^5 CS *'3+7 REMAINS OF THE LATE REVEREND JOHN MARTIN, D.D MINISTER OF KIRKALDY : CONSISTING OF SERMONS, ESSAYS, AND LETTERS WITH A MEMOIR, EDINBURGH : PUBLISHED BY WILLIAM OLIPHAXT AND SON, 7, SOUTH BRIDGE STREET ; WILLIAM COLLINS, GLASGOW; JAMES CUMMING, KIRKALDY; HAMILTON & CO., AND JAMES NISBET & CO., LONDON ; AND WILLIAM CURRY & CO. DUBLIN. MDCCCXXXVIH EDINBBRGn; %V. OLIPHANT, JUN. AND CO., PKINTrnp, 23, SOUTH BRIDGE STREET. TO THE FLOCK IN KIRKALDY, LATELY UNDER Dit martin's CARE, THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED BY J HEIR GRATEFUL FRIEND, THE EDITOR, Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library http://archive.org/details/remflatOOmart PREFACE. The Editor of this volume does not present it to the public, without a good hope that its contents will be found useful to its readers, as well as creditable to its Author, and acceptable to his friends. In the Discourses, the Editor was desirous of af- fording a specimen of Dr Martin's method of handling both doctrinal and practical subjects. In the selec- tion of those included in the latter division, he was influenced not so much by considerations of the in- tellectual power which he conceived them to display, as by the illustration which they might give of the Author's character. Guided in a good measure by this view, he has been led, at the same time, in the last of the Discourses referred to, to present an ex- ample of Dr Martin's very early pulpit compositions. The Essays are stated, on page 230, to have been read before a Clerical Society. From this statement, how- ever, must be excepted the last of them, " On Faith," which was not originally intended to be included in the volume, not having, indeed, come under the Edi- VI PREFACE. tors observation, till the printing had advanced be- yond that page. It of course had not the benefit of even that correction, which the Author would have given it, had he prepared it for the instruction of such a Society. It seemed, however, so valuable, that other papers were sujDpressed in order to make room for it. In regard to the Letters published, the Edi- tor has gone a little beyond the purpose originally announced, which was limited to Consolatory Letters. At the same time, the many friends who have for- warded copies of letters, will find that he has drawn to a very small extent on their numerous communi- cations. It would have required a separate volume to include them all. For very obvious reasons, names have been suppressed, and, except in some of the communications to members of Dr Martin's own family, every circumstance omitted, which might point out the persons to whom the letters were addressed. The real worth of what is published is not thereby diminished ; although somewhat of the interest which attaches to epistolary writing is thus lost. The Me- moir has been prepared by one, who, to use his own words, was " unconnected with Dr Martin, save " by the esteem which his worth awakened in all who " knew him." To that kind friend, the Editor begs thus publicly to express his gratitude. Bathgate, June 6, 1838. CONTENTS. MEMOIR, 11 SERMON I. JESUS BRUISED BY THE FATHER. Isaiah liii. 10 — Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise him; he hath put him to grief. ..... 49 SERMON II. THE REDEEMER SEEING OF THE TRAVAIL OF HIS SOUL. Isaiah liii. 1 1. — He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied. ....... 68 SERMON III. SALVATION BY HUP] Romans viii. 24 We are saved by hope. . . 85 Mil CONTEXTS. SERMON IV. PREDESTINATION NOT SUBVERSIVE OF DILIGENCE IN THE USE OF MEANS. Acts xxvii. 22-25, 30, 31. — And I exhort you to be of good cheer ; for there shall be no loss of any man's life among you, but of the ship. For there stood by me this night the angel of God, whose I am, and whom I serve, saying, Fear not Paul ; thou must be brought before Cesar : and lo, God hath given thee all them that sail with thee. Wherefore, sirs, be of good cheer : for I believe God, that it shall be even as it teas told me. And as the shipmen ivere about to flee out of the ship, when they had let down the boat into the sea, under colour as though they would cast anchors out of the foreship, Paul said to the centurion and to the soldiers, Except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved. . . 1 03 SERMON V. THE SUFFERINGS OF CREATION RESULTING FROM THE SIN OF MAN. Romans viii. 22. — For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now. 1 L8 SERMON VI. ON love to enemies. Matthew v. 43-45 Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thy enemy : But 1 say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you ; that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven ; for he mahcth his sun, to rise on the evil and on Hie good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. 139 CONTENTS. IX SERMON VII. ON TIIF. SPIRIT AND MANNER IN WHICH THE DUTIES OF CHRISTIAN LOVE ARE TO BE DISCHARGED. Romans xii. 10 Be kindly affect ioned one to another with brotherly lore. . . . . . . . L54 SERMON VIII. EFFECTS OF GRIEF ON THE GODLY. John xi. 1-35. — Now a certain man teas sick, named La- zarus, of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Mar- tha, $c. . 174 SERMON IX. THE DEALINGS OF GOD WITH HIS AFFLICTED PEOPLE, AND THEIR CONSOLATIONS John xi. 1-35 — Now a certain man teas sick, named La- zarus, of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Mar- tha, fyc 186 SERMON X. ON OUR DUTIES TO THE AFFLICTED, AND THE USES OF THEIR AFFLICTIONS TO OURSELVES. John xi. 1-35. — Now a certain man was sick, named La- zarus, of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Mar- tha, Sfc 207 X CONTENTS. PAG I ESSAY I. ON THE APPLICATION OF THE EPITHET REVERENT) TO MINISTERS OF THE GOSPEL. .... 231 ESSAY II. on Jacob's wrestling at peniel. . . . 255 ESSAY III. REVIEW OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCE IN SEVERE AND PRO- TRACTED SICKNESS. .... . 281 ESSAY IV. EXAMINATION INTO THE MEANING OF BEING " BORN OF WATER AND OF THE SPIRIT." .... 302 ESSAY V. ON THE HUMANITY OF JESUS CHRIST. . . . 330 ESSAY VI. OBSERVATIONS ON THE NATURE OF FAITH. . . 356 LETTERS . 417 MEMOIR. When religious instruction is addressed to us, its merits do not depend upon the personal character of him who imparts it. But, whatever he the cause, the fact is admitted that the character of an author materially affects the influence of his instructions. Though truth never changes, and good counsel is still the same, whoever may convey it ; yet it comes with more impressive power from him who is known to have felt in his heart the influence of the truths which he taught, and whose own life has been guided by the counsels which he gave to others. For this reason, it appears proper to introduce the following volume with a brief notice of its Author's life and character. John Martin was born at Balmaghie, in the Shire of Kirkcudbright, on the 16th of December, 1769. About six years afterwards, his father, the Rev. Samuel Martin, D.D., was translated to the parish of Monimail in Fifeshire, where he laboured for more than half a century, — a pattern of sim- ple piety and ministerial faithfulness. In Christian bio- graphy, it is of high interest and moment to trace religious impressions back to their earliest appearance, and to observe the concurrent causes from which they arose. The operation of the sovereign Spirit in producing a sanctifying and saving 12 M KM OIK change upon the soul is very diversified : in one. it is con- nected with some marked event of Providence by which its date can be determined ; in another, — '; the kingdom of God is as if a man should cast seed into the ground, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how." The latter appears to have been the experience of the subject of this memoir. Under the care of godly and enlightened pa- rents, he imbibed early and imperceptibly those gracious dis- positions, which, expanding with his faculties and matured by the varied discipline of Divine Providence, pervaded his character and directed his conduct through a chequered life. If the sudden conversion under circumstances the most un- toward, when the fruits of righteousness are engrafted upon a neglected and mis-spent youth, present a more signal mani- festation of divine power and grace, the experience of Mr Martin, as now delineated, deserves record, as adding another to the accumulated testimonies of the faithfulness of the eternal promise which connects the piety of the child with the fidelity of the parent. A mother's influence over the mind of youth has often been remarked ; and as an en- couragement to others, every instance of its success is worthy to be made known. The subjoined extract from a letter of the author of these discourses to a Christian friend, upon the death of Mrs Martin in 1818, may be inserted, as illustrat- ing at once the rare spiritual attainments of the parent, and the high measure of grace which the object of her care sub- sequently reached. " You are right in judging that my feel- " ings must have been strongly moved by the scenes which " I have lately witnessed : yet I can hardly say, that the " movement has been painful. Even when sympathizing "deeply in my venerated mother's sufferings which often - were severe, yet there was something so delightful in con- ■ fcemplating the power of divine grace exhibited in her MEMOIR. 13 • patience, trust, and hope, that J could scarcely have wish- •• ed matters to have been ordered otherwise. And when I • had seen her sufferings, and heard her express not only a " blest assurance of future happiness, but so many earnest c: and importunate petitions for the separation of her spirit " from its mortal tabernacle, that it might go home to Jesus, " I could not, — I dared not have indulged so selfish and un- " reasonable a desire as that of her being detained longer ,; here. No ; though I could scarcely bring myself to pray " directly for her death according to her own earnest request, t; I do not think that I could have allowed myself to delay " it an hour, if I could have done it by a word. With every " idea of her departure, there is so much of the radiant, " bright, and glorious associated, that I cannot look upon it " with regret. Towards her, all my emotions are those of " joy and congratulation : towards God, of thanksgiving. " And the blessed hope of meeting again takes away all the " pangs of separation.1' The scene of Mr Martin's earlier years being remote from the facilities of education which a town affords, he received his tuition at home under the superintendence of his father, till the period of his entering college. The relative merits of the two systems have long been disputed ; and depend- ing much upon individual character and circumstances, the question does not seem to admit a general determination. Shortly before his death, the subject of this memoir stated an important view of it suggested by his own experience. " I was educated at home," he observed, '; and if the amount '; of acquired knowledge were alone to be considered, I went " to the university with more Latin and (jreek than most " of my fellows. But as my studies were often interrupted •; by my father's avocations, and my mind was allowed to 14 MEMOIR. u pursue any train of thought which happened to be suggested " at the moment, instead of regular method and fixed con- " centration of attention, I acquired desultory habits in the " arrangement of my time and the application of my faculties, " the effects of which, after fifty years, I think, still remain.'" The important distinction referred to between the mere amount of learning attained, and the training of the mind and the formation of the habits, deserves the notice of those entrusted with the instruction of youth. From the early defect which he has mentioned with so much candour and discrimination, those trivial perplexities and mistakes in his arrangements probably arose, at which his friends were wont to smile, and which were the more remarkable in one who possessed withal a minute knowledge of the details of busi- ness, and who in general was fastidiously accurate in trans- acting it. It is interesting to notice how soon his faculties began to be developed, and became capable of application. In the fourth year of his age, he commenced the study of Latin ; and so familiar did that language become to him, that it was used, to a considerable extent, as the ordinary medium of both oral and written communication betwixt his father and him ; and to the end of life he retained the power of speak- ing it with considerable fluency and correctness. From earliest boyhood his thirst for information was intense, im- pelling him to peruse whatever books came within his reach. So absorbing was the interest he took in reading, that the volume was often removed from, his hands, otherwise he would remain rivetted till he reached its close. The fond anticipations of intellectual eminence, which seem reasonably to arise from rare precocity, often terminate in failure and dis- appointment : but Mr Martin's maturcr years fully sustained the promise of his youth. MEMOIll. 1 5 Iii the year 1782 his name was enrolled in the university of St Andrews, to which he repaired to prosecute his studies. At that period, the young men who resorted to the Scottish colleges were generally farther advanced in years, than those who now enter the classes. But although Mr Martin was among the youngest of his class, not having yet completed his thirteenth year, the preceding statements will prepare the reader for the fact that he immediately evinced an extent of acquirement, and a knowledge of the Latin and Greek lan- guages, which, with very little study won him a high stand- ing among his competitors. In subsequently alluding to this circumstance, he often expressed regret that he had not joined the students of a more advanced class. The prepar- ations necessary to carry him with credit through the pre- scribed exercises, were no more than a pastime, supplying no adequate occupation to his time and active faculties. He thus had much leisure to be employed as he might please — a hazardous position to him, if he had not been previously fortified by religious principle. But the cause of his regret was, that while gratifying his desire of information by roving at will over a wide variety of subjects, he was not restricted to any methodical system, nor habituated to one consecutive course of study. Perhaps he overrated this disadvantage ; at least it was counterbalanced by one important advantage accruing from this extensive reading, desultory though it was. Mr Martin had given early indication of his desire to devote himself to the ministry. There is a specialty attaching to the qualifi- cations for that sacred office. The mechanic may give his exclusive attention to physical science ; nor will it mar his success, that he has never culled one flower from the enamelled fields of literature : the votary of classic lore in turn may be enriched with its spoils, though he has never 16 MEMOIR. traced a diagram of mathematics. But he who would aspire to usefulness as a teacher of religion, will derive benefit from an acquaintance with the entire circle of science and litera- ture. In eliciting the meaning of the sacred text, and illustrating that meaning to others, in refuting objections and removing doubts, in exposing the complex deceits of the heart, and touching the latent springs of love, and hope, and fear, there opens a field, for the cultivation of which, useful materials may be derived from every department of human knowledge. The varied attainments of the author of these discourses, were a most desirable preparative for such an arduous profession. If, not diffusing his mental energies over an extensive range of the vast field of knowledge, he had concentrated them upon one section of it, he would have followed a likelier avenue to earthly distinction. But his aspi rations were of a higher and holier cast : and it cannot be doubted, that, in his multifarious reading, and in the ex- tensive circle of information which his versatile powers strove to compass, he was, perhaps unconsciously, acquiring those accomplishments which rendered him a polished shaft in the quiver of his Lord. — In after years, it often excited surprise, how one whose time and energies were tasked to the uttermost with professional avocations, came to attain that mastery even of the technical minutiae of the remotest subjects, which his unstudied conversation evinced. The preceding statement ma}' explain the fact : and it suggests this useful reflection, that the large knowledge which some possess, and which others deem it vain to aspire to, ascribing it to inexplicable intuition, — regarding it as an inborn gift, rather than the fruit of industry, — has been amassed si- lently and without notice, by intense and sustained applica- tion. After an attendance of four years at St Andrews, in MEMOIR. 17 which the prescribed course of literature and philosophy is completed, Mr Martin commenced the study of Theology in the university of Edinburgh. At this point of his history, it may be proper briefly to trace his acquirements, and some traits of his character. The following statements, founded upon the testimony of his contemporaries, and upon docu- mentary evidence, may, it is believed, be relied upon as ac- curate. He carried to the Divinity Hall a more than ordinary ex - tent of classical literature, especially in those branches of it which are requisite to form an accomplished theologian. With Latin he was conversant, as if it had been his verna- cular tongue. In Greek he had made considerable progress. Of this language, and of Hebrew, the study of which he then began, he ultimately attained a knowledge seldom found ex- cept among the inmates of an English University, who, un- distracted by the cares and avocations of active life, devote their days and nights to the lore of antiquity. During the entire course of his ministry, he appears, previous to the composition of his discourses, to have accurately examined the passage in the original, instead of taking his views of it from our received translation, excellent though it be. Many of the Sermons and Lectures which he has left, are inter- spersed with critical notes, which were of course omitted in the public delivery, but which bear evidence of his scholar- ship, and critical acumen. In this, as in many other points, he exhibited in these days of meagre attainment, a specimen of the scholastic erudition which characterized the master- spirits of the Reformation. He appears to have delighted in the study of physical science, and devoted considerable attention to the higher Is MEMOIR. branches of mathematics. For the use of some of his friend- he wrote a brief system of astronomy in a series of letters. Among the communications addressed to him about this period, one is from Dr Brown, at that time teaching the ma- thematical classes in St Andrews, and well known in the scientific world, thanking Mr Martin for some suggestions on certain departments of natural philosophy, which that eminent mathematician seems to have esteemed valuable. His epistolary correspondence also shows that he had closely examined the varieties of style which characterize the best English authors. Probably it was upon the result of this examination that he modelled his own compositions. The following volume presents a specimen of the style, in which he habitually wrote and spoke. He did not study ornate diction, nor curious felicity of words : rhetorical embellish- ments could not consist with impressions so deep as his. of the importance of the truths which it was his earnest aim to impart. But hi- language, even when least premeditated, and his style, even in his most familiar compositions, were chaste, accurate, and nervous. A comprehensive mind will not brook the frivolity of balancing niceties of expression. But when it is remembered that the successful communica- tion of truth is affected by the vehicle in which it is convey- ed. Mr Martin will not be censured for that careful revision of his earlier discourses, which induced him to transcribe some of them three or four times, previous to their de- livery. To thi- brief sketch of his mental character, it may be appropriate to add what were his natural dispositions; of these, the surviving friends of his youth concur in their re- collections. Frank, affectionate, single-minded, he attracted the friendship of his companions, which in many instances UK MOT II. 19 outlived the vicissitudes of succeeding years, and was only severed by death. His taste for the fine arts, especially for poetry and music, lent a subordinate charm to his society. He was characterized by an irrepressible buoyancy of spirits, which carried him with the keenest zest into the recreations belonging to his age : even in later years, the sombre hues with which severe affliction had shaded his character, were irradiated by occasional gleams of native vivacity. Perhaps these qualities contributed to the signal success which sub- sequently attended his labours among the young. The sim- plicity of his manners and the liveliness of his address, con- ciliated their affections, and won a favourable attention to the instructions which he loved to impart to this interesting part of his flock. According to the practice which prevailed at that period in the Divinity Hall, and which, under certain restrictions, is still permitted, Mr Martin became an occasional student, delivering the prescribed exercises, but prosecuting his stu- dies in private, instead of regularly attending the course of prelections. When he was afterwards called to discuss in the ecclesiastical courts the propriety of this practice, he strenuously opposed it, arguing that, though tolerated at first from necessity, it was an undoubted evil, which should be discontinued, when the circumstances had changed that once rendered it necessary. The science of divinity to which he now addressed himself, borders at innumerable points upon some of the most obstruse arcana of both mental and moral philosophy ; and the ardent mind, yet undisciplined and im- patient of restraint, often essays to explore those hidden deeps, in which the light of reason waxing fainter at every step, warns the bewildered inquirer to recede, and rest with humility and gratitude in the certainties of revelation. That 20 MEMOIR. the Author of these discourses should have entered eagerly into such investigations, was to be expected, not only from the inquisitive vigour of his mind, but from the fact that, even previous to this period, he had evinced a strong bias to the study of metaphysics. The early development of this bias which appears in some of his juvenile papers, forms a striking coincidence with that which astonishes the reader of the Life of President Edwards. His own statement on this point, given at p. 289 of this volume, will be read with inter- est. Those who remember Mr Martin's public ministrations, which were characterized by much simplicity, and by a careful abstinence from abstruse disquisitions, may probably be surprised to learn that he, who was so plain and practical in preaching, not only had been habituated to profound metaphysical investigations, but that to these the native bent of his mind inclined him so strongly and so early, as appears from this passage. It is, however, one of many evidences of that strong good sense, which his conduct ever evinced, that, much as he loved, and much as he indulged, as many of his private papers show, even to the end of life, in abstract trains of reflection, he directed his public discourses to those great doctrines and duties, the knowledge of which is important, and accessible alike to the learned and to the simple. No experienced Christian will deem it strange that he was tried by those conflicts with unbelief, the real origin of which he states with equal candour and discern- ment in the place referred to. Nor will it be held very singular, that when he came to reduce the religion of his early training, received with the undoubting readiness of boyish years, and hallowed by many blissful associations, into the religion of system, the articles and application of which he was to unfold, and the truth of which he was to maintain, that a mind of such a character and such vigour as his should MEMOIR. 21 have met many difficulties, and been harassed with many doubts. His communications to his natural counsellor, his father, discover a struggle, in which his mental suffering seems at times to have risen to absolute agony, between submission to the plain statements of God's word, and the conclusions to which a philosophy, falsely so called, conducted him. There are few of inquiring mind, who altogether escape these assaults of the adversary. " Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in nowise enter therein,''' is a truth, which so stains the glory, and runs so counter to the pride, of the understanding and the heart, that they will not entertain it without a struggle, nor accept it till a higher power has made them willing. They who, unaccustomed to form an independent judgment, are content with little inquiry to receive that system of religious belief, which others profess, and which circum- stances throw in their way, will pass on, unharassed by such misgivings. The nature of the duties to which he was soon to be called, and of the trials which he was destined to en- counter, discovers the wisdom of Providence in leading him through this discipline of temptation. His personal experi- ence of these artifices would enable him in his ministerial functions to deal with those who were wounded by the shafts of Satan. Besides, one who embraced the doctrines inculcated in the standards of the Church of Scotland only upon mature and thorough examination, would be better fortified against turning aside from the faith so deliberately weighed and em- braced. As somewhat illustrative of Mr Martin's slowness to swerve from the views and principles, which he had after mature consideration adopted, and as expressive of the general views which he entertained on the subject of pro- phecy, the following extract may be inserted from a letter written at a subsequent period, when the millenarian con- 22 MEMOIE. troversv was revived, in which a distinguished relative of his took a prominent share. " You say, ' had I been at Albury.1 Perhaps it was " better that I was not there. Unless I had resolved to be " nothing more than a listener, I fear I might have dis- " turbed the harmony of the meeting, by disputing many " things about which its members seem too confident to " allow them easily to be impugned, especially as their im- " pressions of their importance must grow with those of "their truth: and my doubts would have acted like cold " water on the animating glow of expectation under which " they look forward to approaching developments of pro- " phetic Scripture. For, though I trust I am not sceptical " with regard to any thing the Lord has thought it neces- " sary to reveal, so far as I understand it ; yet I cannot help " being very sceptical with respect to many interpretations " of his revelations, which our excellent friends seem to u consider as matters now advanced into the rank of axiom- " atical or elementary truths, rather than as subjects of " inquiry or hesitation. I do not pretend to say they are " wrong. Things may be so. But I cannot see that they " are so. The views given by Mr Scott in his commentary, " come much nearer to those which I think most probable "in regard to the Millennium, than such as are so undoubt- " ingly set forth by Basilicus, and others who think with " him. Meanwhile, I certainly think the Christian world " is indebted to them for endeavouring to direct its atten- " tion to those most important topics. And, meanwhile, " let us be diligent in our endeavours to convert sinners to " Christ, to convince them of sin, righteousness, and judg- " ment ; and that will be the best means of preparing them " for the coming of the Lord, whether at an earlier or later 11 date, whether in person or in spirit. If we can convince MEMOIR. 