 cheer, I have overcome the world." Since it has pleased God 
 to place us in these formidable relations, can we doubt that his 
 grace provides for the exigencies which are his work ? To be- 
 lieve otherwise, would be to call in question the goodness, and 
 perhaps the justice of God. 
 
 Ties of family and of country, culture of arts and of know- 
 ledge, industrial and social activity, ( ye are the indispensable 
 conditions of our existence ; ye are the road through which we 
 must pass ; but ye are not the end of our being. That end is 
 heaven. But the error lies in confounding the road with the 
 end, the means with the result. The error lies in attaching 
 ourselves to earth, which is the road, not to heaven, which is 
 the end. 
 
 This distinction is conformed to our text. It does not say, 
 Do not occupy yourselves with the things of the earth ; but, 
 Do not set your affections on the things of the earth. Act as 
 travellers who give to their business all requisite attention, 
 but are in haste to return to their native land. Act, — but for 
 heaven ; labour, — but for God. 
 
 Labour for God ; because it is your vocation, primitive and 
 unchangeable, your supreme duty, the first and last end of your 
 
CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 195 
 
 existence. Alas ! of all ideas, the most absurd is the most dif- 
 fused. As if we existed by ourselves, we live for ourselves ! 
 Creatures dependent at every point of our existence, we have 
 made ourselves our own law, and our own object ! Committing 
 sacrilege every day, we conceal ourselves from our Creator ! 
 Oh ! it is this that marks, even in noble spirits, the profound 
 and general depravity of the human race. This is the seal of 
 our reprobation, that we have forgotten why and for what we 
 were sent into the world. All evil comes from this ; and each 
 particular sin disappears in this great and primal sin. Chris- 
 tians ! I adjure you, by your very name, — live for him who 
 has loved you. He had infinite rights over us as our Creator, 
 but, by a miracle of love, he has added infinite to infinite. He 
 has consented that righteous blood should flow for you. He 
 has given up to the pangs of death, Him, in whom his own 
 holiness was reflected, as in the purest mirror. At the inter- 
 cession of his Son, his wrath was turned away from you, to 
 fall on that Son himself ; Christ became sin, that your sins 
 might be forgotten. And now, thanks be to him, ye may enter, 
 creatures degraded and defiled, race adulterous and dishonoured! 
 ye may enter, " with everlasting joy on your heads," into the 
 house of your celestial bridegroom, to adorn yourselves anew 
 with his glorious name, and to partake with angels in a destiny 
 of honour and peace. After this, is it necessary to say to you, 
 Christians, labour for God ; attach yourselves to things above ? 
 Ah ! if the name you bear has not told you all this already, all 
 the words in the world will tell you nothing. 
 
 Work for God, set your affection on things above ; because 
 such an activity is the only one which offers to your energies 
 an employment worthy of them. By acting only with refer- 
 ence to the world, what use can you make of those powers 
 really proportioned to them ? Whatever you do, you will 
 always fall below your capacity, and a whole world thrown 
 into your soul would not fill its abyss. You may fill up your 
 time, by attaching a work to each of your hours, but would it 
 fill up life, thus to fill up its time ? Life ! Is it only a dimen- 
 sion ? Is it merely a line without breadth, a chain which 
 
196 THE CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 
 
 you must only take care to have unbroken ? "When every 
 hour of a long life has been marked by an employment or a 
 thought, does it follow thence that you have lived? im- 
 mortal beings, creatures, of God ! life consists in the employ- 
 ment of all your powers ; and you have divine powers. Life 
 consists in the fulfilment of your destiny ; and your destiny is 
 heaven ! Do not tell me you have lived, you who have a soul 
 to aspire to the infinite, but which you have chained down to 
 finite objects ; a heart to love God whom you have not loved ; 
 an intelligence to serve Him, but whom you have not served. 
 You have passed through life, at the side of those who lived, 
 but you have not lived. To live, my brethren, is to perform a 
 work which lasts. It is to accumulate something more than 
 vain recollections. It is to convert all our present life into the 
 future ; it is to prepare for its death ; it is to make it, in ad- 
 vance, triumphant, glorious, full of immortality. To live, is 
 to act on earth as a citizen of heaven. 
 
 But, at the close of our course, to be reduced to say, I have 
 laboured, but have already received all my recompense. For 
 a perishable work, I have received, from the world, a perish- 
 able reward. The world has my labour, and keeps it. I have 
 received its pay, but I cannot retain it ; for I am about to leave 
 the world. I leave it, with empty hands, with exhausted 
 powers, with beggared spirit, and withered heart. I leave it, 
 but I know not whither I am going. Alas ! why have I lived ? 
 What business had I to live ? Have I truly lived ? Is it not 
 a dream ? Was it, then, that I should consume myself for 
 nothing, that I was brought into existence by my Creator ? 
 Did I not feel something within me, greater than every thing 
 I have yet seen, every thing I have yet felt, every thing I 
 have yet done ? Has not my soul urged me a thousand times, 
 to take my flight above all sensible objects ? Yet what have 
 I done, but to prostitute that soul to objects of sense, and to 
 every thing which my awakened conscience, to-day, calls va- 
 nity ? deception, illusion, misery ! O life lost ! O spirit 
 abused, dissipated, degraded by vain thoughts ! wretched 
 past, without hope for the future ! 
 
CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 19? 
 
 I say nothing of the remorse which ought always to crown a 
 life thus lost, but which does not always crown it. Last and 
 painful blessing, or prelude and foretaste of the greatest pangs, 
 remorse, we know, does not always assist at that solemn and 
 mournful review which the worldling involuntarily takes of his 
 past life, when about to die. Upon this last and terrible sub- 
 ject, supply what I do not say, and which no one can say but 
 feebly. Represent to yourselves the busy worldling, arriving 
 exhausted and panting, with the long chain of his miserable 
 toils, at the foot of the eternal tribunal ; and, penetrated with 
 horror at the picture, you will no longer permit us to say, but you 
 will say yourselves, Let us labour for God ; let us set our affec- 
 tions on things above, not on things on the earth. 
 
 I am aware that some may say to us, K We cannot suitably 
 care for the things of the earth, without taking some interest 
 in them. We cannot succeed in a situation without a certain 
 inclination for the things of that situation, nor in a study with- 
 out a taste for it, nor in any particular career, without loving 
 it. Can it be believed that our interest in heaven can take the 
 place of all these other interests ? Can it be supposed that 
 the mere sentiment of duty should supply a sufficient stimulus ? 
 Do we not, on the contrary, learn that the more we are at- 
 tached to the things of heaven, the less fitness have we for the 
 things of earth ? What then becomes of that boasted harmony 
 of which you speak." 
 
 The objection has weight ; and I wish no one to conceal from 
 himself its force. It is certain that if we confined ourselves to 
 contrasting two duties, that of being occupied assiduously with 
 the things of earth, and that of loving only the things of 
 heaven, we should only augment, instead of removing, the dif- 
 ficulty But with a little attention, you will, I hope, see that 
 the objection rests on an error. It consists in taking the words 
 of the apostle, u the things above," in a too spiritual sense. 
 The things above are not precisely those of another world, but 
 those of another sphere than the habitual one of our thoughts. 
 They are not the things above our heads, but those which are 
 above our natural sentiments. The things on high are here 
 
 R 
 
198 CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 
 
 below, if we wish it ; the things on high are the dispositions of 
 a heart renewed by the Spirit from above ; they are all those 
 sentiments, motives, impulses, which belong to a regenerated 
 soul. To set our affection on things above, is to set our affec- 
 tion on God himself ; it is to subordinate our life to him ; it is 
 to seek and find God in every thing. 
 
 And what shall hinder any of you from finding Him in na- 
 ture, the secrets of which you study with so much perseverance ; 
 in the functions you fulfil with so much interest ; in that art 
 you cultivate with so much ardour ? Why ! Is not God in 
 all that is true, beautiful, great, useful ? Is he not in every 
 thing, except evil ? Is not every thing which is good only 
 himself? And in cultivating the different domains of nature, 
 of art, and of civil life, is it not God himself with which the 
 Christian is occupied ; and in each of the things that interest 
 him, is it not God also whom he admires and loves ? 
 
 Loving God, then, is the secret which reconciles all. This 
 is the secret of being occupied, with interest, in the things of 
 earth, without ceasing to love the things of heaven. To love 
 God is to love the life he has made, and the death he has or- 
 dained. But, ye divided hearts, who have dreamed of a com- 
 promise between heaven and earth, and have appeared inces- 
 santly tormented with fears and scruples, now know the cause 
 of your condition ; ye fear God, but ye do not love him. Piety, 
 doubtless, also has its scruples ; but let us take care not to con- 
 found the scruples of a delicate love, which is afraid of not 
 giving every thing to its object, with the apprehensions of a 
 selfish heart, which is destitute of the courage to do one of two 
 things, either to give itself wholly to God, or wholly to the 
 world. " Is this permitted ; is this not permitted ? Is this 
 worldly ; is this Christian ? May we see such society, form 
 such an enterprise, devote ourselves to such study ?" This, in 
 the mouth of a son, signifies, How shall I keep my heart for 
 my father ? But, in the mouth of a slave, How far can I fol- 
 low the desires of my heart, without irritating my master ? 
 Miserable and vain discussions, the principle of which it is easy 
 to discover. What is this perpetual bargaining between man 
 
CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 199 
 
 and God ? What sort of a Christian is he who is perpetually 
 occupied in minutely adjusting God's part and his own, and 
 ever filled with the dread of making his own too little ? What 
 sort of a believer is he who pretends to divide himself into two, 
 the worldling and the believer, as if there was no absolute ne- 
 cessity that the worldling should be altogether a worldling, and 
 the believer altogether a believer ? What kind of a man is he 
 who has two hearts, the one for the world the other for God ? 
 What kind of devotion is that which makes its own conditions, 
 which keeps its reserved rights, which stipulates its indemni- 
 ties ? 0, love is a better casuist. Love has speedily cut the 
 difficulty ; every thing for God, nothing for self, is its motto. 
 Every thing for God, provided God is mine. Then let him 
 enrich or impoverish my life, let him extend or limit my ac- 
 tivity, let him gratify or oppose my tastes ; if I have my God, 
 I have all things at once. It is him I wish to serve, him I 
 wish to please ; the rest is a matter of indifference. 
 
 If you love God, you will easily and at once see what em- 
 ployments are incompatible with his service. The love of God 
 will endow you with a new sense, with a sure and delicate tact, 
 by means of which you will recognize without difficulty, the 
 works which please, and those that displease him ; for all kinds 
 of activity are not good. This is the first effect of the love of 
 God. There is another. It gives to the soul very great free- 
 dom. It renders legitimate a multitude of works, which could 
 not be such without it. If you love God, you can enter into 
 the bustle of the world, into the business of public life, into the 
 culture of the arts and sciences ; for all this you do for the 
 glory of God, with gratitude and submission ; all this leads you 
 to God, instead of taking you far from Him ; and, if I may say 
 so, your courses which, in appearance^ are the most adventu- 
 rous, never remove you far from port. The most elevated 
 functions, and lowest offices, the greatest enterprises, and the 
 most petty details, the work of a year, and the work of an 
 hour, all are done for the Lord ; consequently, all are permitted, 
 all are good. But beyond this sphere, and without this direc- 
 tion, all is bad, even that which generally passes for legitimate 
 
200 CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED, 
 
 and praiseworthy ; all is bad for God is not in it. You can 
 still be useful, merit and obtain esteem ; but with reference to 
 God, to yourselves, to eternity, you have done a work, vain, 
 ungrateful, and wretched. 
 
 Ill-instructed casuists, whose delicacy " strains out the gnat, 
 and swallows the camel," abandon, abandon the idle scruples 
 which attach to some isolated actions, to some particular de- 
 tails of your life, and at once bring into question your entire 
 life. It is of that life as a whole, of its general character, of 
 the spirit which animates it, which it concerns you, before all, 
 to form an estimate. It is not some good works, it is not a 
 factitious virtue, laboriously studied, and laboriously imitated, 
 which will prepare you for heaven. It is not upon this or that 
 observance neglected or performed, upon such an action per- 
 mitted or forbidden, or in itself indifferent, that the chances of 
 your eternity will turn. Doubtless each of your actions has 
 its moral value, its character, its colour ; but each, also, is but 
 the natural product of a principle, and in this respect has a 
 character which, rather than its own, represents your moral 
 value. It is this internal value which you must know ; it is 
 this also which God knows, and according to which he will ap- 
 preciate and judge you. Do you know the standard by which 
 he will do this ? He will measure you by your love to him. 
 He will inquire only about one thing, Are you his, by your 
 heart ? But his standard ought to be yours ; and in this ques- 
 tion, — Am I acting for God ; is it my desire to do his will ? — 
 ought all your casuistry to be contained. 
 
 See, then, what wind fills your sails, and you will know 
 whither you are going. Demand of yourselves an account of 
 the sentiment which controls your life, and you will know what 
 it is worth. Every one is able upon this point to give a pre- 
 cise answer ; besides, here are two tests, the application of which 
 will leave you no further uncertainty. 
 
 In the midst of the occupations and the cares which neces- 
 sarily bind you to the earth, do you love to occupy yourselves 
 with the things of heaven ? Have you a relish for the word of 
 God ? Are you pleased to consult it, to elevate, by its means, 
 
CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 201 
 
 the point of view from which you regard all your affairs, to 
 stretch, as it were, over the limited horizon of your terrestrial 
 life, the boundless horizon of eternity ? Many, when they in- 
 voluntarily bring these two views together, find no relation, no 
 harmony between them, but rather, a sort of contrariety. The 
 aspect of heaven, and of divine things, disturbs them in their 
 labours ; it deranges and disenchants them ; it vexes and op- 
 presses them. They could wish they had never cast their eyes 
 in that direction ; for that of which they had a glimpse has 
 made them fear, for a moment, that their life, which hitherto 
 appeared filled up so well, is, in fact, filled up with vanity. 
 Thenceforward, they shun this view, and these reflections ; and, 
 in order to protect their labours from such painful control, 
 plunge themselves wholly in the present. In proportion as 
 that vision of divine things is weakened and effaced, they 
 speedily resume their former ardour ; but they are not active 
 and persevering in the things of their profession, except on 
 condition of caring as little as possible for their heavenly voca- 
 tion. And yet they do not profess to renounce that heavenly vo- 
 cation. They are entirely satisfied to have in reserve an asylum 
 and place of repose ; resembling in this the prodigal son, wan- 
 dering in the highways of the world, it pleases them now and 
 then, to think of their Father s house, but not to dwell there. 
 They are pleased to believe ; they would dread to lose their re- 
 ligious conviction ; but they dread still more to see it become 
 too strong. They fear those unexpected moments, brought on 
 by God himself, when the truth of religion suddenly appears 
 all radiant with evidence, and all powerful with reality. They 
 dread that tyranny of a living faith, which would overturn 
 their life, disconcert their plans, giv r e another course to their 
 activity, and destroy the position they have assumed in the 
 world. Frightened at that lightning, they hasten to shut their 
 eyes, and, by a strange contradiction, dread both their scepti- 
 cism and their faith. Brethren, do such people labour for the 
 earth, or for heaven ? 
 
 I have spoken of another touchstone. It is the thought of 
 death. Let any one who doubts as to the legitimacy of his 
 
202 CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 
 
 efforts, and the employment of his life, place himself in the 
 presence of death. Let him with closed eyes, consider his last 
 hour, that hour, when, as it has been said with propriety 
 " There remains nothing with us, but what we have given." 
 Let him for a moment feel that he no longer belongs to the 
 earth, that he lies upon his funeral bed, that he listens to that 
 solemn warning, " Son of man, return, give an account of thy 
 stewardship." Let him say to himself, that in a few hours, 
 lying under the ground, he will be as much a stranger to what 
 occurs six feet above him, as if he had never formed a part in 
 the number of the living. Let him see vanishing, and becom- 
 ing extinct, the splendour of renown, and the power of reputa- 
 tion, his personal influence, his property, his name and his me- 
 mory ; and proceeding to his last inventory, let him take ac- 
 count of what remains to him, that is, I repeat it, of what he 
 has given. Well, has this activity, these labours and services, 
 this fortune, or this poverty, been given, as it might be wished, 
 wholly to God ? Has he performed works which can follow 
 him ? Can he take with him into the other world, and lay 
 down at the feet of his Master, all his labours, all his studies, 
 all his life ? Was it for God that he used his position, ful- 
 filled his charge, cultivated his mind, increased his fortune ? 
 On which side was his life, apparent in the ■world, or hid with 
 Christ in God. Is he about to be separated from every thing, 
 or is he about to find every thing ? Is he going to die, or is 
 he going to live ? If in the presence of this solemn thought of 
 death, he does not feel his past life a burden, which oppresses him, 
 but as wealth which supports him ; if the thought of the acti- 
 vity which is about to be interrupted does not inspire him with 
 regret, but with hope, then that activity is good ; he may yield 
 himself to it without fear ; for, in occupying himself with the 
 things of earth, he labours for those of heaven. 
 
 This, my brethren, is what we would impress upon your 
 mind, and upon our own. No truth is more important. A 
 moment will infallibly come, when it will appear evident to us ; 
 but we ought to anticipate that moment ; for the same truth 
 which is salutary to-day, may be overwhelming to-morrow. 
 
CLAIMS OF HEAVEN AND EARTH ADJUSTED. 203 
 
 Salutary while life yet belongs to us. overwhelming when that 
 life is leaving us. If, then, our life needs to be reformed, let 
 us reform it ; that is to say, let us reform our hearts, " For out 
 of the heart proceed the springs of life." 
 
 Reform our hearts ! what an expression, my brethren ! Ah ! 
 when the dead in their tombs shall be heard crying out, We 
 live, it will be permitted to sinful men also, to cry out, "We re- 
 form our hearts. To love God above all other things, to love 
 nothing but in subordination to Him, to submit our life to a 
 single principle, and our conduct to a single impulse, can this be 
 done by a simple act of our will ? Upon this point, let us con- 
 sult our own experience. It declares to us our profound inca- 
 pacity to displace, by ourselves, the centre of our life. Con- 
 sult the experience of believers. They inform us, that it is by 
 faith in a crucified, glorified Saviour, that they have found the 
 power to do it. Consult the New Testament. It teaches us 
 that in this great work, " it is God that produces in us the 
 will, and the execution, according to his good pleasure." Let 
 us not seek to deceive ourselves ; let us not boast some exter- 
 nal reforms, of which we have found ourselves capable ; the 
 reformation of our habits is nothing, without the reformation 
 of our heart. Let us frankly acknowledge our weakness ; let 
 us ask, let us entreat, let us pray without ceasing, till assistance 
 come, till our heart is altogether where our treasure is ; till we 
 are one in thought and affection with Jesus, till we have in our 
 life, but one aim, the service and glory of the Father who sent 
 him. May the Lord shed upon us all his spirit of grace and 
 supplication ! 
 
204 
 
 XV. 
 
 THE PUKSUIT OF HUMAN GLOEY INCOMPATIBLE 
 WITH EAITH. 
 
 " How can ye believe, who receive honour one of another, and seek not the 
 honour which cometh from God only ?" — John v. 44. 
 
 Glory ! how beautiful is that word ! How many hearts it 
 has caused to leap ! Is there oue who, in all possible cases, can 
 hear it or utter it, without emotion ! Primitive and indestruc- 
 tible tendency of human nature, the love of glory lives in all 
 hearts, is found in all conditions, occupies a place in all enter- 
 prises, and may be compared to that wind, loved by mariners, 
 without which the oar and the paddle would in vain fatigue a 
 waveless sea. 
 
 Ask honest men, endeavour to reach the bottom of con- 
 sciences more concealed, you will learn what power the pre- 
 sence, the expectation, the name even of glory exert over all 
 those who are animated apparently by other motives. In the 
 efforts of the patriot, the devotion of the hero, the perseverance 
 of the philanthropist, the ardour of the philosopher, nay more, 
 in the speculations of the man of business, the love of glory has 
 almost always a place, and very often the first place. 
 
 " What ! " exclaims that poor and obscure artizan, his brow 
 all covered with the sweat of labour, " what ! I pretend to 
 glory ! You may assure yourself I never cared for it." Yes, 
 perhaps, when obliged to devote yourself entirely to the care 
 of your subsistence, you had no thought but for the first neces- 
 sities of life. Then that indestructible love of glory slept in 
 
HUMAN GLORY INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 205 
 
 your bosom. But the first wants appeased, how prompt it will 
 be to awake ! Do not deceive yourself. What is called glory 
 among heroes, politicians, and men of geDius, will, under another 
 name, become one of your principal motives of action. What are 
 the pleasures you expect from that money which your industry 
 accumulates ? Ease, do you say, security, material advantages ? 
 It may be so, but to be honest, you still count among these the 
 pleasure of passing for a rich man, and of securing that kind 
 of consideration which is not easily refused to wealth. This, 
 then, is glory. 
 
 There is in every soul an imperious want, a violent desire to 
 add to its individual life, a foreign life, if I may say so, a life 
 beyond itself, the seat of which is in the opinions of others. 
 To be praised, admired, or at least, esteemed, is the secret de- 
 sire of every human being whom misery does not compel to 
 degrade himself to a lower ambition, and whom a profound de- 
 gradation has not rendered insensible to the opinion of his fel- 
 lows. We have, indeed, already within ourselves a judge, who 
 is very indulgent with reference to our qualities and conduct ; 
 but this judge does not suffice us. It appears that, irresistibly 
 driven to the sentiment of our nothingness, and dreading to be 
 compelled some day to undeceive ourselves, we feel the neces- 
 sity of appealing to other men to aid our self-love, and of de- 
 riving from them an additional life, which we find not in our- 
 selves. So true is it that this pursuit is derived from a con- 
 sciousness of our weakness, that of all men, he who should 
 seem the proudest, would be a man to whom, upon this point, 
 his own opinion was sufficient. 
 
 Do not, then, deceive yourselves. Rich or poor, high or 
 low, we all love glory. This craving for the esteem of others 
 follows us as our shadow. It glides with us every where. 
 Chased away under one form, it reproduces itself in another. 
 From retreat to retreat, from corner to corner, it eagerly pur- 
 sues its timid enemy, humility. Does she think she has escaped 
 from it, she lifts up her eyes and finds it before her. The love 
 of glory can find a place even in the tears and mortifying con- 
 fessions of penitence. It secretly animates the voice of the 
 
206 
 
 THE PURSUIT OF HUMAN GLORY 
 
 moralist who thunders against glory ; and sometimes, alas, it 
 accompanies into the pulpit the preacher who condemns it. 
 
 We cannot deny, that, in a certain degree, the esteem of 
 others ought to be a real want of each individual. In the first 
 place, the privation of this esteem would divest us of a greater 
 part of the advantages attached to the social state. What 
 credit is to a merchant, good reputation is, in the same degree, 
 to every member of society. In the second place, without 
 some mutual good- will, society would not be supportable, and 
 good-will is inseparably connected -with esteem. Besides, pub- 
 lic confidence is the first condition of the good we desire to do. 
 To be refused this confidence, would paralyze our best inten- 
 tions. It is necessary, then, to obtain and to keep it. All 
 this explains and justifies the natural sentiment which causes 
 us to place a good reputation in the number, and even in the 
 first rank, of temporal blessings. Under these various rela- 
 tions, it has a right to the same care which we give to our 
 health ; it has a right to such care, more especially because it 
 not only bears upon our own welfare, but upon that of our 
 family. I go even further ; I acknowledge that, in the ab- 
 sence of Christianity, the love of esteem is one of the best things 
 which can be met with in fallen man. In the absence of an 
 object worthy of our homage, it is an indirect homage to those 
 moral ideas of which society cannot divest itself, and is the 
 best of those social elements which keep men united. But 
 how different from this necessary care of a temporal blessing, 
 for which we ought to give thanks to God, as for all others, is 
 that pursuit of glory, from which we see issuing two very clearly 
 marked characteristics. The first, that of making the esteem 
 of men the rule of our actions. The second, of seeking in ad- 
 dition to a good reputation, praise, fame, celebrity. This is 
 what our text condemns ; the praise of men as an end of our 
 actions, their approbation preferred to that of God, the glory 
 which comes from men eagerly desired, the glory which comes 
 from God neglected. 
 
 Remark particularly that my text does not only say, ye low 
 to receive glory from one another ; it also adds, ye seek not 
 
INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 207 
 
 the glory which cometh from God alone. The glory, then, 
 which comes from God only is a thing to be sought after* The 
 following words of Jesus serve as a supplement to those which 
 he uttered on another occasion : " There is no one who hath 
 forsaken house, or brother, or sister, or father, or mother, or 
 children, for my sake and the gospel's, who shall not in the 
 present time receive a hundred fold." (Mark x. 29, 30.) In 
 like manner, there is no one who, for the love of Jesus Christ, 
 has renounced human glory, who shall not receive a hundred 
 fold from Him who required the sacrifice. In the kingdom of 
 God, then, there is no sacrifice without compensation, and the 
 compensations of God are infinite. In our souls, there is no 
 want he will not satisfy, but in his own way ; that is to say, 
 by giving us, instead of the gross aliment which our deluded 
 hunger seeks, a purer aliment, which it knows not. We were 
 born for glory. Well, he invites us to seek it. The same in- 
 vitation is abundantly reproduced in the gospel. There, glory 
 is represented as an object worthy of our pursuit, as the final 
 recompense of our toils, as the price of the blood of Jesus 
 Christ. The blessings of heaven are offered to those " who, 
 by persevering in good works, seek honour, glory, and immor- 
 tality." 
 
 Here, it is no longer man that praises man ; it is no longer 
 the wretched flattering the wretched; it is the human soul 
 satisfying itself with true glory in the bosom of the God of 
 glory. It is the Christian, expecting and obtaining from the 
 mouth of the only witness whose regard he seeks, these noble 
 and precious words " Well done, good and faithful servant ; 
 thou hast been faithful over a few things ; I will advance thee 
 to many things." This is the glory which ought to be desired, 
 which ought to be the end of life, — a glory we cannot dis- 
 pense with without crime. It is the glory which cometh from 
 God alone. 
 
 But as to human glory, Jesus Christ is so far from autho- 
 rizing the pursuit of it, that he declares it incompatible with 
 Christian faith. " How can ye believe," says he, " who love 
 
208 THE PURSUIT OF HUMAN GLORY 
 
 to receive glory one from another, and seek not the glory that 
 cometh from God alone." 
 
 Indeed, this lore of human glory is one of the principal 
 quicksands of Christian faith. We can more easily and much 
 sooner vanquish all other obstacles. When the soul, oppressed 
 by the consciousness of its sins, and anxious respecting its fu- 
 ture destiny, turns in the direction of religion, it meets, on its 
 way, numerous enemies of its salvation. Proud reason is there 
 objecting to the obscurity of the Christian doctrines, and urging 
 it to reject what it cannot comprehend. Indolence dissuades 
 it from the conquest of a kingdom, " which is taken by force, 
 and of which only the violent take possession ;" and sensuality 
 makes it afraid of a chaste and austere life. But when all 
 these perfidious counsellors have been successively driven away, 
 human glory, more dangerous still, and more certain to be 
 heard, presents itself. 
 
 If to believe were merely to recognize as true, certain facts 
 and doctrines of the gospel ; if faith were only an act of the 
 mind, in which the heart had no part, it would doubtless be 
 impossible to see how the desire of human glory could hinder 
 us from believing. But to believe in Jesus Christ is another 
 thing ; it is to receive, to choose, to embrace him, with all 
 those qualities which are ascribed to him in the gospel. It is 
 to submit to him our heart, our will, our life ; in a word, it is 
 to become the subject, the servant of this divine Master. But 
 there is a disposition of soul in which, though the mind is sub- 
 dued, the heart is yet undecided and rebellious. We desire to 
 believe, and cannot ; or rather we believe, and do not believe. 
 As to conviction, indeed, we are within the exact terms of the 
 gospel, but we are not within the gospel itself. We possess it 
 as a treasure of which we have not the key, with which we can 
 do nothing, and upon which we cannot live. " We have a 
 name to live, but are dead.'' 
 
 I believe it important to insist on this singular state of the 
 soul, because it is common and little noticed. There are among 
 us, perhaps, few sceptics, properly speaking, who account to 
 
INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 200 
 
 themselves for their scepticism. But there are among us many 
 persons whose intellects believe, whose hearts doubt. Sur- 
 prised themselves at the discordance which they observe be- 
 tween their opinions and their feelings, they seek for the cause, 
 and cannot imagine it. If they had searched thoroughly, they 
 would have discovered it in the illicit retention and guilty 
 cherishing of an idol which they had not the courage to sacri- 
 fice. Ordinarily it is some unhappy bias which strikes their 
 Christianity with paralysis and death ; some forbidden thing, 
 obstinately kept in their tent, which has caused the curse to rest 
 upon it. This is the secret of so many half-conversions, of so 
 much defective Christianity. This explains the character of 
 those men, who, according to the remarkable expression of the 
 apostle, " are ever learning, but never coming to the know- 
 ledge of the truth." It is said that when a mighty ship is on 
 the point of being launched into the sea, when all is ready, 
 when the last blow of the axe has caused the last support to 
 fall, the spectators are often surprised to see the noble vessel re- 
 main immovable on its smooth base ; the curious eye seeks every 
 where for the mysterious cause of this immobility ; and in a 
 short time a mere pebble is discovered under its keel, which 
 resists the whole force of that colossal ship. Do you, then, 
 from whom the secret of your delay and irresolution on the 
 way to truth has been concealed, search well, and in some un- 
 seen recess of the soul, you will perceive some favourite incli- 
 nation, some inveterate habit, some passion ashamed to show 
 itself, which, in its obscure retreat, opposes the generous launch 
 which bears you towards the Saviour. 
 