2% '• them of the necessity, and make them rely on the merits of •• his propitiation, — if we can show them the evils of sin, the ;- necessity of being renewed after his image, and being •• translated from a state of death to a state of light and life, " we shall do them more service than if we could expound ;" to them, in all its details, the new system of prophetic in- " terpretation : for this they might have to a tittle, and yet, " I fear, remain in the gall of bitterness and the bond of " iniquity ; whereas, the truth concerning the great atoning " sacrifice, and the sanctification of the Spirit, is essential to •• salvation, and cannot be known and received without it. ■• While of the otlier, men certainly may be ignorant with- '; out prejudice to their redemption ; else are myriads of " souls perished and perishing, concerning whom we hold " good hope. — This topic, I may observe, may suggest to *; you a motive to resignation on the removal of your pre- " cious babe. For if we be, as Mr Irving supposes, on ;i ' the very lip and edge1 of those fearful overthrows, con- •• vulsions, and bloody struggles, that are to precede the " coming of the Lord, you may live to see the day when •• you will most feelingly give him thanks, that she was soon " taken* home, and lodged in safety above all the toils and " calamities of that awful era/" The preceding statements will show that, upon complet- ing the course of study prescribed in the University, Mr Martin must have been prepared to undergo with ease and credit, that examination which takes place, before license is granted to preach the gospel. But with all these qualifica- tions, so deep was his sense of the importance of the office to which he aspired, that, upon submitting his name to the presbytery, he devoted the interval to study so intense, that his bodily constitution received a shock by which it was per- 24 MEMOIR. manently enfeebled. Having passed with entire satisfaction through the usual system of examinations, he was licensed by the Presbytery of Cupar, on October 16, 179&. A few months afterwards, a vacancy occurred in the parish of Strathmiglo ; and having been selected to fill that charge, he was ordained on the 5th of September, 1793. The sphere to which the great Head of the Church now called him, was in itself peculiarly interesting, and calculat- ed to render his labours alike useful to his flock, and com- fortable to himself. The parish of Strathmiglo lies in the western district of Fifeshire : and from its sequestered situ- ation, it was at that period uncontaminated by the profligacy which usually pervades a dense population. From the period of the Reformation, it appears to have been favoured with a faithful ministry : his immediate predecessor, Mr Lyon, has left a posthumous volume of sermons, which proves him to have been an able minister of the New Testa- ment. There is a sure connexion between a godly ministry and a pious people. Mr Martin found among all classes a reverence for the ordinances of divine grace, a habitual respect for the Sabbath and sanctuary, and the worship of God daily observed in almost every home. He was surrounded by a large body of elders, whose known personal piety gave weight to their counsels, and rendered them extensively influential in promoting the interests of religion. In a word, that ad- mirable parochial system, to which Scotland owed her moral glories, was in undecayed operation. To a people of this character, it was a mark of Divine favour, when sorrowing over the removal of their former pastor, to find that another was soon raised up to labour with acceptance among them. He soon endeared himself to them both by his ministerial fidelity, and by the simplicity and suavity of his manners. Endued with much natural kindliness of disposition, he not MEMOIR. 25 only watched for their souls with conscientious solicitude, but took a lively interest in all that concerned their present comfort and welfare. With each family in his parish he was familiarly acquainted. From the amenity of his cha- racter, his sterling integrity, and his practical knowledge of business, they resorted to him as their counsellor in dif- ficulty ; nor did any of them ever solicit in vain his at- tention and aid, at whatever sacrifice both of his time and ease. There is truth in the remark, that the life of a Christian pastor, however important his duties, and deeply affecting the scenes he sometimes witnesses, is unvaried by those spirit-stirring incidents which impart interest to a narrative. But, besides being due to the memory of Mr Martin, a suc- cinct statement of his pastoral labours may be of some service to those who are engaged in the same profession, and also as a record of those important moral influences which a faith- ful ministry brings to bear upon the weal of society, — a record especially needful at a time when these salutary in- fluences are undervalued, and when the system which exer- cises them is decried as a national incumbrance. He devoted much attention to the young of his flock. He possessed, in an eminent degree, the faculty of communi- cating instruction to them in a manner which won the at- tention, and impressed the heart. Shortly after his settle- ment in Strathmiglo, he introduced Sabbath schools, and the method which he adopted deserves attention, as being in some respects peculiar, and withal singularly successful. He instituted six or seven schools, taught by the elders in their respective houses : and each assembled in the church in rotation on the evenings of successive Sabbaths, and under- 26 MEMOIR. went an examination by Mr Martin. There are several advantages attending this arrangement, which account for its success. Each school, being of a limited number, and meeting in a private dwelling, resembled a family convened round a parent. The prospect of being examined after the lapse of six weeks, in presence of their parents and all who chose to attend, was a permanent stimulus to the young to diligence during the intervening time. Nor are the advan- tages to be overlooked, which resulted to the parents and others present. They attended numerously ; and, listening to the familiar and simple instructions addressed to the young, they were alike interested and benefited. If any apology be needed for details which may be deemed trivial, it may suffice to mention, that not a few, both of parents and children, have dated their first serious impressions from these Sabbath evening exercises, — impressions which the lapse of forty years has not effaced. Nearly connected with this department of pastoral duty, are the preparatory exercises of the young, when first they publicly seal their covenant with God by approaching the Lord's table. To these he devoted much time and attention, feeling deeply the responsibility attaching to such an act of admission. In this respect, Mr Martin partook of the spirit of his godly predecessor Dr Gillespie, who stated, that he never could give a token of admission to that high solemnity, without a trembling hand and a throbbing heart. Those who knew him, will attest the accuracy of the following in- teresting communication from one who had familiar oppor- tunities of observing his habits. The particular state- ments in it refer, however, to a subsequent period of his ministry, when he had a much larger population under his charge, than at Strathmiglo. " In his examination and MEMOIR. 27 w' preparation of young communicants, he was more pains- •* taking than anyone I know, or ever heard of. In a letter " I have lying by me, he says ; 4 for five weeks past, and " ' especially for the two last, I have been much taken up " ' with my young people ; — at least six hours every day in " ' the week, and often more. Every time the Lord's Sup- " ' per comes round, I think I will try to abridge my course " ' of examination ; but when I come to try, I cannot find " ' a way to leave out any part of it : the Lord be the " ' teacher of them all.1 In another he thus writes : ' My " ' time has been and is so much taken up at present with " ' labouring to infuse some knowledge and feeling of divine " ' things into dull minds and slow hearts, that I have no " ' leisure to write to you or any one as I wish. Oh ! what " ' poor inefficient instruments we are, when we do our " ' best! Even the silliest soul has in it a power of resist- " ' ance to divine truth, which our utmost efforts cannot " ' overcome, till the great Spiritual Teacher turn the heart, " ' and open the understanding. How often have I been " ' led to supplicate his turning and opening power !' " Hardly any part of his duty seemed to interest him so " much as this. He felt that he had then an opportunity " of making himself acquainted with these members of his " flock, which he might never enjoy again, and an opportu- " nity of instructing them more favourable than was ever " likely afterwards to be presented. This led him to be " very minute, and as it was sometimes called, very strict in " his examinations. And oh, how he rejoiced when he " either met with a candidate already well instructed in di- " vine truth, and seeming to feel its power, or when it " pleased God to bless his labours to that effect ! Notwith- " standing his strictness, I scarcely think there was an in- " stance of any one withdrawing from his instructions, whe- 28 MEMOIR. 4 ther candidates for baptism or the Lord's Supper, however 1 often delayed or put back. I know that some who now ' adorn the gospel in an eminent degree, ascribe their turn- ' ing from darkness to light, to the blessing resting on his ' instructions upon these occasions. Many would respond 4 to the sentiment of one poor girl, who being taunted by ' her companions for being so frequently with Mr Martin 4 before he would admit her to this ordinance, replied, 4 4 Well, you may laugh as you like, but I just w^ish he 4 4 would take me back as often.'1 Upon another occasion, 4 alluding to two girls who applied to be admitted both 4 to baptism and to the Lord's table, he thus expressed him- 4 self : 4 They looked at me so eagerly and confidingly, that 4 4 I could scarcely refrain from using the language of fond- 4 4 est affection/ It was this tenderness which made him 4 so universally loved. Many men have been more admired, 4 and eulogized by the world ; but few have secured the 4 same loving respect. It was this, too, which led those in 4 distress so freely to unbosom their griefs to him, and 4 which, leading him to enter into their sorrows as if they 4 were really his own, fitted him so admirably to speak a 4 word in season to the weary." The concluding sentences of this communication will prepare the reader for the statement, that, in visiting the sick and afflicted, and in ministering instruction and solace to the dying, he was most attentive. So unremitting was his attendance upon them, that in several instances they died in his arms, or while by their bedside he was commending the departing spirit to God in those supplications, which they who have heard will long remember. In prayer, he did possess a matchless felicity, as if he shared the gift of the patriarch, who as a prince had power with God to wrestle and prevail. His intercessions at the throne of grace were MEMOIR. 29 characterized by a majestic solemnity, a fervour and depth of feeling, and a singular adaptation to the special circum- stances of those whom he bore upon his spirit. The lan- guage which conveyed them, with few quotations from Scrip- ture, was cast in a massive mould, resembling the writings of the older English divines. It is matter of regret, that none of his prayers or communion addresses have been pre- served. But in no case were either written. Some moving scene stirred his spirit, and he poured forth his swelling emotions into the bosom of the Saviour, from the fulness of whose love he knew that plentiful blessings would return. After the example of Paul, he could say with truth to his people, " Ye know from the first day that I came, after what manner I have been with you at all seasons ; and how I kept back nothing that was profitable unto you, but have showed you and have taught you publicly, and from house to house." To the latter duty, he was, while in Strathmiglo, laboriously attentive. His course of household visitation was not gone through in a hasty perfunctory manner : he entered minutely into the spiritual circumstances of each fa- mily, protracting his stay and discourse ofttimes to a length well nigh unseasonable. In connexion with this, he success- fully observed the practice, now unfortunately falling into disuse, of holding diets for public examination. From the altered manners of the country, there has arisen an indispo- sition to attend these diets ; but, admitting that education is now more accessible and general, few will deny that they are still needful, and might prove of much edification. For fourteen years, this devoted servant of the Lord pur- sued, in the sphere assigned to him, those labours of which an unvarnished statement has just been presented. The only interruption was caused by ill health, which obliged SO MEMOIR. him for a season to withdraw from active duties. Intense study, pursued chiefly by night, and the exhausting toil of his Sabbath schools, which often detained him (unconscious the while of fatigue and of the lapse of time) till ten o'clock in the evening, appear to have subjected him to severe bodi- ly infirmities and sufferings, which more or less afflicted him during the remainder of his life. Respecting his domestic history, it is proper to state, that in 1796 he was united in marriage to Miss Margaret Walker — a union which, by the Divine blessing, led to mutual happiness, till that sudden bereavement occurred, which left her to deplore the loss of the kindest of husbands. Nine children were the fruit of this marriage, of whom eight have survived their father. Need it be said, that he was revered and fondly loved in his family circle, — when he possessed in rare union that natural warmth, sweetness, and vivacity of disposition, which, hal- lowed by religious principle, never fail to shed a halo of light and serenity around the domestic hearth ! Divine Providence had so ordered, that the connexion between Mr Martin and his flock in Strathmiglo should now be severed. In the autumn of 1806, a vacancy occurred in the parish of Kirkaldy, by the removal of Dr Fleming to Edinburgh. Much perplexity appears to have been felt in selecting a minister to that populous and important sphere. From the weight and worth of Mr Martin's private charac- ter, his public acceptableness as a preacher, his sound sense, and practical habits of business, and his proven fidelity in the discharge of pastoral duty, the Town-Council unani- mously pointed him out to the advisers of the Crown, as well fitted to undertake this arduous station. A presentation was accordingly issued in his favour, of which he signified his acceptance ; and in June, 1807, he was inducted to the MEMOIR. 31 pastoral charge of the parish of Kirkaldy. To the reasons which induced his consent to this change, he seldom ad- verted. Those who knew his character, and especially his indifference to sordid interests, will believe that these did not influence his decision : in this point of view, indeed, he suffered by the change. Neither was this step taken from discomfort or want of success in his former charge ; for in it a large measure of success and comfort had attended him. He subsequently stated, that had he been aware of the near place which he held in the affections of his flock, he would have lived and died among them. An attachment between pastor and people being gradually formed, its strength is often unknown, even by those wdio are thus knit to each other, until it is discovered by the pang of separation. The manner in which the proposal was made to him, probably suggested the inference, that in accepting it, he was follow- ing the leadings of Providence. On his part, it was wholly unsolicited, and came with surprise upon him. The har- mony with which the entire parish was disposed to welcome him, had its weight. The sphere of usefulness was greatly more extensive than that which he relinquished ; and he deemed it a duty to obey his Master's call, though in obey- ing it, many personal comforts were sacrificed, and many fond attachments broken. If any personal consideration weighed with him, it w7as the superior opportunity for the education of his family, which the change afforded. The scene upon which he now entered, presented in many respects a marked contrast wTith the tranquil retire- ment, in which his days had hitherto been spent. The pa- rish of Kirkaldy contains a large population, chiefly concen- trated in the town, which possesses considerable trade in shipping and manufactures. Any minister, in such circum- 32 MEMOIR. stances, must lay his account with having his attention and time much interrupted by secular business. Mr Martin's knowledge of these matters, his minute accuracy, his patient application, and obliging disposition, greatly increased these demands upon him. His advice and aid were constantly sought by numbers, both in his own and in the adjacent pa- rishes. During a residence in Kirkaldy of thirty years, he continued, with unabated perseverance and kindness, to transact an amount of secular business, greater than is trans- acted by many who make it their exclusive occupation. He often expressed regret that from these engrossing avocations, his time was inadequate to overtake regularly that systema- tic household visitation, which had been his daily occupa- tion and pleasure in the former scene of his labours. With so many urgent and besetting claims upon his leisure hours, and in a state of health which, during the greater part of his ministry in Kirkaldy, was exceedingly infirm, it is rather matter of surprise that he accomplished so much as he did. To every house of mourning, as his manner had ever been, he frequently repaired : the afflicted, the sick, and the dying, found him always ready at their call. When disease wras more than ordinarily prevalent, he has been known to devote six hours daily for many successive weeks to this affecting duty. He hesitated not to expose himself, where the most contagious and fatal maladies wrere raging. When cholera appeared in Kirkaldy, exhibiting in many cases its worst type, he daily made his rounds among the whole of those who wrere stricken with this appalling pestilence. With that unshaken trust in Divine protection, which character- izes a man of God, he feared no evil in the path of duty. The same apostle who directs Christians in general to " do good as they have opportunity,"" enjoins ministers in MEMO] i; particular to " be instant in season, out of season,11 ob- viously implying that the latter, besides embracing the oc- casions of usefulness which are directly obtruded on their notice, ought eagerly to watch for opportunities of well-do- ing, and skilfully to turn to profitable account the remotest opening which Providence may afford. It is surprising how inlets to usefulness, unobserved by others, will multiply on every side, to the keen and wakeful eye of Christian philan- thropy ; and seldom has any watchman in Israel scanned the events of life with more solicitude to descry and improve such opportunities, than did the subject of this Memoir. The following letter deserves publicity, both from its in- trinsic value, and as presenting a specimen of the vigilance with which he seized, and strove to sanctify passing occur- rences,— of his discriminating tact and judgment in selecting the moment when his counsels were likeliest to reach the heart, — and of his power to descend from comprehensive views to the minuter details of Christian practice ; the let- ter, the date and address of which are unknown, was sent to the eldest son of a family, on the day of his father's fu- neral : — " My Dear Sir, — Among the solicitudes and concern " which I have lately felt for you, and the rest of your " family, there is one which, in particular, I will use the " freedom to state to you. In passing along the streets at a " latish hour, I used oft to look up to your father's house " with satisfaction, as one in which the becoming duty of " family worship was regularly kept up, and in which it " was probably going on at the moment. Oft has my heart " been sore to think that there were so few houses of which " I could be assured of the same ; and how far, on each " side, the blank extended, of dwellings in which there was " nothing legible, to tell that the inmates were believers in c M MEMOIR. Christ, or acknowledged the providence of Jehovah. Let me intreat you not to permit the honourable distinction which has been so long connected with your paternal home, to pass away with its late lamented head, in com- pliance with the customs of an ungodly world. Let your house and family still present a break in the melancholy continuity of abodes where there is no domestic altar, of families that call not on the name of the Lord. As I trust it is your honourable ambition to fill up, as far as possible, to society and to your father's house, the place which he occupied, give me the pleasure, and them the advantage, of keeping up in this respect, his laudable ex- ample. And, when I speak of pleasure, I am sure I do not mistake when I say that to those, to whom, after your father, and for his sake you owe most respect, this will give a satisfaction which will contribute much to alleviate the anguish which they have felt in being be- reaved of him. " Accustomed to consider yourself merely as a young man, and having had little time to familiarize your mind to the situation of a head of a family, you may have felt a backwardness and an awkwardness at taking immediate- ly a step so decided. But, as I hope you think it one which you ought to take, let me assure you that the best and easiest time to take it is the first. I have never seen but where such a step was put off, it became always the more difficult the longer it was delayed. Ah, my good sir, the grand artifice by which our worst enemy defeats many a good purpose, is to persuade us to put off the • execution of it for some pretended reason or other. And, ' if we are thus prevailed on to let the first season pass, his • ingenuity will never be at a loss for arguments that an- • other will be more convenient than the present. Do not MEMOIR. $>) gratify him, and cheat yourself of much real satisfaction, which 1 know you will have in observing the duty. " Be not afraid that words will be wanting to you. He who is accustomed to pray for himself, can never want subjects on which to express himself for others. They are just sinful needy creatures, in the same circumstances with yourself ; and what you have been used to solicit for yourself, ask for those around you. Let me exhort you also, always to accompany your family devotions, if not with the singing of praise, with the reading of the Scrip- tures. This practice has many advantages. It ensures to a man's self, the regular and attentive perusal of God's word. It is oft of eminent use to others, and particularly to servants, not only as assuring the same to them, but because they will frequently better understand what is distinctly and intelligibly read to them by another, than what they spell out themselves. It will also suggest to you matter for prayer ; and enables a judicious person to apply many things contained in the passage read, to the instruction, correction, or warning of himself and those wTho join with him. I have been so much habituated to look to the psalm or the chapter read, to set me on, as it were, in prayer, that I always feel a difficulty, and find myself, in some measure, at a loss how7 to begin, when I am either asked to pray in those families where the read- ing of the Bible is not practised as part of the worship, or when, at home, any occurrence may occasionally make it necessary to omit the exercise: " Perhaps I am superfluously pressing you to do what you have already begun. But I hope you will ' suffer,1 as Paul says, ' the word of exhortation ;' and that it may be of some use in confirming and supporting your resolution. Perhaps the subject may not have occurred to you at all. 36 MEMOIR. " In that case, I trust you will be thankful, rather than dis- " pleased, at having it suggested to you. If you resolve to " comply with my request, I again beg it may be imme- " diately. Begin this night ; and, having begun, carry it " through. Let the presence of no stranger, or friend, or " company, induce you to omit it. It is always dangerous " to give Satan the advantage, which he will not fail to " make, of omitting any duty, from the influence of such " motives. For he knows well how to improve every omis- " sion into a precedent for other omissions, and thus at last " to break in grievously upon the regularity and usefulness " of our religious observances. " And now, my dear sir, I know not how you may take " this address. Sure I am, I never, on any occasion, acted " towards you more in the spirit of ; love unfeigned,1 or " offered you a truer fruit of friendship. Your mother, and " the family in general, have been much upon my mind to- " day. I hope the Lord has been gracious to her, in sus- " taining her spirit ; and to you all, in enabling you to look " beyond the things seen, to those which are unseen and " eternal." Among his papers have been found copies of numerous letters, similar in spirit to the above, discovering incessant and earnest longings and labours for the salvation of his flock ; bearing testimony of the faithfulness with which " he watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all.^ There are some walks of ministerial duty, in which every movement is watched and known by the world, and in which every effort may be duly appreciated. But the countless communications thus emanating silently from Mr Martin, in which, as each individual case required, he by turns reproved, guided, or solaced, cannot be known or appreciated ; and. like the secret MEMOIR. 3i prayers which consecrated them, they will remain hid till the day of universal revelation. Yet who can doubt their beneficial influence, unnoticed by the world though they be ! The torrent attracts more attention ; but the landscape de- rives fertility and freshness from the silent dew, and the nu- merous rivulets gliding placidly over its surface. These multifarious avocations would of necessity abridge the hours devoted to preparation for the pulpit. Perhaps this was the cause which induced him generally to preach from short notes, without committing his discourses fully to writing, — a practice ordinarily productive of serious disad- vantages, but which was in this instance of less injurious effect, from the fact that Mr Martin ever studied his subject maturely and prayerfully, and was able to embody his thoughts, at all times, in language easy, correct, and forcible. The following appears to have been the method he adopted in forming his discourses. After selecting some portion of Scripture as his theme, he collated numerous other passages bearing upon the subject, or on the illustration of the phrase- ology of the passage ; and the trains of thought and re- flection thus suggested, he followed out in his lecture or ser- mon. From his habit of critically examining these passages in the original Hebrew or Greek, and from the amplitude and minuteness of his biblical lore, he was occasionally led into dissertations more adapted to professional students of sacred literature, than to a mixed audience. But, at the same time, in the lucid statement of Divine truth, in judi- ciousness of remark, in precision alike of ideas and language, in richness of Scriptural illustration, and sometimes in deep fervid emotion, he was truly a master in Israel. Redeeming love was the great theme upon which he delighted to dwell ; and it was observed, that he ever rose to impressive power 38 MEM0I11. and pathos in proportion as this subject came more imme- diately under his contemplation. Upon hearing it remarked one da)7, after preaching from the prophetic words, " He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied,"11 that he was unusually animated, he replied, " Who that is " not insensate altogether, could speak with dispassionate " calmness on such a text P1 The mode of forming his dis- courses, which has been mentioned, rendered him strictly a textual preacher. If a discourse, so prepared, exhibit less of novelty or ingenuity, it indicates a more simple and reveren- tial deference to the word of God, and is the best adapted to lead the hearer to Scriptural faith and practice. It will be readily imagined, that Mr Martin took a lively interest in the various plans that have of late years been pursued for the advancing of Messiah's kingdom. He acted as secretary of the Fife and Kinross-shire Bible Society, up to the period of its separation into district associations. He entered warmly into all the General Assembly's schemes for the promotion of Scriptural knowledge and principle, both in our own land, and in those countries which, in the provi- dence of God, have been peculiarly connected with it. But as his zeal in this cause did not awaken with these schemes, so it was not confined to them. Every missionary enter- prise found in him a ready advocate, whether from the pulpit or the platform. The full liberality of spirit which Christian- ity teaches, appeared both in his own exertions for such purposes, and in his opening his pulpit for the pleading of them, to any one, of whatever name, of whose own religious character he had assurance, and of whose object he approved. Injustice to his flock, it ought to be added, that the numer- ous calls which were in consequence addressed to their libe- rality, were cordially responded to. memoir: 39 Besides the other onerous duties sustained by Mr Mar- tin, he took a lively interest in the proceedings of the eccle- siastical courts. His knowledge of church law and forms, and his accuracy in transacting business, pointed him out as singularly qualified for the responsible, but laborious and often irksome, task of acting as clerk to the presbytery. This office, at the request of his brethren, he undertook, and discharged its duties faithfully and satisfactorily for many years. By his brethren in the presbytery, he was revered and beloved ; nor did any diversity of opinions upon the public questions which were discussed from time to time, ever mar the harmony of brotherly love, or the reciprocation of kindly offices which they and he manifested towards each other. He was at once slow to give and to take offence, showing that he partook largely of the harmless and forbear- ing spirit of his Master. Though few were better able to sift and penetrate into human character, he exercised to the uttermost that charity which " hopeth all things ;" and unless duty dictated a sterner course, he was ever disposed to palliate the errors and failings of others. He received a signal and touching token of the esteem and affection of his co-presbyters, by their presenting a unanimous request to the faculty of St Andrews' University, that he should re- ceive the doctorate of divinity, a request which was ap- proved of, and acceded to, by that body. If masculine in- tellect, extensive erudition, high integrity, and long useful- ness, confer a title to that degree of honour, it has seldom been appended to a worthier name than that of John Martin. It pleased Almighty God to visit Dr Martin with ma- nifold and very severe afflictions. Of bodily infirmities, he had, as has already been noticed, large and protracted ex- perience. To diminish under these his burden of duty, 40 MEMOIR. which was indeed too heavy for one person in the most vi- gorous health, his attached flock provided an assistant to him for a considerable number of years. He continued, however, to officiate once each Sabbath ; in the evening he instructed a numerous class of young persons ; and he appears to have reverted to the practice of carefully writing out his discourses. Among his remains, are found numerous hymns and para- phrases of Scripture, in the composition of which he appears to have beguiled some of the lingering hours of pain. Nor was bodily suffering the only or the severest trial to which his heavenly Father saw meet to subject him. His was a heart of tenderest sensibility ; and many and keen were the wTounds which lacerated it during the evening of his days.* * To a Christian mind, the loss of worldly good ought, in hardly any circumstances, to be a source of serious distress. How Mr Mar- tin was exercised under such a trial, his own language, penned after learning an event which left him no prospect but that of greatly straitened circumstances so long as he lived, will show : — " When we " think of the villany and negligence which have been the immediate " causes of this change of our circumstances, natural resentment is " apt to rise high. But when we think that even these have been " but a part of the means employed by the Sovereign of all for the " accomplishment of his purpose, we learn to acquiesce in even them. " Oh that the Lord would give repentance unto life, to all who have " been concerned in these embezzlements and squanderings ! When " one looks merely to their delinquency, one is apt to feel an indig- " nant wrathful spirit, that would demand their punishment. But " when one thinks of their state in regard to God and eternity, oh ! " what objects of compassion do they become, over whom the bowels " yearn, and for whom the most earnest supplications are poured out. " Pity them, pity them, O God of mercy ! Oh, how happy were the " hour, when, instead of looking on them with a sort of abhorrence, " which makes one feel it revolting to be near them, one could take " even the worst of them by the hand as a brother, and behold him " with joy as a fellow-heir of immortality. How miserable is the MEMOIR. 41 It were easy to point out important purposes which Divine Providence promoted both to himself and others, by bring- ing him through much tribulation. It was manifestly at- tended with a sanctifying blessing, and he was graciously enabled to say, Ci Good is the will of the Lord." His per- sonal familiarity with a wide range of suffering, qualified him in an eminent degree to address the afflicted. This, accordingly, appears to have been a favourite occupation ; and from few men have there emanated so many letters upon this interesting subject. The following extracts will illus- trate both his own acquaintance with suffering, and his alac- rity to be useful to those whom he knew to be exposed to it : — " My Dear Madam, — You may probably be surprised " at this familiarity of address from one who is an entire " stranger to you. But dear you ought to be to me, though " not my personal acquaintance, as the daughter of a family " from which I have received so much kindness and atten- " tion. So far as sympathy can form a bond of affection, " you should be dear to me, too, as a fellow-sufferer ; for, ;; though probably my pains have been far less than yours, " I have been much conversant with distress. Besides " other seasons of severe disease, but a few months are past " since I had hardly a moment's exemption from pain for " weeks together, and was so enfeebled as to be unable to " cross a room without support. And dearer still you ought " to be to me, as a sister whom I trust our common hea- " venly Father is training in the school of affliction, under " the tuition of his Holy Spirit, for everlastingly serving and " enjoying him in the world of glory. Trusting, then, that " craft which sells the soul for poor pelf, or for the means of enjoy - " ing for a little the contemptible gratifications of the world. Pity " them, pity them, 0 God !" 42 MEMOIR. c; you excuse this freedom of address, permit me to indulge " the affectionate concern with which I regard you, in both " condoling with you on your sufferings, and rejoicing with " you on the gracious purposes for which they are inflicted. " I condole with you, for well I know how hard it is for our " feeble self-indulgent nature to bear up under anguish re- " newed from day to day, and prolonged from week to week, " and from month to month. And as I would earnestly " wrestle in prayer with God, that, should he send me back " the days of trial through which I have passed, he would " send me more entire resignation, and vouchsafe me largely " the comforts of the Holy Ghost, that I may possess my " soul in patience, I pray for you, that he may enable you " to exercise a filial submission to his holy will, may " strengthen you with all might in your mind, and enable " you to ' endure as seeing him who is invisible,' — that Sa- " viour, in whom his people, ' though now they see him not, " yet believing, rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full of " glory/ 0, my dear Madam, what a motive is it to the " most unresisting acquiescence in the sorest trial, to think " of the inexpressible sorrows which He, though he needed " them not on his own account, and could not have been " compelled by any power to suffer them without his own " consent, so patiently underwent for our salvation ! And " as ' he knows what sore temptations are,' having felt the " same, fear not to have recourse to him in all your troubles, " whether of body or of mind. May he hear and help you " in the time of need ! " But I must rejoice with you too. The school of af- " fliction is indeed a painful, but it is also a most salutary " one. A compassionate Master presides in it, all whose " severities, however sharp, are wisely considered, and kind- " ly adapted to the good of those who are under his disci- MEMOIR. 43 " pline. Sure I am, that if I have cause to he grateful to • him for many mercies and blessings of which I am al- " together unworthy, I have still greater cause to be grate- " ful for my pains and infirmities. Little progress as I have " made in the mortification of sin, or in moral and spiritual " attainments, with all the advantages derived from my " chastisements, I am sure I would have made still less wt without them. I could not have wanted any of them. " Blessed be their Giver for them ! May He daily impress " the lessons which he meant them to teach.'"' They who had access narrowly to observe Dr Martin, and to mark the influence of afflictions upon his character, will acknowledge that it was not without reason that he blessed God for them. It seemed as if all his thoughts had rest in heaven, where they found that peace, which expe- rience taught him that the world could not give. One inci- dent out of many may be recorded, as indicating how habi- tually he was " looking for, and hasting unto the coming of the day of God." He was casting his eye one evening over a newspaper, when he happened to hear some members of his family conversing about a letter from a relative, who ex- horted them to be every hour looking for the advent of the Lord. He laid aside the paper, and remarked, " You see " he says he does not know but our Lord may come this " night. I do not think nor expect so. But if he were to " come, I should say" (and he raised his eyes to heaven, while his countenance really shone with holy confidence), " Even so, come Lord Jesus." After a short pause, he re- sumed reading as before. The narrator of this expressive incident adds, " This was the habitual frame of his mind. " Every thing he did seemed sanctified. No occupation in " which he engaged, however secular it might seem, unfitted 44? MEMOIR. " him for the service of God. Sometimes, after being occu- u pied with worldly things or worldly people, his soul seem- " ed to rise to a higher pitch of devotion than usual, as if it " rejoiced to get free from earth and its concerns, and soar " to heaven where his delight was.1' It is a remarkable fact, that during some days previous to his death, and while in the possession of his usual measure of health, his prayers at the domestic altar referred chiefly to those who were en- countering the last enemy, or who might soon be called to walk through the valley of the shadow of death. There was observed a fervour in his supplications that they might be shielded from those evil suggestions and distressing doubts, with which the enemy often strives to darken the last hours of those whom he cannot destroy. It was little suspected either by himself or those around, that he was so soon and suddenly to be placed in the situation which these prayers contemplated ; but it is pleasing to know, that, in so far as the bodily injuries sustained by him left him power to reveal his dying experience, the comfortable assurance of the Saviour's presence and love which he had so recently supplicated for others, shed light and peace over the struggles and sufferings of his own deathbed. On Friday the 1st of September, 1887, Dr Martin had attended a meet- ing of presbytery at Milton, and wTas returning in the even- ing, accompanied by some of his brethren, when the horse suddenly took fright, and overturned the carriage. He was thrown out with great violence against a wall, and when carried home, his head was found to have been severely cut and bruised, his right arm broken, and the whole upper part of his frame shattered. He appears to have immediate- ly felt that his injuries were mortal ; for his first words, on being lifted up, were, " My poor widow," — an expression which he renewed with deep emotion on seeing Mrs Martin. !•.-> From the nature of the injury, his power of articulate speech was all but taken away, and the few syllables which he did utter were attended with great pain and difficulty. His friends and medical attendants still clung to the hope that he might survive, till the symptoms which ensued on the evening of Sabbath gave melancholy certainty that dissolu- tion was near. His consciousness seemed to continue to the last. As the several members of his family arrived and bent over him, he signified that he recognized them. Ever as a promise was repeated, his response, faint yet emphatic, showed that he familiarly remembered it. The last sug- gested to him was from Psalm lxxiii. 26 ; and his placid assent proved that he appropriated the words of the Psalmist, — " My flesh and my heart faileth ; but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.1"' At three o'clock on the morning of Monday he gently breathed his last. The preceding detail of Dr Martin's life, and of his mi- nistry for forty-four years, renders it unnecessary to append any formal summary of his character and labours. The object contemplated in this memoir will be fulfilled, if, by the Divine blessing, any shall be induced to follow the pat- tern of piety which it delineates, or to give more earnest heed to the truths and counsels contained in the volume to which it is prefixed. REMAINS. REMAINS, &c SERMON I. JESUS BRUISED BY THE FATHER. ISAIAH LIII. 10. " Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise him : he hath put him to grief" In the preceding part of this chapter, views are presented to us of the sufferings and character of that eminently holy, but despised and afflicted servant of God, whose coming and offices, whose humiliation and glory, it was the prophet's business to foreshow. But though in that part of the pro- phecy some general representations of the Redeemer's pains are given, comprehending all that he endured, in body and mind, from the hands of ferocious men, or the inflictions of his heavenly Father ; yet all the more special delineations contained in it refer, almost exclusively, to external suffer- ings, to the depression and poverty, privations and crosses, oppression and persecutions, savage insults, and mortal agonies, to which he was subjected by the blind rage of sin- ners. To his mind, indeed, even these were peculiarly pain- ful. Both experience and the nature of things warrant us 50 SERMON I. to say, that the more pure and virtuous any mind, the more distressing to it must be the exhibition of malignity in others. He, whose own spirit is familiar with the senti- ments, language, and actions of evil, or whom want of sensi- bility to the distinction between what is morally good or bad, makes view both with nearly equal indifference, does not feel disturbed by even more offensive discoveries of de- pravity, whether of word or deed. Provided he himself re- main unhurt, he cares not how grossly the tempers and habits of vice rule in the bosoms, and are exhibited in the characters of his fellow-creatures. But how different the condition of the man of sanctified mind, when compelled to behold the hideous display of shameless sin in others ! Sickening hor- ror thrills through his heart. Aversion, disgust, pity, at once rouse all painful movements within. His deep-felt loathing of sin in himself makes him view, both with hatred and terror, all forms in which it is evolved, and more espe- cially, therefore, the unequivocal and hardened forms, in which it audaciously comes forth in flagitious men. How does the godly man shudder in hearing the blasphemies and execrations, by which the impious vent their fierce passions ! What agony does it excite in him to behold their outrage- ous and heaven-daring deeds ! However comfortable and easy his situation might be, personally considered, it would become intolerable were he continually surrounded by such society, and under the daily necessity of having his eyes and ears wounded by the manifestations of their iniquity. " The righteous man, like just Lot, in seeing and hearing, would vex his righteous soul from day to day with their unlawful deeds." — How loathsomely disgusting, then, how painfully shocking to the pure mind, which tabernacled in the bosom of the Holy One of God, that display of human depravity, in all its basest forms, of which he himself was the object. JESUS BRUISED BY THE FATHER. 51 Rancorous envy, jealousy, revenge, were laid bare to his eye, in their most demoniacal aspect. Nor was the spectacle less horrible to his feelings, because their malignant passions at- tempted to disguise themselves to the blinded multitude un- der the semblance of zeal for the glory of God, and the ho- nour of his law. Distressingly abominable as these must have appeared to him in any case, they must, if possible, have been still more grossly so, when beheld as directed against himself; especially when contrasted with the con- sciousness of the very opposite state of his feelings towards his persecutors, and of the very different regard and treatment which he merited from them. To a benevolent, generous benefactor, how grievous is it to see the most disinterested kindness, the most important and painful services repaid, not merely with indifference and ingratitude, but with hatred, scorn, and malice. Such, in the case of Jesus, was the re- ward of a "love that passeth knowledge,1' and of services which none other could have performed, and none other would have attempted. But the distressful emotions of a good man, in seeing or hearing the atrocities of the wicked, arise not solely from the abhorrence with which he regards these atrocities them- selves. To this are to be added the keen and deep sensa- tions, with which his compassion must view the ruin which sinners thereby bring on themselves, and the fearful aggra- vation of their own eternal misery which they provoke. To his ears, blasphemies, and curses, and lies, and lewdness, have a sound peculiarly horrific ; for he hears them loudly proclaim, that the utterers of them are in a state of damna- tion, and are, in fact, calling on that God, who can save or de- stroy, to execute on them the fierceness of his wrath. And in witnessing impious deeds, unholy habits, and gross ex- cesses, his soul, while shocked at the evil which is in them, Z'.-l SERMON I. and alive to all their immediate bad and shameful effects, is wrung almost to agony, when it thinks of " the tribulation, anguish, and everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord," which the perpetrators thereby do their utmost to secure. To behold a wretched mortal incurring, by base actions, the penalties of human law, is most painful to any humane mind : but to the heart of him, who " walks not by sight, but by faith, " and who is familiar with thoughts of the eternal world, how exquisite the sorrow with which he oft contemplates men, not only spurning from them the oifers of grace, and the promises of never ending happiness, but labouring, as it were, to make hell hotter, and their share of perdition larger, and more intolerable. Over the mangled corpse of a murdered fellow-creature, who could help shed- ding tears ! What tears does the Christian oft pour out in secret over self-betrayed, self-poisoned, self-murdered souls ! — But in the mind of Jesus dwelt all the strongest, tenderest sympathies of our nature, unencumbered and unchecked by either bluntness of perception, or selfishness of feeling, which often prevent the acuteness of our pity, or restrain its indul- gence. The infinite compassion of the divine nature prompt- ed him to become man. It was infused, in all fulness, into his human soul. While none was so able as he to estimate the greatness and malignity of the departure of sinners from their God, and none so capable of perceiving and adequately computing the misery to which it led, none was so qualified and so disposed to feel the pangs of compassion over mortal guilt, earning, with mad eagerness, immortal wretchedness. Hence, he " groaned in spirit, and was troubled," beholding human perversity, and its consequences. Hence, wdien he looked on Jerusalem, the city of his enemies, the scene of his rejection and wrongs, " he wept over it, saying, if thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things .IKsrs BRUISED UY THE FATHER. 53 which belong to thy peace ! But now they are hid from thine eyes." With what pitying anguish, then, must he have beheld the most audacious effort of impiety, the most outrageous excess of wrong, of which this evil world has ever been the theatre, — that effort of impiety, that excess of wrong, by which he himself was nailed to the accursed tree, and was insulted and derided amidst the tortures which he bore ! The malice of even mortal foes did not affect his body only. It pierced and stung his soul. In the text, however, we behold him suffering under a mightier hand. Jehovah himself bruises him, and puts him to grief. Before endeavouring to unfold the tremendous ideas which these expressions convey, it may be proper to make a few observations on the terms employed, that our views of the prophet's meaning may be more clear and exact. Ob- serve, then, that the word bruise, in our version, is not so forcible as that in the original, which it is employed to re- present. To bruise does, indeed, imply the infliction of se- vere injury ; but it may be more or less severe. It may hurt, without endangering or destroying the life of him whom it befalls, or essentially altering the condition of any subject that sustains it. But the term used by Isaiah, signifies en- tirely to crush or break in pieces ; and is so rendered in se- veral passages, both in a literal and figurative sense.