 Let us apply this general observation to human glory, and 
 set forth a truth, which presents itself in the very commence- 
 ment of the subject. The moral law is a law of perfection ; 
 this every one will admit without difficulty. But in order that 
 the pursuit of glory should not prevent us from keeping this 
 law, it is necessary that the being from whom we expect glory, 
 should be perfect in disposition, principle, and action. If he is 
 not, he will not require from us perfection in return for his ap- 
 probation, or as a pledge of it ; for you may be sure he will 
 
210 THE PURSUIT OF HUMAN GLORY 
 
 not put his admiration and praise at a price so high. But 
 more than this, he will with difficulty permit himself to be sur- 
 passed. Perfection, nay, the very tendency to perfection, will 
 offend his jealous eyes. He will deny the necessity of this 
 tendency, or rather he will deny the reality of it in your heart ; 
 he will misrepresent your intentions ; he will call good evil, 
 and candour hypocrisy. What I say upon this point, I do not 
 say of this or that individual, or of any one in particular ; for 
 it would be absurd to pretend that no man would consent to 
 find his superior in another ; admiration and enthusiasm are 
 tacitly involved in the confession of inferiority. I speak of 
 the world in general, of its tendencies and its maxims. I com- 
 pare its morality with that of the law of perfection ; and I see 
 that it is separated from it by an abyss. I recognize that in 
 all times the tendency to perfection has cost those who have 
 frankly avowed it, either repose or fortune, honour, or even 
 life. Whence I conclude that he who desires the glory which 
 comes from the world, must descend to the standard of the 
 world, by espousing its maxims, or at least taking care not to 
 profess, I do not say opposite, but only loftier maxims. That 
 we may leave nothing equivocal in this subject, let us reply to 
 those, who cite the universal enthusiasm excited by generous 
 actions, and the spontaneous acclamations which greet the ap- 
 pearance of a great character, that there is nothing in such 
 facts which contradicts what we have advanced. That man 
 has not lost the power of admiring moral beauty; that the 
 poetry of virtue has a charm to him ; that such bright flashes 
 dazzle him ; that even in the person of an adversary or an 
 enemy, certain traits of veracity, fidelity, self-sacrifice, and 
 mercy, irresistibly seize upon his heart, — who could or would 
 deny? But I have spoken of the law ; of the law which em- 
 braces all these virtues, but which includes them under the no- 
 tion of obedience ; of the law, which is to all such occasional 
 manifestations what the light is to the lightning, of the law 
 fulfilled, but not absorbed by love ; of the law or system ac- 
 cording to which man does not rise alone, choose his own vir- 
 tues, consult his own nature, take his own impressions for a 
 
INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 211 
 
 guide, or seek his own glory ; of a law in which he subordi- 
 nates himself to rule, loses sight of himself before the rule, and 
 retains, in the freedom of love, all the submission of fear, and 
 in an intelligent fidelity, all the scrupulousness of blind obe- 
 dience. Perfection is here, and no where else. It would not 
 even be found in the practice of all the virtues, if these virtues 
 were not united in one bundle by the tie of obedience. But is 
 this the law of the world ? Has the world received it ? Can 
 the world endure it ? And if it is not in its nature either to re- 
 ceive or endure it, does it reserve its suffrages and its applause 
 for those who have made it their law ? And the question is not, 
 whether in the depths of the human conscience, this perfect 
 virtue may not, in its principles, receive a silent homage ; whe- 
 ther many persons do not internally, and so to speak, uncon- 
 sciously decree the first rank to that virtue w T hich they know 
 not how to obey, but ever wish to obey. This I believe ; but 
 whence comes the applause of the world ? For whom does it 
 prepare crowns ? For whom does it raise thrones ? And, to 
 present the same question in another form ; if one who obeys 
 the perfect law obtains its homage, on what ground does he 
 obtain it ? To what part of his being and his life is it address- 
 ed ? Is it not to that which may be insulated and detached 
 from the fundamental principle of his conduct ? Is it not the 
 natural man that they admire in him ? Has the supernatural 
 man, the new man, the man of God and of the law, any share 
 in that homage ? You know as well as I ; you perceive with- 
 out difficulty, that here the exception confirms the rule ; and 
 you will conclude with me, that to secure the glory which 
 comes from men, he must lend himself to their maxims, and 
 proportion himself to their measure ; that he must not surpass, 
 that is, humble those, from whom he expects glory ; and, on 
 the other hand, in order to be perfect, that he must seek the 
 regard, and be ambitious of the approbation of a perfect being. 
 
 Let us now descend from these general ideas to application 
 and details. 
 
 How can the soul, which prefers the glory which comes from 
 men to that which comes from God only, believe in Jesus with 
 
212 THE PURSUIT OF HUMAN GLORY 
 
 a real and efficacious faith ? He has been compelled to ac- 
 knowledge Jesus as the Son of God ; but the world refuses 
 him that august title. Since the appearance of that divine 
 Prince of humanity, the world has heaped opprobrium upon 
 the adorers of Jesus. An external and formal adherence to 
 him has been permitted in consideration of circumstances ; but 
 earnest and efficient faith has generally been exposed to deri- 
 sion. Is it, then, easy for him who values the opinion of men, 
 to confess that divine Saviour, still spit upou and scourged as 
 in the Pra^torium, still crucified as in Golgotha ? And must he 
 not, in order to lie prostrate at his feet, have bid adieu for ever 
 to the esteem and approbation of that crowd which reject him ? 
 
 " He that says he believes in Jesus Christ, ought to live 
 even as Jesus Christ lived." But how did he live ? In a man- 
 ner so different from received opinions, that it may be said that 
 his religion is quite opposed to that of the world. For the 
 world has its religion, wherein all the passions of the flesh are 
 elevated into divinities. Here is pride ; but we are to follow 
 the steps of him who was meek and lowly in heart : here is 
 sensuality ; but we are to conform our spirit to his who had not 
 where to lay his head : here is independence ; yet we are to 
 resemble him who came into the world to serve, not to be served; 
 here is selfishness ; and we are to to be clothed with the dispo- 
 sitions of him, who gave his life for his friends. In a word, we 
 must embrace a life, some of whose virtues please the world, 
 because they are of use to it, but the general character of which 
 wounds and condemns it. How can all this be done by him 
 who cleaves to the approbation of the world. 
 
 How, for example, shall he use his Christian liberty, who is 
 afraid that this liberty may pass for presumption and arro- 
 gance ? How shall he conform his life and his manners to 
 evangelical simplicity, who dreads to hear himself taxed with 
 parsimony and meanness ? How shall he persevere in the 
 exercises of Christian devotion, who dreads to see falling upon 
 his family and upon himself, some of those insulting epi- 
 thets which ignorance and envy pour upon piety. A thousand 
 considerations of this kind form themselves around him like a 
 
INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 213 
 
 net, which binds and imprisons him. At every step which he 
 wishes to take, he is held back by some new fear ; vexed, he 
 surveys, from the place he dares not quit, the course he ought 
 to pursue ; amidst a thousand emotions unceasingly repressed, 
 and of repen tings which exhaust the soul, he arrives at the 
 tomb, without ever having known the joyous liberty of faith. 
 
 And even if we did not risk a departure from the path of 
 virtue, while following the attraction of human glory, such a 
 pursuit would not be less incompatible with the spirit of the 
 gospel. In fact there is, according to the gospel, but one rule 
 of our conduct, the will of God ; one glory to seek, the glory 
 that comes from God. But suppose we prefer to that glory 
 the glory that comes from men, and content ourselves with 
 making common cause with them ; we invade the eternal rights 
 of God, so firmly established in the gospel, by impiously erect- 
 ing the tribunal of man at the side of, and even above, the tri- 
 bunal of God. 
 
 The God of the gospel, my brethren, is a jealous God ; he 
 is a God who will suffer no division, either in adoration or 
 obedience. To seek our law any where but in him, is to re- 
 nounce our Lawgiver ; to seek glory any where else is to re- 
 nounce our Judge. And surely he must hold himself honoured 
 by the rivals we give him ! Worms of the earth, creatures of 
 a day, poor sinners, equalled in our esteem, mingled in our 
 homage with the eternal Jehovah, King of immensity, Sove- 
 reign of hearts, adorable Source of all holiness ! The fickle 
 judgment of a feeble intelligence preferred to the infallible 
 judgment of the God of truth ! Glory asked of shame, shame 
 cast upon glory ! For there is not even equality here ; the 
 creature is not equalized to the Creator ; it is placed above him. 
 From the very moment that the comparison is conceived, the 
 outrage is consummated, the Creator is degraded below the 
 creature ; because in such an approximation, to hesitate is al- 
 ready to choose. 
 
 And who could imagine to what glory we immolate the rights 
 of our Creator ! If it were a splendid example, if it were the 
 suffrages of all people, and of every age, we should not be less 
 
 s 
 
214 THE PURSUIT OF HUMAN GLORY 
 
 curable ; yet such a thing might be conceived. But we do 
 not seek so high for pretexts to insult God. On the contrary, 
 we descend exceedingly low, to the very dust, to solicit praise. 
 It is to the false tongue of a neighbour, to the smiling flattery 
 of a wit, to the condescension of some earthly grandee, to the 
 fear of ridicule, to the false customs of society, to some tran- 
 sitory fashion, to the pleasure of making a little stir in the 
 circle of our acquaintances, that we wantonly abandon the dig- 
 nity of the government of God, and the honour of his name. 
 Behold the glory of man which we prefer to the glory of God ! 
 Certainly, my brethren, it would be difficult to enlarge upon 
 this subject without a profound contempt of ourselves. 
 
 Conclude, then, that the pursuit of human glory, by hinder- 
 in o- us from believing in Jesus Christ, or what is the same 
 thing, from applying that faith, is incompatible with Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 There is only one kind of approbation which can be sought 
 without danger ; in heaven, that of God, on earth, that of the 
 saints. And we must not seek even the latter, except as a 
 manifestation of the divine approbation. In general, the re- 
 proofs of the just are of more value than their praises. Let 
 us not forget those beautiful words of David : — " Let the 
 righteous smite me, it shall be a favour; let him reprove me, 
 it shall be to me an excellent balm." (Ps. cxli. 5.) He has 
 not spoken thus of the praises of the righteous. 
 
 And let none oppose to us such passages as the following, 
 " Whatsoever things are of good report, think of." (Phil. iv. 8.) 
 " Be careful to do that which is good, not only before the Lord, 
 but before men." (2 Cor. viii. 21.) These passages, the true 
 meaning of which is established by the general spirit of the gos- 
 pel, are authoritatively explained in those precious words of 
 the Master, " Let your light so shine before men, that others, 
 seeing your good works, may glorify your Father in heaven." 
 Here, not the creature, but the Creator is to be glorified. And 
 the esteem of men is presented to the Christian, not as his aim, 
 nor even as his encouragement. Let all the glory return to 
 God, and then let him " give us of his own." Let God glorify 
 
INCOMPATIBLE WITH FAITH. 215 
 
 us, if he deems it best. Such, upon this matter, is the senti- 
 ment of the true Christian. Our doctrine, then, remains en- 
 tire. The pursuit of human glory is incompatible with the pro- 
 fession of the Christian. He ought to be ambitious only of the 
 glory that comes from God. 
 
 Brethren, if our object were not to induce you to conform to 
 a precept, and to follow a counsel, but to acknowledge a truth, 
 you have already heard enough. You do not need arguments 
 to convince you that the approbation of God is alone worthy 
 of being sought. For this purpose you have only, in thought, 
 to pass the limits of time, and transport yourselves to the last 
 day, and. the tribunal of God. There you will see the value of 
 human opinion. The glory of the world, formerly so dazzling 
 in your eyes, will appear to you like one of those deceitful fires 
 which rise from the marshes, and owe their pale rays only to 
 the thick darkness of the night. That renown which, it is said, 
 ought to pass through all ages, and ]evj a perpetual tribute of 
 admiration from posterity, will appear to you no more than the 
 puerile chimera of a vain-glorious delirium. The infinite value 
 you have attached to the opinion of your companions in trial, 
 will appear to you an inexpressibly ridiculous blunder. Your 
 immortal glory, as you are pleased to call the celebrity of a 
 day, will be dissipated and absorbed in a glory truly immortal, 
 the glory of God and of saints. You will there feel, — God 
 forbid that it should be with bitter regret, — that these simple 
 words of your heavenly Father, " Well done, good servant, 
 thou hast been faithful over a few things," will dim the lustre 
 of those pompous terms with which you have filled your pane- 
 gyrics, wherein you have audaciously stolen the titles of the 
 Creator to decorate a creature. " Well done, good servant, 
 thou hast been faithful over a few things \" Who on earth con- 
 tents himself with such slight praise ? But in heaven, and 
 from the mouth of Jehovah, such praise is of immense value ; 
 and never did adulation the most extravagant, enthusiasm the 
 most intoxicating, fill him, who was the object of it, with a 
 transport comparable to that with which these simple words 
 can fill the glorified believer. 
 
216 THE PURSUIT OF HUMAN GLORY 
 
 This, my brethren, is what you may say to yourselves, Yon 
 may further say, that even on earth, the triumphs of self-love 
 are vain and miserable ; that they do not fill the heart ; that 
 they can only deepen more and more the immense and devour- 
 ing void ; that the first effect of a triumph is to produce the 
 desire for another ; that changes of opinion are excessive and 
 cruel ; and that he is a fool who places his happiness at the 
 mercy of that fickle and inconsistent opinion. You will say 
 to yourselves that, when the craving for esteem and applause 
 seizes upon a soul, it permits nothing good to subsist along with 
 it ; that there is no longer room for love in a heart which glory 
 fills ; that nothing withers the soul like this dangerous passion ; 
 and that it steals from us the purest pleasures and the noblest 
 emotions of which the soul is susceptible. 
 
 I repeat it, then, that, if to be conformed to truth it were only 
 necessary to know it, you might rely upon yourselves for the 
 success of this discourse.- But experience has proved to you 
 the contrary. There are a thousand truths that have subdued 
 your intellect, without controlling your life. Know, then, that 
 this work is not yours, and that you will never save yourselves. 
 Ah ! you feel it, perhaps. To renounce the esteem of the 
 world, to cease making it an end and a rule, and to seek only 
 the approbation of God, is a miracle which belongs only to God 
 to work in you, and which it is your privilege to ask of him. 
 May you, then, may we all, ask it of him, with sincerity, ear- 
 nestness and perseverance. May we see forming in our hearts 
 a holy tranquillity, with reference to the judgments of men. 
 Freed from the heavy chains of opinion, may we feel ourselves 
 free to believe, to love, to obey, till the day comes, when, de- 
 livered for ever from that importunate vision of human glory, 
 we shall rejoice in the rays of a true glory, in the bosom of our 
 God and of his Christ. 
 
217 
 
 XVI. 
 POWER OF THE FEEBLE.* 
 
 " There are many members, but only one body. The eye cannot say to the 
 hand, I have no need of thee ; nor the head to the feet, I have no need of 
 you. Nay, those members which seem to be the feeblest, are the most 
 necessary." — 1 Cor. xii. 20-22. 
 
 " The kingdom of God cometh not with observation." It 
 was by these words, and many others like them, that Jesus 
 Christ turned the attention of the Jews, from their accustomed 
 prospect of glory, splendour and power, to that of the gospel, 
 composed as it is of far different aspects. But the friend of 
 the simple and meek, the God of the poor in spirit, the Prince 
 of the little and the feeble, could not make himself understood 
 by a multitude of carnal Israelites, carried away by false great- 
 ness. The same thing happens in our days ; his humility con- 
 ceals him from our proud hearts. We voluntarily make a se- 
 lection in his gospel, leaving to him the lowliness he has chosen, 
 and taking to ourselves the loftiness he has disdained. And 
 here I do not speak only of external pomp, of which it is easy 
 to see the nothingness, but of the splendour of certain spiritual 
 gifts which distinguish a Christian, without the aid of external 
 circumstances, and may appear to us worthy of our ambition. 
 But it is not ambition, whatever fine name it may assume, 
 which is favoured by the gospel ; and we find the proof of this, 
 in the passage in which St Paul contrasts the various gifts 
 
 * Preached on the anniversary of the day of Pentecost. 
 
218 POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 
 
 which the Spirit of God had just shed upon the church, " There 
 are many members, but only one body. And the eye cannot 
 say to the hand, I have no need of thee ; nor the head to the 
 feet, I have no need of you. Nay, those members of the body, 
 which appear the feeblest, are the most necessary." 
 
 The day of Pentecost was, even to the carnal eye, a very 
 great day. The mighty rushing wind, the tongues of fire, the 
 miraculous gifts suddenly distributed among the apostles, and 
 that extraordinary energy which made them new men, were 
 doubtless all wonderful. Nevertheless, the festival of the Holy 
 Spirit includes still greater things ; and the gospel, which to- 
 day recounts to us the effusion of these splendid gifts, autho- 
 rizes us, by the voice of St Paul, to proclaim the superiority of 
 some other gifts more obscure and inconsiderable in appearance, 
 of which the Holy Spirit is equally the author. This is what 
 we propose to do, to-day, while explaining these closing words 
 of the apostle, " the members of the body which appear the 
 feeblest, are yet the most necessary." 
 
 The Greek word rendered feeble, in our versions of the Bible 
 does not, in this place, signify feebleness, properly speaking, 
 but inferiority. The more feeble members, are those less re- 
 markable, or less distinguished. Besides, if the same word is 
 used to designate two different ideas, it is because they have 
 some relation to each other, at least in the vulgar opinion. It 
 is so common, when one possesses power, to exhibit it, and 
 even to make a parade of it, that a life, obscure, concealed, 
 modest, almost always suggests the idea of timidity and feeble- 
 ness. If this opinion is often well founded in the world, it is 
 not so in the church ; and it is the church which is referred to 
 in my text. This body is the church, these members are the 
 members of the church, and the more feeble are those who have 
 received the less splendid and apparently less elevated gifts of 
 the Holy Spirit. Such are the feeble members which Paul re- 
 presents as the most necessary. But as the apostle has spoken, 
 in the whole chapter, of the gifts of the Holy Spirit, since it is 
 with reference to these, that he distinguishes the members of 
 the church as strong and feeble, we believe that we may pre- 
 
POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 219 
 
 sent the idea of the apostle in this form. The gifts of the Holy- 
 Spirit, which are the most feeble, are also the most necessary. 
 
 The gifts of the first rank, I mean the more splendid gifts, 
 are of two kinds. Those that are supernatural, such as speak- 
 ing in unknown tongues, curing diseases, predicting the future ; 
 secondly, those that are natural, some of which relate to the 
 heart, such as a triumphant joy, a faith changed, as it were, to 
 sight, a kind of anticipation of the privileges of the celestial 
 city ; while others relate to the intellect, as the gift of teaching 
 and convincing, a persuasive eloquence, profound knowledge 
 of the Scriptures, and generally all those talents which can be 
 applied to the service of religion. Such are the gifts of the 
 first order ; but, in the present day, we cannot accurately dis- 
 tinguish, in such an enumeration, those natural talents of the 
 mind from those peculiar sentiments which grace has produced 
 in a Christian soul. 
 
 In the train of these gifts, to speak after the manner of the 
 apostle, come the gifts that are more feeble. These are humi- 
 lity, by which a believer abases himself before God, and re- 
 gards others as more excellent than himself ; fidelity which 
 will not be unjust in the smallest, any more than in the great- 
 est things ; purity of manners and of thought, which keeps un- 
 defiled the temple where the Holy Spirit deigns to dwell ; 
 truth which would not, for the greatest bribe, open its lips to 
 the slightest falsehood ; contentment, which bears all losses 
 without a murmur, because its real treasure cannot be taken 
 from it ; activity, which remembers that the kingdom of God 
 consists not in words, but in deeds ; charity, in fine, but not 
 charity factitious, borrowed, learnt by heart, but a true love, a 
 tenderness of soul, which alternately pities and consoles, soothes 
 and beseeches ; which cannot revile or despise ; which bears all 
 things, excuses all things ; which rejoices not in iniquity, but 
 rejoices in the truth. 
 
 Would you not, my brethren, regard him as supremely happy 
 who had received from the goodness of God all these gifts 
 united ? Well, one may possess them all, without making any 
 noise in the world. A multitude of persons may have this as- 
 
220 POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 
 
 semblage of gifts truly divine, without being remarked, with- 
 out being suspected. And in what caverns, you will ask me, 
 in what deserts are these excellent persons concealed ? In 
 what deserts ? In your cities, in your villages, in the midst of 
 yourselves, to whom they hold relations of business and of 
 friendship ; in the world, where they have, so to speak, a pro- 
 fession, a post of duties. If you cannot discover them, look to 
 yourselves ! You have the eye of flesh that sees their bodies, 
 the eye of self-love which sees defects ; you have not the spi- 
 ritual eye which seeks complacently in every soul, not vices 
 and imperfections, but the glorious and delightful traces of the 
 presence of the divine Spirit. And how otherwise could you 
 perceive such persons ? They have neither the vanity which 
 pushes itself forward, nor the talents which, willing, or unwill- 
 ing, compel belief. Let me speak plainly upon this point. 
 Persons advanced in spiritual attainments often deceive them- 
 selves. Involuntarily they seek splendour, and power, and 
 nothing, in the sphere to which they belong, reveals to them 
 either the one or the other. That faithful soul I have de- 
 scribed to you, cannot perhaps give an account of his thoughts ; 
 he is scarcely conscious of his state ; he has the appearance of 
 seeking long after that which he has found ; he appears behind 
 those whom he really precedes. His faith is not always a well 
 connected system ; it has many deficiencies, many apparent in- 
 consistencies ; faithful in principle, he errs sometimes in form. 
 That very joy which seems inseparable from Christianity, does 
 not appear very perceptible either in his aspect or in his dis- 
 course. That enthusiasm which kindles on the countenance of 
 some, is foreign to his character, frightens perhaps his timid 
 humility. In a word, his life is one " hid with God," which 
 God only knows, and which God only appreciates. 
 
 But these obscure gifts are the ones which Paul exalts in my 
 text, and proclaims as the most necessary. This is true, in the 
 first place, with reference to the individual who possesses them. 
 What is the great point at issue for him ? What is his su- 
 preme interest ? Is it the re -establishment in him of the divine 
 image ; it is regeneration ; for regeneration is salvation. Well, 
 
POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 221 
 
 that regeneration consists entirely in the obscure or feeble gifts 
 of which we have spoken. The other gifts which God may 
 confer upon a soul are, to speak justly, divine favours, by which 
 he would make known his munificence ; they are the splen- 
 dours which he scatters here and there, as he judges necessary, 
 special privileges, which serve to indicate, even on earth, to 
 what glory a regenerated soul may attain in heaven. But it 
 is not on this condition alone that he is regenerated and saved. 
 Nor is there all the difference which might be thought between 
 the more splendid and the more obscure gifts. When the sun 
 sheds his beneficent rays upon our globe, he penetrates at ouce 
 into palaces and cottages"; but in palaces his beams are reflected 
 from crystal and gold : in cottages they fall upon tarnished sur- 
 faces which give back no reflection ; — no matter, in the cottage 
 as well as in the palace, he diffuses heat and life. In the 
 humble retreat of the poor, as well as in the mansion of royalty, 
 what has penetrated is equally the star of day, the king of the 
 heavens, and the soul of nature. So, also, in the case of the 
 obscure Christian, it is truly the Holy Spirit that dwells within 
 him. If that Spirit does not reveal himself there with as much 
 splendour, he dwells with no less entireness, and with all his 
 essential characteristics. That which distinguishes a Christian 
 is not precisely enthusiasm and ardour, still less talent and elo- 
 quence ; but humble faith, the faith which knows how to wait, 
 humility, and especially love. With these gifts, he has passed 
 from death to life : what needs he more ? 
 
 More ? Ah ! God has doubtless shewn his wisdom in rarely 
 according more. Danger is attached to all elevation, from 
 which spiritual elevation is not excepted. Internal gifts are 
 those particularly, which, incorporated with our being, appear 
 to form a part of ourselves. We too easily forget that we 
 possess them by grace, and that it is absurd to glorify ourselves 
 on account of what we have received. Pride, which ferments 
 secretly in the recesses of our soul, takes occasion to gain en- 
 tire possession of it. Hence burning fervours and extraordi- 
 nary talents have often been seen opening a passage to spiritual 
 pride, which, like all other pride, goes before destruction. This 
 
222 POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 
 
 danger is so real and so great, that our Lord frequently takes 
 occasion to bring some internal humiliation upon those whom, 
 without this, their privileges would elevate too high. St Paul, 
 without explaining himself further, tells us " of a thorn in the 
 flesh," which doubtless reminded him of his former misery, and 
 preserved him from being elated with pride. And to how 
 many distinguished Christians has God shewn himself on pur- 
 pose sparing of some grace, the possession of which would have 
 made their glory too complete, and their position too perilous ? 
 How many Christians have found, in the necessity of struggling 
 with some obstinate bias, or in the presence of some irresistible 
 doubt, a counterpoise to that presumption which naturally 
 springs from the consciousness of power ! By which we may 
 judge how wise is that precept of the great apostle, " Seek not 
 high things, but walk with the humble." 
 
 These obscure and feeble gifts are also the most necessary to 
 the church. All the graces of God, splendid or obscure, have 
 benefited the church ; but God having multiplied feeble Chris- 
 tians, and distributed more sparingly those that are strong, has 
 by this sufficiently indicated the importance he attaches to the 
 former. If, in the primitive church, he granted extraordinary 
 gifts to believers generally, it was only in a certain measure, 
 and for a time. In general, he has appeared disposed to humble 
 power, reserving triumphs for weakness. " He has chosen the 
 foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and feeble 
 things to confound the strong, things vile and despised, yea, 
 things that are not to bring to nought things that are." He 
 has brought into competition riches and poverty, wisdom and 
 ignorance, philosophy and rusticity ; but poverty, rusticity and 
 ignorance have conquered. From time to time he has called 
 to his aid genius and power, and permitted them to co-operate 
 in his work ; but when he has so willed it, the sling of the 
 young son of Jesse has sufficed to overthrow Goliath. The 
 smallness of the means has only served to enhance the power 
 of him who employed them. In all time, the church has been 
 sufficient to the church, truth has been sufficient to truth. Elo- 
 quence and enthusiasm have not done so much for this sacred 
 
POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 223 
 
 cause as the modest virtues, the uniform activity, and the pa- 
 tient prayers of thousands of believers whose names are un- 
 known. 
 
 The consideration of the great movements which have been 
 accomplished in the bosom of the church, have led some per- 
 sons to a different judgment. A Paul, an Augustine, and a 
 Luther, were certainly not feeble members of the church. Such 
 men, or rather such powers, have been ordained of God, in the 
 course of time, to prepare the soil of the church for a glorious 
 harvest, to open to the Christian life a favourable and more ex- 
 tensive sphere. And God forbid that we should fail to recog- 
 nize the importance of these grand manifestations ! But the 
 reign of God on earth is nothing else than his reign in each of 
 the souls which compose the church. And if the prosperity of 
 the church has for its measure the number and reality of indi- 
 vidual conversions, if God is more honoured in the profound 
 emotions of souls subdued by grace, than by the public and 
 solemn proclamation of the doctrines of revealed religion, let 
 us acknowledge as a truth, that the feeble members of the 
 church contribute much more, proportionally, to the reign of 
 God, than the powerful members of whom we have spoken. 
 
 As to the latter, it seems to us that admiration very generally 
 excuses us from imitation. Appearing at intervals, such men 
 do not come into contact with us all. In this respect, their 
 writings and their memory but imperfectly replace their life ; 
 for it is by feeble things, by ordinary and familiar details, that 
 they could make upon us a deep impression. Life alone could 
 have acted upon life. But isolated from us by circumstances, 
 by their very greatness, by their fame, they can exert upon us 
 only an indirect and general influence, doubtless favourable 
 and salutary, but going no further than simply disposing us to 
 observe and study the feeble members of that flock, of which 
 we must form a part in order to be the children of God. These 
 latter models appear more within our reach, although their gifts 
 may not be in reality either less precious or less divine than 
 those of the first class of Christians. We feel that nothing can 
 excuse us from their possession ; that nothing can supply their 
 
224 POWER OF THE FEEBLEc 
 
 place ; that while we may be neither wise, nor eloquent, nor 
 rapt by religious ecstacy, to the third heavens, we must be 
 holy ; and that is the natural vocation of every soul, and the 
 design of God respecting us all. This holiness, proportioned 
 to our measure, and adapted to a sphere of activity which does 
 not transcend our own, attracts us by its simplicity, while it 
 strikes us by its beauty. Mysterious in its origin, wonderful 
 in its nature, nay, miraculous, if we consider the changes it 
 produces, but not the less human, attainable and practicable, it 
 is the prose of the kingdom of heaven, which each is bound to 
 speak. Yes, these lives, habitually imbued with the spirit of 
 Christianity, of a single and even tenor, of a strict consistency, 
 of a solemn unity, of a sweet serenity, of an indefatigable and 
 tranquil activity, of a zeal which does much, and says little, — 
 lives, whose Christian character appears as much more incon- 
 testable as enthusiasm takes a place inferior to that of charity, 
 are what accomplish the most for the cause of Christ. These 
 constitute the salutary contagion which is perpetually acting in 
 the church, which has kept, through the most disastrous times, 
 so many hearts for the Lord, and, in more favoured epochs, 
 multiplied them abundantly. 
 
 These observations sufficiently prove that sincere and humble 
 piety is the greatest of forces, and that the more feeble mem- 
 bers of the church are the most necessary to its establishment 
 and its conquests. It is not more difficult to prove that these 
 are the members which are the most necessary to civil society. 
 This is to add the last feature to their character ; for we ought 
 not to lose sight of the fact, that the Christian is a citizen, and 
 that every thing he has received from above, has been given 
 him to be used in society. We have distinguished two kinds 
 of striking superiority, the one relating to the heart, the other 
 to the intellect. As to the first, it has sometimes produced 
 very great effects, but rather in the bosom of the church 
 itself, and in our spiritual relations than in the relations 
 of ordinary life. As to the second, which consists in men- 
 tal gifts, it is beneficial only when it is animated and sanc- 
 tified by the spirit of piety. But what is necessary to so- 
 
POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 225 
 
 ciety is this very piety. The domain of piety is not con- 
 fined within the circle of its meditations, to the inner life, 
 and religious worship ; piety is profitable for all things, is 
 applicable to all things. But we go further, and say, piety is 
 the only principle of the life of states, and the only remedy of 
 diseased society. Behold, with all its array of human virtues 
 and brilliant talents, what an aspect society presents. Raise 
 yourselves a little higher than the limited circle of your do- 
 mestic relations, though you may find even in these relations, 
 in one way or another, the proof of what I advance ; contem- 
 plate that vast horizon of society, listen to that frightful tumult 
 of all the passions unchained, plunge into the heart, and into 
 the remotest recesses of that gloomy labyrinth ; in a word, for a 
 few moments contemplate the world. Of course you have not 
 the scrutinizing glance of Him who searcheth the hearts and 
 the reins ; you cannot go to the bottom of that revolting sink 
 of iniquity, which lies concealed in the heart ! . . . My breth- 
 ren, we cannot see the glory of God till we die ; can we then, 
 without dying, contemplate human iniquity ? But you have 
 seen the surface ; that is enough. Judge now, if the finest ta- 
 lents are capable of establishing harmony in that chaos, peace 
 in that tumult. Judge also, if the presence of a small number 
 of men, full of Christian joy and enthusiastic fervour, and for 
 that very reason, unintelligible to the mass, could exert over it 
 a sensible influence. O the true leaven in that mass is the 
 humble, tranquil, obscure, active virtue of the thousands of the 
 faithful, diffused through all the recesses of society, struggling 
 by their example and their prayers against the general de- 
 pravity, and causing their light to shine before men so sweetly, 
 .as, at least, to attract some souls. It is such, that the Lord 
 has cast as seed into the world, a grain of which will produce, 
 in some twenty, in others thirty, and in others a hundred fold. 
 These are the first fruits of that great harvest, which is ripen- 
 ing in the field of the world, and which, we have the assurance, 
 will one day cover with its fruits the entire face of the earth. 
 