* It evidently implies, therefore, the utmost severity of infliction, and effects to the sufferer in the utmost degree dangerous and painful. Again, the word interpreted " put to grief,'1 is originally of a meaning a good deal similar to the other. As applied to bodily suffering, it seems to denote those cases, in which, from the violence of the shock or blow received, the person becomes faint and sick. Hence, as transferred to • See Job v. 4, xix. 2 ; and Ps. lxxxix. 11. 5 \> SERMON I. the mind, it is used with reference to those instances, in which the calamity endured affects the mind with that over- whelming sorrow, under which it sinks, as if burdened be- yond its powers, and deprived, for a season, of the faculty of exertion. * The first of these terms thus seems intended to convey to us the greatness and violence of the penal inflic- tion to which the Saviour was subjected ; the other to point out the intensity of the suffering occasioned thereby. Here, then, we have to behold the Almighty arm lifted up against Jesus, the force of Omnipotence exerted to crush him ; and, under it, the meek and holy sufferer, who was " wounded for transgressions" of which he committed none, and " bruised for iniquities" in which he had no share, was oppressed by agony, which almost forced asunder soul and body, and compelled him, though resolved on suffering it, to exclaim, " If it be possible, let this cup pass from me." When the foot treads a fly or spider to the earth, how com- pletely does it seem annihilated ! Were a huge rock from a mountain's side, or half the mountain itself, torn down, and pitched on some feeble creature below, what an image of total destruction would this present ! Or, were some de- voted being to be caught between two worlds broke loose from their appointed paths in the heavens, and dashing against each other with all the immeasurable rapidity with which they whirl through space, what strength could be imagined capable of sustaining their tremendous onset ; or what vestige of the demolished being could ever be traced amid the wreck produced by the vast collision ! But if the arm that supports, the hand that guides all worlds, shall it- self descend on the head charged with all the guilt of innu- * As applied to bodily suffering, see 1 Kings xxii. -34 ; Is. xxxix. 1 ; Micah, vi. 13. As applied to mental suffering, see 2 Sam. xiii. 2 ; Song, ii. 5 ; Daniel, viii. 27- — Epitou. JE3US BRUISED BY THE FATHER. 55 merable offences, who can compute the seventy of the blow? "Who conceive the terrors of the infliction ? — We know not, then, if we ought to attempt more particularly to describe those sufferings of Emmanuel, which the text so briefly, but energetically expresses, or more minutely investigate their cause. The utmost stretch of imagination cannot enable us to conceive the immediate exertion of infinite might, or to estimate its effects ; and all expression, therefore, must fail to represent them. When a speaker is himself conscious that he can attain no adequate idea of the subject of which he would discourse, any effort to communicate just thoughts on it to others must prove abortive. Yet, at the same time, we account it our duty to endeavour to impress on our own mind, and on the minds of our hearers, a sense of what the Redeemer suffered, that thus we may feel our obligations also. It may be proper, therefore, to dwell somewhat longer on them, that our hearts may be touched by the contempla- tion. Though we can neither think nor speak in an ade- quate manner, the attempt may serve to deepen our impres- sions, and to render our feelings, though still not commen- surate to the subject, yet more intense than before. Only such feelings, too, can be expected to be useful and lasting, as spring from a rational source. Our feelings, therefore, as to the matter now before us, may be more profitably excited, by endeavouring to suggest to our minds, some of the causes from which the severity of the Saviour's sufferings, consi- dered as originating in the Father's hand, proceeded. All these causes we cannot pretend to tell ; but some we may discover. Neither can we profess to judge of the manner or degree in which they affected the holy sufferer : yet, from their very nature, we may be able to satisfy you, both that they were most tremendous in themselves, and, in their effects, beyond all conception painful. And may God guide 5n' SERMON I. our minds and lips, that, on this high and holy theme, we may neither think foolishly, nor speak erroneously ! I. Jehovah, the Father, " bruised Jesus, and put him to grief," by depriving him, for a time, of the enjoyment of his countenance and love. If we remember the situation in which Jesus, when he suffered, stood, we must be sensible that this, at the least, then afflicted his soul. " He suffered, the just for the unjust."* " All our iniquities were laid on him." Now, so soon as any moral accountable creature commits sin. in other words, so soon as he prefers evil to good, and indulgence of his own erring will to the most holy and most righteous will of God, he forfeits every expression of his Maker's favour, and must be deprived of all enjoyment of his love. As such preference, indeed, implies direct op- position of character and design, between the presumptuous self-willed creature and his Creator, it implies absolute in- capacity of enjoying God's love, while it subjects the crea- ture to have every token of it taken away, as a just punish- ment of his guilt. Though such opposition of desire and character never existed between Jesus and the Father, yet, as was observed. Jesus stood in the room of sinners. He bore his people's offences ; the penalties due to them were exacted of him. To all the weight of this deprivation, then, the first and most immediate effect of sin. he was necessarily exposed. In this, too, the difference between him and those for whom he suffered, which otherwise would have been so immensely in his favour, — that the perfection of holiness in his own soul continued unimpaired, and his capacity of en- joying his Father's love as full as ever, — made the infliction more severe. Sinners, having lost that capacity, have lost also desire for the blessing, and therefore feel no pain from the deprivation of it; which is, indeed, one of the most cer- JESUS BRUISED BY THE FATHEE. 5 ' tain symptoms of a ruined, degraded state. But for one, who still retains full capacity of enjoying the Father's love, and whose desires are still supremely fixed on it, to be deprived of that enjoyment, must be painful and humbling in an ex- treme degree. What, then, must it have been to Jesus, who, from the peculiar constitution of his person, as combining the divine and human natures, had enjoyed, and was capable of enjoying, that love, in a manner far exceeding that in which it was ever tasted by the most exalted of created beings ? As a blessing of infinite worth, and to him infinitely dear, its loss, however temporary, must have been infinitely bit- ter. Let not any one imagine, that the loss of good, the depri- vation of enjoyment, though unaccompanied by any positive infliction of pain, is not in itself sufficient to be the source of most poignant suffering. Half the sorrows, which em- bitter human life, consist rather in the loss of some real or imaginary good, than in the actual infliction of personal dis- tress. And, in particular, how much and how often do they spring from a cause analogous to that of which we speak, as constituting an undoubted part of the Saviour's grief I Take, for example, one of the most common and most severe of hu- man sorrows, — that which affectionate parents feel over the untimely death of a much-loved child. In the most of such cases, parents suffer no direct injury in person or fortune. Nay, were we to look merely at the effects to them as indi- viduals, we should probably see that such events might most frequently be reckoned of advantage. The expense demand- ed by the maintenance and education of the child being removed, they should have more to bestow on their own necessities or pleasures. Providence, too, by taking him away, at once relieves them of all the cares and toils which he daily requires, and of all the anxieties, privations, and 58 SERMON I. vexations, of which he might prove the cause in after life, and which, even on the most favourable supposition, cannot be few. But what parents would hear with patience, were you to tell them, that, for such reasons, they ought not to mourn, when their lovely offspring becomes a prey to death ? Nay, what affectionate spirit would not rather resent your language as insult, did you expect that it should take con- solation from such views ? Ah, no ; the pleasure of enjoy- ing the society of their child, of exercising towards him all kind affections, and of receiving the testimonies of his love in turn, can never be compensated by such selfish consider- ations : and to be deprived of the satisfaction of giving and receiving mutual tokens of tenderness and regard, is found to be an affliction deep, severe, and lasting. — Thus, too, a long or final separation from any friend, whose conversation and intercourse afforded much delight, may be attended with no direct or visible injury to any interest of ours ; but how painful the privation of his company, and of the expressions of his friendship ! how much lamented ! how long and sadly felt ! Such instances, it is true, cannot give any adequate idea of the darkness, and disconsolateness, which overspread the Saviour's soul, when the Father's countenance was hidden from him : but by showing how much we often suffer from corresponding causes, may at least convince us, that " the grief, to which he was put," in this respect, was both real and most severe. But we may perhaps reach a somewhat nearer estimate of the Redeemer's inward sorrows, if we figure to ourselves the case of a soul, which, though still inhabiting a sinful body, and feeling much of the power of original corruption, has yet been so far sanctified by the Holy Ghost as to be capable of loving God supremely, contemplating with satis- faction the pledges of his love, and enjoying the effusions of jesus nun ski) by the father. 59 his grace. Ask such a soul at what rate it prizes such indications of its heavenly Father's favour, bid it name the consideration for which it would renounce them, inquire in- to its humiliation and grief when they are darkened or with- drawn, and you will find that they are valued above all earthly joy or gain, and that deprivation of them is depre- cated and lamented above all earthly loss or sorrow. " There be many that say, who will show us any good I Lord, lift thou on me the light of thy countenance.11 " My soul thirsteth for God, the living God, when shall I come and appear before God.11 " Hide not thy face from me : put not thy servant away in thine anger : leave me not, neither for- sake, O God of my salvation.1" " In my prosperity I said, I shall never be moved. Thou didst hide thy face, and I was troubled.11 " I am weary with my crying : my throat is dried: mine eyes fail, while I wait for my God.1' " Will the Lord cast off for ever ? will he be favourable no more I Is his mercy clean gone for ever \ doth his promise fail for evermore 2 Hath God forgotten to be gracious I hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies T How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord \ how long hide thy face from me V And if the bluntedperceptions, and cold inadequate feelings of men still struggling with a body of sin and death, have given rise to such strong expressions of rejoicing in the mani- festations of the love of God, and to such affecting lamenta- tions over their removal, what must have been the distress of the Saviour's soul, when not one ray of light from his Father's countenance was permitted to fall upon it, when a separation and banishment unfelt before, and by him wholly unmerited, however due to the guilt which he had assumed, interposed between him and his God I Oh, no mind of our's can adequately conceive, no speech of man express, the bit- terness which pervaded all his spirit, when he cried out from 60 SERMON I. the accursed tree, " my God, my God, why hast thou for- saken me !" Racking sinews, tearing flesh, dislocation of joints, — all these drew forth no groan, and no complaint. They were unnoticed, unfelt, amidst this awful destitu- tion. But this destitution was not all. It was accompanied, and aggravated by most formidable pains. For, II. Jesus then experienced the direct infliction of the Fa- ther's wrath ; and that, in a degree corresponding to the num- ber and amount of the iniquities laid on him. God must be displeased with sin. To suppose that he could regard with approbation, or even with indifference, what is so contrary to true holiness, were blasphemy, as being a denial of the purity of his nature. And if he be dis- pleased with sin, his displeasure must be shown. Were it not, that circumstance alone would demonstrate that he was not displeased ; and his holiness would be disproved. For, if he feel displeasure, he is not a being, whom any power, or any concurrence of events can hinder from display- ing it. Did, then, no pain or punishment follow sin, we should have proof, which no argument could resist, no con- trary assertion countervail, that God does not regard it with aversion, and that he, on whom the welfare of the whole universe depends, puts no distinction between good and evil, right and wrong. Nay, were but one sin to go unpunished, or one offence not to be rewarded with a penalty fully ade- quate to its ill desert, the perfection of his holiness would be justly called in question. For, if holiness be perfect, all sins must be objects of hatred : and that hatred will be dis- played in proportion to their malignity. It is to this dis- pleasure that we give the awful name, " the wrath of God.1' To his mind it is no tumultuous passion. It is a calm. JESUS BRUISED BY THE FATHER. 6*1 pure, eternal, and immutable attribute of his being, as essential to his nature, and as inseparable from his charac- ter, as any other of the glorious perfections that distinguish it. And being so, it makes the existence of moral evil necessarily and infallibly to imply that of corresponding punishment or pain. The like conclusion follows from the unchangeable jus- tice of God. For what is justice in any one, who exercises moral superintendence and authority ? It consists in recom- pensing every action according to its desert. Under the government of perfect justice, therefore, no sin can escape the punishment it deserves. For, on the one hand, if there be any action, of which we affirm that it ought not to be punished, that is, in other words, to assert that it is not sin ; since this is the very idea of a sinful action, that it is one de- serving punishment. On the other hand, if any thing de- serving punishment does not receive it, this is to deny either the justice or power of the ruler, who permits the due pe- nalty to remain unexecuted. And if we suppose, that any transgression of the moral law shall pass unpunished, or, though punished, is not so in proportion to its guilt, the per- fection and impartiality of justice fall to the ground. For if other offences receive their reward, why should this escape \ It cannot, if impartiality be exercised. And if punished at all, why not in proper measure ? It must be so, if the jus- tice, which takes cognizance of it, be immutably perfect. — No one, too, will deny that there are at least some sins which ought to be condignly punished ; and none can deny that there are many which God actually does punish. Now, while we admit that God ought strictly to punish some sins, and see that he does punish many, we set aside the consis- tency of his character, and the perfection of his equity, if we do not acknowledge that he must proportionally punish all. 6£ SERMON I. Were apologies received in one case, they must be received in all. Extenuating circumstances, doubtless, will be al- lowed their weight by the Supreme Judge ; but were they permitted altogether to do away guilt, that is, the obligation to punishment, there is no sin, in respect of which they might not be pled on one pretence or other. — Do we not read, too, in every section of the divine law, the revelation of wrath " against all ungodliness and unrighteousness °f men •" And have not the inspired writers, under both dispensations, re- peated the awful sentence, " Cursed is every one, who con- tinueth not in all things, which are written in the book of the law to do them V If these denunciations are not strictly fulfilled, what becomes of the veracity of God ? what of the majesty and stability of his law \ If he does not execute the sentence which he pronounces, he equally violates it, and makes light of it, with presumptuous creatures, who disobey its precepts, and infringe its prohibitions. And can we sup- pose the God of truth unfaithful to his own word, — the righteous Ruler of the world dishonouring and disannulling his own sacred law \ No : all declarations of the Most High must be fulfilled, in the strictest sense, — every sentence of his law must be fully put in force. But does not God equally proclaim himself as " forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin f Does he not encourage penitence, in every part of his holy book, by promises of pardon I Nay, does he not invite sinners to seek his favour, in the assurance that they shall find it I Yes ; and there is but one wav of reconciling with his truthfulness, declarations apparently so inconsistent, and of maintaining the inviolabi- lity of that law, which otherwise they would overturn, — namely, that the sentence of condemnation, which is not executed on transgressors themselves, should be executed on some willing and sufficient substitute ; and that the full JESUS BRUISED bV THE FATHER. b'o punishment of all the guilt remitted to them, should be borne by him. It is thus only, that " mercy and truth can meet together, righteousness and peace kiss each other." It was for this Jehovah bruised the Son, and with his own hand pat him to grief. It is thus, that the displeasure of holiness against sin is sufficiently displayed, yet the sinner pardoned ; the perfection and impartiality of justice proved, while trans- gressors escape ; the inviolability of the truth, the indefeasible authority and majesty of the law upheld, while they depart from the bar of judgment uncondemned. How awful the idea of the sufferings of Jesus from his Father's wrath, suggested by the considerations now re- viewed ! Of its nature and effects, we may learn something from the words of Christ himself, in relation to those on whom his owTn lips shall ordain execution of the law's con- demning sentence, *; They shall go away into everlasting punishment. " Had not he interposed for those whom the Father gave him, they too must have departed to the same. Think, then, of the innumerable multitude c; of all nations, and kindred, and people, and tongues," who, in the day of his glory, shall acknowledge him as their Redeemer. Think that he suffered for all, — that each and every sin of each and every individual, in all the countless throng, was laid on him, and its penalty exacted from him. Think that he then alone sustained the weight, which would have sunk all to endless misery ; and from that, compute the depth and in- tensity of the Saviour's sorrows. Could you call up, from " the chains of darkness," some fallen angels, they might tell, in words of horror, what it is to endure the immediate infliction of Jehovah's wrath. But of angels or human souls in the place of punishment, there is none, whose sufferings are to be compared to Christ's. Of them all, each but suf- fers for himself. No other's guilt is laid on him, no other's 64 SERMON I punishment exacted from him. But Jesus was the substi- tute for thousands of thousands, and for ten thousand times ten thousand. What mind, then, can compute the great- ness of his agony \ Who shall compute and measure out to us the force by which he was smitten. — the pains which he endured '. After this statement, it is perhaps vain to attempt any further illustration of the cause or severity of the Redeemer's sufferings. Yet it may not be superfluous to remark, that our own feelings, and the analogy of corresponding cases, may help us to some idea of the nature and greatness of the evils he endured, in taking away the sin of the world. All knowT how painful it is to be the object of another's anger. We know, too. that the pain increases in proportion to the worth, dignity, and power of him whose displeasure we have incurred. Corresponding also to his authority and power will be the severity of the effects of his displeasure, if they are actually put forth against us. In all these points of view, how awful must have been the wrath of the Most High, and how tremendous its exertion, as called forth by innumerable sins, in all forms of provocation and offence ! — How earnestly, too, do those who have had any experience of the rebukes of the Almighty, deprecate their infliction ! " Thy wrath lieth hard upon me ; while I suffer thy terrors, I am distracted. Thy fierce wrath goeth over me ; thy ter- rors have cut me off. Wilt thou be angry with us for ever \ Remove thy stroke away from me. I am consumed by the blow of thine hand." We appeal, too, to every ingenuous mind, whether the displeasure of those we most love and re- verence, be not most painful to be borne ; Even though, amidst the expression of their anger, we are assured that they still bear kindness to us in their hearts, that does not abate our sorrow ; for then not only are all indications of JESUS BRUISED EY THE FATHER. 65 their favour and complacency suspended, but we smart un- der the display of feelings directly opposite. And the very thought, that, notwithstanding the kindness they entertain towards us, they feel it necessary to show7 decided and severe indignation, makes that indignation more intolerable. To the soul of Jesus, then, how inexpressible the agon}' of sup- porting the wrath and indignation not only of an Almighty Being, but of that Father whom he supremely loved, and whose love he so highly prized, and had so largely expe- rienced ! It was, when tw put to grief" by his Father's hand, that the spirit of Jesus was sore amazed, and " very heavy." It is from our text, and from these considerations, that we may learn whence came that sorrow which he poured forth on entering the garden of Gethsemane, — sorrow, almost too great for life, even in his sinless frame, to be able to sus- tain ; " my soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death." This caused the agony that forced from him the sweat which fell, like great drops of blood, to the ground ; and that brought down a pitying angel to support him under it. This made the hour, which was eventually to be the hour of his greatest glory, the hour, while it lasted, of deepest darkness. This made his cup a cup of trembling, and caused even his reso- lution to stagger, when it was poured out into his soul. This rendered the task one which no merely created being could accomplish, and which demanded the union of Al- mighty energy with a suffering nature, to qualify the latter to undergo it. It was in this that the " soul of Jesus,'1 as well as his body and blood, was " made an offering for sin ;" and the most awful display, which creation had ever seen, of the evil of rebellion against God, of the inviolability of his law, of the inflexibility of his justice, of the irreconcileable repugnance of his holiness to guilt, was presented to the mo- ral and intelligent world ; that, not only to men on earth, E 66 SERMON I. but " to the principalities and powers in heavenly places, might he known, by the church, the manifold wisdom of God ;" and " that in the ages to come, he might show the exceeding riches of his grace, in his kindness towards us by Christ Jesus." Have we succeeded in attempting to deepen your im- pression of the greatness and severity of the sufferings of your Lord 2 May we hope that these impressions are not only more lively for the time, but shall be more powerful and abiding hereafter ? Then is our object gained ; and you will suffer willingly the word of exhortation, while we remind you that the greater his agonies and sorrows were, the greater was the generosity of the love which prompted him to under- take and to endure for you ; and while we ask you, if he be not worthy of all your hearts, and if his generosity do not justly claim the most grateful return. Infinitely more wor- thy, surely, is he of your supreme affection, than all the earthly vanities, and transitory gains or joys, that dispute with him the empire of our minds, and which so oft, alas, receive a homage incompatible with what we owe to him. Let us, when we review our past lives, and the past habits of our souls, be covered with shame to think that we have so unworthily requited the Lord our Saviour. We have not felt his love, we are destitute of true gratitude for it, if it does not make sin odious to us, and cause us to lament that we have sinned so often and so much. Knowledge of his love, with the love to him thereby produced, forms the most powerful and copious source of true repentance. That man has never yet rightly seen the evil of sins, who has not looked on them as the cause of Emmanuel's matchless sorrows ; and he has not yet truly forsaken them, who has not been con- strained by the love of Christ. And is not that love, too. the most potent spring of JESUS BItUISElJ BY THE FATHER. f>~ Christian obedience \ Shall we dare to grudge any return that may be required for such tenderness of pity, such'de- votedness to our interests, such zeal for our salvation, as made the Son of God not only willing to work all righteous- ness for us, in the form of a servant, but to carry all our sor- rows, and suffer under all our sins ? Shall we not ascribe to him, with angels around the throne, " all power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and bless- ing f Whatever we possess, shall we not account it his, who hath redeemed ourselves I Whatever we can do, shall we not do it to his praise, who hath rescued us from ever- lasting shame, and given us a lively hope of the glory that fades not away I SERMON II. THE REDEEMER SEEING OF THE TRAVAIL OF HIS SOUL. ISAIAH LIII. 11. " He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied.'1'' Ix the first part of the preceding verse, the prophet concludes that striking detail of the humiliations and sufferings of our Lord, which this chapter exhibits. In the latter part, he commences an animated display of the glorious results in which all these should issue, the victories which Messiah was thereby to achieve, the deliverances he was to accom- plish, and the triumphs which he should obtain. In this portion of the prophecy, we have also set before us the an- swer to the question, and the solution of the difficulty, for- merly proposed. " Who shall declare his generation V for now he was to " see his seed." Here, too, we behold a pre- diction of his rising from the dead, and of the immortal life which was to follow it. When " his life was cut off from the earth ;" when " his soul was made an offering for sin/" then was he " to prolong his days." The prophecy appa- rently involved a contradiction and impossibility, but was verified and explained by its accomplishment. Then, too, " the pleasure of the Lord was to prosper in his hand," for then all those objects, which may be regarded as most espe- cially pleasing to divine purity and benevolence, were to be successfullv carried into effect by his exertions. In the text. FRUIT OF THE REDEEMER'S TRAVAIL. 0'9 we have another view of his reward, and of the happy issue of his undertaking and his pains. The prophet had been describing him as suffering, bruised, and dying, as crushed by many and complicated sorrows ! We see him, not only persecuted through life, and visited with all the variety of pains which human injustice and perverseness could inflict, but, in the close of his days, we behold insult and torture combined, till he expired beneath their pressure, without a friend, whose sympathy might soothe his spirit, or any cir- cumstance of mitigation to lighten his anguish. Nay, then was he deprived of that by which the soul of the departing martyr, though forsaken by every human comforter, has been often cheered, amid all the horrors of a cruel death, and the most furious expressions of bigotted rage, — the coun- tenance of God, the consolations of the Holy Ghost. For then the Father himself " made his soul an offering for sin," and poured out on it all the bitterness of the cup of wrath. And excruciating as were the torments which his bodily frame sustained, they were unnoticed and unfelt amid these inconceivable and more awful agonies of his mind. But in the words before us, the prophet's more pleasing employ- ment is to tell us of his joys, and to point out his rewards ; to lead our thoughts to the delights by which his anguish is now repaid, and which make him remember his sorrows no more. In endeavouring to illustrate the ideas presented to us in the text, we shall, I. Attempt an explanation of what is implied in our Lord's " seeing of the travail of his soul." II. We shall try to raise your thoughts to what is sug- gested by the assurance, " he shall be satisfied." — May the Lord help our endeavours ! 70 SERMON II. I. The word here rendered travail, like that by which it is represented, denotes labour, but not merely labour. It includes also the idea of pain. Painful toil, therefore, is the object on which it is intended to fix our attention. And never, surely, could such a term be more appropriately ap- plied, than to the series of sufferings which the prophet had been detailing, and through which, in all their extent, the Saviour passed, while sojourning upon earth. For his un- dertaking demanded, not only the most unremitting and la- borious exertion, but the endurance of the most unequalled pains. It required that he should encounter and overcome all the opposition, and all the rage, of earth and hell ; the weakness and perverseness of human nature, the malice and the whiles of the enemy of all good. It required that his body should be bound, scourged, and crucified; that his " soul should be exceeding sorrowful even unto death ;" that the " Lord himself should bruise him, and put him to grief;" that he should tread, and tread alone, the wine-press of the wrath and indignation of the Most High. And it is worthy of remark, that the prophet, in thus looking back on the Saviour's sufferings, and comprehensively describing them in the words before us, calls them the " travail,'1 the sore la- bour of " his soul" as if all that he suffered in his material frame had been nothing in the account, and did not merit to be mentioned, in comparison of his mental anguish. But, while our admiration and our love are thus led still to dwell on the Saviour's unspeakable distress, it must be gratifying to every one who believes in him to reflect, that, for all, he was to receive, and is now- receiving, ample consolation, yea joy that is " unspeakable and full of glory." When it is affirmed that he shall see of or from the w' tra- vail of his soul," the prophet's meaning obviously is, that he shall see the effect 'produced by it; the fruit resulting from all FRUIT OF THE REDEEMER S TRAVAIL. 71 that he so painfully, but patiently endured. And, if we allow our minds to expatiate on the consequences flowing from his " soul's travail," the agonizing labours of his spirit, what a scene of glorious and blissful changes opens to our view ! All that forms a theme of the songs of the redeemed in hea- ven, that has given new subjects to the praise of angels, and that affords consolation and hope to believers upon earth, rises to our imaginations. Think of the forgiveness, the re- mission of sins, which that travail has purchased for innu- merable souls ; and think of the change in their spiritual condition thereby effected. Figure to yourselves that " mul- titude which no man can number," and which shall consti- tute the spiritual seed whom he shall see gathered round him in the world of glory. Think what they w7ere by na- ture, and what must have been their state for ever, had not the Father, in boundless compassion, sent his Son to suffer ; and had not the Son, in boundless love, undertaken and completed the atonement necessary for their redemption. They were enemies of God, and enemies they must have re- mained. " Children of wrath,*" and that fearful heritage they must have possessed for ever. And now, when you have en- deavoured to conceive the idea of all these uncounted mil- lions of rational and immortal, but depraved and rebellious creatures, remaining to all eternity under the indissoluble bonds of guilt and misery, think of the vast and beneficent effect of the sufferings of Jesus, in all that guilt being at once cancelled, and in all that misery being prevented completely and for ever. What huge provinces of the world of pain were thus deprived of their expected inhabitants, and left for ever tenantless and waste ! What innumerable triumphs were wrested from the prince of darkness ; what innumer- able victims snatched from his cruelty and malice ! — Think again, how deplorable had been the issue to the human race, VA SERMON II. had all those millions continued, not only under the pangs of misery, but the bondage of corruption ; their moral state wholly degenerated and degraded ; its sinfulness left to operate without check or limit, to become daily more ag- gravated and more loathsome ; rendering them more wretch- ed in themselves, more complete tormentors to each other, more abhorred of God, more hated and shunned by all good beings. Then call to mind, that, by the travail of the Sa- viour's soul, this tremendous spread, and growth, and reign of depravity has been stopped ; the universal alienation of human nature from its Maker interrupted ; the perpetual re- bellion of so great a portion of his creatures precluded ! What a multitude of crimes have been prevented ! What a mass of enormities and guilt, that was ready to burst in upon the moral world, has been abolished in its rise ! What innumerable hosts, whom Satan had hoped to have trained up as eternal blasphemers, and opponents of the ma- jesty and the grace of God, have been rescued from a desti- nation so detestable and so foul ! And all this, the fruit of those sorrows to which Jesus bowed his soul ; all, through the virtue of that atonement which he offered, when the " Lord laid on him the iniquities of us all V Have, then, all this everlasting misery, these innumer- able torments been prevented I — all this ever-during, ever- growing guilt, and loathsomeness, and degradation, been not only removed, but kept from ever defiling the regions of ex- istence ; And shall we not own, that the end for which the Son of God became the Son of Man, and submitted to such extremities of humiliation and agony, was worthy of God's compassion to propose, — worthy of the Captain of Salvation to accomplish, even at a cost so dreadful ! Some are apt too frequently to complain, — to complain bitterly and unreason- ably, of this world, as a world of pain and evil ; but Oh what FRUIT OF THE REDEEMERS TRAVAIL. ~o more dreadful evils had ravaged all its countries — what scenes of horror, yet unknown in the blackest periods of its history, had been transacted on its surface, but for that interposition, and those sufferings, which many alas ! value so little ; for which they never give thanks, and in which they feel no de- sire to have an interest ! But the mighty extent of sin and wretchedness prevent- ed,— the innumerable deliverances from everlasting vileness and contempt effected, though the more immediate result of the travail of the Redeemer's soul, are but a part of its im- portant fruits. Instead of uncountable sins and hideous cor- ruptions, what acts of holiness and self-denial, what lovely and ennobling graces have been displayed in the character of the saints, even in a state so unfavourable to their growth as this world of ill ! And to any being at all capable of right moral feeling, how delightful the object of contemplation presented in the renovation and recovery of fallen, degraded, polluted, and worse than useless creatures, to purity and honour, to usefulness to one another, and acceptance with God ! If there be joy in heaven among the angels of God, over but one sinner that repenteth, in considering his rescue from the depths of wretchedness, his cleansing from the filth of corruption, his acquiring the graces of a new nature, and his ripening for the glories of immortality, — with what over- flowing delight must those benevolent spirits behold the ad- vance of the work of redemption, and expect its consumma- tion ! while, ever and anon, they see another and another of those, whom they had given up as hopeless heirs of misery and sin, pass from death into life, from darkness to light, from enmity, rebellion, and guilt, to peace and to holiness — imperfect, indeed, yet certainly begun, and certainly pro- gressive ! And, as the numbers incessantly increase with the lapse of ages, and the enlargement of the Redeemer's 74 SERMON 11. kingdom, how will their joys be multiplied, their wonder and adoration be augmented ! And when the whole as- sembled throng, gathered from " all kindreds, and people, and nations, and tongues,11 with their Lord and deliverer at their head, shall stand before the Majesty in the heavens, while He, in their name, shall say, " Behold, I and the children whom thou hast given me, come to claim the king- dom prepared for us from before the foundation of the world," with what sacred rapture shall they look upon each of them, arrayed in all the beauties of holiness, — no trace left of any stain, original or acquired, — none among them unworthy to be associated with themselves in their noblest exercises, — all lovely as the loveliest of their own glorious ranks, for all bear the image of the incarnate Saviour ! But to what are we to ascribe this renovation, purification, and glory, as its first and most important spring \ The subjects of it them- selves shall tell you. Their song is, " Glory and dominion be for ever to the Lamb that was slain, because he hath loved us. and washed us from our sins in his own blood !" " In the blood of the Lamb," said the elder to St John, 4' these have washed their robes, and made them white.''1 Thus all the holiness that shall take the place of sin, in the innumerable redeemed, — all the loveliness that shall make their original deformity be forgotten, — all the honour that shall crown heads once foul with shame, — all have their source in the sacrifice and sufferings, the ignominious death, and inexpressible travail of soul, which Isaiah, as moved by the Holy Ghost, foreshowed in this most instructive pro- phecy. Xor is it only in the substitution of holiness and honour for corruption and shame, that we see the effects produced by the sore labour of the Saviour's soul ; but in hope dis- placing despair. — in peace spreading its calm, where disquiet FRUIT OF THE REDEEMER S TRAVAIL. 75 ruled, — in content smiling, where repining lowered, — in filial trust expelling the rebel's fear, — in joy and victory in death, coming instead of gloom and guilty horror, — and in eternity bringing not endless weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth, but that felicity which, here, even the most favoured of his followers can but imperfectly conceive, and which we may not attempt to describe, because no human speech af- fords terms to utter it. Think, then, of everlasting and unmingled wretchedness changed into perfect and everlasting bliss, — the wretched- ness of hell into the bliss of heaven. How great, how un- speakable the change ! Next think of this as effected, not in one individual only, though even that were enough to fill with joy a seraph's heart ; but in all that company, past reckoning numerous, who shall eat of the fruit of the tree of life, and people the streets of the new Jerusalem ; and say what powers can compute its amount, or adequate- ly express the praise of him who wrought it I We talk with admiration of the prince, whose beneficent disposition, whose wise and equitable rule, has made his country com- paratively happy, during the few brief years of a mortal's reign. History tells of the greatness of his actions, and the benevolence of his designs,— of the sagacity and steadiness with which they were pursued. But Oh how imperfect is the happiness which any human power or policy can confer ! How inadequate are their best exertions to prevent or re- lieve many of the evils, to which men and nations are ex- posed ! And when they have done their utmost, how short- lived are their effects ! How worthy, then, of everlasting remembrance, — how truly glorious, that travail of soul, by which the Saviour purchased, for all the nations of the re- deemed, the life that cannot die, — the joy that is without mixture, and without end, connected with the glory that 70 SF-RMON II. shall not decay, and the purity which is incapable of stain ! For had not he suffered, none of all this had been : and of the meritorious obedience, by which he secured for his people a title to immortality, his humble subjection and patient re- signation to all that his Father's justice laid upon him, was the most trying and conspicuous part. But all this shall Jesus, in the day of his glory, and in the countless ages fol- lowing, i: see from the travail of his soul." And again we say, was not even that travail, vast and grievous as it was. well bestowed, to secure an issue and consummation so sublime. Nor is even this the whole. We might speak of his own glory. We might tell of the reward and approbation which he has already received from his Father, and of the yet brighter crown which he shall wear, in the sight of the gathered worlds of men and angels, when he shall wind up the present scheme of the universe ; and when, in clothing his saints with glory, he shall reap yet higher glory to himself. We might discourse too of the vindication of the Father's honour ; and describe how by the travail of soul to which the Son submitted, that honour which appear- ed to have been tarnished, or brought in doubt, by the disorders of this sinful world, is not only cleared from every shade, but bursts forth with a splendour unknown before ; while sin itself, the greatest of all evils, and that which is most directly adverse to his glory. i> made the occasion of exhibiting it in aspects which it could not otherwise have worn. Nay, we might speak of the effects of Messiah's suf- ferings as extending to the angelic host, though not person- ally interested in them. They shall furnish those blessed spirits, as we have seen, with new sources of pleasure, and suggest to them new grounds of praise. But time forbids us to follow out these topics, sublime FRUIT OF THE REDEEMERS TRAVAIL. and interesting as they are. We must be satisfied with having suggested them. Pursue them in your thoughts: and combining them with what has been stated as to the fruits of the Saviour's travail of soul, in regard to the human objects of his beneficent undertaking, you will be prepared to have some sympathy with him in the satisfaction, with which he shall see the whole. To that satisfaction we pro- posed II. To direct your attention. The word, which is here rendered to satisfy, originally signifies to satisfy with food ; to satiate the appetite from hunger. It has hence been naturally extended to denote the gratification of desire in general ; and from this has come to express that full contentment, or pleasure of mind, which is so rarely felt on earth, but which is essential to real hap- piness. In two nearly contiguous verses in the book of Pro- verbs (xii. 11, 14), we have an example of both the literal and figurative application of the term ; and that too, both in the original lan^ua^e of the Bible, and in our own. c* He that tilleth his land shall be satisfied with bread," — and " a. man shall be satisfied with pood, by the fruit of his mouth." As employed in the text, it expresses the full and perfect complacency, the pure and lasting delight, with which the Saviour surveys, and shall ever survey, the fruit of the tra- vail of his soul. And pure, indeed, and sublime, that de- light must be. Imperfect as our love to God, our love to man and goodness always is, I cannot think there is a Chris- tian, whose breast does not glow with sensations of joy, in contemplating such a picture as we have endeavoured to set before you, and in realising changes so vast, and so bene- ficent in the state of unnumbered accountable and immortal beings. And if even we cannot imagine these things with- SERMON II. out being moved to rapture, what divine satisfaction must they diffuse through the soul of Him, who is absolutely per- fect in every virtue, that is fitted to take pleasure in them ! His is that supreme love to the Father, which must be purely gratified by whatever tends to exhibit, with due lus- tre, the glory of his perfections. His that love to man, which is happy in the restoration and perpetuity of their happiness. And his is that zeal towards righteousness and true holiness, which must exult in a re-establishment of their empire so wide and so effectual. We know something of the painful manner in which his soul was wounded, while he dwelt on earth, by the depravity which met him at every step, and by the gross insults to the Father's authority and law, which met him in every crime. We know how by the obstinacy and disobedience of even the disciples whom he had chosen, and on whom he had set his heart, he was com- pelled to exclaim, " Oh faithless and perverse generation, how long: shall I he with you \ how Ions shall I suffer you P1 What perpetual delight, then, must it have afforded him, to see this faithlessness and perverseness gradually giving way to docility, obedience, and love ! What satisfaction must he enjoy, in beholding these, in all the families of the redeemed, advancing to perfection, till they are, at last, made meet to be translated into his everlasting kingdom, — that holy place into which can be admitted " nothing that defileth, or that worketh abomination, orthatmaketh a lie I*1 (Rev. xxi. 21.) And, oh, what infinite joy shall pervade his spirit, when, in the end, he shall behold all his saints collected round him ; — when, in all the countless congregation, there shall not be one. on whom he cannot look with entire complacency ! when there shall not be one incongruous sentiment in any bosom ; not one unseemly word from any tongue, and not one act demanding blame in any individual ! when he shall FRUIT OF THE REDEEMER'S TRAVAIL. *!> see his own perfection reflected in even the weakest and most perverse of those, whose follies now grieve his Holy Spirit ; but whom it shall then be his delightful care, throughout eternity, not only to preserve in purity, but to carry forward still to attainments more noble and refined ! How deep and strong Christ's sense of human misery, how ardent his wishes to relieve it, we need nothing more to prove, than to recollect, that, from everlasting, he pur- posed to give himself a ransom to save us from it ; and that, when the fulness of time was come, he did actually endure all that complication of innumerable sorrows, of which this prophecy gives the aifecting summary. Yet to assure us as if still more, it is testified of him, that he " can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities," and that " he was tempted in all points like as we are." He himself " took our sorrows, and bare our sicknesses." In particular, and above all, he can best tell from what he so awfully ex- perienced, the misery resulting from the direct infliction of the wrath of God, and the inexpressible contrast between the endurance of it, and the possession of the peace which passeth not away. How unmingled his delight, then, to pass his eye over all the persons, to direct his pervading glance through all the bosoms of his spiritual seed, and to find in none a remaining pang of body or of mind ; to enjoy the full conviction that all are blessed with his peace, as all are glorious in his holiness ! Is it not reckoned a god-like and blissful task, to alleviate the transitory woes of this mortal life, to dry up its tears, and to banish its pains, in but one, or a few, of the children of calamity I Then how worthy of our heavenly deliverer, the joy of arresting that tide of endless misery, which was about to overwhelm so many millions of mankind, and of setting them all on that safe and happy shore, where for ever there 80 SERMON II. shall be nothing to injure or annoy ! " He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied/' But it is to something more than even the assuaging of misery, or the prevention of pain, that benevolence looks for its highest gratification. It aims to communicate happiness, and, as far as possible, continually to increase it. It is not fully satisfied till it can say, not only that it has rescued its objects from wretchedness, but that it has placed and con- firmed them in a state of bliss. And this when it can do, how pure its delight ! How immeasurably great, then, the delight of Christ, in reviewing all the toil through which he passed, and beholding its result, not only in his own happi- ness and honour, but in the perfect happiness with which all his followers shall find themselves imbued, in every fa- culty of their nature, never again to be lost or put to hazard, and in the holy and undying honours which they shall wear for ever ! Then every good affection of their souls shall be in the fulness of its strength, and the perfection of its exer- cise ; it shall never want ample objects on which to put it- self forth, and from which to draw consummate gratification. Then no pleasure shall be accompanied by a sting, or fol- lowed by a fear. It shall not only gladden the heart which feels it, so long as it lasts, but shall gladden it again in the remembrance. But why attempt to be particular on such a subject ? We must put off this mortal flesh, and be raised to that glo- rious state, ere we can conceive its joys. But, even then and there, who shall be able fully to imagine the satisfaction of the Saviour himself? When he beholds his people's happiness, and reflects, " all this is the fruit of the travail of my soul ! This glory has sprung from the darkness which surrounded me ! This felicity is the effect of my bloody sweat, my ignominious cross, my painful desertion, my FRUIT OF THE REDEEMER'S TRAVAIL. Si deadly agony of spirit !*" Good angels shall rejoice in it. — redeemed men shall specially and for ever rejoice in it. But the Saviour himself shall infinitely rejoice ! " He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall he satisfied !"" — shall see it through all the years of time, through all the ages of eternity ! In conclusion, we ask youjlrst, what does gratitude dic- tate to yon, on reviewing the present subject ; You have seen the deep interest which the Lord of glory took, and which he still takes in the salvation of men ; an interest de- monstrated not merely by a few fair professions, or even some kind efforts, but by a long course of patient suffering, by the accomplishment of the whole work given him to do, and necessary for completing their redemption. When he contemplates all the toils through which he passed, all the sorrows which he underwent, we are assured too, that he does not think of any of them with a grudge, or reckon any part of his labour lost. No, he recalls the whole with the pure delight of pure benevolence : it forms the satisfaction of his spotless soul, even amidst the glories of the heavens ; it still employs his intercession ; it still engages his tender care, and vigilant exertion, as " head over all things to his church r Does he, then, take such pleasure in effecting and securing our salvation, our present and our future happiness, and shall we feel no interest in the advancement of his kingdom, and the promotion of his glory I To Him whose heart was, and is so warm to us, shall we feel no answering warmth, no dutiful affection ; From him, who refused no travail whether of body or of mind, that was necessary to carry into effect the purposes of infinite love on our behalf, shall we withhold any service which he may request, or any suffering which fidelity to him may demand \ No, it were a cold unfeeling heart, a heart unworthy of a Christian, that F 82 SERMON' II. could admit of any reserve in the duty and allegiance which it owes him. To be his in all its faculties and powers, and to demonstrate this, by the dedication of all to his honour, both in time and in eternity, is the strong impulse of the truly grateful heart. Yield to it. It is a good and holy impulse. It will make the sense of obligation not only powerful, but delightful. It will make you feel obedience to be not only a duty, but a happiness. The more you have of it, the more your disposition shall be akin to that of the worshippers in the world of glory ! 