 That day is not yet come ; and the circumstances which are 
 to bring it develope themselves slowly. Every thing in the 
 
226 POWER OF THE FEEBLE. 
 
 world moves more rapidly than the progress of that kingdom 
 of love and peace. What improvements are to be made, before 
 man will deign to care for the improvement of his soul ! Is it 
 not strange, to see him making himself sure of every thing ex- 
 cept his salvation ; restoring every thing except his conscience ; 
 speculating on every thing except eternity ? Admirable age, 
 to which nothing is wanting, but the one thing needful ! Po- 
 litical society is settling itself on new foundations, the rights of 
 man are secured, and therein I rejoice ; but in the midst of this 
 developement of arts and opulence, I seek for the Holy Spirit, 
 that spirit of moderation, of disinterestedness and of purity, — 
 where is it ? Science, literature, public instruction extend their 
 domain ; culture diffuses itself into all the places, and amid all 
 the conditions from which it was banished ; intelligence is every 
 where honoured ; and therein I certainly rejoice ; but amid 
 these triumphs of human thought, I seek for the Holy Spirit, 
 the spirit of humility, of piety and of charity ; — where is it ? 
 Ah, my brethren, it is still necessary that this divine Consoler 
 should console all, that this power should subdue all, that this 
 life should animate all. Strive by prayer for the advent of that 
 glorious day ; contend for Jesus Christ, who has contended for 
 you ; supplicate with fervour, that his kingdom may come ; 
 pray that " at his name every knee may bow, and every tongue 
 confess, that he is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Ask 
 not for the extraordinary gifts which he shed upon the apostles 
 in their day, but pray that the Holy Spirit of God may multi- 
 ply among you the number of those feeble members, that is, of 
 those humble and faithful Christians, who are the power and 
 hope of the church. Let all of us together ask it from the 
 Father of lights ; and beseech him to add to the church, even 
 on this day, some souls that may be saved. 
 
22? 
 
 XVII. 
 THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 " He that is not with me is against me." — Matt. xii. 30. 
 
 These words were uttered by Jesus Christ, after the per- 
 formance of one of his most splendid miracles. The Pharisees 
 pretending that he had performed it by the power of the devil, 
 Jesus Christ showed them that it was absurd to suppose that 
 the devil would aid in the establishment of a religion altogether 
 opposed to his interests. Is Satan, said he, divided against 
 himself? Then, rejecting such an idea, our Saviour added, 
 that if Satan was not his accomplice, as the Pharisees supposed, 
 it followed that he was his adversary. And why ? Because, 
 with reference to Jesus Christ, it is absolutely necessary to be 
 one thing or another. Every one who is not with him, is, for 
 the same reason, against him. 
 
 Thus Jesus Christ took occasion from a particular fact, to 
 proclaim a great truth, one which is doubtless found diffused 
 through the whole gospel, and results from the general spirit of 
 the Christian system, but which had not yet received an ex- 
 pression so precise and solemn. It is this declaration of our 
 Lord that will occupy our attention to-day. Our design is to 
 develope the evidences of its truth ; but it is necessary, first of 
 all, to explain its principal terms. 
 
 Who is the man that is against Jesus Christ ? It must be 
 sufficiently obvious to all, that by this expression, our Saviour 
 designs every man to whom the gospel is an object of aversion 
 and hatred, whether he conceal his sentiments in his heart, or 
 
228 THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 manifest them in his words and actions. Who, then, is the 
 man that is not with or for Jesus Christ ? We do not need to 
 collect the features of such an one, by means of our imagina- 
 tion. The world is full of persons who are not for Jesus ChrisL 
 We recognize them in all those members of the Christian church 
 who belong to it only by birth, and by certain external usages, 
 but whose whole life proves that the church inspires them with no 
 interest. They have accepted a religion as one accepts a country., 
 not by free choice, but by necessity. Christians by birth, they 
 are not such by affection. Having examined neither the proofs 
 which establish the truth of Christianity, nor the objections by 
 which it is assailed, they believe on the faith of others. They 
 have some general notions of the doctrines of revelation, and 
 have admitted them once for all, without ever thinking of them 
 again. In a word, religion is to them a matter of high pro- 
 priety, an interesting fact, a social necessity, but nothing more. 
 It is neither the rule of their life,, nor one of their interests. 
 They aid neither by their prayers, nor their efforts, in the ad- 
 vancement of the kingdom of God. They do not inform them- 
 selves whether it advances or recedes. Every thing has more 
 importance to them than the success of that great cause. Such 
 are the principal features of the characters of the indifferent. 
 
 Now what says the Saviour with reference to these men ? 
 " They that are not for me are against me." We do not know 
 a better way of establishing the truth of this, than by showing 
 the falseness of the contrary proposition, namely, " One niay 
 not be for Jesus, and yet not be against him ; he may be neither 
 his friend nor his enemy ; he may observe with respect to him, 
 a species of neutrality." Let us see if such neutrality is pos- 
 sible. 
 
 I observe, in the first place, that a real neutrality is one of 
 the rarest things in the world. Man is not made for indiffe- 
 rence ; undoubtedly he may feel neither love nor hatred for 
 things which are completely foreign to him, and to which no 
 circumstance directs his attention. But whatever affects him 
 nearly, every thing which exerts an influence upon his fortune,, 
 nay more, every thing which he sees exciting general interest. 
 
THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 229 
 
 becomes to him an object of some kind of sentiment. His tastes 
 may change, but like a pendulum, he oscillates perpetually from 
 affection to aversion, and from aversion to affection, without 
 ever stopping in the intermediate space. His soul being made 
 for feeling, and feeling being his life, he is, so to speak, con- 
 strained to love or hate, and to flee from indifference as a kind 
 of death. Each of us, by reflecting upon himself and consult- 
 ing his recollections, will recognize this disposition without dif- 
 ficulty. This fact, then, will be sufficient to put us on our 
 guard against the notion, that we may not be for Jesus Christ, 
 and yet not be against him. 
 
 But if the observation we have just made be true in general, 
 it is especially so in the domain of religion. A religion is an 
 opinion and a system ; but what distinguishes it from all opi- 
 nions and systems is, that it professes to be the work of God, 
 and " all in all" to man. Any religion which should lay claim 
 to less would belie itself, and be unworthy of the name of reli- 
 gion. If a religion is true, it follows that we ought to love it 
 with all our heart ; if false, to detest it with all our heart ; for 
 the question turns upon a matter of the highest excellence, or 
 a criminal imposture ; a work of God, or a work of the devil ; 
 a thing adapted to destroy, or to save our souls. Is neutrality, 
 in such a case, possible ? Can we remain, without any senti- 
 ment, in the presence of a fact, immense, overpowering, absorb- 
 ing, which unceasingly solicits a decision ? Is it not here that 
 indifference must find its limit ? 
 
 But I go further, and say, if we had even remained indiffe- 
 rent, we would not the less have made, without willing it, a 
 choice. Because true religion, meriting nothing less than our 
 whole love, not to devote ourselves to it is to be against it ; and 
 a false religion, not deserving any thing but our deepest hatred, 
 not to oppose it is to be for it. Here any middle course is im- 
 possible. The indifferent person will hear false religion on the 
 one side say to him, Since you are not against me, you are for 
 me ; and on the other side, true religion cry to him, Since you 
 are not for me, you are against me. 
 
 And to make this last truth more evident, suppose that God 
 
230 THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 manifest in the flesh has descended to the earth, in the person 
 of a being resembling you ; that the character of that being is 
 the ideal of perfection ; his work, the salvation of the human 
 race ; his precepts, holiness itself ; his feelings in reference to 
 you, a boundless compassion. You acknowledge in him all 
 these attributes, and you say to him, Since thou art the ideal 
 of perfection, the rule of holiness, God himself manifest in the 
 flesh ; since thou hast shed thy blood upon the cross for the 
 salvation of my soul, I cannot be against thee, but I will not 
 be for thee. And for whom, then, great God, for whom, then, 
 is that heart ! for it is necessary to be for some one ; the heart 
 must attach itself to something ; it does not live but as it loves. 
 For whom, then, will you be, if not for God ? Probably for 
 yourselves, I suppose. But what is that you, separated from 
 God, except the flesh in all its corruption, and sin in all its de- 
 formity ? And if a man is for such things, is he not against 
 God ? If he is for his own depraved will, is he not against 
 God ? If he is for a demon, is he not against God ? No, my 
 brethren, there are in the world only two empires, which I 
 need not name ; but I affirm that he who is not in the one, 
 is necessarily in the other; that he who is not with Jesus 
 Christ, is against Jesus Christ. Behold the neutrality of the 
 indifferent ! 
 
 The better to appreciate this neutrality, let us enter the 
 heart of the indifferent, and give account of the feelings which 
 reign there. He says he has no hatred. Let us pass it over. 
 This hatred we shall soon meet again. But are there in his 
 heart love and obedience ; love especially for Jesus Christ ? 
 Assuredly not, seeing he is not for Jesus Christ. Well, to re- 
 fuse love to Jesus Christ, I affirm, is to do him all the evil 
 which an open enemy could, or, at least, would do. If Jesus 
 Christ had come into the world, as a king into a revolted pro- 
 vince, in order to extinguish rebellion, and cause the silence of 
 terror to reign in it, he might be satisfied with a trembling 
 submission, and care nothing for the evil we do him. But such 
 a submission he did not desire, nor can desire. That alone 
 which he desired, that alone for which he descended to the 
 
THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 231 
 
 earth, the end to which he directed all his toils, was the con- 
 quest of our heart. Separate from that triumph, every other 
 is nothing to him. If, then, instead of our hearts which he 
 demands, we contemptuously offer him a passive submission 
 which he does not ask ; if, in the place of that devout gratitude 
 which he has merited by his blood, we propose, as a matter of 
 favour, to spare him our insults, would not this of itself be the 
 crudest of insults, the only one, indeed, to which he could be 
 sensible ? For what is our hatred in his eyes but the more 
 clear and frank expression of the divorce which exists between 
 him and us ; a somewhat more distinct form given to the out- 
 rage which our ingratitude constantly presents before his eyes ? 
 But perhaps you consider it a more serious thing to attack and 
 oppose him. Indeed, you are mistaken ! For what could your 
 miserable attacks add to the crime of your ingratitude ? Ah, 
 since you have the misfortune not to love him, attack, combat, 
 make war upon him, as you please. The Almighty will do 
 well to be moved by the rebellion of an insect ! Agitate your- 
 selves, then ; struggle in your dust ; raise an entire world, if 
 you can, against the king of worlds ; you will not retard for a 
 single instant, nor drive back a hair's breadth the progress of 
 the eternal counsels ; not that Jehovah will notice your ridicu- 
 lous efforts because he sees all things ; but because he has seen, 
 before all, that you do not love him, a fact which ranks you 
 with his enemies. 
 
 We have spoken of love, and what shall we say of obe- 
 dience ? Is there obedience in the indifferent ? No, doubtless ; 
 for he who loves not, obeys not. It is true that a servile fear 
 may fulfil some external duties, and produce a formal obedience ; 
 but the gospel requires a spiritual obedience, which is not pos- 
 sible without love. To subdue his passions, to use the world 
 as not abusing it, to live in all humility and charity, to conse- 
 crate all his powers to the advancement of the kingdom of God, 
 is what the indifferent will not do, what he cannot do ; he 
 lives, then, in disobedience. But I ask you, how would that 
 man be regarded in a state, who would not obey its laws ? Cer- 
 tainly as an enemy; even if he had never taken up arms 
 
232 THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 against it. Is not a rebellious subject an enemy ? How, then 9 
 shall he be considered, who cares no more for the spiritual laws 
 of Jesus Christ, than if Jesus Christ had never given them ? 
 Certainly as an enemy. "Whence it follows, that he who is 
 not for Jesus Christ is, for the same reason, against him. 
 
 But, we will not content ourselves with having shown that 
 in principle the indifferent is a real enemy of Jesus Christ. 
 We will show you further that, when circumstances will it, he 
 becomes an enemy positively, and in fact. What, in reality, 
 is this indifference, but a secret aversion to Christ and his doc- 
 trine, as we have already seen, a discord between the soul and 
 Jesus, a slumbering enmity ? As long as it is not excited by 
 circumstances, it remains asleep, it has no consciousness of it- 
 self, it does not feel that it hates ; and in some persons, it re- 
 mains in this form, the most dangerous perhaps, all their life 
 long. But in many others, unforeseen circumstances awaken 
 it, and cause it to appear it in its real character. Sometimes, it 
 is a clearer view of the truth, by which it is awakened. That 
 truth from which they turned away their eyes, by-and-by 
 strikes them with unexpected vividness ; they see at once that 
 the gospel is a serious reality, and that they are about to accept 
 or reject it. They call up the whole period during which they 
 have sinned without reflection ; they feel, above all, that they 
 have a heart which cannot relish the strict maxims and spiri- 
 tual savour of the gospel, and perceive the moment they treat 
 it seriously, they must change their whole life. Then its re- 
 nunciations, privations, sacrifices present themselves in a crowd ; 
 indignation penetrates their soul ; but instead of directing it 
 against themselves, whose conduct condemns the law, they di- 
 rect it against the law which condemns their conduct. Thence- 
 forward they can never speak of neutrality or indifference ; the 
 veil is torn away, the wound is made, the hatred is aroused. 
 Ever after they are directly against Jesus Christ. 
 
 Sometimes, also, the transition of enmity to its true form 
 has been occasioned by the religious revival of those around 
 them. Persons have found themselves in the situation we have 
 just described ; the truth has pierced them with an unexpected 
 
THE INTOLERANCE OP THE GOSPEL. 233 
 
 wound ; but after a moment of indecision, their indignation, 
 which knew not what to fasten upon, has turned against them- 
 selves. In the necessity of hating either themselves, or the 
 gospel, they have preferred to hate themselves. And from 
 hatred of themselves, they have naturally passed to the love of 
 Jesus Christ. Then regenerated by the Spirit from on high, 
 they have lived a new life ; and notwithstanding their humi- 
 lity and reserve, there is so much difference even externally, in 
 living for the world, and living for God, that the change has 
 struck their neighbours. Their life has become a living gospel. 
 The indifferent and neutral have then read the gospel, not in 
 dead characters upon inanimate leaves, but in living letters in 
 the hearts of men. This has formed, if I may so express my- 
 self, a new edition of the word of God, with the commentary 
 of the Holy Spirit. Then the same struggle has been produced 
 in the hearts of the indifferent we have already described, the 
 evidence of the gospel, the divinity of Christ, and the infinite 
 solemnity of life, have burst upon their vision, and overwhelmed 
 their soul. Then have they found it no longer possible to shut 
 themselves up in a system of cold neutrality. The soul too 
 strongly pressed, has been compelled to take a part, — alas ! it 
 has taken its part, and that is to hate ! But in spite of appear- 
 ances, its position is not essentially changed ; it has the same 
 aversion to the gospel, only with a more vivid consciousness, 
 and a deeper feeling ; and we can only say, that in this is ve- 
 rified the prediction of the aged Simeon, who, when holding 
 the infant Jesus in his arms, exclaimed, " By thee shall the 
 thoughts of many hearts be revealed." 
 
 To hate Jesus Christ, such is the result in which neutrality 
 and indifference eventually terminate. To hate Jesus Christ ! 
 what words are we compelled to utter ! The most confirmed 
 sceptic would not have himself considered as one who hates 
 Jesus Christ. But this sentiment which horrifies the sceptic, 
 is, ye indifferent ones, the habitual sentiment of your soul ! 
 
 But that you may know at least what you do by hating 
 Jesus Christ, come and see. That teacher, full of grace and 
 truth, who went every where sowing the word of reconciliation ; 
 
234 THE INTOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 that compassionate physician, whom no wretch approached 
 without being consoled ; that friend, who sought to gather you 
 to himself, before impending calamity, as a hen gathereth her 
 brood under her wings, is the being whom you hate ; that mo - 
 del of purity and charity, that man in whom his most furious 
 enemies could not discover the shadow of a stain, is he whom 
 you hate ; that celestial hero, who, bearing on his conscience 
 the guilt of humanity, sunk, in the garden of Gethsemane, un- 
 der the burden of the sins of the whole earth, and drained for 
 you the cup of divine wrath, as he lay prostrate in the dust, 
 bathed in sweat and blood, is he whom you hate ; that victim, 
 who for you painfully climbed up the height of Calvary, per- 
 mitted himself to be fastened to the cross, and suffered, in his 
 person, all that imagination can conceive of agonies, and whose 
 last groan was a prayer for his executioners, is he whom you 
 hate ! Do not reject this statement. If you are nothing for 
 him, who has been every thing for you ; if you do not give one 
 pulsation of your heart for him who has given up his life for 
 you ; if your life is a perpetual resistance of his laws, you are 
 his enemies ; if you love him not, you hate him ; and if you do 
 not yet fight against him, you will fight against him soon. 
 
 I have arrived at the close of a painful demonstration, which 
 I did not undertake, I ought to confess, without repugnance. 
 But knowing too well the condition I have described, fully per- 
 suaded for a long time that he that is not with Christ is against 
 him, I have felt it my duty to point out to my brethren the 
 dangers of a neutrality in regard to which many perhaps de- 
 ceive themselves. I would, therefore, say to them, after the 
 example of Joshua, " Choose ye this day whom ye will serve." 
 Those have chosen, who, with slow and laborious step, but with- 
 out irresolution, have commenced their march towards the land 
 of infinite discoveries ; who, not yet possessing the whole truth, 
 seek it with sincerity and patience ; who, solicited by the flesh 
 and the world, turn with a sigh to God, who can aid them, and 
 who, every day, offer to the Saviour their good-will, not being 
 able to offer him any thing else. May God preserve us from 
 discouraging any one, and " crushing," as the poet says, " the 
 
THE INTOLERANCE OP THE GOSPEL. 235 
 
 new-born germ, from which may spring an angel !" But there 
 are others who have not chosen, and care not to choose. Some 
 of them persuade themselves that, provided they are neither for 
 nor against Jesus Christ, he, in like manner, will neither be 
 for nor against them. It was necessary to show such that the 
 neutrality in which they concealed themselves is a real enmity, 
 and that it will be judged as such. It was necessary to arouse 
 such by our warnings, and, in our feebleness, we have made 
 the attempt. Bless, Lord, these warnings, given in thy name. 
 Cause them to penetrate, and take possession of all the souls 
 which need to hear them ; nay, of all our souls ; for who does not 
 need to be warned ? Inspire us all with the sincere desire to 
 belong to Jesus Christ entirely and for ever. 
 
236 
 
 XVIIL 
 THE TOLEEANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 " He that is not against us is for us." — Luke ix. 20. 
 
 Some days ago, we developed the meaning of these words of 
 our Lord, " He that is not with me is against me." That was 
 presenting to you the gospel in all its intolerance. For the 
 gospel has its intolerance, although it sympathizes not with per- 
 secutors, and breathes entire religious freedom. Its intolerance 
 consists in considering every one as an enemy who is not its 
 friend. We endeavoured to convince you that this intolerance 
 is reasonable, conformed to the nature of things, and worthy of 
 God. To-day, we attempt to explain these words, which are 
 also those of our Saviour, " He that is not against us is for us." 
 At first sight, nothing seems more contradictory than these two 
 propositions. But the contradiction is only apparent; these 
 two statements, instead of neutralizing, complete each other ; 
 they give a natural explanation of each other's meaning, and, 
 to speak exactly, are only two aspects of the same truth. If 
 our preceding text has shown us the intolerance of the gospel, 
 this shows us the limit of that intolerance. If the first has in- 
 formed us of what the gospel will not endure, the second teaches 
 us what it will endure. If the one establishes the intolerance 
 of God, the other attacks and reproves the intolerance of men. 
 These two expressions, these two truths, support each other, 
 and hold such a relation the one to the other, that, in discus- 
 sing the first a few days ago, we pledged ourselves, as it were, 
 to discuss the other to-day. This we proceed to do, without 
 
THE TOLERANCE OP THE GOSPEL. 237 
 
 however concealing, that if our first subject was difficult, this 
 is still more so. You will all feel this, more or less, and for 
 the same reason, understand how necessary it is in such a mat- 
 ter, that the Holy Spirit, which has purified our intentions, 
 should enlighten our understanding, and direct our words. 
 Ask this from him, on our behalf, and ask also for yourselves 
 an attentive spirit, a docile heart, and that quick intelligence 
 of divine things which cannot be given but by the Spirit of 
 God. 
 
 While Jesus, accompanied by some disciples he had chosen, 
 is exercising, in Judea, his ministry of compassion, a man casts 
 out demons in his name. His disciples wish to prevent him 
 from doing so, because he follows not Jesus with them. But 
 the Lord rebukes this indiscreet zeal, by saying, " Forbid him 
 not ; for he that is not against us is for us." 
 
 He that is not against us is for us. In the sense of the 
 text we explained the other day, these words would be false ; 
 for we have seen that if any one is not positively the friend of 
 Jesus, he is his enemy. But let us carefully notice what is re- 
 ferred to in the words we explain to-day. It is a man that 
 cast out demons in the name of Jesus, only he does not follow 
 Jesus with his disciples. 
 
 But such a man, though he did not form a part of the com- 
 pany that followed Jesus Christ, was certainly not against him ; 
 he was for Jesus Christ as much as the disciples themselves, 
 and perhaps even more so. But what, in fact, was necessary 
 in order to be for Jesus Christ ? To confess his name, and to 
 do his work ; and these two conditions were united in the man 
 under consideration. 
 
 He confessed the name of Jesus Christ ; for the gospel in- 
 forms us that it was in the name of Jesus that he cast out de- 
 mons. Thus Jesus was to him what he is to all Christians, 
 " He that was sent to destroy the kingdom of Satan," — he be- 
 fore whom^all the powers of darkness and the empire of evil 
 must bend and fall, — whose name alone, invoked through faith, 
 is an impenetrable buckler against all the fiery darts of hell, — 
 
 u 
 
238 THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 in a word, the Saviour, because he saves us from our most cruel, 
 from our only real enemy. 
 
 Not only did this man confess the adorable name of Jesus, 
 but he performed his work, he cast out demons. He fought 
 under the banner, and for the cause of Jesus. He advanced, 
 according to his ability, the triumph of his Master. He made 
 the enemies of Jesus his enemies, and the great design of Jesus 
 his interest. What more did those disciples who accompanied 
 Jesus in all his wanderings ? The following we read in the 
 chapter from which our text is taken, " And behold a man of 
 the company cried out, saying, Master, I beseech thee, look 
 upon my son ; for he is mine only child. And lo, a spirit 
 seizes him, and causes him to cry out ; and it teareth him so 
 that he foameth again, and bruising him, hardly departeth from 
 him. And I besought thy disciples to cast him out ; and they 
 could not. And Jesus answering, said, faithless and per- 
 verse generation ! how long shall I be with you and suffer 
 you?'' (v. 39 — 41). To whom, in your opinion, did head- 
 dress these overwhelming words, " Unbelieving and perverse 
 generation," but to his disciples ? With whom, if not with the 
 disciples, was Jesus tired of associating ? And these very dis- 
 ciples, destitute of the faith necessary to perform the work of their 
 Master, are the ones opposed to the labours of that unknown 
 man ! And why ? Because he followed not Jesus with them. 
 
 Such, in fact, is all the difference which appears between 
 this man and the disciples. It must be confessed that, at first 
 sight, it is striking. How can he be for Jesus Christ and not 
 follow him? But without seeking, by means of gratuitous 
 suppositions, for the reasons which kept this man by himself, 
 and compelled him to serve Jesus at a distance from him, let 
 us observe, that at this period, our Saviour was accompanied 
 only by those whom he had expressly called, by authoritatively 
 separating them from their labours and their families, in order 
 to prepare them for a glorious apostolate. It was thus he 
 commanded Peter to leave his nets, and Matthew his bank, 
 and follow him ; but such an appeal doubtless had not been 
 addressed to this man. It was only a little later (chap, x.) 
 
THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 239 
 
 that seventy disciples were associated with the twelve apostles ; 
 and who knows that this adorer of the name of Jesus did not 
 take the first place among them ? 
 
 But all this is not of so much importance as the reflection 
 we are about to present. What is it to follow Jesus Christ ? 
 According to the apostles, yet imperfectly enlightened, it is to 
 accompany the person of the Saviour in all places, and it was 
 thus they followed him. But such a view is gross and carnal, 
 and we appeal, upon this point, to the apostles themselves. 
 One of them, the organ, in this matter, of the sentiment of all, 
 has clearly expressed it, in saying, "If we have formerly 
 known Christ according to the flesh, we know him in this 
 manner no more." (2 Cor. v. 16.) And well has the apostle 
 said so ; for to know Jesus Christ is not to have seen him in 
 the flesh ; to follow Jesus Christ is not to follow his person. 
 To know and to follow him is to recognize him as God mani- 
 fest in the flesh, to rest upon his promises, to breathe his spirit. 
 In this sense we can follow him, though separated by a thou- 
 sand leagues and a thousand years. 
 
 Let us see, according to this view, how the apostles followed 
 him, at the period referred to in my text. The imagination is 
 pleased to represent that retinue of friends accompanying Jesus 
 every where ; but it sees them such as they since became, not 
 such as they were then. Did these men, whom Jesus had 
 chosen, not for what they were in themselves, but, as one may 
 say, for what they were not, in order more fully to illustrate in 
 them his power, really follow Jesus Christ ? Did they follow 
 him, when they disputed among themselves who should occupy 
 the first places in heaven ? (Mark ix. 33, 34.) Did they fol- 
 low him when they besought 'him to bring down fire from hea- 
 ven, to destroy an unbelieving city ? (Luke ix. 54.) Did they 
 follow him, when, doubting whether they had done wisely in 
 attaching themselves to him, they asked from him indemnities 
 and pledges for a sacrifice scarcely commenced ? (Mark x. 28.) 
 Ah ! how many times, in the midst of that company of apostles, 
 was the Son of God alone ? The sole confidant of his own high 
 
240 THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 designs, the sole auditor of his own divine thoughts, how often 
 did he seek around him in vain for a single soul that compre- 
 hended him, a single heart that loved him as he wished to be 
 loved! In this point of view his solitude was profound. 
 It was one of the most painful trials of his life, as it was to be 
 the bitterest pang of his death. "What, then, did these disciples 
 claim when they said, " This man followeth thee not with us V 
 What difference did that establish in their favour ; and how 
 could they know that this unknown person did not follow Jesus 
 better than they did themselves ? 
 
 0, how does intolerance here, as in all other cases, show it- 
 self the close companion of weakness, and tolerance the associate 
 of greatness ! Jesus is the most tolerant of beings, because he 
 is the most holy. Every thing which affects his person as a 
 man, disturbs him not, wounds him not. What is it to him 
 that this man does not follow him with the twelve ? He casts- 
 out demons, and casts them out in the name of the Son of God, 
 It is enough ; this man is for him. 
 
 On the contrary, see these apostles still so weak in faith. 
 Their disposition is the reverse of that of Jesus. What wounds 
 them is not what wounds the cause of God, but what offends 
 the person of their Master as a man, say rather, what offends 
 their own person ! What, in fact, is their complaint ? " He 
 followeth thee not with us ;" he is not one of us. True he con- 
 fesses the name of Jesus ; true he casts out demons ; but he 
 follows not Jesus with us ; it is enough ; he is against Jesus. 
 You have seen the tolerance of God ; behold the intolerance of 
 man. 
 
 The question now presents itself, whether this declaration of 
 Jesus is applicable only to the occasion on which it was uttered ; 
 or whether it may not be applicable to our times and our cir- 
 cumstances. Are there, in our day, persons who wish to for- 
 bid others to cast out demons in the name of Jesus, because 
 they follow him not with them ? My brethren, while admit- 
 ting some differences produced by difference of times, and giv- 
 ing to some expressions a more general sense, we meet, in our 
 
THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 241 
 
 day, the same kind of intolerance as that which merited the 
 rebuke of our Saviour, and we find for his words an immediate 
 and constant application. 
 
 To prevent a man casting out demons in the name of Jesus, 
 is what we cannot always do ; but to reject, to exclude, to 
 condemn him, we certainly can. To cast out demons, as the 
 man in the text did, is what cannot take place in modern 
 times ; but to oppose the power of the devil, by repelling his 
 pernicious inspirations, by avoiding the snares he lays for our 
 souls, by extirpating from our own hearts and those of others, 
 the germs of vice and error he has deposited there, is as pos- 
 sible in our day as in the time of the apostles ; and, thanks to 
 God, is what we frequently witness. Finally, to condemn, re- 
 ject and exclude a man, who, though he follows not Jesus with 
 us, does, nevertheless, perform the works we have just indi- 
 cated, is still seen, and seen every day ; and this, therefore, 
 furnishes a perpetual application for these most benignant 
 words of the Saviour, " Why do ye forbid him ? He that is 
 not against us is for us." 
 
 Jesus has disappeared from the^earth, we cannot, therefore, 
 follow his person ; but in the spiritual sense we have explained, 
 some are easily induced to believe that they follow him better 
 than others. Such a church, or such a community believes 
 that to follow Jesus Christ, it is necessary to be with it, form 
 a part of its organization, join the society of which it is com- 
 posed, espouse its interests, hang out its banner. This church, 
 this community, then, still appears, as in the times of Isaiah, 
 to utter these words, so full of presumption and bigotry, " Stand 
 back, come not near me; for I am holier than thou." (Is. lxv. 
 5.) And more than this, we see that proposition put in prac- 
 tice, which shocks us so much in the doctrines of a communion 
 from which we have separated : " Out of our church no sal- 
 vation !" 
 
 Yet, it is certain, in the first place, that no church can flatter 
 itself that it is exempt from faults and imperfections. No 
 church can offer itself as a perfect model to all others ; conse- 
 quently, no church can pretend that out of its pale it is impos- 
 
242 THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL, 
 
 sible to belong to Jesus. It is absolutely necessary, then, in 
 order to judge of those, who are not of its body, to have re- 
 course to some other test, than the gross one of opening its 
 registers, and seeing if such a name is found there. 
 
 Even, if it were perfect, and permitted to think so, it would 
 not, on that account, be justified in condemning those who do 
 not belong to it. And for this simple reason, that perfection 
 in doctrine and in morality cannot be the heritage of all ; that 
 some particular errors, some imperfections of detail, do not 
 hinder a man from being essentially, in a good state ; that in 
 every case there is a progressive improvement, with which none 
 can well dispense ; that, in general, no one arrives by a single 
 effort, at what is best in theory and practice ; and that all that 
 man can reasonably require from his fellow-man is, that he 
 should follow the road which conducts thither. 
 
 What I have just said, is not intended either to rejoice the 
 careless, or alarm the strict. For, in the first place, it is cer- 
 tain that the gospel requires nothing less from all its disciples 
 than perfection, both in faith and in morals ; and secondly, it 
 has so clearly traced the limits, beyond which there is nothing 
 but error and condemnation, that it is impossible, on this sub- 
 ject, to make the slightest mistake. What is the man who 
 follows not the Saviour with his apostles, but nevertheless, is 
 for Jesus, according to the declaration of Jesus himself ? He 
 is one who casts out demons in the name of Jesus. I say, then, 
 to every intolerant community, You condemn that man, be- 
 cause he follows not Jesus with you ; but is it necessary to be 
 with you, in order to confess the name of Jesus ? This, how- 
 ever, is evidently done by the man whom you condemn. I 
 admit that he has not studied so profoundly the system of reli- 
 gion as you have ; that he does not with such exactness unite 
 its different parts ; that he does not so thoroughly understand 
 the Scriptures ; that the gifts of the Holy Spirit have been con- 
 ferred upon him, in scanty measure, and apparently according 
 to his necessities ; but he confesses the name of Jesus. The 
 consciousness of his misery has led him to Christ ; he has cast 
 himself into the arms of the Saviour ; he has loved him with 
 
THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 243 
 
 all the love of which his heart is capable. It is in Him that 
 he seeks an asylum against the wrath to come, a consolation in 
 his sorrows, a resource in his wants. It is through Him that 
 he invokes his Heavenly Father ; and it is the name of Jesus, 
 which he loves to whisper in the silence of his closet, and de- 
 lights to honour before men, as the only name by which he can 
 be saved. What wants he more ? What ! join himself to 
 you ? Confess your name as equal to that of the divine Savi- 
 our ? Hang out your banner by the side of that of the Lamb ? 
 But who has told you that, I pray you ? Whence do you de- 
 rive it, but from yourselves ? I think all that you can claim 
 from him (my text teaches so), is that he be not against you, 
 that he do not reject and condemn you. Nay more, even if he 
 had declared against you by prepossession and error, he has 
 done nothing more than you have done to him. If he ought 
 not to do so, why do you yourselves do it ? And if you can 
 do it, why might not he ? The wrong is reciprocal ; and both 
 he and you have to return within the bounds of equity. 
 
 I acknowledge, however, that it is not every thing, simply 
 to confess and invoke the name of Jesus. " Not every one 
 that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter the kingom of hea- 
 ven." He must, in addition to this, cast out demons in the 
 name of the Lord, that is, he must sanctify himself. And this 
 is precisely what that man has done, whom you condemn. I 
 can easily believe that he is behind you, but he advances ; I 
 can easily believe that you are far before him, but he follows 
 you ; I can believe that you have found means of edification 
 of which he is ignorant, and admit, that if he were more en- 
 lightened, he would profit by the resources you have found, 
 and that he would join you. Nevertheless, he has understood, 
 and his conduct proves it, that whosoever says he belongs to 
 Christ ought to live even as Christ lived ; that the crucifixion 
 of the old man with his lusts is the only homage worthy of 
 being offered to the Saviour ; that he must cast out, in his 
 name, the demons of pride, of sensuality, of self-love, and of 
 self-righteousness which infest the heart of man ; that he must 
 contend against them by vigilance and prayer ; and that unless 
 
244 THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 he is made a new creature in Christ Jesus, he cannot see the 
 kingdom of heaven. I say to you, God alone may require 
 more ; yet I believe he casts a look of benignity and peace 
 upon that servant, who has been faithful, in few things it is 
 true, but yet faithful. Is it for you, then, to condemn him ? 
 
 How often have I seen, bearing the burden of the day, and 
 bending under the cross of his Saviour, a man to whom intole- 
 rance has scarcely accorded the name of Christian. Contend- 
 ing with old weaknesses, so hard to remove, bowed down under 
 the habits of a long life, and still retaining the visible imprint 
 of his fetters, inveterate habits and usages still revealed in him 
 the old man. Yet he had heard the call of grace, and ac- 
 cording to the measure of strength given him, he had made 
 his way out of that valley of the shadow of death, by a 
 painful path, bathed in sweat and tears. He confessed Jesus 
 with sincerity ; but with the feeling of wretchedness scarcely 
 removed. It was only with timidity, that he could deem him- 
 self one of the sheep whom Jesus knows, whom Jesus loves, 
 and whom his crook conducts to the pastures of life. And I 
 have seen men, on account of the incoherence of his language, 
 the remains of his ancient habits, and the feebleness of his cha- 
 racter, take it upon them to refuse him the title they accorded 
 to themselves, and dispute his interest in their common hopes ! 
 Yet these men called themselves Christians ! And they were 
 such in fact; but the remains of the old man persuaded them, 
 that in order to follow Jesus Christ, he must follow him with 
 them, seek their society, relish their discourse, adopt their 
 practices. But I have consoled myself by remembering that 
 they were at one time more exclusive still, that Christianity 
 had already partially subdued their native intolerance ; and by 
 reflecting, that in proportion as they should more fully taste the 
 gift of God, they would put on more and more that divine 
 compassion, charity, and meekness, which ought ever to distin- 
 guish the elect of God, his saints and well-beloved ones ; for 
 tolerance, I have said already, is always in proportion to holi- 
 ness. 
 
 Ah ! if in our day, we had to complain only of the intole- 
 
THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 245 
 
 ranee of Christians, we should be tranquil. Faith, which is the 
 occasion of it, is also its remedy. But there is a more formid- 
 able intolerance, that of unbelief, or a dead faith. We" have 
 seen, with profound regret, Christian communities condemn 
 men, though they cast out demons in the name of Jesus ; but 
 we may also see unbelievers and formalists condemning others, 
 precisely because they cast out demons in the name of Jesus. 
 Tolerant of indifference and lukewarmness, it is for zeal and 
 living faith that they reserve their intolerance. And, what is 
 remarkable, it is not because they believe themselves to pos- 
 sess the depositary of truth and the standard of morals, but on 
 the contrary, because they feel that they have them not, and 
 cannot suffer any one to enjoy a blessing, of which they are 
 destitute. And not only do they condemn them by their 
 words, but they hinder them, when they can, they interdict, 
 they persecute them. They deny and trample under foot, not 
 merely the letter and spirit of the gospel, but the most sacred 
 rights of the human race. And the immense progress of light 
 is not sufficient to repress these excesses, and public reason is 
 scarcely shocked at them. 
 
 My dearly beloved brethren, pray with me for the peace of 
 Jerusalem ; pray that the powers of darkness may not long 
 oppose the reign of light ; pray that the consciences of men 
 may receive no other impulse than that of the Holy Spirit. 
 Above all, pray that Christianity, becoming purer in all the 
 souls that have received it, may present, in every place, the 
 example of that divine tolerance which shone in the person of 
 its adorable founder; pray that all Christians may become 
 more and more worthy of that divine banner, under which they 
 have ranged themselves, the device of which is Love ! And 
 thou eternal God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, thou who 
 art clothed with all perfection, and whose eyes are too pure to 
 behold iniquity, but who art full of patience and long-suffering, 
 breathe thy indulgent spirit into those, who themselves need it 
 so much from thee ; teach them tolerance to those whom thou 
 dost tolerate ; give to them the dispositions of Jesus Christ, 
 
 x 
 
246 THE TOLERANCE OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 who, satisfied with a pure intention, and an honest will, waits 
 lono- for what he might demand at once. Teach us, like him, 
 to look upon the heart, upon what is essential, and not upon 
 vain circumstances. Enlarge our heart ; tear away the pre- 
 judices and pride which have narrowed its entrance, and grant 
 that all those whom thou hast given us as brethren, may find 
 there an asylum and a home ! 
 
247 
 
 XIX. 
 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 a Then said they unto him, what shall we do that we might work the works 
 of God ? Jesus answered and said unto them, this is the work of God, that 
 ye believe on him whom he hath sent." — St John vi. 28, 29. 
 
 FIRST DISCOURSE. 
 
 Having witnessed the miracles of Jesus Christ, and particu- 
 larly that of the multiplication of the loaves, the people clung 
 to the steps of that wonderful man ; and the same Jesus, ac- 
 customed to go before his brethren, appeared, in this instance, 
 doubtless for very wise reasons, to conceal himself from their 
 pressing importunity. When they reached the other side of 
 the sea of Tiberias, whither he had gone, as it appears, to be 
 free from their solicitations, he receives them with these morti- 
 fying words, " Yerily, verily, I say unto yon, ye seek me not 
 because ye saw the miracles, but because ye did eat of the 
 bread, and were satisfied." But it is not enough to mortify 
 them, if he does not instruct them ; and therefore he adds, 
 " Labour not for the food that perisheth, but for that which 
 endureth unto eternal life, which the Son of man will give unto 
 you ; for him hath God the Father sealed." 
 
 It would seem as if the reproach with which Jesus com- 
 menced, might have taken from the multitude the desire to 
 prolong that conversation. It would seem that, discouraged 
 by the severity of his first words, and the more as that severity 
 was just, they would think only of retiring at a distance from 
 Jesus Christ, from whom, for the moment, they could not hope 
 
248 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 to obtain any temporal favour. If a man, before whom we had 
 presented ourselves with all the tokens of respect and confidence, 
 should receive us as Jesus Christ on this occasion received the 
 Jews, we should be too much mortified, or perhaps irritated, to 
 engage in conversation with him, or even to remain in his pre- 
 sence. The Jews, however, remained, and put questions to 
 Jesus, as if the gravity of his words subdued and retained them 
 in spite of themselves, or as if they hoped, by a serious ques- 
 tion, to give him a more favourable opinion of themselves and 
 their motives ; and since he had said to them, labour, which to 
 them signified " do works," they asked him, " What shall we 
 do to work the works of God V 
 
 What does this question mean ? About what did the Jews 
 inquire ? They spoke of the works of God, and by that ex- 
 pression they doubtless meant, works which God loves, which 
 God commands, which render us agreeable to God, and like 
 God. But did they wish to know how to be enabled to do 
 such works, or did they wish to know what these works are ? 
 If their question had the first meaning, it were a good one ; it 
 would indicate, on their part, an idea truly just, and a feeling 
 truly valuable ; it would prove that above all they felt the need 
 of an internal force, of a controlling principle, which might 
 enable them to will all that God wills. That question would 
 prove, that in their actual condition, they felt themselves in- 
 capable of doing those works before they had received a new 
 spirit, a new heart, a new life. That question would then only 
 be an humble acknowledgment of their misery and weakness. 
 But that confession is not included in the question they ad- 
 dressed to Jesus. Do we not know them ? Do we not know 
 their leaders and guides ? Is there not an immense distance 
 between that sentiment and the gross and interested motive 
 which caused them to persist in following Jesus Christ ? If 
 Jesus Christ had attached that meaning to their question, 
 would not his answer have apprised us of it ? No, every thing 
 concurs to prove, and the form even of their question indicates, 
 that their thought was this, Tell us what are the works of God, 
 that we may do them. 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 249 
 
 But consider, that they knew well enough, or at least might 
 have known, if they wished, what are the works of God. 
 Moses and the prophets had taught them with sufficient clear- 
 ness and fullness. There was no precept of Christian morality 
 which might not be found in the writings of the old dispensa- 
 tion, by every one at least who could read them ; and Jesus 
 Christ came not to teach new duties, but to enforce the obliga- 
 tion which binds us to the old, and give us new power to fulfil 
 them. These Jews, then, inquired about what they knew al- 
 ready, and not about that of which they were still ignorant. 
 They said, We can, but we do not know. They should have 
 said, We know, but we cannot, or rather we will not ; or again, 
 We cannot will ; for in every thing which concerns obedience 
 to the law of God, to will is to be able. 
 
 Since they thought thus, it is quite clear, that they spoke of 
 various works, and what they said to Jesus Christ was, Teach 
 us what are " the works" of God. This was the spirit of their 
 time and country. To them, as well as the Pharisees, their 
 models, morality was composed of a greater or smaller number 
 of practices and observances ; and the difficulty was to know 
 them all, in order not to neglect any, not even in their slight- 
 est details. Work after work, nothing but works, namely, 
 those external acts, which the hand does and the eye sees. 
 Such to them was the spirit of morality ; such, to the best of 
 them, was virtue. There were among them a few who formed 
 a higher idea of morality, a few who placed above works the 
 motive or the sentiment by which they were inspired, and to 
 whom the obedience of the heart was the most important 
 of works ; a few also who felt their fallen condition, and 
 their inability to do the works of God, before receiving a new 
 heart from God. Nay, perhaps some of those who addressed 
 the question, " What must we do to work the works of God," 
 did so in good faith. 
 
 Let us not reject such, or treat them with greater severity 
 than did Jesus Christ himself. It is even something to inquire 
 concerning the works of God in order to do them ; for it was 
 said of him who endeavoured from his youth to fulfil them alk 
 
250 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 that " Jesus loved him." (Mark x. 20) It is something, we 
 say, to inquire concerning the works of God ; it is much in 
 comparison with the indifference of that multitude, who cared 
 not to know, because they cared not to act. The reply of our 
 Saviour includes, I acknowledge, the rectification of a false 
 idea. It teaches the Jews that they were deceived, but it is 
 not a reproach ; it is an instruction ; it is a lesson. Let us en- 
 deavour to penetrate its meaning. 
 
 We arm ourselves with our Saviour's language against two 
 opposite errors. It is a sword, the edge of which may be suc- 
 cessively directed against Jews and Christians, or rather against 
 a certain number of Jews and a certain number of Christians ; 
 against those who, in each of these two churches, corrupt, by 
 exaggerating the principle upon which their church is based. 
 There are two churches, in fact, but not two religions.* Judaism 
 and Christianity can be nothing but two eras of one and the 
 same truth, two poles of the same axis, the prow and the stern 
 of the same vessel. Each of these two systems has its word of 
 order and rallying ; that of the Jewish church is law, that of 
 the Christian church is faith ; but the error to which each is 
 exposed is to lose sight of and exclude the principle to which 
 it does not owe its name, but without which it can possess 
 neither force nor life. The error of the Jews is to reduce 
 every thing to works, and never to ascend to faith ; that of 
 Christians is not to see that true faith is a work, and if it is 
 not a work, that it is nothing. But these two errors do not 
 characterize so much two epochs, one of which is yet remain- 
 ing, and the other of which is past, but two classes of persons 
 or two tendencies, which reproduce themselves in all times and 
 places. In addressing ourselves to both, we are certain not to 
 see one portion of our words lost in the abyss of the past, and 
 the other only finding an application in the present. The two 
 
 Vinet here uses the word church in a somewhat loose and general sense, 
 as descriptive of a system or a community. The term, in strict scriptural 
 usage, has a very different sense. It is, however, certain there was a term 
 church among the Jews, just as there is such a church among nominal Chris- 
 tians ; but the term may be applied indiscriminately to all or both.— T. 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 251 
 
 errors we have marked are actual and living, and both doubt- 
 less will find representatives in every community. 
 
 It appears to us that our Lord had more reasons than one to 
 answer the Jews as he did, and that his response may be taken 
 in more than one sense ; and first, in the following. " You 
 curiously inquire concerning the works of God, and how they 
 may be done ; you run after righteousness and obedience ; you 
 seem to say to God, Speak, Lord, thy servants hear. "Well, 
 then, the Lord is here in the person of his Messenger ; behold 
 before you Him of whom Moses, in former times, has said, 
 " The Lord will raise up for you a prophet like unto me, him 
 shall ye hear ;" but you do not hear him, you do not hear him 
 as a prophet, as the only prophet resembling your great and 
 first prophet, as the Messiah of God, as your King and Saviour, 
 as the reality of the types, the fulfilment of the prophecies, the 
 end of the law. In vain you press around him and follow him 
 to the desert ; you follow him as one who has satisfied your 
 wants, as one, perhaps, who has done great works, but not as 
 him who is the way, the truth, and the life. You recognize 
 him, perhaps, as a messenger of God, but not in a high and in- 
 communicable sense, as him whom God hath sent to accomplish 
 all his will with reference to you and all mankind. He of 
 whom Moses spoke, in whom Abraham rejoiced, whose humi- 
 liation Isaiah predicted, and whose day Daniel indicated, is 
 come ; he stands before you, he utters in your hearing words 
 full of grace and truth, yet you do not perceive him. You, 
 who are so quick to recognize the signs of the times, who are 
 so smitten with every thing which is called glory, you do not 
 discern this time, you do not perceive this glory. It is not 
 enough even that you do not acknowledge him whom God hath 
 sent, ye do not even listen to what he announces. If any one 
 should come in his own name, with promises of worldly glory, 
 and prosperity, you would receive him readily enough ; but you 
 do not receive him who comes in the name of God, with divine 
 authority, and in the Spirit of God. Your hardened heart re- 
 jects " the sent of God," and yet you care for the works of 
 God ! What hypocrisy and blindness ! The works of God ! 
 
252 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 But first do this, give glory to God by receiving him whom he 
 hath sent ; and when you inquire as to the means of honouring 
 him by your works, do not begin to dishonour him by your 
 unbelief. How can you do the works of God, when you shut 
 the doors of your hearts against him who speaks in his name ? 
 First open your eyes, believe in the Messenger of God, believe 
 in God himself ; this is the work I propose to you on his be- 
 half ; this is the work which must be done first; the others you 
 will not do before. 
 
 We venture to attach another meaning to the words of our 
 Lord. God has promised to send, in the course of ages, an- 
 other prophet, one resembling your first prophet, and who could 
 not resemble him, except by being his superior, if, like him, 
 and on the same foundation, he is to found a church and a 
 people. God has promised this, and you believe it. But if 
 you believe it, you admit, on the same ground, that this new- 
 prophet will teach you to do the works of God. For if he 
 does not teach you this, what would he teach you ? But how 
 could he teach you were he not that prophet ? How, again, 
 could you learn any thing from him who says he is that pro- 
 phet, but is not ? "Will you give the lie to all your prophets, 
 and say that this prophet was not to come ? Will you say he 
 was to come, but that the man before you, this Jesus, mighty 
 in words and in deeds, is not he who was to come ? You may 
 shut your eyes to the light, but know, after all, that these 
 works respecting which you shew some anxiety, you will never 
 do, but by faith in him whom God hath promised ; know that 
 without him ye can do nothing ; know that ye must be united 
 to him, partake of his spirit, believe the truths he announces, 
 and especially believe the truth of which he is the representa- 
 tive, in order to do the works of God. Others have done these 
 works before you, who, not seeing the Messiah with their natu- 
 ral eye, have seen him by the eye of faith, have embraced him 
 by hope, have possessed him by love. In whatever way he 
 communicates to men that wonderful power, it is he, and no 
 other, that communicates it. Believe, then, that it is he who 
 was to come, and ask him ; or believe that he is not the pro- 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 253 
 
 mised one, and do not ask him. Deny at once that advent, 
 and whatever must accompany it ; deny the Messiah when he 
 is come, but never hope to do the works of God until with the 
 heart and the mouth you have said, " Blessed be he that com- 
 eth in the name of the Lord !" * 
 
 We are approaching, step by step, the most profound sense, 
 the real sense, of our Saviour's reply. It is proper to believe, 
 without comprehending it, that the power to do the works of 
 God depends upon faith in him whom he hath sent ; but it is 
 given to us to comprehend it, as it was given to those, who, 
 living before the advent of Jesus Christ, were united to him by 
 faith, to experience it. Let us take up the question of the 
 multitude. 
 
 That multitude appear to be animated by a laudable desire. 
 They wish to do the works of God. The works of God, — ex- 
 pression strong and emphatic in its brevity, — are the works 
 which God commands, which are done in his spirit, which 
 honour him, and which, consequently, he accepts and approves. 
 This, doubtless, is the idea of the Jews. But it does not go to 
 the bottom of the subject, for it does not reach the principle of 
 true obedience, and the only condition of real works of God, 
 A work of God is, above all, a work which has an affinity to 
 God. All other characteristics are comprised in this, all de- 
 pend upon it. But we cannot, without an abuse of words, 
 speak, of an affinity to God, which does not consist in love. 
 Indeed, if you do not love God, you have no relation to him 
 but that of fear. But fear is not an affinity, it is its opposite ; 
 it does not unite, it separates. If the object of God in giving 
 a religion to men, is to unite them to him, if the very name of 
 religion expresses that object, it is necessary, first of all, that 
 this connection of love should be established between men and 
 him. And all the works which men may do, without this con- 
 nection, are not works of God. ' It is impossible they should 
 be performed in his spirit, because nothing but love can trans- 
 
 * These meanings of our Saviour's language, so admirably paraphrased by 
 our author, are not really two, or double meanings, but simply two aspects and 
 applications of one and the same meaning.— T. 
 
254 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 fer his spirit to ours. Nor is it possible they should honour 
 him ; for if love has not dictated them, fear has, and fear does 
 not honour him. It is equally impossible he should approve 
 them ; for what he desires, the only thing, indeed, he can de- 
 sire, is our heart, and that is not in them. In fine, it is im- 
 possible they should be the works he has commanded ; for, 
 what is singular but true, that which he has enjoined is not the 
 accomplishment of one work more than another, but the ac- 
 complishment of every work, with a recognition of its cause, 
 and a pure motive. For it is the motive, in some sense, which 
 is the object of the commandment ; the first and great com- 
 mandment, the summary of the law, both for Jews and Chris- 
 tians, being love. Shall we not add, then, that a work of God, 
 or a work worthy of God, ought, necessarily to be a work of 
 freedom. And since there is a law we have not made, which 
 binds us, willing or unwilling, a work commanded cannot, at 
 the same time, be a work of freedom, but by the intervention 
 of love, which, to speak correctly, is freedom in obedience. 
 We may conclude, then, that the Jews, whose question was 
 entertained by our Saviour, would have addressed to him one 
 more worthy of his approbation, if, instead of saying, What 
 shall we do to perform the works of God ? they had said, Mas- 
 ter, what shall we do to love God ? 
 
 Call to your recollection that scribe who one day said to 
 Jesus Christ, " Master, thou hast well and truly said, that there 
 is only one God, and none other but he ; and to love him with 
 all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the 
 soul, and with all the strength, and to love our neighbour as 
 ourselves, is more than all whole burnt-offerings and sacrifices." 
 (Mark xii. 32, 33.) What do you read after these words ? 
 " Jesus seeing that he had answered intelligently, said, Thou 
 art not far from the kingdom of heaven." (ver. 34.) Measure 
 the force of these words in the mouth of Jesus. To be thus 
 intelligent, is more than all the wisdom of sages; to be not far 
 from the kingdom of God, is more than all the glory and mag- 
 nificence of kings. Nevertheless, the superiority of that man 
 is enclosed within two limits ; if on the one side he is separated 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 255 
 
 from the folly of the world, on the other he has not yet seized 
 that kingdom which cannot be moved. Jesus Christ only said, 
 that he was not far from it. But this is ever a sublime and 
 glorious testimony ; and Jesus Christ would have degraded it, 
 by according it to the Jews whose question we are considering. 
 Why ? Because they were not intelligent, like that scribe ; 
 because they did not appear, like him, to understand that love 
 is the fulfilment of the law, and the true secret of doing the 
 works of God. 
 
 But it may be asked, why did not Jesus Christ, on the latter 
 occasion, at once say to the Jews, The work of God is to love 
 him, instead of saying, The work of God is to believe on him 
 whom he hath sent ? Why, he might have said both the one 
 and the other ; but after having in other interviews declared 
 that the means of doing the works of God was to love him, he 
 went further this time ; he proceeded to the very termination of 
 his idea, and of the truth, and made his hearers acquainted with 
 the means of the means itself, that is to say, the means of lov- 
 ing God. But that means is believing on him whom God hath 
 sent. To say to the Jews that they must love God, would not 
 be teaching them, properly speaking, any thing new ; it would 
 only be sending them back to the most express and solemn de- 
 clarations of the ancient law. And it is worthy of remark that 
 Jesus Christ did not himself cite that supreme ordinance, but 
 drew it from the mouth of his hearers, and only appeared desi- 
 rous of receiving their acknowledgments respecting it. Happy 
 they, doubtless, who, of their own accord, and by the secret in- 
 spiration of the Holy Spirit, laid down at his feet that avowal, 
 so sweet, and yet so formidable ! Jesus Christ commended 
 their wisdom, and announced to them, that they were not far 
 from the kingdom of God. 
 
 But in this instance, omitting apparently a truth which is to 
 find itself entire in the answer he designs, instead of sending 
 them to love, sending them to the source of love, he replies to 
 them, in that striking sentence, " The work of God is to be- 
 lieve on him whom he hath sent." Transported to that ele- 
 
256 THE WORK OP GOD. 
 
 vation, they will there infallibly find the answer to their ques- 
 tion, the end of their anxiety, the beginning of life. 
 
 And who is he whom God hath sent ? What is it to believe 
 on him ? And what connection is there between that belief and 
 the love of God ? What connection ? It probably escapes, in 
 the first instance, the greater part of the hearers of Jesus 
 Christ, but it will not escape them always, and certainly it can- 
 not escape us. He whom God hath sent is his well-beloved, 
 his Son, his other-self ; it is himself in a person like unto us ; 
 a man, perfectly man, a God, perfectly God. To believe on 
 him, is not simply to believe what we have just said, but to be- 
 lieve that he hath been sent to us, given to us ; it is to believe 
 that the supreme object of the Father's love, he whose very 
 name of Son worthily characterizes his nature, the perfection 
 of glory, embracing in a boundless love the whole human race, 
 has clothed himself with our mortal flesh, in order to be our 
 Redeemer from death, our Representative, our Surety and In- 
 tercessor. Take away, by a mournful supposition, take away 
 Jesus Christ from the world, with his might of compassion, 
 and his title of Saviour, and by consequence, replace humanity 
 where Jesus Christ found it, before an unknown God, the God 
 of Sinai, enveloped in thick clouds, penetrated here and there, 
 only by threatening flashes of lightning ; or before the God of 
 the philosophers, — power without personality, essence without 
 feeling, gulf of existence, terror of the imagination and the 
 heart ; or, finally, before two closed gates, one of which is the 
 gate of perdition, the other that of annihilation.* Yes, re- 
 
 * It may be thought singular, that the God of the philosopher should ge- 
 nerally be an impersonal God, a God either so spiritual, or so material, that 
 he cannot be separated, even in idea from the universe he has made ; a God 
 so infinite, and so creative, that without volition or determination of the will, 
 he must ever produce whatever exists in what we call the creation, throwing 
 off continually, as from an exhaustless centre, all beings, and all modes of 
 being ; a God so perfect and absolute, that he has, properly speaking, neither 
 mind nor body, but is all mind and all body, and not only so, but blends and 
 absorbs all finite existences, material and immaterial, in his own boundless 
 essence. According to this view, men and angels, with all material things, 
 are but the necessary and outward manifestation of God, a part therefore of 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 257 
 
 place humanity where Jesus Christ found it, and say to that 
 humanity, Love God, if there be a God, love him if he be just, 
 love him if he loves you ! From the depths of those palpitating 
 hearts, you will hear uttered a thousand anxious cries, cries in- 
 
 God, shadowy and imperfect, and destined, in due time, to return unto God. 
 So that He only exists as the infinite and eternal Me, " power without per- 
 sonality, essence without feeling, gulf of existence (gouffre des existences), ter- 
 ror of the imagination and the heart." 
 
 It may be deemed singular, we say, that philosophers have generally formed 
 this conception of God, which, by the way, is the idea of the more dreamy and 
 speculative systems of pagan idolatry, and easily harmonizes with the grossest 
 superstition on the one hand, and the deepest sensualism on the other. But 
 when we look into the matter more narrowly, it will not appear so strange, 
 as at the first view. For those who reject revelation, necessarily reject the 
 idea of an absolute creation, and a superintending providence, truths which 
 lie at the basis of all correct theology ; and hence, they plunge at once into 
 that ocean of difficulties, where all the speculations of ancient heathen philo- 
 sophy were engulfed and lost. Assuming the axiom, ex nihilo, nihil Jit, " from 
 nothing, nothing is made," which is true in one sense, though not in another, 
 true perhaps in an absolute, but not in a relative sense, that is to say, true 
 when applied generally, but not true in reference to God, and the possibility 
 of his creating separate substances or essences, whether minds or bodies, in a 
 way not explained, or perhaps capable of being explained to us ; assuming 
 this, the philosophers referred to, make creation a necessary, and not a volun- 
 tary act of God, and represent matter as a mere modification of himself. Here 
 then the distinction between God and his creation, between spirit and matter, 
 vanishes, leaving but one substance, one essence or being, in existence, which 
 may be called God, .Nature, or the Universe, as individuals may please. Dr 
 Norton, in his Essay on the Latest Form of Infidelity, states, apparently on 
 good authority, " that the celebrated Atheist Spinoza, composed the work in 
 which his opinions are most fully unfolded, in the Dutch language, and com- 
 mitted it to his friend, the physician Mayer, to translate into Latin ; that, 
 where the name of God now appears, Spinoza had written Nature ; but that 
 Mayer induced him to substitute the former word for the latter, in order par- 
 tially to screen himself from the odium to which he might be exposed." 
 