2. Again, from the satisfaction of the Lord in reviewing his toils, and the fruits resulting from them, let us learn the pleasures attending a self-denied and active benevolence. Persons of a selfish spirit aim exclusively, or principally, at their own advantage and happiness. And, in general, the more singly and more steadily men pursue an object, the more successful they are in the pursuit. But it is not so in the case which we have now in view. The heart, which feels only for itself, miserably narrows its sphere of enjoy- ment, and restricts the sources of its pleasure. If its own pain only can give it sorrow, its own gratification only can give it joy. It knows nothing of the pure and heavenly de- light, which the benevolent and disinterested experience in beholding the felicity of others, and especially in promoting it. And that heart's anguish receives nothing of the solace and alleviation, which they derive from the thoughts of the happiness diffused throughout the universe by the beneficence of Jehovah ; and especially from the consciousness of having been honoured as his instruments, in lightening their breth- ren's troubles, or augmenting their enjoyment. — And how does it reproach our own indifference to our brethren's wel- fare, and our remissness in exertion to further it, when we behold the Son of God, who needed, and could need nothing FRUIT OF THE REDEEMERS TRAVAIL. 83 from mankind, and whose felicity their deserved destruction could not have interrupted, descending to the state of a crea- ture, and assuming the likeness of sinful flesh, that he might suffer all that divine justice demanded, as an atonement for human guilt, and do all that God's holy law required, to render it consistent with its inviolability to admit us to im- mortality and glory I That professing Christian does not yet know any thing of what it is to be of the same mind with Christ, who is not willing to exert himself, nay, to sur- render his own ease, or even to suffer pain, that, in any es- sential point, he may benefit his fellow creatures, relieve their misery, or avert their danger. Nay, we fear that such a professor, however solemn his acts of profession may have been, is yet no true disciple. For " he that hath not the Spirit of Christ," we are assured, "is none of his ;" and if we have his Spirit, we must be of his mind. As men of such a stamp, then, can have no fellow-feeling with Christ in the satisfaction which gladdens his heart, in the review of all his travail, they are evidently altogether unmeet for his society, and therefore for sharing in his glory. But charity, that love which makes creatures most like to God, and Christians most like to Christ, shall never fail. It is attended, even now, by joys more pure and high than the selfish breast can know. It prepares for joys immortal, and in due time it shall receive them ! 3. Let me entreat you to embody among your fixed principles of action, the resolution, that in you, at all times, the Saviour " may see of the travail of his soul and be satis- fied." While you rejoice to think that the divine satisfac- tion, of which we have spoken, shall for ever reward his matchless love, can you be reconciled to the thought, that he should have nothing of it in yourselves ? Can you be willing that, while his heart is flowing out over innumerable 84 SERMON II. others in the fulness of benevolent delight, you should grieve his Holy Spirit, and manifest none of the blessed fruits springing from his toils • How ungenerous, how ungrateful, were such a mind ! and how wretched were the state of that soul ! how reckless of its own welfare, as well as care- less of its duty to the Saviour ! Not to be concerned that he may see of his soul's travail, in the forgiveness of our sins, in our repentance unto life, our restoration to purity of heart, and rectitude of practice, — in our rescue from the dominion of perdition, our preparation for the kingdom of heaven, and our admission into it, — what is this, but to choose everlast- ing vileness and shame, and contempt, rather than the crown of glory, which fadeth not away I to prefer to be the vassals of Satan, the sharers of his chains and of his curse, rather than to be the children of God, and joint heirs with Christ 1 It is a choice and a preference, which alas ! many make. And for what I for a few of those poor perishing trifles, which the world can give, — for the impure and pitiful plea- sures, which their worldly lusts solicit ! Christians, be ye of a wiser and a nobler spirit ! Be more dutiful to yourselves, and to that Saviour in whom ye avouch your faith, and whom you profess to love. Let it be your earnest desire, and grateful purpose, the habitual object of both your en- deavours and your prayers, that he may behold in you " of the travail of his soul," both now and in all future time, — in your pilgrimage through earth, and in the kingdom which cannot be moved ! May God give you, and keep you in such a mind, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen ! SERMON 111. SALVATION BY HOP E. ROMANS VIII. 24. " We are saved by hope.'''1 According to the statement of the apostle in the preceding context, the whole visible creation is under the bondage of corruption. For man, the lord of this earthly sphere, hav- ing himself become corrupt, there is not a part of it, which has not been reduced by him, though not of its own choice, to a base servitude to sin. Nay, not only have all the re- gions of this globe been made the scenes, and all its elements the instruments, of his crimes ; but the light of the blessed sun itself daily ministers to the gratification of his evil pas- sions ; and the motions of the stars, in their courses, have often been made subservient to the accomplishment of his iniquitous designs. All the animated part of creation, in particular, so far as it falls under our observation, " groans and travails in pain.1' For every living thing is liable to suffering, and does more or less experience it. Disorder and convulsions often tear and agitate the insensible and elemen- tal world itself. Yea, those favoured persons, whom the Gospel contemplates as sons of God, and heirs of heaven, — those who have been actually adopted into his family, and who, in the comforting and purifying influences of the Holy 86 SERMON III. Spirit, have received the first fruits of their Father's love, and their celestial inheritance, — even they " groan within themselves," being burdened, and waiting for that public and glorious manifestation of their adoption, which shall be given, when, at the consummation of the present state of things, their bodies shall be redeemed from the grave, and fashioned like to the body of their exalted Lord. Meanwhile, however, the assurance that the day of their manifestation shall arrive, and that they shall then be fully invested with all the privileges of their adoption, supports their spirits, and enables them to mingle with their groan- ing, thoughts of joy and triumph. Of the earnest, the first fruits of salvation, then, they are already in possession ; but its ultimate benefits, and perfect happiness, are yet future, and the objects of hope. At pre- sent, therefore, the blessings of salvation consist much in hope. And this, indeed, may perhaps be supposed by some to be all that the apostle means, when he says, " We are saved by hope." We apprehend, however, that his asser- tion includes more than this ; and what that is, we shall endeavour, in the sequel, to show. But before proceeding immediately to illustrate and establish the assertion in the text, we would point out the nature of " hope," and state what it is " to be saved." I. Hope is the expectation of some future good ; and as the actual attainment of what is good, is the proper and na- tural cause of joy, the expectation of it will also naturally give birth to a gladsome frame of mind. Hope, therefore, is always a cheering and joyous principle. It must evident- ly, however, be more or less strong, according to the proba- bility of the attainment of its object ; and, by the same con- sideration, the pleasure or satisfaction which it yields, must SALVATION BY HOPE. 87 be proportionally influenced. In the catalogue of our affec- tions, it is the contrary of fear ; for fear is the apprehension of future evil. And fear, in like manner, may be more or less strong, and consequently more or less afflictive, as the evil dreaded is more or less near, — more or less likely to be- fall us. Opposite as these feelings are, however, there are few cases in which they are not found together. For we are seldom cheered by the hope of a coming good, that we do not also experience the disquietude of fear, — the fear, if not of suffering the contrary evil, at least of losing, or being deprived of the expected blessing. Nor is fear often so ab- solute and overwhelming, as not to admit the occasional ad- mixture of hope, either that the calamity apprehended may be averted, or that it may prove less intolerable than imagi- nation figures it. In proportion, therefore, to the greatness of any blessing in view, and to the hazard of its failure, will be the struggle which hope has to maintain against the sug- gestions of fear ; a struggle sometimes so severe, that its anxieties have been said to be harder of endurance than even the absolute certainty of suffering or loss. And since the objects which religion presents to us, as causes of hope or fear, are incomparably more momentous than any other by which our minds can be affected, the happiness or misery which they must occasion, according as hope or fear prevails, must be of the most intense degree. The first, in its perfec- tion, must rise to ecstacy, — the other sink to the abyss of honor. To be the conquerors of hell, or its wretched prey ; to be shut out for ever from the abodes of bliss, or to possess them in everlasting inheritance ! Such are the momentous alternatives in view ! From this primary meaning of the term hope, various other meanings are naturally derived. To these, however, though intended in other passages of Scripture, where hope 88 SERMON HI. is spoken of, we need not advert ; as here the term is used in its primary sense, denoting the movement or affection ex- perienced by our minds, when any thing desirable is set be- fore us, as the object of probable attainment, and rational pursuit. II. The expression, " To be saved,11 means to be made safe, It may thus denote our deliverance from any evil which we actually suffer, or from any danger to which we may be exposed. If we are in embarrassment, distress, or pain, of whatever description, and from whatever cause, we may be said to be saved, when we are delivered from them. Or are we in hazard of loss of life, from disease, from the sword, from fire, or from flood, — of the loss of limbs, from perilous accidents, — of loss of fortune, from adverse occur- rences,— we speak of being saved, when we are rescued from such calamities, or when they are averted from us, at the time that they seemed ready to overwhelm us. But, how- ever eagerly such deliverances may be sought by men in time of need, — however much they may rejoice in them, when obtained, — it is in a sense much more important, that the expression is commonly used in the Scriptures, and to an object infinitely more valuable, that they would direct our attention by it, — the salvation of the soul, — the deliverance of our immortal part from the present dominion and pollu- tion of sin, and from much of the misery which sin even now inflicts ; but especially its rescue from eternal guilt and wretchedness ; its restoration also, even in this life, to many of the privileges of which sin has caused the forfeiture ; and, above all, its exaltation, through everlasting ages, to a state of honour and felicity, such as now cannot even be conceived. The blessings of salvation, then, are partly present, partly future ; partly now enjoyed, partly expected hereafter. It SALVATION BY HOPE. 89 may be truly said, indeed, that its present happiness chiefly consists in the hope of its coming, and as yet invisible good things. Even when we have thus restricted the import of the phrase, " to be saved" it may suggest to us very different ideas, according to the view we take of the causes and means of our salvation. If you turn your thoughts to the great, original, and only sufficient cause of salvation, that is solely and wholly the counsel, power, and grace of God. If you inquire into its meritorious cause, that is exclusively to be found in the atonement and righteousness of the Redeemer. If you speak of the efficacious cause, or power by which its benefits are conveyed to men, that is the sacred influence of the Holy Ghost. If you ask what is its instrumental cause, or means, it is that holy word, by which the knowledge of all its benefits is communicated, and by which we are said to be begotten, according to the will of God. If you wish to ascertain what may be called the operative cause of salva- tion, or that by which the Holy Spirit brings it into contact with our minds, and makes it act upon them, it is faith, — faith, which, receiving all the declarations of God's word as certain and infallible truths, subjects the heart and life to their influence, and reposes with unshaken confidence on their fulfilment. And if, investigating the matter still more minutely, you seek the immediately influential, or what we may term the motival cause of salvation, i. e. the cause which directly engages the mind of a believer to embrace the offers and accept the benefits of salvation, — it is hope ; the hope of escaping those evils under which the word of God tells him he now labours, and those yet more formidable evils, to which, the same word informs him, every sinful being is ex- posed, in the world to come ; — the hope of attaining those blessings, which that word reveals to him, as now to be en- 90 SERMON' III. joyed, and of arriving at that felicity, which it declares is hereafter to be inherited. And as it is only by believing that word, that he is assured of the reality of those evils, on the one hand, and the certainty of those blessings on the other, faith is the parent of hope ; and in proportion to the clearness and steadfastness of the one, will be the force and liveliness of the other. Faith is therefore said to be ;* the substance of things hoped for." Satisfying us of their reality, as well as their greatness, it gives them, though future, a sort of present subsistence to the mind, and an immediate command over it. We are thus led to perceive what was stated near the outset of our discourse, that the apostle, when he wrote, ;: We are saved by hope," meant to ascribe more to that grace than merely the anticipated enjoyment of future blessings. He meant, we apprehend, to represent to us the active and powerful principle, by which the soul lays hold of that salvation, which faith regards as certainly re- vealed. Of this, therefore, as the more immediate object of our discourse, let us now advance to some further illustra- tion. III. Hope may be truly said to be the universal mover of human action ; the hope of attaining or securing some good thing, — of shunning or removing something that is evil. Nor is what we now affirm at all inconsistent with the fact which has been often remarked, that it is desire which, in one form or another, stimulates men to all exertion ; the desire of deliverance from something felt or apprehended to be painful, or of enjoying something which they regard as a source of pleasure or satisfaction. Because, on the one hand, if any thing were not the object of desire, neither could it be the object of hope ; and. on the other, how desirable soever it might be, yet, were there absolutely no hope, or, in other SALVATION BY HOPE. 91 words, no possibility of attaining it, the desire would give rise to no exertion, and lead to no use of means for the ac- quisition of it. For example, I might reckon it very desir- able to have the wings of an angel, and to be able to pass, with the rapidity of lightning, from one part of this globe, or from one world, to another ; yet, as I can have no hope of acquiring such means of conveyance through boundless space, no desire which I might feel to possess them, ever leads me to employ any efforts to procure them. But faith, or the firm conviction of the truth of God's holy word, as- suring us of the reality and greatness of the blessings of sal- vation, and equally assuring us, that, through the mercy of Jehovah, in Jesus Christ, they may be attained by men, and were intended for them, — hope springs within us, and em- braces the offered good. But without hope, this movement of the soul would never be made. Not the most thorough feeling of our want of the blessings of salvation, — not the most perfect knowledge of their invaluable worth, — could engage us to seek after them, were we absolutely without the hope of success in the pursuit. No mortal knows so well as the fallen angels, the infinite value of redemption from eternal misery, and of the enjoyment of the happiness of heaven ; for that happiness they once possessed, but have forfeited for ever ; under that misery they actually groan : and none of us, therefore, can feel so deeply as they, what it is to have lost the one, and to have incurred the other. But to escape that misery, — to regain that bliss, no fallen angel ever attempts ; for the righteous sentence which has banished him from heaven, and fixed him under the chains of darkness, he knows to be irreversible ; and his doom, therefore, without hope. We may thus, then, be most truly said to be sated by hope ; inasmuch as hope is the immediate motive, under the influence of which we embrace salvation. 92 iERMON HI, are induced to choose it as the " one thing needful for us," and to count all earthly objects, in comparison with it, but vanity. Hope, indeed, is the grand motive, under the influence of which believers pursue the objects of salvation from first to last. In many cases, when this pursuit begins, it is mere- ly under the incitement of a desire common to all living things, — a desire, therefore, in which we can hardly say there is any thing worthy of moral commendation, — the desire to escape from felt and threatened misery. And the belief of the gospel, imperfect and indistinct, as at first it most pro- bably may be, generating the hope that an escape may be obtained, that hope prompts the soul to grasp the means of mercy set before it. After this, when under the teaching of the Spirit by the word of God, the mind advances to some- thing nobler and higher than the mere desire of escape from wretchedness, — when it aspires after conformity to the im- age of its Maker, and after the capacity of glorifying him, and of enjoying communion with him for ever, what is it that supports the soul in these pure and lofty aspirations, and in the application of all the means which may tend to realize them I what but the lively hope that such blessings shall be attained, through the grace revealed to it in those promises, of the certain accomplishment of which faith rests assured ? The work of salvation in the soul, then, through all its progress, is borne on by hope. Hope prompts ; hope sustains ; hope cheers its toils. " We are saved by hope." Again, the value and necessity of hope, as a principle of salvation, will farther appear, if we consider the nature and importance of its effects. 1st, Here we remark, that it is hope, the hope of salva- tion, which destroys the excessive and injurious influence of present scenes and objects upon our souls ; and that, whether SALVATION BY HOPE. {JS they wear the aspect of joys or sorrows, goods or evils. A variety of views may be taken of sin and folly. One of the most just and instructive is, that, in almost every instance, they consist in the preference and pursuit of some present good or pleasure, or of something supposed to be good or pleasant, without regard to future consequences in this world or the next, without regard to the loss of some greater good, or to the suffering of some greater evil, than could possibly have arisen from having mortified the desire which prompt- ed the preference, and having denied it all indulgence. Now, the immediate occupation of hope is to fix the atten- tion and desires of the soul on heavenly and eternal things, things which rational reflection and moral feeling equally tell us, are of infinitely higher dignity, greater worth, and more abiding duration, than all that can awaken our world- ly fears, attract our covetousness, or tempt our sensuality. And could our minds but be fully possessed with the con- templation and hope of these satisfying and ever during ob- jects, all those earthly things, which either extremely agi- tate and distress them, or sinfully allure, and pervert, and intoxicate them, would sink into insignificance, and be de- prived of their power. Nay, though corrupt and sinful de- sire should be awakened, and should prompt us to listen to temptation, both the temptation and the desire wTould be regarded with scorn ; they would be resisted with steady resolution, and trampled under foot with holy indignation. The soul filled with nobler ideas, attracted by purer blessings, and tasting higher joys, would nauseate the enticements to sin, and the unholy pleasures to which they lead. And while we exulted in the assured prospect of perfect and last- ing bliss, and in the undoubted title to a heavenly inherit- ance, the little injuries or losses to which we may be sub- jected in this transitory scene, would neither excite over- ,94 SERMON III. whelming apprehension for their coming, nor occasion in- tolerable affliction by their arrival. Hence hope is repre- sented to ns in Scripture, as the means of both our consola- tion and our defence. % As just remarked, hope is the grand source of conso- lations under the sorrows, and of support amidst the difficul- ties, of life. The pains of a believer may be severe, and the afflictions many ; but the triumphant hope of a happy escape from all. and of finding them in the end made subservient to his eternal joy, cheers him with comfort, and enables him even to " glory in tribulations." He " endures as seeing Him who is invisible," and as " hoping in his salvation.'1 " The hope set before us," says the apostle, " is an anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast ;" — an anchor, staid by which it may ride secure through all the storms of time. " God, even the Father," he tells us again, " hath loved us, and given us everlasting consolation, and good hope through grace." Good hope and everlasting consolation come to- gether ; and in the possession of the one, the other is secured. 