 Spinoza, as all will admit, is the father of modern Pantheism, the high- 
 priest in reality of transcendental and mystical Atheism. He is much admired 
 by the Hegelians, and even by the Eclectics, of whom Cousin is the most dis- 
 tinguished representative ; and his works have recently been republished and 
 extensively circulated in Germany and France. In his Posthumous Ethics, he 
 sets out with the proposition that " there cannot be two substances or essen- 
 ces" — " that substance is self-existent and infinite," and consequently, that 
 there " is but one substance," which he calls God. " By God," sayshe, " I 
 understand a being absolutely infinite, that is, a substance consisting of infi- 
 nite attributes, every one of which expresses an infinite essence." (See Post- 
 humous Ethics, Schol. in Prop. 8 ; Schol. in Prop. 10). On this ground, 
 
258 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 cessantly checked. Yes, God loves us ; but what if he should 
 not love me ! Yes, God is just, but if he is just, he is formid- 
 able, and how can I love him ; and if not just, he is not to be 
 revered, and how can I love him ? God exists, that is clearer 
 than the light of the sun ; God is good, since he is God ; but 
 if he is God, he is holy, — what can I thence conclude, what 
 can I hope ? What does he will ? "What has he resolved ? Can 
 I love him simply because he is worthy of love ? Can I love 
 him if he does not love me ? Can I love one who perhaps hates 
 me? Can I love in such uncertainty ? And must not God first 
 set my heart at liberty, in order that I may run in the way of 
 his commandments ? 
 
 I represent thoughful and not frivolous men speaking thus ; 
 the latter perhaps imagine they love God, for the very reason, 
 perhaps, quite obvious in their view, that God is worthy of 
 
 God cannot, in the proper sense of the term create ; " for one substance can- 
 not be produced by another substance." Hence, also, Spinoza denies all 
 miracles, taking the very ground of Hume, that they are impossible ; and so 
 they are, if there be no independent and all- controlling God. " I will show 
 from Scripture, 1 ' he says, impiously referring to the word of God for authority, 
 just as Satan did in a similar instance, " that the decrees and commands of 
 God, and consequently his providence, are nothing but the order of nature. 
 (Tractatus Theologico Politicus, cap. VI, — as quoted by Dr Norton in his 
 Latest Form of Infidelity). Views similar to these are taken by some of our 
 New England Transcendentalists ; so that R. W. Emerson and Theodore 
 Parker deny all inspirations and miracles, and though the latter continues to 
 preach, and even to pray, the former has wisely abandoned both, as unphilo- 
 sophical and useless. 
 
 This, then, is the God of the philosophers ; a God without volition, without 
 affection, without righteousness, without even personality, — a mere idea, a 
 transcendental and pantheistic fancy ; and not " the Lord our God," who is 
 " above all, through all, and in all," the Father and Saviour of the human 
 family. O ! it is fearful to think, that it is an all-controlling and omnipotent 
 God that the philosophers reject. " We are free," says one of them (Heine, 
 in the Kirche-Zeittmg, Feb. 1839, quoted in the Biblical Repertory), and need 
 no thundering tyrant. We are of age, and need no fatherly care. We are 
 not the handiwork of any great mechanic. Theism is a religion for slaves, for 
 children, for Genevese, for watch-makers." 
 
 Do we start back with horror from the God of the philosophers ? What 
 then ? Are we infidels still ? Or do we accept the God of revelation ? But he 
 is just, — he punishes sin, — he has concluded all in unbelief. He demands the 
 heart, the life, the all ; and how can we give it, unless we are forgiven, recon- 
 ciled, and born again ? — T. 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 259 
 
 love because he is God. But mankind generally are not fri- 
 volous, they are serious, aud have proved it. Their religions, 
 opposed to the principle we have recognized, do not bind man 
 to God ; they do not breathe the spirit of love, they do not in- 
 spire it nor propagate it ; they rather propagate dread of the 
 name of God, and clearly testify what, in our present condition 
 of uncertainty and perplexity, is our natural instinct and ine- 
 vitable tendency. Enough exists to compel these presumptu- 
 ous men, at least to doubt, whether it is natural to love God. 
 But let them retire within themselves, and interrogate their 
 own thoughts. They speak of loving God ; but do they know 
 well what it is to love God ? Do they reflect that God requires 
 that he should be loved as God. There are terrors, there are 
 abysses in that single word ; a world intervenes between their 
 thoughts and the truth. That pagan philosopher was more 
 serious than they, and knew better the real condition of huma- 
 nity, who, either with indifference or grief, I know not which, 
 exclaimed, " It is impossible to love God. 
 
 But is the world, let them proceed to say, is the world so 
 worthy of love, that it ought rather than God to possess our 
 hearts ? Is the world more attractive than God ? 
 
 If such were the question here, the intellect has already de- 
 cided it; but the will does not immediately follow. The intel- 
 lect is prompt, very prompt ; it seizes, at a single glance, eter- 
 nal verities ; but the flesh is slow, and lingers behind. In our 
 present condition, we do not need to be told, detach yourselves 
 from the world, to be able to love God; but cleave to God, to 
 be able to detach yourselves from the world. The attraction 
 of the world is always experienced ; we feel it without an 
 effort of the will ; it is in resisting it that we must use our will. 
 But the attraction of God, in our actual situation, is felt only 
 by our intellect, and penetrates no further. We must first of 
 all love God, which depends not on our will, because we can- 
 not love an object in which we do not find our happiness. 
 God must reveal himself to us as the supreme happiness, and 
 not merely as the supreme perfection and the sovereign law. 
 Even then a great number, perhaps, will not love him ; but 
 
260 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 certain it is, that before knowing him in this character, none 
 will love him ; and if any one among men is capable of loving, 
 he will love him thenceforth or never. He certainly will love 
 him who, haunted by the recollection of his transgressions, 
 overwhelmed by the pressure of the law, consumed with sorrow 
 for his lost inheritance, hungering and thirsting for righteous- 
 ness, that is, for God himself, when he sees him revealed, with 
 all the characteristics of certainty, as a God merciful and gra- 
 cious, a father, and not a judge, nay, more than a father, as a 
 compassionate, devoted, and tender brother ! 
 
 Either the human heart is incapable, from its nature, of feel- 
 ing love, or that man will feel it who, enveloped in ignominy as 
 a garment, has seen the God of glory descending even to him, 
 to seek him in the depths of his disgrace ; who, from the gloom 
 and sorrow in which his conscience kept him plunged, has seen 
 himself transported into a region of light and hapj)iness ; who, 
 in respect to himself, has seen verified that amazing language 
 of the prophet, " In all their afflictions he was afflicted ;" who 
 has seen, — mystery, miracle ! — his God travelling by his 
 side, in the rugged path of life ; nay, voluntarily assuming the 
 burden which was crushing him ; a God humbled, a God weep- 
 ing, a God anguished, a God dying ! * That long contest, if I 
 
 * The translator must here take the liberty of repeating what has been al- 
 ready said in a note to the discourse on the Genius of the Gospel, p. 88, to 
 which he would refer his readers, and remind them that where our author re- 
 fers to God as " weeping, anguished and dying," he refers to " God manifest 
 in the flesh," in other words, to Jesus Christ, as human and divine. It is ex- 
 pressly said by the prophet, with regard to the infinite Jehovah himself, that, 
 w ' in all their afflictions he was afflicted ;" and it may not be as unphilosophi- 
 cal as some persons imagine, to represent the Divine Mind as sympathizing in 
 the profoundest manner, with the struggles and sufferings of humanity. There 
 is deeper meaning than rationalists wot of in the words of the apostle, " For 
 scarcely for a righteous man will one die ; peradventure for a good man some 
 would even dare to die. But God commendeth his love towards us, in that 
 while we were yet sinners Christ died for us." We are said to die when body 
 and spirit separate ; but the spirit does not perish. It sympathizes in the 
 agony of dissolution, but it lives on, as perfect as ever. So the Divinity in 
 Jesus Christ may have sympathized, in a manner inexplicable to us, with the 
 anguish of his death, and yet lived on, in immutable perfection and blessed- 
 ness. — T. 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 261 
 
 may dare to say it, that agony of God for generations, that 
 painful birth, by which humanity was brought forth to the life 
 of heaven, has been revealed to him in the ancient dispensa- 
 tion ; he has been shown the very steps of God impressed 
 upon the dust of ages, and mingled with the footprints of the 
 human race ; but at the trace which that God has left on the 
 rock of Calvary, the rock of his heart is broken, the veil of his 
 understanding torn away ; and what he could never think of 
 without temerity, he thenceforth conceives as necessary, that 
 if God has thus loved humanity, he ought to love it as God has 
 done, that is to say, with the same spirit, and in the same man- 
 ner. What, then, will he do ? None will ever love God, or 
 that man will love him ; that man will never love God, or he 
 will love him from this hour. Who can conceive of any means 
 of producing love superior to this ? What could God, yes God 
 himself, do more ? What could he give, after having given 
 himself ? That man, then, has only to believe in order to love ; 
 and because he loves, the works he will thenceforth perform 
 shall be works of God. 
 
 On this we make two remarks ; firstly, that all the works 
 he would have done, without that love, will be sanctified by 
 means of it ; secondly, that he will do works he would never 
 have done without it. For it must be confessed, that while 
 the death of Jesus Christ has created no duty absolutely new, 
 while all that is binding since his advent was binding before, — 
 for God is the God of all times ; it is yet certain that the feel- 
 ing with reference to our duties, and the vivid conception of 
 their nature, were not the same in fallen man as they were af- 
 ter God had added, if I may venture thus to express myself, to 
 his nature as God, the nature also of man. The commandment, 
 then, according to the expression of Jesus Christ, is old and 
 new ; old in itself, new in us. The morality of Christians is 
 not like that of the men of the world ; it is so little like it, 
 that those who frankly recognize and fully observe it, form, in 
 the midst of mankind in general, a peculiar race, and, as it 
 were, a new order of humanity. It is so little like it, that 
 those who profess it are inconceivable to those who do not 
 
 Y 
 
262 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 profess it, and the most common life, if in other respects 
 Christian, fails not to exhibit, in certain traits, an extra- 
 ordinary and mysterious principle, the name of which no one 
 knows but he who possesses it. (Rev. xix. 12). However 
 high the capacity of the natural man may be raised, there are 
 virtues which are found only in the practice of Christians, sa- 
 crifices of which Christians only are capable. Why ? Because 
 in their very faith, in that work of God of which our Saviour 
 speaks, is comprised a sacrifice more profound, more entire 
 than all others, a sacrifice in which, by anticipation, all others 
 are consummated. Love which springs from faith is deeper and 
 purer, more inexhaustible and immortal than all other love ; 
 for while all other love finds its limits in the nature of its ob- 
 ject, the love which has God for its object will in vain seek 
 limits in that which has none. We never devote ourselves, 
 without reserve, to a finite object ; for what finite object can 
 compensate us for the sacrifice of ourselves ? Must it not, at 
 the very least, leave us glory, which is approbation from with- 
 out, or that internal approbation, which is still glory ? But be- 
 tween God and the creature that loves him, there can be no 
 reserve ; for God is either all goodness and all glory, or he is 
 not ; and if he is not, we could not love him ; but if he is, we 
 can sacrifice ourselves, for there is nothing to lose with him. 
 What thenceforth can prevent us from giving him every thing, 
 and him from giving us back ourselves ? I have said ourselves, 
 for we are more truly in him than in ourselves ; it is no more 
 we that live, but Christ that liveth in us ; and our life, to use 
 the language of Paul, is hid with Christ in God. 
 
263 
 
 XX. 
 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 " Then said they unto him, what shall we do that we might work the works 
 of God ? Jesus answered and said unto them, this is the work of God. 
 that ye believe on him whom he hath sent." — St John vi. 28, 29. 
 
 SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 We have said enough to the Jews, enough to that numerous 
 class who persist in seeking the foundation of their hope in 
 works. Let us now turn to Christians, and, after having 
 shown that the condition of life and salvation is found only in 
 faith, let us endeavour to prove that this faith is a work. But 
 this word suggests a difficulty at once. 
 
 And when, it will be said to us, did believing become a 
 labour ; when did it become a work ? Do we not every day 
 hear these two terms, believing and acting, opposed to each 
 other ? Do we not continually hear you speaking of men who 
 believe, and do not act ? And when St Paul tells us that man 
 is saved by faith and not by works, and St James declares that 
 faith without works is dead, do not these two apostles make 
 works and faith entirely distinct ? * Besides, who, when asked 
 
 * Let no one take exception to this discourse from the peculiar use the 
 author makes of the term " work." By this he simply means a voluntary act, 
 and hence he insists that the exercise of faith, involving, as it does, an act of 
 volition and affection, is a real work. This position he sustains beyond the 
 possibility of refutation. But he rejects as heartily as the most rigid Calvinist 
 could desire, the idea that faith is a legal work, or in any sense a work of 
 merit, on the ground of which a sinner might claim salvation as a right. In- 
 deed he maintains that it is just the opposite, and involves a renunciation of 
 all merit.— T. 
 
264 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 respecting the nature of faith, will call it an action, and not 
 rather a disposition or state of the mind ? We say an involuntary 
 state, since, if it depends upon us to examine or not to examine 
 before believing, to act or not to act after having believed, it 
 does not absolutely depend on us to believe or not to believe. 
 Some one may propose to prove to me that a certain substance 
 is the remedy for a certain disease with which I am affected. 
 I may refuse my attention to the proofs of that truth, and such 
 refusal is a voluntary act. I may consent to hear them, and 
 such consent is also a voluntary act. In fine, after having permit- 
 ted myself to be convinced, I may use or not use the remedy, the 
 efficiency of which has been proved to me, and there, again, I 
 will and act. But to believe or not to believe in proofs com- 
 municated to me, is a thing in which my will has no part. It 
 is a fact and not an action. And if it is sometimes said that 
 such an one would not believe, what is this but saying that he 
 could not, or rather that, he would not listen to his reason and 
 his conscience, which would have compelled him to believe ? 
 Why, then, has Jesus Christ said, that " the work of God is 
 believing," which is precisely the same thing as saying, that 
 believing is a work, that it is a determination of a will ? 
 
 Such is the difficulty we propose to remove. We might con- 
 fine ourselves to a single reply, and it would be peremptory ; 
 for if faith is not a work, how could it be commanded; and if 
 commanded, why is it not a work ? Who would think of com- 
 manding any thing which did not depend upon the will ? But 
 this reply would only reduce to silence those who may have 
 provoked it ; that is all. At bottom it does not edify, and we 
 wish to edify. For this purpose we go further into the matter, 
 and say, without fear, taking our departure from the words of 
 Jesus Christ himself, that the faith which is not a work cannot 
 be imputed to us, cannot absolutely save us."" 
 
 * The author would willingly say that faith, irrespective of the righteous- 
 ness of Christ, is nothing. But it is the glory of tliis act of the soul, that it 
 makes the righteousness of Christ its own. It does not passively receive it, or 
 acquiesce in it, but embraces it, with a strong and tender affection, and by this 
 means incorporates it into its own nature. It is thus not merely a voluntary. 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 265 
 
 On this point we appeal to the consciousness of all. We do, 
 as the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews does, when he ex- 
 claims, " It is impossible that the blood of bulls and goats 
 should take away sin." (Heb. x. 4.) Does he reason, or in- 
 voke any external testimony ? No, he simply affirms ; " it is 
 impossible," is his language. It is a self-evident truth, written 
 in the consciousness of every man, which none would venture 
 to dispute. And we, too, after his example, say it is impos- 
 sible that what is not righteousness should be imputed as righte- 
 ousness. It is impossible that an involuntary act should be- 
 come the condition of salvation. It is impossible that a pure 
 and simple acquiescence in proofs should bear the slightest re- 
 lation to the possession of celestial happiness and the enjoy- 
 ment of God himself. It is impossible that God should ever 
 have said, " Believe in any way and in any spirit that Jesus 
 Christ is he whom I have sent, and that belief shall secure your 
 everlasting life." 
 
 We say that such a thing is impossible, because it is written, 
 on the one hand, that we are justified by faith, and on the 
 other, that without holiness no man shall see the Lord. But 
 in order that these two declarations should not contradict each 
 other, it is necessary that holiness should be included in faith 
 in the same manner that a plant is included in its germ ; in 
 other words, it is necessary that faith should be sanctifying. 
 But how should it be so, if we receive it only by the intellect, 
 and not by the heart, or as if it were a matter of indifference, 
 provided we believed in some way or another ? In such a case, 
 faith would not justify by making us holy, but without any 
 such influence ; it would justify whatever were its object. 
 Faith in the earth's rotundity would be as beneficial as faith in 
 Christ crucified. The former, it is evident, has no relation to 
 
 but a holy act. This, and this only, is the faith that justifies, and which is im- 
 puted to us for righteousness. Without it, no one can be saved, on which 
 ground it may properly be styled the condition of salvation. It is not, how- 
 ever, a meritorious, but a natural condition. The righteousness of Christ is 
 " unto and upon all them that believe," and upon them only. See the author's 
 note at the close of the discourse. — T. 
 
266 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 the heart, does not affect the conscience, puts in motion none 
 of our moral forces, leaves the whole interior man in a state of 
 slumber. But that makes no difference ; for, according to the 
 system in question, it is the mere abstract fact of faith, and not 
 its object, which saves us ; and the former of these objects is 
 entirely suitable for such a purpose. But if faith does not jus- 
 tify except when it sanctifies, it justifies by virtue of its object ; 
 and if that object does not sanctify, except so far as we submit 
 to it not only our intellect, but our heart, conscience and will, 
 in a word, all in us that is free, then assuredly is faith a work. 
 
 It will probably be said, that the object of Christian faith is 
 such that it is impossible to believe without feeling, in some 
 degree, the virtue inherent in that object. We reply, alas, no 
 it is not impossible. We do not undervalue that virtue, and 
 we are willing to suppose that a goodly number of those to 
 whom it has been given, without effort or examination, to be- 
 lieve, are, from that moment, born to a new life. And what is 
 this but to say that faith has become a work in them, what, in- 
 deed, we claim it should be to produce the fruit of salvation ? 
 But how many there are who in their souls have not submitted 
 to that necessary process ! How many there are to whom 
 Jesus Christ has been presented and demonstrated, but who 
 have not believed, because, in a certain sense, they would not 
 believe, or to speak more accurately, would not examine the 
 arguments and facts, which might have compelled them to be- 
 lieve. A work preceding faith, or a work in the act of faith 
 itself, work, action, volition, in one respect or another; we can- 
 not withdraw faith from that condition, we cannot divest our- 
 selves of that necessity. 
 
 We are here reminded, that the faith of Abraham was im- 
 puted to him for righteousness. But what was it in reality, 
 that was thus imputed to him ? Was it his having believed 
 that God who had appeared to him with the irresistible proofs 
 of his divinity, was truly God ? There was no choice in that, 
 consequently, no righteousness. Will you then impute to the 
 Hebrews as righteousness, their having believed that the manna 
 which fell from heaven in the desert, that the cloud, at once 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 267 
 
 luminous and dark, which went before them, that the sea ele- 
 vatiDg its waves like walls, on the right hand and on the left, 
 attested the presence and protection of God ? That were to 
 confound, in both of these cases, faith with vision. No, faith, 
 on the part of Abraham, begins at the moment, when, through 
 a visible sign, he believes in the invisible ; at the moment, 
 when he goes under the command of God, to meet the unknown, 
 the uncertain, nay more, the impossible ; for what more im- 
 possible than to immolate his own son. In these cases, there 
 was no faith without previous sight ; but subsequently to be- 
 lieve without seeing, because sight had been enjoyed, to oppose 
 the word of God to the most appalling, the most overwhelming 
 appearances, to advance with assured step, in the night, to plant 
 a firm foot in the void, — is that a state or a work ? Is that to 
 act, or only to believe ? To believe in this manner, is it not 
 to obey ? Yes, faith is the internal obedience of the con- 
 science and the will. The faith of Abraham was then a work, 
 and this was the reason why it could be imputed to him for 
 righteousness. 
 
 To yield to proofs and authorities, which it would be impos- 
 sible, even if we desired it, to resist, is not to believe, but to 
 see ; it is to be forced, like Abraham, to recognize the voice of 
 God in the vision, or like the Hebrews, the presence of God in 
 the cloud. "What in such a case could be imputed to our will, 
 is having given attention, if, indeed we have done so, but not 
 our having seen. Faith does not begin, except where volition 
 begins, where the heart performs a part, where, in a word, there 
 is action. Faith is then a work, or it is nothing. But every 
 one understands how faith, that is, such a faith, can be imputed 
 for righteousness, but no one can comprehend how a simple 
 state, by whatever name it may be called, can ever be de- 
 signated as righteousness or unrighteousness ; for righteousness 
 is the will in order, unrighteousness is the will in disorder ; it 
 is ever the will, at least, in its internal action. 
 
 And let no one say that the question turns on comprehend- 
 ing or not comprehending. Such an idea may find its applica- 
 tion in other circumstances, but it has nothing to do here. We 
 
268 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 affirm that the question does turn upon comprehending, and 
 that this is one of the things which no one can believe without 
 comprehending. I acknowledge, if religion were composed 
 only of things comprehensible, it could not be the true religion ; 
 but neither would it be such if it were composed only of things 
 incomprehensible ; for religion is a virtue, it is a duty, or it is 
 nothing ; but where can there be a virtue without conscience, 
 a duty without thought? Let every thing else in religion be 
 incomprehensible, this at least, cannot be such. Good cannot 
 be good, nor can evil be evil, unless I recognize it as such. 
 Take away this, and the very name of religion vanishes, no- 
 thing but fatality remains. Religion, it is true, must bind me 
 to God, but through my convictions, through the acknowledge- 
 ment of my conscience. Whatever binds me to God in any 
 other way, is not religion, otherwise the animal abandoned to 
 his instinct, the tree that bends under the wind, the star which 
 revolves in the heavens, would possess religion as much as I, 
 would, in fact, be religious beings. If there is any thing in re- 
 ligion I ought to comprehend, it is assuredly the duty which 
 stands at the head of all my other duties, and gives birth to 
 them all. 
 
 So far from regretting, that faith is represented as a work, I 
 would rejoice at it. I would lay it down as a principle, that 
 faith in him whom God hath sent, in order to be imputed as 
 righteousness, must be a work, or, that it may become such, 
 and consequently would seek to discover how much of volition 
 it includes or developes. 
 
 And to begin prior to the exercise of faith, or to the moment 
 when we believe, let us acknowledge, that it is even here a 
 work, a good work, to examine an object of belief, when it is 
 presented or proposed to us by persons worthy of respect, when 
 it concerns our souls and God, that is to say, what is greatest 
 in man, and greatest above man, in a word, when it has for its 
 end our supreme interest, I mean our relations to God, and 
 our eternal state. He, who in such a case, refuses to examine, 
 does a work, and that work is bad ; on the other hand, he who 
 examines, also does a work, and that work is good ; he does 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 269 
 
 not yet believe, but he has acted ; work has preceded faith. 
 Let us suppose him no longer an unbeliever, or a doubter, but 
 a man who believes. He holds for true, and we shall not in- 
 quire how he has been led to do so, that God has sent his Son 
 into the world to save sinners. That, I allow, may be a faith 
 of the intellect, and of the head. It may be that this man has 
 adopted that creed, either on hearsays or proofs, as he might 
 have adopted one just the opposite, without feeling an interest 
 in its contents ; in the same manner that he has admitted, from 
 arguments to which he could not reply, that the earth is a 
 globe, and that it revolves around the sun. Such a condition 
 of mind, is certainly difficult to conceive in a man, whom a se- 
 rious interest in the concerns of his soul has induced to examine 
 that great question ; for if his examination has been earnest, 
 will not his faith also be earnest ? After all, such a condition 
 is possible, it is to be met with ; and there are not wanting 
 persons, either perfectly indifferent to the character and con- 
 tents of the religion they profess, or who adopt the doctrine of 
 salvation, as one upon the whole, agreeable and proper. If 
 there are those who believe in this way, and would to God it 
 were a mere supposition, their faith can have no more moral 
 value than that of the man who believes in the roundness of 
 the earth and its circular motion about the sun ; and since the 
 human mind absolutely refuses to admit that a faith without 
 any moral quality, can be the condition of salvation, these two 
 classes of men are, in reference to their salvation, on the same 
 level, and in the same situation ; and it appears no more ab- 
 surd to say that one man will be saved for believing in the as- 
 tronomical truth to which we have referred, than to pretend 
 that he will be saved for having believed, with all the power of 
 his intellect, in the truth of the gospel, and the advent of Jesus 
 Christ. The first of these beliefs is morally as valuable as the 
 other ; and if in any respect the 1 second even somewhat excels 
 the other, it is, perhaps, because its object is more inconceiv- 
 able. How many persons do we see, especially in the church 
 of Rome, who make the merit of faith to reside in believing 
 what is difficult, so that the more incredible the things which 
 
 z 
 
270 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 they believe, the greater is their faith, and the better their 
 title to salvation. 
 
 But if there are many who believe thus, there are those who, 
 receiving the same truth, believe it very differently. In their 
 case, to believe in salvation by grace is to consent to be saved 
 by grace, whether that consent accompany or follow, or has 
 even preceded belief, properly speaking. What is certain in 
 this case is, that belief, unless associated with the consent of 
 the heart and of the will, is only a mere belief, and by no 
 means faith. Such consent is the essential, the capital ele- 
 ment in faith ; so that if any one, without a knowledge of Jesus 
 Christ, had felt his need of a Saviour, had sought after him, 
 and, so to speak, had eventually accepted him, he would possess 
 the essential conditions of true faith, and would receive the be- 
 nefit of it.* Thus the distinct belief in the Mystery of godli- 
 ness, inasmuch as it is only a belief, may remain without effect 
 in the case of him who possesses it ; while the disposition of 
 heart which would receive Jesus Christ, were he known, may 
 have all the characteristics and all the value of real faith ; 
 for the latter is a work, and the former is not. 
 
 This is a work assuredly, and because it is a tvork, it is a 
 work of God. What, in fact, is included in such a belief? If 
 what it includes does not characterize it as a work of God, no 
 human work can merit that name. Indeed, what must join 
 itself to every other work to make it a work of God, forms the 
 very foundation of this. There is a mysterious salt, without 
 which every work becomes corrupted ; well, the work of which 
 we are speaking, is precisely that mysterious and preservative 
 salt. What is it that corrupts all our works ? Pride and self- 
 righteousness ; pride, which persuades us that our own personal 
 powers are sufficient for the task imposed on us ; self-righteous- 
 ness, which ascribes the merit of them to ourselves, and robs 
 God of it ; I say, pride and self-righteousness, which prevent 
 us from believing that we need God's favour, and are depen- 
 
 * This is to be regarded as a supposition or hypothesis, for the sake of argu- 
 ment and illustration. Still such a case may actually exist. Who shall set 
 limits to the power of the Spirit, or the compassion of God ? — T. 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 271 
 
 dent upon his grace, make of each man his own God, and erect 
 an altar to him in his own heart. Such is the concealed athe- 
 ism of every man, before the grace of God has opened his eyes* 
 It is this which mingles itself with all our works, and even 
 with all our religious acts. Such is the atheism of many pre- 
 tended Christians, less Christians, perhaps, on that account, 
 than many pagans. But we, ask, once more, what does the 
 faith in him whom God hath sent, include ? What does it 
 suppose, if not the complete renunciation of our pretensions, the 
 acknowledgment of our state of guilt and condemnation, the 
 confession of our inability to save ourselves, the solemn abdica- 
 tion of our merits, an entire resignation of ourselves to the true 
 author of our salvation ; in a word, God put into his own place, 
 and we into ours, God on the throne, and we in the dust ? Is 
 believing in this way not doing a work, the first, the most in- 
 dispensable of works, the work which is the source of all other 
 works, in a word, the work of works ? And are we not justi- 
 fied in claiming, that if this is a work, it is also, and for the 
 same reason, a work of God ? 
 
 But this is not merely a work, it is a labour, an effort. Sup - 
 pose one of two cases. Suppose that the soul is thus stripped 
 before or after believing, no matter which, it is necessary in 
 every case that this self-renunciation should take place volun- 
 tarily ; and after as well as before, before as well as after, it is 
 an act of the will. It is not necessarily comprised in mere be- 
 lief, it does not necessarily follow it ; and since in reality, to 
 speak with exactness, it may be accomplished by one who has 
 not yet believed, so may one believe without having accom- 
 plished it.* Whether it be before or after the possession of 
 certainty, it is a special task, as painful as it is indispensable. 
 To strip ourselves, under the hand of God, of all self-righteous- 
 ness and self-confidence, and acknowledge ourselves sinners 
 and undone, will cost the flesh a combat more or less long, 
 more or less sanguinary. The victory is so difficult, secured 
 
 * The author here evidently speaks of a formal belief, in which there is ne- 
 cessarily no act of self-renunciation. This, therefore, may precede or follow 
 such a belief. It may be accomplished with or without it. — T. 
 
272 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 by means so foreign to us, and in a way so mysterious, that no 
 one who has gained it would be unwilling to declare that to 
 him faith is a work of God in every sense of the term, that is 
 to say, the action of God in and by his own. 
 
 It is thus we may comprehend how faith is commanded as a 
 work, and presented as a duty, — I acknowledge as the most 
 difficult of duties. But some one, for want of reflection, may 
 say, Why is the most difficult at the commencement ? To 
 which we reply, Why should not the most difficult be at the 
 commencement ? What earnest work is there of which the 
 first steps are not the most difficult ? But why do we speak 
 here of a commencement, as if there were in reality any thing 
 beyond it ; and as if this were not the only work, and all others 
 but the simple consequences or applications of it ; as if any 
 work could be done independent of this first work ; as if any 
 work, separated from this fundamental one, were not as diffi- 
 cult as itself ; as if each particular work did not include that 
 work of God, spoken of by Jesus Christ, and as if it were not 
 necessarily present in every true work of God ? For there is 
 only one alternative ; either your works are done in the spirit 
 of pride and self-righteousness, — and such, I admit, are less 
 difficult than those my text proposes to you, — or, on the other 
 hand, you must allow that they are works of God, and there- 
 fore contain the great work of which my text speaks, that is, 
 the entire renunciation of the natural man ; and if they contain 
 it, how can they be said to be less difficult ? They are that 
 very work under different forms, and with different applica- 
 tions. Jesus Christ has truly said, that there is in reality only 
 one work, which is, from the heart to believe on Him whom 
 God hath sent. 
 
 We have said that the first act or work which is included in 
 a true faith, is an internal self-renunciation, a voluntary sub- 
 stitution of the righteousness and power of God for our own 
 power and righteousness ; for we cannot really put on Christ, 
 without first stripping off self. But is there not something 
 more in faith ? Faith embraces Jesus Christ, in his entire cha- 
 racter. But Jesus Christ is at once the most absolute grace 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 273 
 
 and the most perfect law; so that to believe in him is to em- 
 brace a grace and a law. And by what name but that of faith 
 do you call that confidence, with which the Christian accepts 
 the law from his Saviour, whatever may be the difficulty, or the 
 danger connected with it, and that, too, simply because it is 
 the law of his Saviour ? Those commandments which revolt 
 the flesh he accepts ; those sacrifices to which he sees no limits, 
 he adopts ; those combats which form a part of his profession, 
 he anticipates ; and those difficulties, to which he would have 
 hitherto yielded, he meets, even at the moment when he has a 
 more profound and vivid sense than ever of his personal weak- 
 ness. Is there, in one of the dogmas he has accepted, any thing 
 more mysterious than this obedience, in some sense, superna- 
 tural ? Is there in grace any thing more obscure than the law, 
 I mean the law as he understands it, and thenceforth accepts ? 
 Where are the powers at his disposal ? Where will he find 
 the means to be used, in such a case ? What miraculous bridge 
 will be stretched between his duty and its accomplishment ? 
 He does not see, but he hopes. For if faith be what it is styled 
 in the Epistle to the Hebrews, a vivid representation of things 
 hoped for, a demonstration of things not seen, is that confidence 
 he feels in his Surety faith, or is it not ? Why do I speak of 
 hope ? Before even hoping, he must decide ; before believing 
 in victory, he must belie ye in duty; he embraces it with closed 
 eyes ; he cleaves, in duty, to what he loves the least ; and thus 
 he better recognizes his natural vocation, which is to combat 
 and sacrifice self. But what is believing in this way, except 
 to perform an act of will ? What is such a faith but a work 
 in all the force of the term, and a work which does not differ 
 from others, except that it is done in the solitude of the heart, 
 and with God only for a witness ? 
 
 Let us resume. We have supposed a man who, seriously 
 penetrated with the interests of his soul, and the great import- 
 ance of eternal things, examines before believing, — which is 
 itself a work ; a man who, in submitting his mind to the 
 truths of the gospel, consents to the humiliation they require, 
 and the self-sacrifice they impose, — which also is a work ; a 
 
274 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 man, in fine, who, in advance, voluntarily embraces all the con- 
 sequences of grace, that is, all the duties of the Christian life, 
 — and this, furthermore, has the character of a work. What 
 are all these combined ? Faith. What, indeed, is faith with- 
 out them ? What is faith, reduced to an intellectual convic- 
 tion of the truth of the gospel, but a naked acceptance of sal- 
 vation as salvation ? Is this still faith ? If so, we should be 
 justified in saying that there are two faiths which equally jus- 
 tify, equally save ; which is the same thing as to say, that 
 salvation is to be had at two unequal prices, and on two diffe- 
 rent conditions. In the case of one, on condition of believing, 
 upon any authority, that a certain fact has taken place ; in that 
 of others, on condition of having chosen the truth, having sub- 
 mitted to it their heart as well as intellect, and having trans- 
 ferred to God entirely the confidence they had in themselves. 
 The first of these acts, in which the heart has nothing to do, is 
 imputed for righteousness ; the second, in which it bears so 
 great a part, is also equally imputed for righteousness. The 
 faith which does not depend upon the "will is commanded, as 
 well as that of which the will is the organ. Faith passive and 
 servile has the same value as faith active and free ; conse- 
 quently the obedience of servitude is equal, in moral worth, to 
 the obedience of freedom; knowledge is equal to love; the fact 
 to the action. We do not accept this doctrine, because we find 
 it neither in our conscience nor in the gospel. We acknow- 
 ledge that every beginning of what is right is good, in the 
 hands of God ; that passive and servile faith may become one 
 that is active and free. But until this is the case, we claim 
 that it is not faith, at least not living faith ; and not merely 
 because faith without works is dead, but because the faith, 
 which is not a work, is dead. 
 
 We confess that we feel ourselves well fortified, with such a 
 view, against the objections of sceptics, who, for ages, have de- 
 clared themselves scandalized with a doctrine which seems to 
 absolve man from the necessity of being virtuous, and even of 
 using his will, because it imposes upon him, as the only condi- 
 tion of salvation, a mere opinion of the intellect. Shall we be 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 275 
 
 equally fortified against the objections of Christians, those we 
 mean who understand differently from us the doctrine of salva- 
 tion by faith ? It will be left for you to judge. 
 
 Perhaps they will say to us at the outset, the language of 
 the gospel is more simple than yours. It does not say to us, 
 Believe in such a manner ; but, Believe in the Lord Jesus 
 Christ, and thou shalt be saved. And if it speak so, what 
 then ? What does that make against our position ? How does 
 it prove that the object of faith is every thing, and its nature 
 nothing ? It is, doubtless, necessary, in order to enjoy the 
 benefits of faith, to believe in its object. It will, also, fre- 
 quently happen, that he who has believed, no matter how, will 
 not remain there. His faith in a matter of so great importance 
 as salvation by grace, will not leave him always indifferent. 
 As many others have set out from the conviction of their 
 misery to embrace with ardour the promise of that redemp- 
 tion, the contemplation of so great a blessing will lead him, 
 also, to feel, what without it he never would have felt, his 
 misery and his guilt. In the majority of cases, then, it is 
 already much to have believed by the intellect or by the 
 heart, with or without the concurrence of the will. We do 
 not deny this ; and certainly we are not surprised that the 
 Holy Spirit, who knows what is in the soul, and what re- 
 action the unexpected offer of salvation may exert upon the 
 conscience, has said, by the mouth of the apostles and of Jesus 
 Christ himself, believe, only believe, and ye shall be saved. 
 But would this be saying, that faith of any kind would, in re- 
 ality, be imputed for righteousness ? Who will dare to claim 
 it ? And can it be that on the nature of faith, the gospel 
 says nothing more than this, and never makes it a work ? We 
 will not repeat what we have already said, that what is not a 
 work, and does not spring from the will, could not be com- 
 manded. We -will not avail ourselves of our text, where faith 
 in him whom God has sent is expressly called a work. But 
 how many passages in the gospel directly or indirectly esta- 
 blish this truth. And to confine ourselves only to one, which, 
 by way of analogy, will suggest a host of others, what do you 
 
276 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 think of those persons who are represented as receiving the 
 word into good and honest hearts? What is that good and 
 honest heart, if not a heart sincere and earnest ? And if such, 
 according to our Lord, is the only soil which bears fruit, how 
 can we doubt that faith, planted in the intellect only, should 
 be a faith sterile and dead ? 
 
 But faith, it is said, is the work of God, and we make it the 
 work of man ; it is a grace, and we make it a merit ; and thus 
 attack the gospel in its essential and fundamental character. 
 What does this objection amount to ? When, in evangelical 
 teaching, were the terms work and merit synonymous ? And 
 when was recommending a man to do works recommending 
 him to procure merit ? Cannot we, then, insist on any duty, 
 or call for any sacrifice, without replacing on its pedestal the 
 idol of self-righteousness, which the gospel abhors, and which 
 Jesus came to cast down ? The consequence is horrible, but 
 inevitable. If, in giving to faith the name of a work, we have 
 brought an accusation against the doctrine of the freeness of 
 salvation, all other works, all Christian morality, bring against 
 it the same accusation. If to represent the will as intervening, 
 in faith, is to maintain that man can of himself do any thing, 
 those who have represented all works of morality as voluntary 
 acts have affirmed that man can do every thing. If, on the 
 contrary, they have spoken thus of morality in general, with- 
 out incurring a reproach so grave, we shall incur it no more 
 than they. Besides, the reserve they attach to every appeal 
 which they make to the human will for the fulfilment of the 
 law, we attach with as much right and propriety to the appeal 
 we make to men to believe on him whom God hath sent. For 
 if, after having said to Christians, " work," they add, " for it 
 is God that worketh in you to will and to do," we, on our part, 
 after saying to unbelievers, " believe," add, " none can say 
 that Jesus Christ is Lord, but by the Holy Spirit." It is God 
 who commands, and it is God, also, that gives us the power to 
 believe. 
 
 What, I pray you, is that work which we make the condi- 
 tion of salvation ? Have you duly considered it ? That work 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 277 
 
 is essentially the abandonment of all merit, the renunciation of 
 all salvation coming from works. That work is the exclusion 
 of works as a title to the Divine favour. What! have we 
 drawn merit from such a source as this ? Have we merely 
 transplanted and not extirpated error ? Have we impoverished 
 ourselves, only to grow richer in reality ? Do not permit 
 yourselves to be deceived or terrified by words. One fact re- 
 mains ; man will never be saved as long as he believes he has 
 power to do it by his own works ; nay, he will never be saved 
 until he renounces the desire of being saved by his own works. 
 Not that renunciation will save him ; for such an act supposes 
 that he has nothing in himself, absolutely nothing by which he 
 can be saved ; — but is such a renunciation a condition of salva- 
 tion, or is it not ? Yes, it is a condition of salvation. Is such 
 renunciation an action, a work, or is it not ? Yes, it is an ac- 
 tion, a work. , A work, then, is presented in the gospel, as a 
 condition of salvation ; but like all works, and more clearly 
 than all works, it is a grace, a gift, and not a merit. It is, we 
 repeat it, the work of God, in every sense which can be given 
 to that expression ; in the sense that it is according to the mind 
 of God, and in the sense also, that it is God that works it by 
 us, and in us. 
 
 If the reproach of injecting into the bosom of religion the 
 impure doctrine of self-righteousness and merit in works, falls 
 with propriety on any one, it is upon those who refuse to faith 
 the character we ascribe to it. It is upon those who make 
 faith a servile and sordid work. For what can be more sordid 
 and servile than to claim salvation, and the eternal society of 
 God, at the price of a passive acquiescence in a certain doc- 
 trine, without putting ourselves in fellowship with it, and in 
 passing, with bended head, like slaves, beneath the yoke of 
 mere knowledge.* This is not less a work than the one we 
 propose, but it is a work without freedom, without morality, 
 without religion. My brethren, you must consent to acknow- 
 ledge this ; on whatever side you turn, it is a work you find 
 
 * The author's allusion here is to the custom of incorporating captives into 
 the Roman armies, by passing them under the yoke. — T. 
 
278 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 there ; but in the one case, it is a work of God, in the other, a 
 work of man. A faith which is neither the one nor the other, 
 cannot be conceived, cannot be found. 
 
 But we confound, it will be further said, profound and sa- 
 cred distinctions. We commingle elements which the gospel 
 has carefully separated ; we carry disorder and confusion into 
 that beautiful economy, which, placing faith on one side, and 
 works on the other, has traced limits which it does not become 
 any one to efface. If we have effaced them, acknowledge that 
 the words of our text might furnish our excuse. Who can be 
 surprised that once at least, some one has given to faith the 
 name of a work, a name which our Lord himself has thus for - 
 mally given it ? But no, we have effaced nothing. The dis- 
 tinction exists. It has even up to a certain point, the quality 
 of an opposition ; but it does not depend upon a word. Even 
 if faith should be a work, it is not less a work distinct from 
 those which are conceived and accomplished without it. Let 
 any one call it a work as long as he pleases, it will be no less 
 faith ; it will be no less the condition of works, the beginning 
 of works, the most difficult of works. It will no less remain the 
 strait gate that must be entered, the condition that must be 
 fulfilled, the victory which must be gained, the yoke which 
 must be borne, before we can do the works of God. And if 
 you accede to all this, the distinction subsists, the truth is 
 saved. After which we shall admit without difficulty, that it 
 may be useful, and perhaps the matter has been thus ordained, 
 that it may be necessary that this distinction should have the 
 form with which it is invested in the gospel, and that the dif- 
 ference of the words should mark the difference of the things. 
 But he who looks into the matter more narrowly perceives that 
 the Christian life is one and indivisible in its nature and ten- 
 dency ; and he only who can separate a river from its source, 
 and show us where the source ends, and the river begins, can 
 also separate faith from the life that flows from it, and show us 
 where faith ends and work begins. Let the river expand, or 
 dig itself a deeper channel, let it flow with a scarcely percep- 
 tible motion, or leap in cataracts, let it reach the ocean by a 
 
THE WORK OF GOD, 279 
 
 course the most direct, or by a thousand various windings, let 
 it confine itself to a single channel, or pour, through many dif- 
 ferent channels, its abounding waters ; is it not ever, whether 
 near or at a distance from its source, the same river, the same 
 water ? Spiritual life is also a river, in which the mass of water, 
 the direction, the channels, every thing in fact but the river, 
 may vary. That water, springing up into everlasting life, like a 
 river, may change its name in its course, as a river often changes 
 its name. Now it is repentance, now conversion, now sancti- 
 fication ; all these names distinguish the places and times of 
 the same fact ; sanctification is already in repentance, and sanc- 
 tification is a conversion that perpetuates itself; conversion is 
 a sanctification begun, and faith, according to the idea we have 
 given of it, encloses, only to manifest at a later time, but really 
 encloses, all the elements of the Christian life. Is not the whole 
 river in its source ? Who that has seen the source has not seen 
 the river ? In the same way, the whole life is in faith, and he 
 who has seen faith has seen the life. Faith is not a separate 
 work, it is every work, every work of God. Might not the 
 man who holds an acorn in his hand say, I hold in my hand an 
 oak ? For that acorn is all that is necessary in itself to become 
 an oak. 
 
 Let us leave these reasonings and images, and open the New 
 Testament. We must absolutely falsify it, to maintain that 
 faith is not altogether the work of God, or refuse to acknow- 
 ledge, that if imputed for righteousness, it is because it possesses 
 a righteous character. Do you not say, that faith without 
 works is dead ? Do you not say, that without holiness no man 
 shall see the Lord ? Do you not say, that every one shall be 
 punished or rewarded according to the good or the evil he has 
 done in the body ? Ah, then, what account do you give of the 
 fatted calf killed for the prodigal son, and the joy of angels, 
 greater over one sinner that repents than over ninety and nine 
 just persons that need no repentance ? It will serve no good 
 purpose to reply, that they have done works since their con- 
 version. Have the others ceased to do them ? Have not the 
 others done them for a long time ? Why, then, is he who labours 
 
280 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 in the vineyard from the eleventh hour, treated as he who l&~ 
 boured from the first ? Why, for we must say the whole, why 
 have not the just, who have spent a long life, more to hope, 
 than those, who, having lived fewer years, have, with the same 
 zeal, done fewer works ? Why, if it is not that faith is the work 
 entire, the whole work, of which particular works are the de- 
 velopement or manifestation ? Why if it is not that salvation 
 depends upon what we are, and not upon what we do, and that 
 the times and opportunities God gives us for action, are destined 
 essentially to make us become what we ought to be ? how 
 important is this lesson, since it is the last that Jesus gave us, 
 and siDce he chose to give it, in the solemn hour of his passion. 
 It was on the cross, and when he was just about to yield his 
 pure spirit to God, that he said to the thief crucified at his side 
 (Luke xxiii. 43), " To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise \" 
 Yet he was a robber ! And you have said, without holiness no 
 man shall see the Lord, and every one shall receive according 
 to the good or evil he has done in the body. But you add, he 
 believed, for he said (v. 42), " Remember me when thou comest 
 into thy kingdom," —and his faith was imputed to him for 
 righteousness. But it is you also who have said that faith 
 without works is dead ; and what works had that man done, 
 if not the works of the devil ? Said Jesus Christ, on one occa- 
 sion, to the multitude, " I have done many good works among 
 you, for which of these good works do ye stone me V And we 
 are tempted to say to the Saviour, That man has done many 
 bad works ; Lord, for which of these, dost thou give him hea- 
 ven? Ah, my brethren, it is that an instant may have the 
 value of a whole life, and a single movement of the heart may 
 equal in value a long career of good works ; it is that Jesus 
 Christ who read the heart of that man, saw therein all the good 
 works he would have done had he lived, and imputed them to 
 him, as if he had done them ; it is that if he had not done every 
 thing he would have done, he is by his faith, from that moment, 
 all that he ought to be ; it is that, if he had not done works, 
 he had done the work, which is to believe in Him whom God 
 hath sent. 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 281 
 
 " Remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom !" 
 That request comprises two ideas. I have need of a Saviour, — 
 O Jesus, be that Saviour ! To use the second of these expres- 
 sions one must positively believe in Jesus Christ, he must know 
 that he is come, or that he will come. On this account we say, 
 happy they who have seen and have believed ! But for a man 
 simply to say, I have need of a Saviour ; and further to add, 
 my burden is greater than I can bear ; Lord, be merciful to me 
 a sinner, and if thou canst forgive, forgive ; in a word, to feel 
 his transgressions, to deplore them, to cry to God from the 
 depths of his sorrow, to refuse for that internal disease all the 
 dangerous remedies and deceitful palliatives of superstition, to 
 embrace, were it offered, the pardon of God as his only re- 
 source, does he necessarily require a knowledge of the promise, 
 or to have heard the name of Jesus pronounced ? We cannot be- 
 lieve it. The precursor of the Messiah, the prophet of repent- 
 ance, John the Baptist, comparing his ministry with that of 
 Jesus, called himself a voice of the earth ; as if he had been 
 sent to give a voice to the sentiments which were ever on the 
 earth, and which formed themselves of their own accord in the 
 bosom of the natural man before the advent, nay, before the 
 anticipation of the sovereign Mediator.* But these sentiments, 
 which are of the earth, are the same as those we have described, 
 although they manifest themselves in very few individuals ; 
 and the distinct knowledge of Jesus Christ is the only means of 
 awakening them in the majority of men. We ascribe them un- 
 hesitatingly to grace, to the influence of the Divine Spirit, who 
 has always breathed wherever he would, and has never permit- 
 ted himself to be bound ; that is to say, we believe that in all 
 times and in all places there have been involuntary witnesses 
 to the great truth which lies at the foundation of all evangeli- 
 cal truths, namely, the conviction of our first fall, and the ina- 
 bility to raise ourselves without the interposition of God him- 
 self, t Well, then, on what elevation will you place the souls 
 
 * This idea is probably derived from John iii. 31. — T. 
 t It is by no means difficult to prove that some of the more pure and thought- 
 ful minds among the ancient heathen philosophers had a just sense of their 
 
282 THE WORK OP GOD. 
 
 in whom that truth revealed itself before the great truth of the 
 mediation of Jesus Christ was made known to them, the souls, 
 which, as much as was possible for them, believed before they 
 had seen, in comparison with those who, having known Jesus 
 
 own ignorance and sinfulness, and longed for a purer and better state of 
 things, nay more, gave some vague intimations, and, as it were, natural predic- 
 tions of a future glorious Deliverer. Plato, in his Tkewtetos, as his readers are 
 well aware, discourses largely of a former " incorrupt and happy condition of 
 the human race," a sort of golden age, in which " God familiarly conversed 
 with men, taking care of them as he does a flock," but that growing " terres- 
 trial and vicious," intermingling " the divine nature" yet remaining in them, 
 with much " deadly evil," as he frequently calls the depravity of man, " came 
 to shame and ruin." A passage in one of his Dialogues represents Socrates 
 meeting one of his disciples, and attempting to convince him that he knows 
 neither what to pray for, nor how to pray. He then proceeds to say, " It seems 
 best to me that we expect quietly, nay, it is absolutely necessary that we wait 
 with patience, till such time as we can learn certainly how we ought to behave 
 towards God and man. Till that time arrives, it may be safer to forbear offer- 
 ing sacrifices, as you know not whether they are acceptable to God or not." 
 In another passage in his Tftecetetos, he remarks, that " Our recovery from cor- 
 ruption must be by a speedy flight to God ;" and one of his followers com- 
 menting on this, says, that " this flight is not to depart from the earth, but that 
 we become, even while we are on earth, righteous, and holy, and wise." " I 
 agree with you, Socrates," is the reply which Plato, in his Dialogues, puts into 
 the mouth of one of his disciples, to the argument of Socrates on the immor- 
 tality of the soul, " that to discover the certain truth of these things in this 
 life is impossible, or at least very difficult. We ought, therefore, by all means, 
 to do one of two things ; either by hearkening to instruction, and by our own 
 diligent study, to find out the truth ; or if that be impossible, then to fix on 
 that which appears to human reason best and most probable, and to make that 
 our raft while we sail this stormy sea, unless one could have a still more sure 
 and safe guide, such as a divine revelation would be, on which we might make 
 the voyage of life, as in a ship that fears no danger." It is well known that 
 Plutarch, who lived about the middle of the first century, but had no ac- 
 quaintance with Christianity, made a wonderful approximation to the truth, 
 and possessed certain traits of character which, as we may suppose, would 
 have prepared him to welcome the gospel. " Would that an apostle could 
 have \lsited him in his youth," says a writer in the Christian Review for De- 
 cember 1844, " and commended to him the gospel of Christ. What a new and 
 heavenly light might have shone around him in respect to the great problem 
 which he mentions on the twenty-ninth page (Delay of the Deity in the 
 Punishment of the Wicked), ' It is likely thatjthe soul of every sinner revolves 
 these things within herself, and reasons, How, escaping from the memory of 
 her iniquities, and delivering herself from the consciousness of them, and being 
 made pure, she may, anew, live another life.' We do not wonder that a 
 bishop of the Greek church in the middle of the eleventh century, was prompted 
 
THE WORK OP GOD. 283 
 
 Christ, believe in him with a literal and passive faith, not with 
 a free consent, but with a servile belief, and who, to express the 
 whole in a word, do not embrace him, and adorn themselves 
 with his merits and glory? "Which of these, the first or the se- 
 cond, best fulfil the conditions of true faith ? To whom prefer- 
 ably will their faith be imputed for righteousness ? To those 
 whose faith is complete but dead, or to those whose faith is in- 
 complete, but living ? To those whose faith is a work, or to 
 those whose faith is not a work ? To those who have not known 
 the Saviour, but have desired him, or to those who knowing 
 him, do not desire nor value him ? To those who believe in a 
 Saviour, or to those who believe in their need of a Saviour ? 
 Your consciences will pronounce. 
 
 Ah, if long before the advent of Christ, there existed 6 some 
 such men, and in the present day, beyond the limits of Chris- 
 tendom, they are still found ; if there are some whom the vague 
 rumour of a Saviour has caused to emerge from their forests 
 and jungles, through a thousand dangers to meet the messen- 
 gers of that unknown Saviour, if Christian missionaries have 
 found that noble want of expiation, of mercy, and reconcilia- 
 tion with God and with conscience already awakened, and 
 ready to break out, even among savages, to whom we have long 
 hesitated to give the name of men, what shall we think of that 
 multitude of persons, born in the visible church, before whose 
 eyes, to speak after the manner of the apostles, Jesus Christ 
 has been vividly portrayed, and who, entire strangers to that 
 
 to pour forth the following prayer : * If indeed, my Christ, thou mayest be 
 willing to deliver from thy threatening any of the heathen, deliver for me 
 Plato and Plutarch ; for in word and in conduct they both are the nearest 
 conformed to thy laws. But if they knew not that thou art God of the uni- 
 verse, here is need only of thy goodness, on account of which thou art willing 
 to save all gratuitously.' " 
 
 Nor is it among the heathen only of ancient times that we find individuals 
 thus " hungering and thirsting after righteousness." Though in general de- 
 based and hardened beyond expression, some of them really seem to have been 
 taught their need of pardon and sanctification by the Spirit of God. The 
 Karens appear to be a people " prepared for the Lord," and some of them have 
 come long journeys to meet the missionary of the cross, in order to hear re- 
 specting " the true God and eternal life." — T. 
 
284 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 ardour with which those less favoured embrace him without 
 knowing him, disdain, reject, and insult him, exclaiming like 
 the unhappy Jews, Away with him ! away with him ! crucify 
 him ! crucify him ! We will not have this man to reign over 
 us, — we have no king but Csesar, we have no king but that 
 proud Me, that imperious Caesar, that cruel despot who drags 
 us through the dust of the world, and the mire of sin, to the 
 threshold of eternity ? — Who speaks of examining ? We will 
 not examine, for we will not believe ! Ah, happier in their hu- 
 miliation and anguish, are those who would believe, but can- 
 not ; those who cherish an inextinguishable thirst for righteous- 
 ness ; those who feel that in the privation of all things, they 
 would have every thing if they had God ; those who daily 
 strip off their own merits, without, however, being able to re- 
 clothe themselves, for he with whose righteousness they might 
 clothe themselves, has not yet been revealed to them ; because 
 some obstacle springing from within, or from without, has thus 
 far hindered them from believing on Jesus Christ. One day 
 they will believe ; God will not leave incomplete a work, the 
 better part of which is already accomplished in them. But 
 that painful trial may yet be prolonged ; the intercessions of 
 the church must labour with them, and contend for them ; from 
 our temples and closets, those who have been delivered before 
 them, must cry to the great Deliverer, " They believe, O Lord, 
 they believe ; help thou their unbelief ! " 
 
 NOTE TO THE ABOVE DISCOURSE. 
 
 We doubt not some ideas and expressions in the above discourse 
 have startled some readers. After all, they may be scriptural and 
 just. It is quite clear that our author fully believes that no man 
 can be justified, except on the ground of our Saviour's merits. But 
 those merits cannot become ours, except conditionally. A certain 
 state or attitude of mind and heart, is requisite for their reception 
 and enjoyment. This is produced by the Holy Spirit. It may 
 exist among those who have never distinctly known Christ. We 
 say simply that it may exist ; for it cannot be affirmed dogmatical- 
 ly. God alone can determine a question of this nature. But sup- 
 
NOTE. 285 
 
 posing it to exist, and moreover, regarding its existence as highly 
 probable, it would be equivalent to the faith of those who really 
 know the Saviour ; and in a general way, might be said to be reckon- 
 ed for righteousness. At all events, it would fit those, who had 
 experienced it, to receive Jesus Christ the instant he was made 
 known to them. Were they introduced to heaven, they would im- 
 mediately fall down at his feet, and adore him as their Lord and 
 Saviour. Let it be particularly observed, also, that our author does 
 not describe this as a natural state of mind, but as a preternatural 
 one, that is to say, one produced by the secret action of the Holy 
 Spirit upon the mind. So that such a supposition does not violate 
 any principle of evangelical belief. A hypothesis it may be ; but 
 it is certainly an innocent one. 
 
 If decided exception is taken to any of our author's views, it will 
 probably be to those on imputation, a subject poorly understood, 
 even by some well-read theologians. It is important, however, to 
 remember, that Vinet does not contrast the imputation of faith for 
 righteousness, with the imputation of Christ's righteousness to the 
 believer. In his view, they are one and the same thing. Faith 
 makes the righteousness of Christ its own, incorporates it, so to speak, 
 with its own nature ; and it is for this reason, doubtless, that it is 
 imputed for righteousness. But the righteousness of Christ without 
 us, and irrespective of faith, cannot justify the ungodly. We must 
 receive Christ, and make his righteousness one with our spiritual 
 nature, before it will avail for our justification. " Justified by faith, 
 we have peace with God through Jesus Christ our Lord." Thus, 
 the righteousness of Christ, in order to be upon all, must first be 
 unto all. It must be received by the whole heart, as its portion 
 and its joy. " As many as received him, to them gave he power to 
 become the sons of God, even to them that believed on his name." 
 It is clear, then, that to be justified by faith, is the same thing as 
 to be justified by Christ, and that faith is imputed for righteousness, 
 because it appropriates the merits of Christ to itself, in other words, 
 makes us one with Christ, one in sympathy, feeling, and aim. 
 " There is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in Christ 
 Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the spirit." But we 
 will permit the author to speak for himself, in the following note, 
 appended to the second volume of his discourses. 
 
 " A friend has reproached me, on account of the function I have 
 ascribed to faith, a function, which, in his estimation, belongs only 
 to Jesus Christ. ' Faith,' says he, ' whatever it may be, can never, 
 
 2 A 
 
286 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 as a work, be imputed for righteousness, that is to say, become the 
 cause, or rather the source, of our justification before God." 
 
 My honourable friend well knows, that faith is imputed to us, as 
 it was to Abraham, for righteousness ; only he does not wish to 
 have it on the ground of merit. Merit is entirely beyond us. He 
 is therefore perfectly right, and if the idea of work involves that of 
 merit, the name of work cannot with propriety be applied to faith. 
 Yet we ought not, for fear of one error, to plunge into another. 
 These words, leing imputed for righteousness, are naturally under- 
 stood in the sense of, holding the place of righteousness, and righte- 
 ousness, in this passage, signifies the observance of rites, which 
 Abraham did not observe, and which Christians observe no more 
 than he ; but these rites are the type of works. St Paul then 
 teaches, with reference to men in general, that their faith will take 
 the place of works which they have not done, and it is on this 
 ground that he speaks, in many places, of the righteousness of 
 faith, or of the righteousness which is by faith ; it is always faith 
 taking the place of works, faith reckoned as righteousness, faith 
 becoming the condition of a new covenant, as obedience was that of 
 the old.* Now this condition is a legal, or a natural one. If it is 
 legal, we fall back upon the notion of work, and perhaps of merit. 
 But if it is natural, we ought to understand, that it ties the knot of 
 the covenant ; for it is in the nature of such a faith to unite us to 
 God, and such union is the basis of sanctification and of salva- 
 tion ; but here work re-appears, work, I say, and not merit. If faith 
 is a condition in any sense, what is it 1 In considering what is said 
 upon this subject, I continue to believe that faith, that is to say, 
 something which is in us, and of us, is, in the sense of fact, the 
 condition of salvation, which, in the sense of right, is unconditional. 
 The matter at issue is that of accepting, on the basis of grace, a 
 salvation which cannot be obtained on the ground of work. That 
 pure and simple acceptance is imputed to us for righteousness, or 
 if the phrase is preferred, takes the place of righteousness ; on this 
 we are agreed. If, then, I say, in addition, that faith is a work, 
 either in that which prepares and produces it, or in itself, or finai- 
 
 * If the gospel sometimes speaks of justification by grace, faith is always 
 implied, and these words, being justified by faith, are the most common ; this 
 is the consecrated expression. See Gal. v. 5 ; Phil. iii. 9 ; Heb x. 39 ; 
 Rom. iii. 24 ; Rom. vi. 11, &c. Thus, it is not grace absolutely and nakedly 
 which takes the place of righteousness, but faith, which moreover is the gift 
 of grace. See Gal. v. 5. Doubtless, no one will pretend that in these passages 
 faith means the object effect! . 
 