43. This hope is also the believer's defence : his defence against the allurements, as well as the tribulations of the world. By its lively views of heavenly things, and its ear- nest aspirations after them, it draws our affections from worldly objects ; and makes us look with indifference or scorn on all that is desired by " the fleshly lusts, that war against the soul." Hence do believers, like Moses, " rather choose to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season ;" and having " re- spect unto the recompense of reward," they despise the trea- sures of the world. The apostle, therefore, in directing us to " put on the whole armour of God," by which we " may stand in the evil day," bids us " take for an helmet, the hope of salvation."' And to assure us how strong is the de- SALVATION BY HOPE. 95 fence of those who wear this heavenly covering, the Psalmist declares, " The eye of the Lord is upon them that fear him,'1 upon them " that hope in his mercy/' And here we may remark that, though fear and hope are usually reckoned op- posites, the fear of God, which is so often inculcated in the Scriptures as a duty, is so far from being incompatible with hope, that the very description of those who fear the Lord is, " that they hope in his mercy." And if any one has been privileged to enjoy the peace and happiness that spring from hoping in his mercy, who is there that will so much fear the incurring of his displeasure I or who will be so anxious to keep at a distance from every thing that might darken to him the countenance of his God ; and eclipse, though but for a season, the joyful light of hope ; If we believe, then, with David, that " the eye of the Lord is upon them that fear him, and that hope in his mercy,11 let it be our study to live in the exercise of that hope. Then shall we be encouraged to pray with David too, " Lord let thy mercy be upon us, as we hope in thee !11 4. While the consolations and defence of believers are derived from hope, it is also the source of their joy. Conso- lation and joy indeed are closely allied, if not in substance actually the same. For when we would console or comfort any one under affliction, do we not invariably attempt it, by presenting to him some circumstances in his condition, or suggesting to him some other consideration, in which he has reason to rejoice, and which may thus counterbalance the cause of dejection or sorrow with which he may have been visited. What will afford consolation in distress is, in al- most every instance, what would or ought to be matter of gladness and exultation, did no distress affect us. To hap- piness, indeed, as well as to consolation, hope is essential in a world constituted like that in which we live. Our present i)0* SERMON III. circumstances are seldom so satisfactory, as to yield us un- mingled enjoyment. Some thing that we reckon necessary or desirable is wanting, and cannot be obtained ; some thing that is really or imaginably evil is present, and cannot be re- moved. But we look forward. We hope for a time when those deficiencies shall be supplied, and those evils taken away. When the sky is lowering, and the weather un- genial, we hope for brighter suns, and renewed warmth. If the cold, and darkness, and confinement of winter be un- comfortable, we relieve ourselves by anticipating the bloom of spring, and the glory of the summer months. If the storm be dangerous, and the calm tedious to the mariner, he hopes for the favourable breeze that will waft him safely on his course, and for the joy of reaching his expected haven. And when our actual circumstances realize to us Solomon's description of life, that all is but " vanity and vexation of spirit," we endeavour to find in the prospects of the future, something to satisfy our thirst for happiness. To hope, too, therefore, the word of God directs us for the purest and highest joys that it is given to man to taste below. He knows that, in his present condition, there must be always some cause of dissatisfaction. It would, indeed, be a most unfavourable symptom of the frame of our minds, did any of us regard ourselves, and the pleasures of our earthly state, with such complacency as to sigh for nothing better, and to aim at nothing higher. But by that hope which, as we have mentioned, springs from the faith that is founded on the assured persuasion of the truth of all the facts, and the reality and attainableness of all the blessings which the gos- pel reveals, — by that hope God teaches us to rejoice in the prospect of holiness without stain, happiness without mix- ture, and security without alarm. " Being justified by faith, we have peace with God, and rejoice in hope of the glory SALVATION BY HOPE. 97 of God.11 Iii the apostle's fervent intercession, therefore, for the consolation and happiness of his brethren, lie fixes on hope as the copious source of both ; while he still keeps in view the necessity of faith to the existence and sub- sistence of this cheering principle. " The God of hope fill you with all peace and joy in believing, that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost !" And when he presses Christians to joy as a duty, he founds it upon this, — " Rejoice in hope." " Happy,11 says the psalmist, " is he who hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God." 5. We have to observe what is still more material in treating of hope in the light in which we are now consider- ing it, namely, as a cause of salvation, that it is a powerful means of sanctifying the soul in which it prevails. " Without holiness," says Scripture, " no man shall see the Lord." And every reflection we make on the nature of God himself, and of that world in which he more immedi- ately displays his glory, coincides with this declaration, and serves to show that moral purity is a qualification indispen- sably necessary for admission into his presence, and for the enjoyment of the felicity which is there to be derived from the unrestrained communications of his favour. Whatever, therefore, is necessary to our sanctification, and eminently conducive to the attainment of it, is also justly to be reckon- ed of importance among the means of our salvation. Now, in so far as sanctification consists in deliverance from the power of sin and temptation, we have already shown that Christian hope is an admirable mean of it, when noticing its efficacy in defending us from the allurements of evil. But to this indispensable object it does not contribute, only in a nega- tive manner. Its influence in this respect is both powerful and direct. For what are those objects to which hope looks G 98 SERMON III. as infinitely desirable \ What is that happiness on the pros- pect of which it delights to expatiate as incomparably to be preferred to all worldly good I These objects are the purity of heaven, the society of perfect spirits, the presence of Jesus, the approbation of God. That happiness is the rapturous yet serene enjoyment which the possession of all these must confer, — an enjoyment, the very meanest idea of which is utterly repugnant to every thing sensual, base, and earthly, and which, the longer it is contemplated, will the more per- fectly refine the soul from every impure desire and low pur- suit ; will make it aspire more earnestly after holiness un- blemished, submission without murmuring, conformity with- out reserve, to the righteous and beneficent will of the all perfect God. Hence, the apostle John (1 John iii. 2, 3), in speaking of the glorious objects of a believer's hope, seeing God as he is, and being like him. shows that sanctification is its natural and necessary effect. " Every one that hath this hope in him, purifieth himself even as he is pure." And Paul, in teaching us, in his epistle to Titus, how to " deny ungodliness and worldly lusts, and to live soberly, righteous- ly, and godly in this present world," instructs us, that it is to be by " looking for that blessed hope, even the glorious appearing of the great God, and our Saviour Jesus Christ." Attending, then, to all these considerations, we may see with what propriety the apostle affirms " we are saved by hope? and that, in ascribing to it, as the immediate instru- ment of divine grace in operating on the soul, so important an effect, he has not exaggerated its worth or its necessity. And if such be its worth and necessity, we need not wonder that it is held up to us in Scripture in a variety of important lights ; that it is spoken of as a special characteristic of God's people, a characteristic which we ought, therefore, se- dulously to pursue ; and as an object in which the minds of the SALVATION KV HOPE. 99 inspired writers were deeply interested, both for themselves and their brethren. Thus, " the wicked is driven away in his wickedness, but the righteous hath hope in his death.''1 And, as we have already seen, it was the apostle's prayer for his brethren, — " The God of hope fill you with all peace and joy in believing, that ye may abound in hope, through the powTer of the Holy Ghost." For thus, too, he knew they would abound in joy and consolation. Let the like blessing be the matter of our prayers, both for ourselves and for all others, whose happiness is dear to us. May we, and may they, abound in this blessed hope, so shall we also abound in holiness and comfort. — Again, if it was the matter of prayer by inspired men to Him from whom cometh down whatsoever gift is good and perfect, it was also the subject of their thanksgiving, when con- ferred. " Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, which, according to his abundant mercy, hath begotten us again unto a lively hope, by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.''1 And shall not we, if we have felt any thing of its gladdening efficacy in shedding over our souls a peaceful and holy influence, in like manner give thanks to the Father of Mercies, and God of consolation, for this animating hope, — a hope which not only fortifies the mind against the fear of death, but, as death is a necessary step to the attainment of its objects, renders death itself de- sirable?— Hope, too, is enjoined as a duty, — a duty in which we are steadily to persevere. " Be sober, and hope to the end? And, therefore, we are told that the formation and encouragement of hope is one great design for which the holy Scriptures have been revealed. " These things were written aforetime, for our learning, that wre, through faith and pa- tience of the Scriptures, might hate hope? It is represented as the fruit of the experience of Christians, particularly of 100 SEItMOJJ ill. their experience in trouble. They "rejoice in tribulation, be- cause tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope, — hope which maketh not ashamed.''1 — With faith, the cardinal grace of the Christian character, we remind you again, it is inseparably connected. " In believ- ing, the God of hope makes his people to abound in hope." And they who " continue in the faith, grounded and settled, shall not be moved away from the hope of the gospel." In short, in the chain of causes by whose combined operation our salvation is effected, hope is the final link. Hope em- braces the blessings offered to us, and rejoices in them. Hope springs from faith ; for it is faith which recognizes the reality, and satisfies us of the attainableness of those good things which constitute our salvation. Faith, again, is the work of the Holy Ghost ; for, says the apostle, " it is not of our- selves, it is the gift of God." And elsewhere he tells us, that God " giveth. faith by the same Spirit" by which he con- fers every other spiritual gift and grace. The Spirit comes from Christ ; for, according to his own promise, he sends him to us from his Father ; and Christ is the unspeakable gift of the Father himself. For " God so loved the wrorld, that he gave his only begotten Son, to be the propitiation for our sins." Are believers, then, thus " saved by hope V Be admo- nished how necessary the exercise of this grace is to your spiritual welfare. From the views which have been set be- fore us, it is most evident that the concerns of our salvation cannot be in a prosperous state, unless hope be cherished and cultivated in the soul. If by hope we do not pursue those heavenly and eternal things, of the reality and value of which we profess to be convinced by faith, the world will invade and take possession of our hearts, and sensual affections will acquire over us a dangerous ascendancy ; we shall be- SALVATION' BY HOPE. 101 come incapable of fellowship with God, and averse to seek it ; we shall slide back instead of advancing ; we shall sink down to earth, instead of rising towards heaven. We shall be destitute of our best consolation in sorrow, and our most effectual defence against temptation. Our heads shall be exposed unsheltered, both to the arrows of an afflictive Pro- vidence, and to the poisoned weapons with which the grand enemy may assail us. We shall be strangers to spiritual joy ; for hope is its essence. Our sanctification shall be marred ; for hope is one of its most exalted and invigorating principles. And we shall be disqualified for making our light, as examples of a Christian spirit, to shine with due lustre before men ; for hope is one of the specific lineaments of Christian character. And now, let not any of those whom the hopes of earth- ly good have often allured and disappointed, turn round and tell me, " Hope is a deceiver, I will trust it no more.1'' For, though it is true that all experience proves the good things of this world, in almost every instance, to fall short of ex- pectation, we are not only assured by the word of God, but may learn from reason itself, that the blessings of the celes- tial regions as far transcend our highest hopes, as the perish- ing joys of this sinful state come short. Let the votaries of the wrorld, who have found only weariness and vexation of spirit in their pursuit of earthly pleasure, turn to those bless- ings which the gospel reveals, and which it holds out as the proper and satisfying objects of an immortal being's hopes. Let them seek these in the gospel way. Then shall they not be disappointed, and shall grieve no more over blasted hopes. Their happiness shall be secure in the favour of God. They shall " rejoice in the hope of his glory.1' Live by faith, and cherish hope. So shall you live in peace and holiness. And when temptation or tribulation 102 SERMON Hi. comes, your hearts, if conversing with the ohjects of your hope, will be above temptation's reach ; and though, per- haps, in heaviness for a season, through manifold afflictions, ye shall know how to rejoice greatly in the lively hope of that incorruptible and undefiled inheritance which fadeth not away. In the possession of Christian hope, your comfort, your happiness, your best interest is concerned. O why should you need to be urged to mind it I Make it the object of your endeavours, and the subject of your prayers. The God of sf race bestow it on you ! SERMON IV. PREDESTINATION NOT SUBVERSIVE OF DILIGENCE IN THE USE OF MEANS. ACTS XXVII. 22-25, 30, 31. " And I exhort you to be of good cheer ; for there shall be no loss of any mans life among you, but of the ship. 23. For there stood by me this night the angel of God, tchose I am and whom I serve, 24. Saying, Fear not Paul ; Thou must be brought before Cesar : and lo, God hath given thee all them that sail with thee. 25. Wherefore, Sirs, be of good cheer : for I believe God, that it shall be even as it teas told me. 30. And as the shipmen were about to flee out of the ship, when they had let down the boat into the sea, under colour as though they would cast anchors out of the foreship, 31. Paul said to the centurion and to the soldiers, except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved" There are various particulars in the part of St. Paul's history contained in this chapter, which might be improved for our instruction and encouragement. We might illus- trate from it his devotedness to God's service, and his reli- ance on divine mercy. We might take occasion from it, to speak of God's faithfulness to his promises, his care over his people, and the wonderful manner in which he makes the most calamitous events, subservient to their good, and through them, to the good of others. There is another topic, however, of some moment, sug- 104 SERMON IV. gested by the texts which have now been read, to which we propose at present to advert. Some hurtful mistakes con- cerning it, we apprehend to prevail with many; which, therefore, it must be useful to correct : and some persons employ it to impose upon themselves certain wilful delu- sions, of a tendency the most pernicious and immoral, which therefore it must be our duty to expose. There are persons, who. when urged by their own con- sciences, or by any friendly adviser, to mind the concerns of their salvation, " to break off their sins by repentance, and their iniquities by turning unto God," are apt to silence the one, and to put off the other, by arguing, " If it has been " decreed that we are to be saved, we shall be saved ; or if, " that we shall perish, we must perish. Of what use, then, " is it for us to keep up solicitude, and employ pains, to se- " cure the one, or to avoid the other \ We can neither pre- wt vent what is appointed, nor render it more certain." Thus do they make the exercise of God's wisdom in the arrange- ment of his concerns, as the supreme Governor of the world, an excuse for their folly in neglecting their own highest interests ; and because he does not act without a plan, well considered and maturely prepared, they resolve to proceed without intelligence or reflection. — And I believe there are few individuals who have paid attention to the workings of their own hearts, and particularly, that there are few Chris- tians, who remember what these workings were in their unconverted state, who are not sensible, that in some such way they have been tempted to deceive themselves, to stifle the remonstrances of conscience, and to encourage themselves in carelessness or sinful indulgence. There are others, again, who have been heard to palliate the worst offences, and to turn aside any attempt to convince them of sin and ill desert, by speaking of their crimes as PREDESTINATION AND USE OF MEANS. 105 their fate. Such a thing, or such another, was appointed them, and w- they could not get past it." And in this man- ner do they, with fearful presumption, endeavour to father their sins upon their Creator, and to make him answerable for faults, which they know he has most expressly forbidden, and which, they are conscious, they have wilfully com- mitted, and might certainly have avoided. Now, the absurdities and errors of those who think, that, because of God's decree, they may neglect all concern for their salvation, proceeds from a narrow and most mistaken view of God's economy. They suppose him to have deter- mined on certain final results only, without any respect to the means by which these results are to be produced ; where- as in all his arrangements, in the kingdoms both of nature and of grace, the means are attended to no less than the ends ; the means are necessary to the ends ; and without them, the ends are never brought to pass. While those, who excuse their sins as the effect of the Almighty's pre-or- dination, wilfully forget, that, though he knows how to adapt with infinite skill the acts of his government to the willings and doings, however wayward and irregular, of his rational and accountable creatures, he never employs any force upon their minds, necessitating them to sin, or impelling them to commit it. " Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God : for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man ; but every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed/1 Mark, how different was the conduct of the apostle, as detailed in the passages before us, from the impiety and ab- surdity which thus abuse the most comfortable and delight- ful doctrine of the divine decrees, — in other words, the doc- trine, that notwithstanding the folly of some accountable agents, and the wickedness of others, infinite goodness, and 106 SERMON IV. justice, and wisdom, have so arranged all the affairs of the universe, as certainly to produce in their result a vast pre- ponderance of good. If ever a man could be excused for confidently expecting the attainment of any end, though he, and others interested in it, neglected all means for its accom- plishment, it were surely when he had an express declara- tion from the almighty and universal Ruler, that it should certainly take place. But such an assurance the apostle had, in terms the most explicit, as to the escape of himself, and all who shared his danger, from the tempestuous dee]). " Fear not Paul," said the angel, " thou must be brought before Cesar : and lo, God hath given thee all them that sail with thee." Nor had he the smallest hesitation as to the truth and certainty of the information thus imparted. " Wherefore, Sirs, be of good cheer: for I believe God, that it shall be even as it was told me.11 " There shall be no loss of any man's life among you ;" or, in the proverbial phrase for perfect safety, which is afterwards employed, " there shall not an hair fall from the head of any of you." When he saw the mariners, therefore, " about to flee out of the ship, when they had let down the boat into the sea," he might well have silenced, as wTe may think, every suggestion that arose in his mind as to the danger of their departure, or the necessity of their assistance for the deliverance of himself, and the numerous company of his fellow passengers. " God," he might have argued, " hath assured me, that we " shall all escape. I know his promise cannot fail of its ac- " complishment. I need not care, therefore, whether these '-' men go or stay. Since God hath decreed our safety, and " will assuredly effect it, their stay cannot make our deliver- " ance more sure, their departure cannot prevent it." But the same divine foreknowledge, which had discerned and had certified to him the attainment of the end, for which. PREDESTINATION AND USE OF MEANS. 107 no doubt, he had wrestled much in prayer, — the preserva- tion of himself, fellow passengers, and crew, — also showed him, that the skill and exertions of the latter were means indispensable to the fulfilment of the promised object, means without which it could not be effected. The discovery of this, again, led him to the employment of other means, by which his reason told him the former were most likely to be secured. He did not address himself to the sailors, or at- tempt to convince them of the fatal consequences of their retiring ; for they, engrossed with the concern of their own safety, would have given him no heed. He applied to the centurion and soldiers, whose sense of personal hazard would make them prompt to listen to his counsel ; " Except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved. " The effect, which he desired, was immediately produced. " The soldiers cut off the ropes of the boat, and let her fall off." And thus one part of the series of means, necessary for the attainment of the end in view, was made sure, namely, the continuance of the seamen in the vessel. For it is more than probable, that, had not they been thus compelled to remain on board, no other individuals there were possessed of the knowledge to project, or of the skill to carry into execution, the mea- sures ultimately adopted, for directing the ship to that point on the tempest-beaten shore, from which all at last " escap- ed safe to land." The certain foresight of this event, then, with which the apostle was favoured, did not, we see, make him neglectful of the proper means for bringing it about. Indeed, we ap- prehend, his firm trust that the event would take place, as revealed to him, made him at once more vigilant that no fit means for its attainment should be overlooked, and more confident of success in having recourse to them. An instance like this, in which the accomplishment of 108 SERMON IV. an end. which God has infallibly decreed, is exhibited to us in connexion with the designs and actions of certain volun- tary agents, as the means by which it is effected, is of much value, and deserves our most serious attention. It displays to us the necessity of employing means for the attainment of every end. — the connexion of means with their end, — and the manner in which the whole are combined in the pur- poses of God. Contemplating the matter in this point of view, the thought that certain ends have been assuredly de- termined on by him, so far from discouraging exertion, or leading us to imagine that care and diligence on our part, in the use of means, are superfluous or unnecessary, ought to have precisely the opposite effect. It gives the most power- ful and decisive encouragement to laudable exertion, and to the strenuous application of all fitting means ; because it shows, that these are always connected with their ends in the plan of the divine administration ; and that the connex- ion is not capricious, or merely occasional, but fixed and sure. Nay, even those cases which at first sight may seem exceptions to the truth of this proposition, in fact confirm it, — those, namely, in which the employment of the ordinary means for the attainment of any end fails, as we know has sometimes happened, to effect it. For even in such cases, it is not that there is really any inefficiency in the means themselves, or that they would prove ineffectual in ordinary circumstances, but that other means, means also fitted to their end, are employed to counteract, or to defeat them. It is in the single case of miracles, that effects are brought about without the intervention of their appropriate means ; and even in this case, could we see through the veil which conceals the divine operations from our view, we should pos- sibly perceive means put in motion, exactly adapted to the effect desired, and fully adequate to produce it. PttEDESflNATlON AND USE OF MEANS. 