NOTE. 287 
 
 ly in its developement, I affirm a thing which is true, and which 
 can be proved, but which introduces no embarrassment into the 
 exposition of Christian doctrine. If there is any difficulty in sepa- 
 rating the objective, or divine element, in faith, from the subjec- 
 tive, or human element, and giving to each their respective parts, 
 that difficulty exists no more in my system, than in that of my 
 opponents. What, according to my theory, is found added to that 
 difficulty 1 It is the difficulty which is common to both, and which 
 ought to have occupied their attention first of all. I will return 
 to it presently ; but let us first see, whether, as it is affirmed, it is 
 one and the same thing to exhibit faith as the natural condition of 
 salvation, and to make it the cause or source of justification before 
 God. In my judgment it is not one and the same thing ; the 
 cause or source of salvation remains with God. A benefit is lost 
 to me, if I do not accept it ; but this is not equivalent to saying 
 that in accepting it, I am my own benefactor. My benefactor, in 
 the gospel, is He who has decreed that my faith should take the 
 place of the works I have not done. Did this substitution or ex- 
 change depend upon me % Could I claim it, or imagine it ? Is it 
 not evident that all the honour of that commutation reverts to God 
 alone ? If this conclusion is not evident, it is not my theory that 
 obscures it. If the glory of God is found diminished, it is quite as 
 much by the system of my opponents as by mine. For in either 
 case, man must do his part, man must believe. In both it is neces- 
 sary that, something having taken place without us, something 
 should take place within us. From these two things, and not from 
 one of them, results salvation. Let us dwell upon this a moment. 
 The whole work of salvation, from the beginning to the consum- 
 mation, belongs to God. Let us set out from this. But salvation, 
 that work of God, has two distinct parts ; the one objective, — that 
 is, pardon, under the form of redemption ; — the paternal arms are 
 open to receive us ; we find ourselves, without any co-operation on 
 our part, absolved from our past sins (2 Peter i. 9) ; a new career 
 is opened to us, in which we advance continually under the shadow 
 of divine forgiveness, ever active and inexhaustible as the merit of 
 Jesus Christ ; the other subjective, that is faith, which, reduced to 
 its most simple notion, is still subjective ; it is always /that be- 
 lieve, though God has enabled me to do so ; this faith which pro- 
 duces joy and love, unites me indissolubly to God, and crowns the 
 work of my salvation, which could not be consummated except in 
 so far as I am united to God ; in other words, it is no more / that 
 live, but Christ that liveth in me. In my salvation, then, there is 
 
288 THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 something from me, — God has taken something of mine in order to 
 save me ; he has employed me to accomplish my own salvation. 
 Such a conclusion cannot be refused on any system, if we will only 
 rest satisfied with our Saviour's words," God so loved the world that 
 he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him might 
 not perish but have everlasting life." It is not I, then, who save 
 myself, in any respect, or in any degree ; but I cannot be saved 
 without my own action. 
 
 St Paul was full of such thoughts when, writing to some who be- 
 lieved, he besought them to be reconciled to God. (2 Cor. v. 20.) 
 To beseech, has for its correlative to yield ; to yield is an act of the 
 will ; but this act of the will could only be the immediate conti- 
 nuance, or prolongation of the act of faith, or of the acceptance of 
 the divine pardon. In faith, then, as well as in that which conti- 
 nues it, there is an act of the will, which is no less an act of the 
 will for being a gift of God. And when St Paul said to believers, 
 " Labour for your salvation !" (Phil. ii. 12), he makes an undoubted 
 appeal to their will. " Labour for your salvation !" or, according to 
 the literal sense, workout, accomplish, achieve your salvation ! Who 
 would have dared to say such a thing, if an apostle had not said it be- 
 fore him ? But if one is obliged to admit that in setting out from faith 
 man works, why does it cost him an effort to concede that in faith it- 
 self there is work ; and why should one of these scandalize him more 
 than the other 1 He must accept both, but must not, on that account, 
 say that faith is the source or cause of salvation. For this work of 
 man is still a grace ; it is God that works in us both to will and to do 
 of his good pleasure. (Phil. ii. 12.) There are other passages still 
 more specific. St Paul (Acts xiv. 22) exhorts his disciples to per- 
 severe in the faith ; he had, then, before their conversion, exhorted 
 them to believe, and the matter of an exhortation is a free act. 
 
 Besides, in the discourse under consideration, I have prescribed 
 nothing ; I have not even dogmatized ; I have only explained how 
 such an act as faith may be called a work, and even a moral work. 
 It can easily be supposed that, when I see faith producing works, 
 I should not curiously analyze it to discover there the voluntary and 
 active element of which I have spoken ; 1 should remain satisfied 
 that he who lives according to the will of God, has believed, and 
 believed well. If any one esteems my explanations and distinc- 
 tions superfluous, so be it. I could never violate principles, since 
 I could say, that we are saved by means of, or through the medium 
 of faith (Eph. ii. 8) ; that without faith it is impossible to please 
 God (Hob. xi. G) ; that true faith rests on the power of God (1 Cor. 
 
NOTE. 
 
 289 
 
 ii. 5) ; and that no one can say, but by the Holy Spirit, that Jesus 
 Christ is Lord. (1 Cor. xii. 3.) And here I revert to what I have 
 said respecting the thief on the cross. My exegesis of that narra- 
 tive in sacred history has been complained of. But what have I 
 said of it ? That he was saved by means of faith. And now let us 
 reason the matter. Can any one, without holiness, see the Lord ? 
 No. Was he then actually holy 1 No. But through faith in the 
 Saviour, he had the germ of holiness ; the divine eye saw the tree 
 in the germ. Thus, what I say, you say also on this. Is this, then, 
 saying that faith was the source or cause of his salvation ? Certainly 
 not, but the condition, or what we express by this word, a secon- 
 dary source, springing from the first, a canal for irrigation, flowing 
 from the river. And if I now add that the cry of the thief was the 
 confession of an humbled soul ; if I say that, all thief as he was, 
 he received the word apparently with a good and honest heart 
 (Luke viii. 4), or that God opened his heart (Acts xvi. 14) to be- 
 lieve in Jesus Christ, it seems to me that I do not make him the 
 author of his own salvation ; and on the other hand I can, as it ap- 
 pears to me, understand a little better how Jesus could say to him, 
 " To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise." 
 
 I hope this note may explain, and also, if necessary, rectify what- 
 ever in the discourse under consideration may have given some of- 
 fence or excited some uneasiness. It is all I could say at the close 
 of this volume. If I had been aware of it sooner, I would cer- 
 tainly have reviewed the discourse in question, and it is probable 
 should not have left it absolutely such as it is now. I invite criti- 
 cism, and in advance, thank those who, discussing fundamentally 
 the opinions I have expressed, shall separate the tares from the 
 wheat, and reduce my idea to terms more precise and clear. No 
 one, I venture to say, will be more obliged than myself. 
 
 In conclusion, the following is the definition of faith given by 
 one of the most judicious theologians of the English church. It 
 does not differ, it appears to me, in idea, from the one I have 
 given. 
 
 " Faith, in its most general acceptation, is belief in the truth, or 
 the assent which our heart gives to the testimony of God, the tes- 
 timony which his word expresses, and of which we make applica- 
 tion to ourselves. To believe in Christ is to receive, from the 
 heart, the testimony which God has given of his Son ; it is humbly, 
 sincerely, and frequently to fly for deliverance to that Divine Re- 
 deemer ; it is cordially and frankly to accept his person and the 
 salvation he has accomplished in his triple office of prophet, priest 
 
290 NOTE. 
 
 and king.' — Foundation and Nature of Faith in Jesus Christ, by 
 Thomas Scott. 
 
 Mestrezat has said, " Justifying faith is nothing else than a seri- 
 ous and intense consideration of Jesus Christ ; and a man, who will 
 be cited in his turn (M. Burnier, Instructions Pastorales), has re- 
 cently defined faith, ' the look of the heart towards Christ cruci- 
 fied.' "* 
 
 * This definition of faith reminds us of the definition of gratitude given by 
 one of the dumb pupils of the Abbe Sieard. Being asked what she understood 
 by this word, she immediately wrote down, " Gratitude is the memory of the 
 heart.''' If gratitude to God and his Christ be the memory of the heart, surely 
 faith may be termed, the look or the vision of the heart. — T. 
 
291 
 
 XXI. 
 CHEISTIAN JOY. 
 
 « Rejoice evermore."—! Thes. v. 16, 
 
 Can joy be the object of a precept, or a formal injunction ? 
 We are disposed at first to deny it. Joy is not an action, it is 
 not even a moral sentiment ; I mean one of the dispositions of 
 the soul, for which it is more or less responsible. It is simply 
 a state most desirable, provided it is not evolved at the expense 
 of conscience and duty. We are just, sincere, benevolent, on 
 condition of willing to be so ; we are joyful only when we 
 have occasion for it. Being in reality nothing but an internal 
 feeling, the vivid conception of our happy condition, it appears 
 no more natural to exhort us to be joyful, than it is to exhort 
 us to be prosperous. 
 
 Nevertheless, it is not the gospel only, nor the gospel first, 
 that has enjoined us to be joyful. Philosophers have not failed 
 to do so ; and it is worthy of remark, that in this they have 
 only been the echoes of that popular wisdom, which, in all 
 times, has suggested to philosophy its most important maxims. 
 — " Keep joyful !" such among our ancestors, was the expres- 
 sion most frequently associated with the words of adieu. The 
 sages of the world have only attached their seal, and given a 
 more precise form to that vague injunction. But we must do 
 them justice ; for in their point of view, and in proportion to 
 the light they have, they are right. Organs of human con- 
 sciousness, they possess, we acknowledge it, the commencement 
 
292 CHRISTIAN JOY. 
 
 of all truths, which God alone coifld carry out and complete, 
 by directing and prolonging them to himself. 
 
 The sages of this world are right. Sorrow is the death of 
 the soul, joy is its life. Sorrow drives us back, and shuts us 
 up within ourselves; joy, so to speak, opens us, dilates and ex- 
 pands us ; it is to the soul, what a gentle heat is to the body. 
 Every one has felt this. Sorrow, that is the sorrow of the 
 world, is the most opposed to the employment of our facul- 
 ties, and consequently to action. We are never induced to act 
 but by means of some attraction or hope. But sadness dis- 
 colours every thing, strips objects of their charms, and darkens 
 the prospects of the future. It deprives the soul of all its 
 aspirations ; enchains all our powers, and produces an internal 
 paralysis. It thus renders us equally useless to ourselves and 
 others ; in which two respects it has incurrred and deserved 
 the anathemas of philosophers. 
 
 Joy, the condition of developement, of energy and action, 
 joy, the essential principle of life, has appeared to them so much 
 more worthy of being recommended. And indeed it ought to 
 be enjoined, if it is really susceptible of it. But who can se- 
 riously, and for itself, enjoin joy ? Who can, with one hand, 
 point to obligation in this case, without indicating, with the 
 other, its means and its motives ? Who especially can pre- 
 scribe to us a durable and lasting joy ? Who can oblige us to 
 make it the foundation and texture of our internal life, when, 
 in fact, sorrow is the foundation and texture of our external 
 life, or when in that internal life itself, sorrow, forestalling joy, 
 has taken entire possesion of our soul, in one case by tempera- 
 ment, in another by reflection ? 
 
 O then, do ye command me to be joyful, change my tem- 
 perament, which impels me invariably to sorrow, or destroy by 
 facts, decisive facts, the result to which other facts have irre- 
 sistibly dragged my thoughts. But if ye cannot provide me 
 a new temperament, nor extinguish the reflections which have 
 given the prevailing colour to my whole life, what have ye to 
 offer me, except that which I can easily find without you ; 
 which has been commended to me already, and which every 
 
CHRISTIAN JOY. 293 
 
 man opposes, with more or less success, to the waves of sor- 
 row, which return unceasingly, from the midst of our life, as 
 from a profound ocean, drenching and overwhelming the soul, 
 — namely, diversion, self-oblivion, and delirium ? 
 
 For every soul, doubtless, carries within itself a treasure of 
 sorrow. It is even a condition of our nature, that in all our 
 joys, even the most intense, I know not what sorrow ever 
 mingles, as in a song of gladness, a hollow murmur, or a stifled 
 groan. It might be said that the very voice of joy awakens 
 in the depths of the soul a slumbering grief; that the feeling 
 of our misery waits that precise moment to seize and hold us, 
 and that the fires which illumine our night serve as a signal to 
 the phantom which haunts us. We may go further, without 
 anticipating the ideas to which the remaining part of this dis- 
 course is to call our attention, and say that the purest, the deep- 
 est, the holiest joy, so long as life and mortality retain us in 
 their bands, is not exempt from some returns of melancholy. 
 After all, these returns are far from disturbing and impoverish- 
 ing the soul. On the contrary, they nourish it ; they enhance 
 its joy ; they put new songs iuto its mouth. Nevertheless, that 
 joy is the honey of Samson ; it has been found in the lion's 
 mouth, the sweet has sprung from the bitter ; and if the bitter 
 is no longer felt, it does not fail to recall itself to our memory. 
 Consequently, there is no joy without some anxiety and 
 alloy. But if you are anxious to oppose to us, not a fact which 
 contradicts what we say, for that you will not find, but one, 
 which, amplified, may appear to give joy a higher place in the 
 world, and in life, than we have accorded it ; if, in a word, you 
 would seek an example of the fullest and most exquisite joy 
 the world can taste, we will readily aid you in your search, 
 and spare you much useless labour. Accompany us to those 
 men, in whom the most excellent part of humanity is, so to 
 speak, abolished ; those whom ' no lofty thought ever visits ; 
 those to whom the language of the soul is completely foreign 
 and unintelligible ; those perpetually occupied with amuse- 
 ments ; hearts inexpressibly light, too light to desceud into the 
 depths of their misery, too vain to be unhappy, and in whom 
 
 2 B 
 
294 CHRISTIAN JOY. 
 
 moral grief finds no place to rest, or linger for a moment. Be- 
 hold the elect of joy ! These are they whom sorrow scarcely 
 knows, whom it visits only at long intervals, whom it seems 
 even to forget until the moment when it falls suddenly, with 
 all its weight, upon their frail spirits, alas ! finding it easier to 
 crush them than to move them ! 
 
 Sorrow, on the other hand, is the lot of profound souls and 
 strong intellects. The more we feel, the more we suffer. The 
 furrows traced by powerful thought become chasms under its 
 influence. It might indeed seem strange that in proportion to 
 the moral worth of the soul, it should have less of happiness, 
 and that joy should prefer to dwell in the most frivolous minds. 
 Whatever there is in us, of reason and justice, protests against 
 so great a disorder. But that disorder exists ; joy is not the 
 fruit of reason. What, then, is that reason, that philosophy, 
 which counsels and commands us to be joyful ? It is a philo- 
 sophy which declines to know the world, to fathom human 
 life ; or if it has discovered the truth, interdicts it as danger- 
 ous and fatal. It is a philosophy which involves, if not the 
 most formal, at least, the most decisive confession of the misery 
 of our condition ; for what is our nature, if we dare not look it 
 in the face ; and what is life, if we must conceal from ourselves 
 its true character and real value ? 
 
 You have not, then, O men, any other possible choice. Think 
 and weep, or rejoice on condition of not thinking at all. I 
 mean, of not thinking upon what concerns you the most nearly. 
 For I am aware, that in other respects, thought applied to 
 other objects is a diversion to the mind, and in proportion as it 
 is more profound and grave in appearance, it renders us more 
 frivolous in reality. Among the means of dissipating our minds, 
 of separating us from ourselves, none is more effectual than in- 
 tense and earnest study. This apparent seriousness expels true 
 seriousness more certainly and more rapidly than even the 
 amusements of the world. 
 
 Is it necessary, my brethren, to inform you what stifles and 
 kills the germ of joy in the heart of the man who thinks ? 
 Teach you ! I flatter myself that I have only to remind you 
 
CHRISTIAN JOY. 295 
 
 of it, or perhaps only to give a voice to the latent sentiments 
 with which your souls are filled. Your life is passed amid 
 temptations to joy incessantly repressed. Joy has moments, 
 sorrow the whole of life. That is a moment of joy when a 
 cherished hope is realized ; that is a life of sorrow when we feel 
 that the successive realization of all our hopes has not filled the 
 infinite abyss of the soul. That is a moment of joy when self- 
 love is intoxicated with triumph ; that is a life of sorrow which 
 developes before our eyes, and renders more and more evident to 
 our minds the utter vanity of the most glorious success. That 
 is a moment of joy when we rejoin a beloved object from whom 
 we have been separated ; but, without saying any thing here of 
 the frightful moment of separation, that is a life of sorrow 
 which is spent in remembering or anticipating misfortunes. 
 That is a moment of joy which gives us the smile of a beautiful 
 day, the sun so pleasant to behold, the free developement of 
 any of our powers, the feeling of existence in the plenitude of 
 health. That is a life of sorrow which hurries promiscuously 
 to the abyss before us our good and our evil hours, our pains 
 and our pleasures, nay more, our soul itself ; for the thoughts 
 and affections of which it is composed precede us to the tomb, 
 while of all that we possess, and all we have been, we can re- 
 tain nothing, no, not even our most cherished griefs. 
 
 That, moreover, is a moment of joy which raises us, by some 
 aspiration of love or virtue, above the dust our cradle, and the 
 flesh our prison, and enables us to approach the serene atmo- 
 sphere of heaven. But, alas ! that is a life of sorrow which, 
 upon the whole, belongs to the dust and the flesh, and which, 
 as its final result, only unites us more closely, and, so to speak, 
 identifies us more thoroughly with flesh and dust. That is a 
 moment of joy, a gleam of sunlight, when the soul comes into 
 contact with God, and holds momentary fellowship with the 
 Father of spirits. But that is a life of profound and bitter 
 grief, when, like ours, it is spent without God and without 
 hope ; or, to make the statement more complete, a life with 
 God, but with God offended ; a life with expectation, but an 
 expectation of wrath. 
 
296 CHRISTIAN JOY. 
 
 Let there be moments of joy, then, meteors in the night, 
 transient vistas, opening into the land of peace and light, rays 
 of sunshine through the bars of our prison. But a consistent 
 and durable joy, a joy natural and appropriate to our condition, 
 forming a part of ourselves, and mingling with the whole tissue 
 of our life, a joy over which sorrow passes, as on a beautiful 
 day some transparent and fleecy clouds pass over the azure of 
 the sky ; — such a joy, such a life, the gospel alone can bestow. 
 And since it alone contains the conditions of its bestowment, it 
 alone has a right to recommend and prescribe it. 
 
 We will not detain you by discussing the motives and foun- 
 dations of the joy which the gospel has created for the Chris- 
 tian, as our present object leads us in a different direction. We 
 will not say that this joy, so dearly purchased by our Saviour, 
 includes in it all joys, and absorbs all griefs. We will not say 
 that, in addition to all the advantages which belong to all other 
 joys, and which we have noticed in the beginning of this dis- 
 course, it has all those qualities which are wanting to hu- 
 man joys, and not only so, but is free from all that tarnishes 
 them, being at once holy, calm and serious, delightful both to 
 those that see it and those that feel it ; — subjects well worthy 
 our attention and study. But other reflections invite us. We 
 have not, at present, to shew you, that the assurance of our re- 
 conciliation to God, and the consciousness of the re-establish- 
 ment of unity and harmony within us, penetrate our hearts 
 with joy, and in addition to the joy which opens the heart to 
 love, a joy still more holy, which love alone can produce ; but 
 we have to show you that the joy which the gospel inspires in 
 Christians, it ought also to enjoin upon them. 
 
 We see the world, with reference to the practical teachings 
 of the gospel, divided between two opposite errors. The first 
 wish that the gospel had said every thing ; the others are as- 
 tonished that it has not said less. The former, not knowing 
 what power of application and impulsion God has hidden in 
 the fundamental doctrines of the gospel, believe an exact and 
 minute enumeration of all the applications of the elementary 
 principles to be necessary. They desire that the whole Chris- 
 
CHRISTIAN JOY. 29? 
 
 tian doctrine should be spelt to them letter by letter. Others 
 struck with the clearness and fruitfulness of the elementary 
 doctrines of Christianity, think that they have only to be 
 eagerly embraced, and all that remains will follow of its own 
 accord. And they would be right, were it not necessary, even 
 in the Christian, to take into account, to the very last, the 
 weakness and inconsistency of man. Love God, and do what 
 you will ! — is a sublime exclamation of gratitude and love. It 
 is the lively proclamation of the true principle of human life ; 
 but it is not the motto of man, it is not even that of the Chris- 
 tian. It would be safer to say to him, Love God, and do what 
 he wills. And this is what God, who knows all that is in man 
 better than man himself, has said to him. He has told us what 
 his will is ; he has told it to the Christian, as well as to the 
 natural man. He is not contented with putting us into the 
 road, and saying to us, Walk ! He who is himself " the way," 
 has advanced, and borne us with him. Directions and aids 
 have been multiplied for our benefit. But while God has at- 
 tached every duty to its vital source, in order that the duty 
 itself might also be vital, he has always named it, suggested it, 
 defended and recommended it, by the most pressing motives. 
 He has acted thus with reference to duties, the fulfilment of 
 which is, properly speaking, an action ; but he has also done 
 so, in the case of others, altogether internal, and fulfilled only 
 in the soul. Thus it is not here and there only we find his 
 directing hand, but at our very first departure, at our very first 
 step. We see it in his paternal solicitude, prescribing what he 
 gives us, and commanding what he inspires. 
 
 Joy is not only a privilege of the Christian, it is his force, 
 for the same general reasons that make all joy a force. It is 
 in this soil that God has planted the new creature. So true is 
 this, that it might, without exaggeration, be said, that to be a 
 Christian is to be joyful. But the joy which Jesus Christ has 
 kindled in the Christian, the wind of grief is always threaten- 
 ing to destroy. The element that feeds it requires to be con- 
 stantly renewed. It will not be safe to leave it to the first 
 supply of the " oil of gladness," with which the lamp was filled. 
 
298 CHRISTIAN JOY. 
 
 What it has consumed must be replaced day by day, and night 
 by night. In other words, in order to live, we must continu- 
 ally cherish the same sentiments which first inspired us with 
 life ; we must take, in their profoundest and most solemn im- 
 port, and as a most pressing injunction, these words of the 
 apostle, Rejoice evermore ! 
 
 I have said that the wind of sorrow, and consequently of 
 death, continually threatens the flame of joy ; I should have 
 said, the wind of our sorrows, for the sorrow which blows upon 
 the joy of the Christian is not of one kind only. 
 
 There is a sorrow of nature. Nature is not destroyed in the 
 Christian ; it subsists in him entire ; and while the elevation of 
 his principles, and especially of his new affections, generally 
 places him above the reach of injury, he has remaining in him 
 a sufficient number of sensitive and vulnerable points. His 
 strength consists not in being ignorant of trials, but in overcom- 
 ing them. He suffers .as much as others, more, perhaps, than 
 others ; and probably it would not be difficult to prove that 
 what multiplies his joys, multiplies also his sorrows. Christi- 
 anity, so far from destroying, exercises and developes natural 
 sensibility. But whatever may be its degree, a certain sensi- 
 bility always exists in man. The Christian, like every other 
 man, needs esteem and affection, and suffers when he sees him- 
 self deprived of them. Like every other man, he has his tastes 
 and habits, which he cannot renounce without feeling a painful 
 void, and a profound ennui. He has natural and sacred affec- 
 tions, the objects of which death tears from him before the 
 time, — alas! always before the time. He has opinions, con- 
 victions and hopes, the triumph of which is dear to him, and 
 which he cannot without bitter regret, see perilled or subdued. 
 Furthermore, he has a body, the pains of which easily become 
 the pains of the soul ; health, alterations in which easily change 
 in his eyes, the whole aspect of life. One of these causes is 
 often sufficient to plunge him in distress ; what, then, must be 
 the effect of the whole united, when, as experience has taught 
 you, deep calleth unto deep ? I can easily believe that his faith 
 would even then remain entire. But how ? For what is faith 
 
CHRISTIAN JOY. 299 
 
 without joy ? What is a ship without sails ? Let us not be 
 afraid to utter the whole truth. From each of these separate 
 trials, and from the whole combined, the Christian must either 
 issue more joyful than ever, or his joy will perish there. The 
 trials of the preseut must impel his reluctant spirit towards the 
 glory of the future. By looking upon sufferings in the light of 
 blessings, he must indemnify himself for all the sacrifices he 
 makes. The gloom of his grief, like that of night, must cause 
 the stars of his sky to shine with deeper radiance ; by divesting 
 himself of earthly riches, he must draw liberally from the trea- 
 sures of his heavenly Futher ; his submission must rise to com- 
 plete acquiescence, and his accents of resignation lose them- 
 selves in a hymn of praise ! 
 
 Such is the law of the gospel and the law of our nature. It 
 is when we are weak that we are strong ; it is when the out- 
 ward man decays, that the inward man is renewed, strengthened, 
 glorified. Where, then, should joy abound, if not where grief 
 has overflowed ? But during the contest, during that solemn 
 crisis, the Christian should call joy to the aid of his sinking 
 natare. He ought, in advance, if I may so speak, to exercise 
 himself with joy, make it the habit and temperament of his 
 mind, nourish it with every thing which at first gave it birth, 
 every day have it formed fresh and entire in his heart; that in the 
 hour of peril he may not be feeble, nor recoil before advancing 
 sorrow, and that such sorrow may not remain sole possessor of 
 his heart, in the presence of I know not what faith, a faith as 
 sorrowful as grief itself, which sighs and blesses not, generating 
 neither action nor love. 
 
 " Rejoice evermore," says the apostle ; let your joy be con- 
 stant and durable ; let it leave no opening through which sor- 
 row can penetrate ; for sorrow is the world under a form which 
 disguises it the most ; it is death with the appearance of life. 
 Joy is your first, your every day duty ; it binds you to all other 
 duties ; it guards all your treasures. Ever be prepared to op- 
 pose it to the sorrow of the world, nay more, to an excess of 
 godly sorrows. For here the danger is greater, because it is 
 least suspected. But why suspect, why shun godly sorrows, 
 
300 CHRISTIAN JOY. 
 
 which, it is said, produce repentance unto salvation which 
 needeth not to be repented of ? Shun them ! No, doubtless, 
 for that would be to shun the messengers of God. What we 
 ought to suspect and shun is man, who stealthily introduces 
 himself into every good work of God, in order to corrupt it. 
 Let us, then, seek to detect that hidden man who would soon 
 corrupt the most sacred sorrows. Let us show what advantage 
 is given by such griefs to that man of sin, and thus endeavour 
 to prove, that the best griefs require to be tempered and 
 chastened by the best of joys. 
 
 Nothing is more agreeable to the will of God than the sor- 
 row of the Christian after he has sinned. In one sense, it 
 might be said, that it could never be excessive. Sin, which 
 requires from God an excess of mercy, requires from man an 
 excess of sorrow ; and as the first of these excesses has pro- 
 duced no disorder in God, the second gives no occasion for dis- 
 order in man. But feeble as we are, we could not sustain all 
 the grief which would be proper in itself considered ; we could 
 not go, without perishing, to the end of our sorrow ; the soul 
 would exhaust itself, before it had exhausted all its evil. It 
 would be necessary, before that hour came, if indeed it should 
 ever come, that joy, such a joy as that of the gospel, should 
 interpose to aid us ; a joy, — wonderful and adorable wisdom 
 of my God ! — as holy as our sorrow, a joy which sanctifies us 
 as much as our grief would have doue, and even more so ; a 
 joy capable of producing in us, as well as grief itself, that re- 
 pentance unto salvation that needeth not to be repented of. 
 
 Alas ! I well know that sorrow for sin will never cost us our 
 life ; it is other griefs, not this, which kill ; but is it not 
 enough that it casts us down, that it disheartens us, and by dis- 
 gusting us with ourselves, takes away all our energy ? The 
 apostles, during those mournful hours when their Master and 
 ours shed, in drops of sweat, the same blood which was to flow 
 more freely upon Calvary, " fell asleep for sorrow ;" and Jesus, 
 still suffering that bitter agony, addressed to them this tender 
 and sorrowful reproof, " What, could ye not watch with me 
 one hour ?" It was because they were sorrowful ; it was be- 
 
CHRISTIAN JOY. 301 
 
 cause no joy, not even that of love, sustained their weary bo- 
 dies and languishing spirits. "What was their sorrow ? That 
 of penitence ? Did they vainly reproach themselves for. their 
 little love and zeal ? Did they compare their selfishness and 
 arid melancholy with the love and self-sacrifice of their Mas- 
 ter ? Were they sorrowful on account of his death, which 
 they could not prevent, and their dead hopes, about to descend 
 with him to the sepulchre ? I know not, nor is it necessary 
 for me to know. I only see that their sorrow caused them to 
 sleep ; and I know that sorrow causes the soul as well as the 
 body to slumber. I know, too, that sorrow for sin may pro- 
 duce the same effects, and that born of sin, it may, in its turn, 
 generate sin. This view alarms me. I seek the remedy ; and, 
 guided by the apostle, I do not seek long. 1 do not say, put 
 limits to your grief; for where are such limits? I do not say, 
 ~p\itjicst limits to your grief; for in reality, what is just here, 
 is to put no limits at all. I say with the apostle, " Overcome 
 evil with good," sorrow with joy. Joy is the true remedy for 
 sorrow. It never had, never could have any other. We must 
 always give the soul that weeps reason to rejoice ; all other 
 consolation is utterly useless. 
 
 Let us not leave the subject without having unmasked a 
 subtle device of the human heart. It readily defends, or at 
 least excuses its sorrow, as a sign and pledge of humility. But 
 it is not always such. We must go to the foundation of our 
 sorrow, and ascertain its cause. We must inquire, if it has for 
 its principle, regret for having offended God, dishonoured his 
 image, grieved his Spirit, or merely shame at having fallen 
 from the height to which it supposed itself raised, and thus 
 having lost its own good opinion. Our standard and rule is, 
 by no means, some idea of perfection which we may form for 
 ourselves, and which is nothing more than our pride. Our 
 only standard and rule is God. - The object of all our duties, 
 the judge of all our actions, is God ; and hence to prostrate 
 ourselves before another, even were it in dust and ashes, is to 
 prostrate ourselves before an idol. 
 
 what a subtle sophist is pride ! It is willing to see us 
 
302 CHRISTIAN JOY. 
 
 great on any condition, and if possible, even at the expense of 
 God. And since we know full well that we cannot be great 
 by sin, we seek to attain this end by sorrow for sin. A great- 
 ness truly our own, is on earth sufficiently difficult to find ; 
 neither fortune, honours, nor talents, can supply a drapery 
 ample enough to cover all our degradation. Rigidly scruti- 
 nized, nothing but our sorrows, nothing but our misery, can be 
 claimed as truly our own. Well, then, we magnify ourselves 
 od account of our very wretchedness and sorrow ; we try to 
 convince ourselves that on this side at least we possess some 
 merit. If in this instance there is not all the effect of an ex- 
 press deliberation, since a sorrow commanded ceases to be a 
 sorrow, it is yet the means of cherishing our sorrow, and sup- 
 plies a motive for not contending against it. If grief some- 
 times sleeps, it is also sometimes intoxicated ; it inspires us with 
 a secret feeling of our importance, absorbs us in the contempla- 
 tion of ourselves, and refuses that joy whose consolations humble 
 us. For it is here, Christian joy, we discover thine adorable 
 character, and the seal of thy divinity ! Thou consolest, but 
 in humbling us. Under thine influence we are enabled to share 
 our regards between ourselves and thine adorable source ; we 
 are satisfied with another greatness than our own ; and the 
 more we discover the immense benefit conferred on us, in our 
 salvation, the more do we appear little in our own eyes. The 
 goodness which interposes in our behalf, overwhelms us ; we 
 rejoice to see so great a God so good ; in the presence of such 
 a God, we are happy to feel ourselves little. We are not 
 ashamed to be humbled before love ; we rejoice to feel our sel- 
 fishness reduced ; we rejoice to be less occupied with ourselves, 
 and more with God ; in a word, we bless him for having en- 
 abled us to forget ourselves in order to think of him ! 
 
 There are other sorrows, the occasion of which is purer, 
 though their source may not be more so ; sorrows truly Chris- 
 tian, but the excess of which we ought to distrust. The ex- 
 cess, did I say ? No, that is not saying enough ; it is these 
 sorrows themselves, or at least, what may often mingle with 
 them, we ought to distrust. I will explain myself. You are 
 
CHRISTIAN JOY. 303 
 
 Christians ; you must, then, by virtue of the grace that made 
 you such, bear some affinity to Him who is of purer eyes than 
 to look upon iniquity. This iniquity, spread in the. world, 
 overflows before your eyes, and casts its impure scum even to 
 your feet. You see this and you weep. The enmity of the 
 world against the gospel is exasperated. It becomes furious ; 
 it passes from words to actions ; the most dismal scenes declare 
 it around you. You see these things, and you weep more 
 bitterly. Is that all ? No ; Christians make themselves the 
 enemies of Christianity ; their conduct dishonours it ; their 
 dissensions render it a theatre of scandal, and an object of de- 
 rision ; the folly of the cross, which is all powerful, gives place 
 to their own folly, which is weakness itself. You see these 
 things, and you have not tears enough to shed ; for the evil 
 comes from the very place where the remedy ought to be found, 
 the sorrow springs from the sources of consolation. 
 
 Alas for him whose heart is not touched by these things ! 
 But beware of that sorrow. Scarcely is the source of it re- 
 vealed by your tears, than I see it poisoned by the enemy. 
 Whence does your weeping proceed ? From grief or anger ? 
 Ah, it is necessary to know. For what do you weep ? For 
 injuries done to truth, or for the defeat of a party ? With what 
 eye do you look upon those that afflict you ? With that of 
 commiseration, or of hatred ? Do you not perceive, unhappy 
 Christians, that your eyes are sullied by fixing them upon sul- 
 lied images, that these have transferred to you a portion of the 
 evil under which you groan ? A different evil I grant, but 
 not less ; for tell me if any thing is more fatal than pride ; if 
 any thing is worse than hatred. 
 
 But some will say, if such be the effects of sorrow, why is 
 it imposed, and even enjoined upon us ? Why ? To conduct 
 us to joy, to which it is the only road. " Blessed are they 
 that mourn," says Jesus Christ, "for they shall be comforted." 
 Whence we see, that we do not reach happiness but through 
 tears ; and that true felicity does not consist in the absence of 
 tears, but in the presence of consolation ; while real misery is 
 not so much to weep, as to weep without being consoled. But 
 
304 
 
 CHRISTIAN JOY. 
 
 how, after this, can we doubt the superior worth of consola- 
 tion, or hesitate to say, that it is a joy, nay the most perfect of 
 joys ? "Why after this, doubt that it is the true name of our 
 highest good, and includes every thing worthy of the name of 
 good ? Why doubt that it ought to be the characteristic and 
 aim of our whole existence, and that if Christianity accords 
 moments to sorrow, it devotes our whole life to joy ? All this 
 is deduced from the declaration of our Saviour ; but how much 
 is its evidence enhanced, when we consider the nature itself of 
 that joy which our Saviour has brought us ! That joy is the 
 joy of 'pardon. It is the joy of seeing and feeling ourselves 
 united for eternity to the supreme Source of our being and hap- 
 piness. It is that of feeling ourselves emancipated at once from 
 the bonds of mortality, and the chains of sin, partaking in the 
 holiness of heaven, loving God, and in him loving the whole 
 universe. It is that of calling by the endearing name of Father, 
 and approaching as an intimate friend, Him whom the heaven 
 of heavens cannot contain, and who, in his word and in his 
 providence, has himself declared, that he is a consuming fire, 
 and that no man can stand before him. It is that of knowing 
 that nothing can ever pluck us out of his hand ; and that, 
 whatever may happen, let the earth dissolve, the heavens pass 
 away with a great noise, and the whole creation send a cry of 
 horror and death through infinite space, his goodness towards 
 us remains eternally the same ! 
 
 It remains eternally. Why then should not our joy remain ; 
 why should we not rejoice evermore ; and why, for a goodness 
 which never tires, never diminishes, have we known only mo- 
 ments of gratitude, separated by long intervals of ingratitude ? 
 Do not be snrprised that I here change the terms, without pre- 
 vious intimation ; the terms alone are changed. But can gra- 
 titude in reality be conceived of without joy ; and is sorrow, at 
 bottom, any thing but ingratitude ? God forbid, that making 
 a grace of the gospel a result of temperament, I should impose 
 upon Christian joy a particular physiognomy, and represent it 
 as known only by specific features, made to radiate around it 
 as a sun. Let us permit circumstances to mitigate the inten- 
 
CHRISTIAN JOY. 305 
 
 sity of that joy, but not to extinguish it. Faith may truly ex- 
 ist without gladness and transport ; but faith without joy is 
 no longer faith. Divested of that characteristic, what remains 
 to it ? Its substance is gone. Imagine, if you can, a believer, 
 with deadened heart, desponding soul, and inanimate life, drag- 
 ging himself, by means of faith, to the throne of the Lamb, and 
 while falling at his feet, uttering these languishing words, 
 " Lamb of God, my sacrifice, and my God ! thy love has van- 
 quished the enemies of my soul ; thy tears and thy blood have 
 been shed on my behalf, and delivered me from the power of 
 darkness ; thou hast opened for me the way to God ; thou hast 
 brought me into harmony with thy Father, with entire nature, 
 and with myself ; thou hast secured for me in heaven an eter- 
 nity of happiness ; thou hast given me on earth, by thy Holy 
 Spirit, the pledges of my salvation. Lord, I believe in thee ; 
 I adore thee, my Master ! I love thee, my Saviour ! But 
 I cannot rejoice in what thou hast done for me, and in what 
 thou art to me ; at least my joy cannot counterbalance my 
 sorrows; my joy is lost in the abyss of my grief; it does not 
 spring up and overflow; it never abides within me; and it 
 seems that I am embraced in thine arms, not to awaken, upon 
 thy heart, my deadened heart, but to rest there in a profounder 
 sleep." 
 
 The contradiction here is so striking, that such language and 
 such conduct must appear impossible. But if impossible, to 
 what should this discourse tend, what purpose should it serve, 
 and what use should be made of those invitations to joy spread 
 through the gospel ? Why, to convince us that we may truly 
 believe, and with an earnest faith, without having all the joy 
 of our faith ; that if we do not watch our treasure, we shall 
 see it gradually stolen from us, by the sorrows of the world, 
 and even by Christian griefs ; that the influence of the natural 
 man, of his selfishness and pride, drags us incessantly into the 
 gloom of sorrow ; that in order to have our "hearts on high," 
 according to the sacramental word of the ancient church, we 
 must first have " our eyes on high ;" that Christian faith, which 
 commences its existence by conviction of guilt and misery, as 
 
306 CHRISTIAN JOY. 
 
 in a sorrowful cradle, need not remain there longer than is ne- 
 cessary, to take its flight to Him who is its author and finisher. 
 It is not necessary, even with a view to pious humiliation, for 
 a man to remain too constantly alone, and too much subjected 
 to himself. It is not in contemplating himself, but in contem- 
 plating his Saviour, that he will be transformed into his image. 
 Security, power, salvation, are found in looking to the Sun of 
 righteousness, who has risen with healing in his beams. Eyes 
 on high ! then, disciples of Christ ! In advance, set over against, 
 and ever oppose to all the sorrows of the soul, and the pangs of 
 conscience, the ineffable beauty of eternal blessings. Let your 
 eyes dwell upon them that they may see nothing else ; that 
 they may behold nothing between them and that divine image. 
 Constantly occupy your thoughts, and fill your conversation 
 with the God of the new covenant ; accustom yourselves to 
 consider Him, in all those aspects which convey to the soul joy 
 with humiliation, humiliation with joy. Let it be a daily ex- 
 ercise of your faith, assiduously to contemplate his mercy, which 
 sought you in the depths of your misery, which still embraces 
 and protects you ; his faithfulness, which assures you of the 
 firmness of his promises, and the perpetuity of his love ; his in- 
 finite power, ever at the service of his infinite compassion ; his 
 eternity, which opens a boundless career to all the designs of 
 his grace, all the engagements of his faithfulness, all the deve- 
 lopements of his power. Say to yourselves that this God, all 
 gracious, all faithful, and all powerful, is your Father ; that he 
 loves you more than a father ; and that your earthly parents 
 would, or could abandon you a thousand times, before your 
 Father in heaven would abandon you ; in a word, live in habi- 
 tual communion with the thought of that God, at whose right 
 hand there is fullness of joy for evermore ; and you will find 
 that there is a fullness of joy also in the thought ; that the con- 
 templation of Him is delightful as his presence ; that to dwell 
 upon his image is to possess Him ; and that even in heaven, no 
 one will possess him more but he who contemplates him more. 
 Do this, my brethren ; take the word of the apostle literally ; 
 make the holy joy of the Christian a positive and constant 
 
CHRISTIAN JOY. 307 
 
 duty ; and your faith, gratitude, and obedience will be guarded 
 by your happiness. 
 
 O how delightful it is to possess a joy, of which it is so de- 
 lightful even to speak ! But how painful it is to feel one's self 
 so far below his own words, or his own conceptions ! Who 
 will put into our hearts what we have in our minds, and on our 
 lips ? Who will give us the joy, whose sweetness and beauty 
 we extol ? Who will render us as sensible, nay more sensible, 
 to the visitations of that joy, than we are, alas ! to the visita- 
 tions of sorrow ? Who will deaden in our heart, a diseased 
 sensibility, and perfect in us, that divine sense, by which we 
 receive the impression of divine things ? O God of joy and 
 blessedness ! Thou alone canst do it ; thou alone canst subdue 
 our fatal sorrows, and every thing which renders our sorrows 
 fatal. Come, then, and divest us of that sorrow, which is only 
 an attachment to the world. Cause our souls to rejoice in thee. 
 Render thyself visible, in all the radiance of thy goodness, in 
 every part of the universe, and at every moment of our life. 
 Do thou, Goodness supreme ! place thyself between our vision 
 and all other objects, so that our eyes may be forced to meet 
 thee every where ; that every thing may speak to us of thy 
 love and our hopes ; that every thing may be transformed into 
 promise and blessing ; and that our voice, mingling in the 
 universal concert, in its turn may bless thee, O God, our Sa- 
 viour, and spread around us the joy and gratitude thou hast 
 planted in our hearts ! 
 
308 
 
 XXII. 
 PEACE IN HEAVEN AND GLOEY IN THE HIGHEST/ 
 
 K And when he drew nigh, even to the descent of the Mount of Olives, the 
 whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a 
 loud voice for all the mighty works they had seen ; saying, Blessed be the 
 King that cometh in the name of the Lord ! peace in heaven, and glory 
 in the highest."— Luke xix. 37, 38. 
 
 Such are the acclamations with which the ravished multi- 
 tude make the air resound, at the entry of Jesus Christ into 
 Jerusalem. Such is the triumph they decree to that peaceful 
 king, who has revealed his power only in blessings. Obscure 
 and poor multitude, incapable of displaying a sumptuous pre- 
 paration in honour of him they love, they confine themselves to 
 scattering branches under the feet of the humble beast on which 
 he rides. Some strip off their garments and spread them on 
 the way before the Son of David, and all, in a transport of joy 
 and adoration, cry out, as he advances, " Blessed be the King 
 who cometh in the name of the Lord ! peace in heaven, and 
 glory in the highest ! " 
 
 If Jesus has willed that the action of that woman who pour- 
 ed the perfume upon his feet should be recounted throughout 
 the universe, is it surprising that the New Testament should 
 have preserved for us the memory of a more splendid work, 
 the homage rendered to Jesus by a multitude ? This fact, per- 
 petuated in the recollections of men, has also taken a place in 
 
 * Preached on Palm Sunday. 
 
AND GLORY IN THE HIGHEST. 309 
 
 our Christian institutions ; we celebrate it eight days before the 
 passover, on a day that we call Palm Sunday ; we assist, in 
 thought, at the triumphal entry of Christ into the city of 
 David ; in imagination, we scatter palms in the way of Christ, 
 and say, with his disciples, Blessed be the King who cometh 
 in the name of the Lord ! peace in heaven, and glory in the 
 highest ! 
 
 But before repeating these words, and appropriating them, 
 so to speak, to our own use, is it not necessary to understand 
 them ? Ought we not to be sure, when the mouth speaks them, 
 the heart also utters them ? These certainly are not words of a 
 confused import, or vague expressions which we can pronounce 
 without interest and responsibility. They are words which, in 
 the mind of the disciples, had a particular sense, and a precise 
 design. It is this sense and this design, which it is important, 
 at the outset, to ascertain. 
 
 We can suppose that the multitude, in the midst of which 
 Jesus Christ advanced to Jerusalem, was composed of very dif- 
 ferent persons. Some who had witnessed his miracles, or had 
 been cured by him of some malady, pressed with emotion around 
 their benefactor, whose nature and mission they had perhaps 
 not fathomed. Others, impatient of the yoke which galled the 
 Jewish nation, rejoiced to see the appearance of that king, so 
 long promised by the prophets; that deliverer, by whom the 
 vanquished nation might return to its former independence. 
 But others, my brethren, others recognized, in his maturity, Him 
 whom Simeon had recognized in his childhood ; they saw in Jesus 
 something else than a terrestrial benefactor, something else than 
 a monarch of this world. What, then, did they see in him ? 
 Their words teach us. They say, Blessed be the King who 
 cometh in the name of the Lord ! peace in heaven, and glory 
 in the highest ! 
 
 Poor blind man, whose eyes Jesus opened, on account of thy 
 
 faith! poor leper, to whom Jesus said, while healing thee, 
 
 ' Thy faith hath saved thee, go in peace ;" if ye were among 
 
 that multitude, come, and tell us the meaning of these sublime 
 
 words with which ye salute the entry of Jesus into the royal 
 
 2 c 
 
310 PEACE IN HEAVEN, 
 
 city. Blessed, ye say, blessed be the King who cometh in the 
 name of the Lord ! But others, perhaps, can say this, without 
 attaching to it the same idea with you. They expect a power- 
 ful prince, who, in the name of the Lord, like Cyrus of former 
 times, may rebuild the ramparts of Zion, and re-establish it in 
 its primitive glory. Is this He whom you expect ? For a suf- 
 ficient answer, you show me that gentle prince, his humble 
 equipage, his simple garments, his poor and pacific retinue. I 
 understand, then, that it is another royalty of which you speak, 
 another kingdom, which is not of this world, and that the king, 
 who has come in the name of the Lord, is not a competitor of 
 Herod, nor a rival of the Romans. 
 
 Go on, then, subject of this gentle king, and make me un- 
 derstand your whole idea. It is, responds to me this friend of 
 Jesus, it is altogether in what I have said, and my last words 
 explain the first, " Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest !'' 
 Should I speak of peace, if it were a king of this world, pre- 
 paring himself to recover from its usurpers the kingdom of his 
 ancestors ? In such a case, it would be war and not peace I 
 should announce. And even were it possible, in such circum- 
 stances, that a king should come to bring us peace, we should 
 speak of it only as on earth : but I have said, " peace in 
 heaven !" Do you believe, then, that we refer to an earthly 
 king ? 
 
 Ah ! the peace which my heart celebrates, is a peace con- 
 cluded and sealed in heaven ; a peace between man and God. 
 You, and I, and all men have transgressed his holy law, and 
 effaced his image within us. We have banished ourselves from 
 his heart ; we have renounced our title as his children ; he has 
 ceased to be our father. An impious war has been declared 
 on earth, against the sovereign of heaven ; a revolt of the heart, 
 and of the intellect, of the senses, and of all the faculties, a 
 general insurrection of the human race against its Creator, has 
 been organized in the world. The degraded senses have said, 
 Let us break his bands, and cast away his cords ; infatuated 
 and fickle reason, in its turn, has said, — " Where is the pro - 
 mise of his coming ;" selfishness and pride, leagued together. 
 
AND GLORY IN THE HIGHEST. 311 
 
 have exclaimed, — " We will not have this man to reign over 
 us." From the recesses of my hardened heart, a thousand 
 voices cried out the- same thing; yet one voice, solemn and 
 earnest, continued to upbraid me for my wanderings, reminded 
 me of the rights of God, of his justice, and of my future des- 
 tiny, and caused me clearly to understand that there is no peace 
 for the wicked. Such was my condition, full of uncertainty, 
 of trouble, and often of anguish. But behold the Lamb of God, 
 which taketh away the sins of the world. Behold the pledge, 
 the means, the author of reconciliation. Behold the Mediator 
 who is willing to interpose between the Father and us, and who 
 can save to the uttermost all them that come unto God by him. 
 War ceases between my Creator and me ; peace is signed in 
 the palace of " the highest ;" and my transported heart cries 
 out, Peace in the heavens ! 
 
 But may not the peace in which my soul rejoices, be a con- 
 cession unworthy of the divine Majesty ; and in the impious 
 struggle wherein I engaged, has not the holiness of God been 
 vanquished ? Has he pardoned me, from lassitude, from feeble- 
 ness, or indifference ? Ah ! far from my spirit be such blasphe- 
 mies ! The King of heaven can sign nothing but an honourable 
 peace. When he deigns to pardon, it cannot possibly be at 
 the expense either of his justice or of his holiness. The honour 
 of his government has suffered no stain. An illustrious atone- 
 ment, a sacrifice of infinite value, proclaims to the remotest 
 limits of the creation that eternal order could not be violated 
 with impunity. The Son of David enters Jerusalem only to 
 die there, and on the cross which awaits him, he will appear 
 at once the representative of the divine wrath, and of the divine 
 love. Nay more, from that cross to which he is fastened, he 
 will draw all men unto him. That cross will preach to the 
 world ; that cross, the instrument of death, will become an in- 
 strument of regeneration. The holiness of God re-appears on 
 earth ; and at the sight of it, the delighted angels in their celes- 
 tial dwellings, repeat the same cry, we cause to be heard on 
 earth, " Glory to God in the highest." 
 
 Thus speaks to me one of those little ones according to the 
 
312 PEACE IN HEAVEN, 
 
 flesh, who on the shores of the lake of Gennesareth, within the 
 walls of Capernaum, or in the streets of Jericho, have heard the 
 Saviour, and believed his word. He thus explains through ine, 
 those transports of gladness which burst from them, at the sight 
 of Jesus riding to the holy city. If we put ourselves in their 
 place, and surely this will not be difficult, we shall comprehend 
 their transports. We shall feel, also, that no word was equal 
 to their ideas, no expression proportioned to their feelings, and 
 that such joy as theirs never overflowed the hearts of men. 
 History informs us, that the city of Antioch, one of the prin- 
 cipal cities of the Roman empire, and the metropolis of the east, 
 having suffered some within its limits to overturn the statues 
 of the Emperor Theodosius, that prince overwhelmed it with 
 the terrible weight of his vengeance. A sentence of proscrip- 
 tion enveloped the whole population. The prisons were filled 
 with captives destined for the scaffold. Every day brought 
 new outrages and new terrors ; and the resentment of the prince 
 seemed incapable of being appeased but by the destruction of 
 that celebrated city. The bishop Flavian, then devoting him- 
 self for his flock, goes to Constantinople to confront the wrath 
 of the prince, and make an appeal to his mercy. Unexpected 
 happiness ! his Christian eloquence softens that irritated soul ; 
 the word of pardon, so earnestly sought, issues from the mouth 
 of Theodosius. A messenger is sent immediately to Antioch. 
 He hastens his journey, he arrives; he meets the assembled 
 citizens at the gates ; the pardon sparkles in his eyes before it 
 is pronounced by his lips ; then it is proclaimed ; and that 
 word, that single word, restores to life a thousand despairing 
 souls. 
 
 How affecting are such representations ! After fifteen cen- 
 turies they excite our emotion ; and causing a part of the joy 
 of the inhabitants of Antioch to thrill our souls, perpetuate 
 among us the impressions of that delightful day. Such joys, 
 however, have a name ; but there is none for that joy, the so- 
 lemn expression of which resounded before the gates of Jeru- 
 salem. That man, who in humble apparel rides thither with 
 the multitude, is the bearer also of tidings ; but what tidings ! 
 
AND GLORY IN THE HIGHEST. 313 
 
 — of a pardon, — but what a pardon ! He does not say, like the 
 messenger of Flavian, — You shall live a few days more in this 
 land of exile ; he says, You shall live eternally ! He does not 
 say, You shall yet see the sun, — he says, You shall see God ! 
 He does not say, You shall enjoy the good things of this world, 
 before you die ! he says, You shall enjoy a peace that passeth all 
 understanding ; you shall be associated, by your sentiments and 
 virtues, with divinity itself; and after a few days devoted to 
 the exercise of your faith, quitting for ever the plains of Ba- 
 bylon, you shall dwell in the land of salvation, in the immortal 
 Canaan. 
 
 And who is the messenger that brings such promises as these ! 
 He who alone can fulfil them, — he who will fulfil them, — he 
 by whom all those blessings are acquired, — he who, at the price 
 of his life, has asked from God all the nations as a heritage, and 
 has obtained them, — the great Victim, the great Prophet, the 
 great King ! 
 
 Now, my brethren, I come to you. Why have you entered 
 this temple ? You have come, as did the multitude of the dis- 
 ciples, to celebrate the entry of Jesus Christ into Jerusalem. 
 You have come to join your acclamations to theirs, and, like 
 them, to spread palms on the pathway of your Saviour. This 
 day, which was a festival to them, is also one to you, with this 
 single point of difference, that you have more to celebrate than 
 they, that is, eighteen centuries of the triumphs of Jesus Christ. 
 It is a festival ; yes, a festival. But every true festival is 
 in the heart. Interrogate yours. Does it contain any thing of 
 that which animated with so sweet a transport the believing 
 Israelites ? Does it cry out as theirs, Blessed be the King who 
 cometh in the name of the Lord ! peace in heaven and glory in 
 the highest ! 
 
 I leave to each the care of answering for himself. But per- 
 mit me to address a few other questions to my audience. In what 
 do those rejoice, on such a day, to whom Jesus is not a king 
 come in the name of the Lord, but a being of an uncertain na- 
 ture, of an equivocal dignity, a mere teacher, making known a 
 more perfect system of morality ? Do they rejoice that the de- 
 
314 
 
 PEACE IN HEAVEN. 
 
 mands of the law are augmented, that new chains are added 
 by Jesus to those with which they were bound, and that it is 
 still more difficult to do the will of God, since he has revealed 
 it in its perfection ? Do they rejoice that the task is doubled, 
 while the means remain the same ? Strange occasion for joy 
 to a creature who, every day, is constrained to acknowledge, in 
 things small as well as great, his incapacity and misery ! 
 
 In what do those rejoice, on such a day, who, long accus- 
 tomed to regard Christianity as a divine religion, remain satis- 
 fied with this general notion, preserving, without breaking the 
 seal, the letter which includes such gracious news, and never 
 availing themselves, either for instruction or consolation, of 
 those important communications which it contains? Custom 
 and propriety bring them to the house of God, to-day and al- 
 ways ; but in what do they rejoice ? That they belong to the 
 external body of the Church of Christ ? This is doubtless a 
 great advantage when properly used. But what more has he 
 who stops here, than the man who rejects the gospel ? Is it the 
 walls, said one of the fathers, is it the walls that make the 
 church ? Does it constitute one a Christian to live in the bosom 
 of Christianity, and to be born in a certain latitude ? One is 
 not a Christian in virtue of external baptism, but in virtue of 
 the baptism of regeneration. He is not a Christian because he 
 is inscribed and enrolled in our common Christianity ; for Jesus 
 has not come into the world to found parishes, but a church. 
 
 In what, on such a day, do those rejoice, who, accepting the 
 message of grace, believe themselves included in the divine 
 amnesty, but who, after having cried with the disciples, Peace 
 in heaven, do not add with them, glory in the highest ! In 
 other words, in what do they rejoice who adhere to the pro- 
 mises and not to the precepts, who accept the grace and not the 
 law, who wish by all means, to be saved, but care not to be re- 
 generated ? I will tell you what they rejoice in,— they rejoice 
 to see the government of God degraded for their sakes ; for if 
 grace might abolish the law, where would be glory to God ? 
 Will you tell me that at least they will love God, through gra- 
 titude, and that God will be glorified by their love ? No such 
 
AND GLORY IN THE HIGHEST. 315 
 
 thing, my brethren ; for we do not truly love what we do not 
 esteem ; we cannot really love a God whom we do not revere. 
 God could not be the object of our regard, from the moment he 
 had sacrificed to the design of saving us the least iota of that 
 holy law which Christ himself has come not to abolish but to 
 fulfil, and which is to remain intact and inviolate to the end of 
 time. If they rejoice, then, their joy is false ; and we might 
 address to them the words of an apostle, " Your laughter shall 
 be turned into mourning, and your joy into sorrow." 
 
 Yes, my brethren, the sentiments of a Christian are not en- 
 tire except in the whole of these words, " Blessed be the King 
 who cometh in the name of the Lord ! peace in heaven, and 
 glory in the highest !" Without these sentiments, this festival 
 and all our festivals are but vain ceremonies. Ah ! if our 
 heart is a stranger to such sentiments, let us desert these sacred 
 festivals, — let us approach these temples no more, — let us sup- 
 press these forms, void of meaning, so that our life may be pro- 
 fane, but consistent. Or rather let us aspire to be clothed with 
 those dispositions with which worship is true worship, and fes- 
 tivals true festivals. Let us ask God to penetrate us with those 
 sentiments which alone give repose to the soul and value to 
 life. Let us receive Christ as the disciples received him, as 
 the true God and eternal life. Sages of the earth, he is the key 
 of your problems, the completion of that philosophy which you 
 resume without ceasing, but never finish ; troubled spirits, your 
 peace; lovers of wealth, your true treasure ; men, the word 
 which solves the enigma of life, and conquers the power of death. 
 He alone rebinds us to the Author of our being and to univer- 
 sal order. Without him, wandering through life, between an 
 unknown past, and a gloomy future, by turns the sport of our 
 passions and our reason, a prey to infinite desires which nothing 
 can satisfy, reduced laboriously to construct poor imitations 
 of happiness, tired of living and afraid to die ; above all, afraid 
 to be judged, we must approach, without guide or support, that 
 frightful limit where the earth gives way under our feet. Let 
 us go, then, to the Finisher of our salvation ; let us rejoice in 
 
:16 
 
 PEACE IN HEAVEN, AND GLORY IN THE HIGHEST. 
 
 his advent; let us scatter at his feet tears and palms; these 
 tears shall be wiped away by a divine hand ; these palms shall 
 become our crown in the city of peace, when, quenching our 
 thirst at the fountain of all perfection and felicity, we shall re- 
 peat the acclamations of the ancient believers, " Blessed be the 
 King that cometh in the name of the Lord ! Peace in heaven, 
 and glory in the highest \" 
 
 THE END. 
 
 EDINBURGH: MACPHERSON & SYME, PRINTERS. 
 31 East Rose Lane. 
 
/ 
 
iflWf'ttfiwr 
 
 mm 
 
 HHMilh 
 
 
 EBHF 
 BJBi 
 
 1111111 
 
 aHI 
 
 ft$