100 On this connexion of means with their ends in the me- thods of God's providence, we reckon, in all the plans and labours of our life. It is because the farmer knows the con- nexion between the fertility of the soil, and its proper cul- ture— between the sowing of proper seed at the proper season, and the production of a crop, that he tills his land, and spreads it with manure, and when the year has reached the fitting period, scatters his wheat upon the furrows. True, he is not absolutely certain of a prosperous result, because he knows that there are other means, oyer which he has no control, that may be employed to countervail those he has put in use. The favourable influences of heaven may be withheld, or influences of an adverse nature may be sent. But he knows, that, in the usual condition of the world, he can depend on the success of his endeavours ; and that, how- ever particular seasons may partially disappoint him, he may be certainly assured that, in a course of years, and on the whole, he shall reap the fruit of his labours. It is, indeed, a fact, which demonstrates the disingenuousness of men when they allege the divine decrees as a reason for neglecting to employ the means, and to busy themselves about the work of their salvation, that, in no other case but this, do they apply the argument in a similar manner. The rational husbandman has no doubt, that it is comprehended in the decrees of Providence, whether such a field shall, in any par- ticular season, bear a crop or no. But does he therefore say, " If it be decreed that a certain produce shall be reaped " from this piece of ground, it will be reaped, though I do " not turn a furrow of it, or commit to it a handful of seed V And does he therefore sit still, his plough unyoked, his land undressed, his seed unsown I Or. to use the illustration which, it is said, a well known modern preacher sometimes employs to show the necessity of combining exertion with I 10 SERMON IV. prayers. — Did I wish to go to London, or Paris, or any other distant part, would I satisfy myself with desiring to be there, and say, " If the Lord has appointed that " I arrive at it, I shall be there, whether I ever stir from " my seat, and leave my house or not C Or. knowing that if the end be decreed, the means are equally so, do I put my limbs in motion, make the usual preparations for distant travel, and have recourse to the other operations, by which experience shows me that my voyage, or my journey to the point of my destination, may be accom- plished I The tradesman, too, who knows the dependance of all things upon God, and that not even a sparrow falls to the ground without him, does not question that it has been arranged in the divine decrees, whether he shall have a suf- ficiency of food, and clothing, and the other supports of life, or shall suffer want. But does he, therefore, live in idle- ness, his hands across, his tools unused S Xo. Experience has taught him, that if, in any case, the divine decree en- sures the attainment of an end, it no less ensures and requires the application of the means. He, therefore, goes cheerful- ly to his labour ; and a faithful providence secures to him, in the diligent use of the proper means, the end he has in view. But some one, perhaps, is saying to himself, that the salvation of the soul, its redemption from the power and the curse of sin, is an end of a different kind, and is not con- nected, as in the cases which have been specified, with the use of means by man. In replying to this objection. I begin with not only admitting to the fullest extent, but with charging you ever to remember, that no means which human wisdom ever did invent, or human power ever could em- ploy, can. in any instance, be competent to that end. But after admitting and asserting: this. I go on to assert that, in PREDESTINATION AND USE OF MEANS. Ill the matter of our eternal salvation, we have an encourage- ment to the use of the proper means, and an assurance that it shall be successful, which we have not in any of those cases in common life, in which, notwithstanding, we conti- nue to exert ourselves with unabating industry. In these, we have no promise from God, absolutely pledging himself for our success ; no promise that the counteracting means, which will defeat our utmost efforts, and which we cannot resist or elude, shall not be set in motion against us. But in the concerns of our salvation, we have promises, as strong as language can express, and as ample as our hearts can rea- sonably desire, that the means which God has devised, and which He himself directs us to employ, if duly used, shall not be used in vain. He is the best judge of their fitness to their end, for he has himself adapted them to it ; and in prescribing their application, he has given us the strongest ground for confidence of a successful result. For while, on the one hand, we cannot suppose him to mistake in the means he prescribes; on the other, we cannot imagine that, when he is honoured in the diligent employment of them, he will permit it to issue in disappointment. With such conclusions, God's own declarations in his word expressly agree. For example, is faith in Jesus Christ the grand mean through which all the blessings of salvation are conveyed to man I We have the explicit and repeated assurance, that " whosoever believeth shall not perish, but have everlasting life." The purpose of Christ's coming was to save sinners : therefore, to put salvation within the reach of every individual, whom a conviction of its necessity, of his own want of it, and of his own inability to procure it, has reached, it is solemnly affirmed, that whosoecer does be- lieve in Jesus, is no longer subject to condemnation, but has passed from death unto life. It is not asked, What he for- LIS SERMON IV. merly was, or when his belief commenced ; but, Does be now believe \ And if he do, his safety is ensured. Nor is this connexion between faith in Christ, or, in other words, the real belief of the things revealed concern- ing him, and our eternal salvation, arbitrary and unintelli- gible, but obvious and necessary. For as it is declared, that " there is no salvation in any other, neither is there any other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved,'' it is evident, that those who will not re- ceive and submit to him, who will not acknowledge and trust in him as a Saviour, cannot be saved ; while, on the other hand, as the great object of his undertaking was to re- deem, and as he " is able to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by him," it is equally certain, that all who acknowledge, and confide in, and apply to him, shall be saved. But it is most obvious, that such as will not believe what the Scriptures reveal regarding him, will not, and in- deed cannot, receive him as their Redeemer ; while all who know, and who do truly believe God's testimony concerning him, must and will. For this if they do believe, they must also be convinced at once of their own absolute and instant need of his propitiation, and of God's willingness to bestow all the benefits of it upon them. And therefore, too, that all men may be able, in strict conformity with the due exercise of every faculty of their rational and intelligent nature, to believe the gospel, God has inwoven in it, and has given along with it, such evidence of its divine original, as will fully satisfy every mind, which seriously and honestly in- quires, that it came from himself, and points out to men " the way of God in truth." Must our confidence and hope, then, to be sure, and com- fortable, and agreeable to the will of God for our salvation, be rested solely and exclusively on the Redeemer \ What PREDESTINATION AND USE OF MEANS. 113 direct encouragement to the exercise of this hope and trust, does every declaration of Scripture concerning him " Every one that thirsteth1'' — that thirsteth for ' con- science, and peace with God — is called to the waters of that fountain, which he hath opened ; and though they have no merit to present, no title to such blcs.-: ich they dare to plead, they are assured of receiving them " without money and without price." All, that " are weary and heavy laden," are invited to approach him, and "to obtain rest to their souls.11 " Whosoever cometh unto i te," h ays, " I will in no wise cast out.11 And the beloved writes, " If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins ; and the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin." " He that believeth in him, shall not be confounded." Again : while faith is the grand mean of salvation, are certain other means necessary to faith I particularly, the knowledge of what is to be believed I " Faith," says the apostle, " cometh by hearing" (or by what is in effect the same thing, reading), " and hearing (or ) by the wordofGcd." ^ rogly, as., ns of pro- ducing faith, we have been amply furnished ; and the con- tinued, humble, and diligent reading and hearing, or study- ing, of that holy word, is the means of nourishing it, and carrying it on to perfection. We a that "the law of the Lord is perfect, conv v:c soul; the testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple," and " the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes." It is said again, " Whoso is wi will observe these things, even they shall m id the loving kindness of the Lord." And, as w . " The holy Scriptures are able t i i lake u wi ie unto salvation, through faith that is in Jesus Christ." Yet further : Is prayer a mean by which faith expresses ii 114* SERMON IV. itself, and manifests its influence over the soul ? Is prayer that mean by which faith seeks and obtains the blessings, which it is given us to apprehend ? God is declared to be " the hearer of prayer/1 It is solemnly affirmed, that " who- soever shall call on the name of the Lord, shall be saved. " " Your heavenly Father," says Jesus, " will give the Holy Ghost to them that ask." And we are told to " come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.1' What assurance, comparable to this, has the labourer, that he shall receive his hire ; the merchant, that his transactions shall yield a profit ; or the husbandman, that he shall reap a crop ? And shall they, with only a rational probability of success, be more diligent in the application of the various means adapted to the objects of their care, than the Christian, in the employment of those which Divine Wisdom itself directs him to use, for securing his nobler and more lasting ends I Forbid it reason, con- sistency, and duty ! Forbid it, his love to himself; his love, his gratitude, his obedience to God ! Further, we ask, Is the sanctification of the Sabbath a mean of grace and salvation ? Then have we not in the blessing, which the Almighty pronounced on the institution and observance of it, a satisfactory pledge from him, that it shall prove a blessing to those who keep it holy ? And has he not declared, " If thou turn away thy foot from the Sab- bath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day, and call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honourable, and shall honour him, not doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words ; then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord V Yet again, is " patient continuance in well-doing'1 the means by which faith instructs us to " seek for glory, honour, and immortality P11 God hath told us, that " our labour shall PREDESTINATION AND USE OF MEANS. 115 not be in vain in the Lord ;" that "in due season we shall reap if* we faint not ;" and that " the Lord is not unrighteous, to forget his people's work and labour of love, which they have showed towards him.1' Jesus himself, in his solemn description of the last judgment, hath declared to us, that their acts of kindness performed to their fellow creatures and fellow Christians, for his name's sake, shall be publicly ac- knowledged, and gloriously rewarded. " Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me."'1 " Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." Nay, it is his promise, that even " a cup of cold water given to a disciple, in the name of a disciple, shall in no wise lose its re- ward. " Finally, to close these illustrations, Are we in danger from spiritual enemies, — from the tempter and temptation \ We are commanded to " resist the devil,"*'' and are assured that " he will flee from us.'1 Christ is set forth to us as sympathizing in our weakness, and as able to " succour them that are tempted." And we are encouraged to say with con- fidence, " The Lord will deliver us from every evil work, and will preserve us unto his heavenly kingdom." If our knowledge, then, of the general and probable con- nexion between means and ends, in the wise arrangements of Jehovah's providence, makes men diligent in the use of means for the attainment of the common objects of pursuit in this mortal life, let the declared and certain connexion which God, by his word, has established between the means of grace, and the objects of salvation, encourage and determine us to acti- vity and zeal, in resorting to these means, and habitually employing them. His word expounds to us his decrees, and is the only means by which we can have any knowledge of their purport. And that word makes it as sure as his faith- 116 SEfiMON IV. fulness can make it, that, in the due and persevering use of such means as have been specified, we shall not run or la- bour in vain. For though to secure success be " not of him that willeth, or of him that runneth, but of God that show- eth mercy," yet if God have pledged his word to his people, that the application of these means shall certainly issue in a glorious result, can it be inconsistent with his honour, that we should expect it, or dare we suppose that he will fail in accomplishing his promise \ Let us beware, then, of that base abuse of the important and, we repeat, the most comfortable doctrine of the divine decrees, which would make us persist in neglecting the means of our salvation. It is but the sordid and disingenu- ous subterfuge of indolence and carnal mindedness, which make men wish to be excused from necessary exertion, and left to go on in the enjoyment of sinful pleasures, and the ex- clusive pursuit of worldly things. Let us specially beware of perverting that sacred doc- trine, so as to lay the charge of our iniquities upon the Al- mighty. This seems too nearly to approach to that most offensive outrage to the divine purity, which the Saviour terms the " sin against the Lloly Ghost ;" for it is to make the sinless and sin-hating Gcd the author of sin. It is to obey the worst dictates of the enemy of our souls, and to re- present Jehovah's counsel as upholding Satan's kingdom. We have seen, on the co; lat the doctrine of the di- vine decrees, as exhibited by God himself, in his own word, is of a tendency altogether opposite ; that it encourages dili- gence by the assurance of success, and warns against negli- gence and sloth, by indicating their certain and awful end ; that it incites to the resistance of temptation, by the pro- mise of victory ; and that it charges him who yields to it, as the immediate author of his own shame and ruin. PREDESTINATION AND USE OF MEANS. 117 Nor does it form any objection to the principles we as- sert, that the divine aid is necessary to incite ns to the use of the means referred to, and to uphold us in the due appli- cation of them. This alters not the fact, that these meai.s must be employed. Nay, it renders that fact more incon- testably certain. For what argument can more demonstra- tively show at once the value and the indispensable neces- sity of any object, than the consideration, that the direct employment of the divine influence is essential to its attain- ment, and is promised for that end I This exhibits its mag- nitude and importance in a light in which scarcely any other argument could present it. This shows it to be something, about which not only the hand and the care of man are to be busied, but the skill and power of God. It only teaches us, then, in the present case, that we are to accompany all our endeavours in the use of the means of our salvation, with earnest supplication for divine assistance, and humble reli- ance on it for all our success. And, thanks be unto God, we know, and indeed have seen, in various Scriptural autho- rities already referred to, that his direction and support are graciously and abundantly promised. And while this gives every encouragement to the humble soul that is distrustful of itself, and impressed with a deep sense of the awful mag- nitude of the interests it has at stake, it leaves the heedless and the slothful without excuse. In so far, then, as God's decrees are the subject of our thoughts, or the motives of our actions, let us think of them as we are taught in his own word. Thus contemplated, the consideration of them will terminate in his glory, and in our spiritual and eternal good. Amen ! SERMON V. THE SUFFERINGS OF CREATION RESULTING FROM THE STN OF MAN.* ROMANS VIII. 22. " For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now" Before proceeding to the illustration of the doctrine and instruction of the text, it may be proper to remark, that the term rendered creature, in the three preceding verses, is the same with that for which we find creation, in the 22d. According to the manner in which it is applied, this term may signify the act of creating, the creation in general, or any creature or created thing in particular. Indeed, the term creature, used in the abstract manner, in which it is employed in the preceding verses, can hardly be understood in any way, but as of the same meaning with creation ; see- ing there is no one particular creature mentioned, to which it can be referred. We apprehend, however, that, since the word is the same in all the four verses, it bad been better, in order to prevent any mistake in the unlearned reader, who might suppose some difference in the meaning, from a difference in the words, that the same English term should * This "was preached as one of the series of discourses against cruelty to animals, instituted by Mrs Gibson of Pentland. — Ed. CREATION GROANING AND TRAVAILING. 1 l[) have been employed in all ; and that we should either have found creation, in verses 19, 20, and 21, as well as in verse 22, or that in the 22d we should read, as some propose, every creature, instead of the ichole creation, — a change, how- ever, which it is obvious would make no real change in the sense, since these expressions are manifestly synonymous. To the word creature or creation, as here employed, com- mentators have given a variety of meanings, in order to make it, according to their apprehension, correspond more perfectly with the expressions used respecting it in the text. We delay not, at present, to go over these meanings, and to state our objections to most of them, but only observe, that, after having considered the matter carefully, we see no rea- son for understanding the word in any other sense than that which will naturally present itself to any plain and unso- phisticated reader of Scripture, viz. that it literally denotes the whole creation, or the whole system of created things, by which we are surrounded. To this it is objected, that it cannot be truly said of the whole creation, taken in this sense, that it waits with earnest expectation; seeing this is an exer- cise of the mind, of which none but intelligent creatures can be capable. But, as every creature that is in pain must earnestly desire deliverance, it is no violent figure of speech to represent it as earnestly expecting the season of deliver- ance, though incapable of forming any idea of the time, or means of it. And we know that, in the strong poetical lan- guage of holy writ, it is no uncommon thing (in order to give greater force to a description), to represent the parts and elements of even inanimate nature, as feeling and ex- pressing emotions which belong only to mind. We need not, therefore, be surprised at the apostle's speaking of the creation, waiting in earnest expectation, groaning and travail- ing in pain ; when we read of the hills and the fields rejoic- 120 SERMON V. ing ; of the fore sts clapping their hands ; of the wilderness, the land, the heavens being glad, and the earth rejoicing; or, on the other hand, of the world languishing, and the earth mourning; of Lebanon mourning, the ways and the gates of Zion lam- d mourning. At the same time, while we understand the phrase the whole creation, as really meant to denote what it literally signifies, we do not think it neces- sary to suppose it to comprehend the whole vast universe, though all of it, without doubt, was formed by Jehovah, but only that part of it which is connected with mankind, and necessarily influenced by the manner c : nighty's pro- ceedings towards them ; that part, of which the harmony and the happiness are necessary to man's welfare, and of which the evils and disorders, are the means of punishing his wick- edness, or correcting his follies, and cl : him for his profit. The apostle had been contemplating for his own comfort, and strengthening of faith, and for the instruction and en- couragement of the Roma.. ians, the glorious privileges of the children of God. But, as some persons might think that the afflicted and persecuted state, in which he and other believers often found themselves, was not very consistent villi the lofty terms in which he spoke of their having God for their Father, and being " heirs of God," he reminds them not only that, in . e, as in that of the L ring goes before, and ; but that, in comparison of the glory which shall be re\ ■ iiiferingsof this present time are not worthy" of a thought. It is only our own weakness, on the one hand, and our indistinct and imperfect perceptions of tl her, that make suffering so formidable and difficult to be borne. To enhance our ideas of that glory, and of the importance attached to the character and relation of children to God, into which CREATION GROANING AND TRAVAILING. 121 Christians are brought by faith in Christ, he tells us, that not only the hopes of believers, but the " earnest expectation11 of the whole creation, " waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God;" that is, for the period when they shall be clearly exhibited to all the rational creatures of the Al- mighty, as the objects of his peculiar fatherly regards, when the glory of their great Redeemer shall be manifested to the conviction and confusion of all gainsay ers, in the exaltation and blessedness of his people. For the creation has been " subjected to vanity ;" that is, it has been reduced to a con- dition in which it might almost seem to have been made in vain, or in which the beneficent purpose of its Maker, in giving it being, might appear to have been defeated. But this has not been through its own choice, or in consequence of any wilful transgression on its part, of God's command- ments, and therefore not by its own fault. It is " by reason of Him who hath subjected it," the great Author and Dis- poser of all things, who, for wise ends, has so ordained. But this subjection is not hopeless, irremediable, and unending. For " the creation itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption (destruction or death), into the glo- rious liberty of the children of God," — literally, " the liberty of the glory of the children of God ;" that is, into a freedom or exemption from corruption and death, similar to that which the sons of God shall enjoy in their glorified state. But hitherto, ever since the time when it was subjected to that painful and degrading bondage, the creation, throughout all its parts, " groaneth and travaileth together in pain." There is no part of the universe connected with man, that does not share in those circumstances of pain and suffering, to which he is himself exposed. And, therefore, in the pre- sent condition of the world, even they who have received the first fruits of the Spirit, both as the means of preparing W2 SERMON V. them for that state in which neither sorrow shall be felt, nor sighing heard, and as the earnest of what God has in store for them, even they also " groan within themselves, waiting for the adoption, viz. the redemption of the body." In what remains, we propose to direct your attention, I. To the present condition of all creation, in so far as connected with the human race. IT. To the cause of its being subjected to that condition and. III. To the duty of man, as resulting from these consi- derations. I. We call your attention to the present condition of ail that part of God's creation which is connected with the hu- man race. It is said to " groan and travail together in pain." Groaning is the natural expression of severe distress ; and the apostle means that every where we meet with indications of grievous trouble ; and. though such indications are some- times seen and heard, where there is no adequate cause, what the apostle adds shows, that, in the mind of the Holy Spirit, by whose direction lie wrote, there is often most serious reason for it ; for he represents the creation. '; the whole creation," as also " travailing in pain." or undergoing the sharpest agony. Nor is this only what occurs on particular occasions, or in some parts of the creation. At all times. and through all its departments, this mournful state of things prevails ; for -; the whole groaneth and travaileth together in pain, until now."" The apostle does not mean, indeed, that either men themselves, or those creatures who are connected with them, CREATION GROANING AND TRAVAILING. 123 and who are capable of the sensations of pleasure and pain, never experience any thing but the latter, and have at no time any feeling of the former : for that were in direct con- tradiction not only to what all know to be the fact, both in respect to men, and to all other sensitive beings, but to the most positive declarations of Holy Scripture, which else- where often dwells on the goodness and loving-kindness of the Lord, alike to man and to inferior beings ; and sum- mons us, as the rational recipients of his bounty on earth, to praise him for the " tender mercies, which are over all his works." But the apostle means what also all know, by personal experience too sure, and observation too frequent to admit a doubt, that there is no region of this lower world, in which pain, in one or other of its forms, is not continually felt, — no order of living things, of which some individuals are not at all times groaning under it, — and no single one among them, — not one, from the highest to the lowest, from the greatest to the most minute, that is not continually liable to it, in many various ways, and in one way particu- larly must undergo its pangs, — in the agonies with which death is preceded or accompanied. Consider, in this point of view, how mournful is the spectacle which the world af- fords ! There is no lot exempt from pain ; and none, there- fore, in which security can be enjoyed. Nay, there is not a pleasure that is not also a cause of pain ; not only by the disappointment which its short-comings occasion, but by the pang which its removal or interruption inflicts. Indeed, the more plentiful and numerous the means of happiness, and sources of enjoyment which any one possesses, he is but the more exposed to the assaults of tribulation : for every one of them may become a spring of fear or anguish ; — of fear, when any thing threatens to take them away, — of an- guish, when they are actually destroyed, or torn from his 121 SERMON V. grasp. How manifold are the disease.*, from which the hody of every one is liable to torture ; how innumerable the sorrows by which our minds may be transfixed ! Man, as pre-eminent in his faculties among the creatures which in- habit the lower world, and especially as first, or sole in guilt, is pre-eminent also in the number and variety of his pains. If his understanding, by enabling him to calculate from the past, what the future is likely to bring, enables him to guard against many evils, and to make provision for many comforts, it also exposes him to all the distress, to which anxiety and the anticipation of probable or unavoidable afflictions so often give rise. From one of the calamities of his lot, that which i,?, of all, the most formidable to nature, he cannot hope to escape ; and as soon as he becomes capable of reflection, the dread of it must be often present to his mind ; — the dread of death, which continually hangs over every movement of his life, — which renders all the prospect of this world's pros- perity uncertain ; and which may, in a moment, make use- less all the means that he had been long and laboriously employed in collecting, in order to ensure it. Death is, indeed, an evil so formidable to the feelings of all our race, that the only means by which most of them can deliver themselves from the disquiet which it occasions, is to endea- vour to banish it from their thoughts, — into which, notwith- standing, it will often intrude, in the hours of darkness, silence, and solitude, and then give birth to more terrors and misgivings of heart, than they will easily acknowledge. In this respect, it seems doubtful whether the inferior creatures are not more exempted from annoyance than man- kind. For, although they seem to have the same sensa- tions of what is painful with ourselves, and possibly not only an instinctive dread of what threatens life, but a know- ledge, in many instances, of what is dangerous to it, for CREATION GROANING AND TRAVAILING. 125 which it is difficult to account, it may be questioned whether they have any presentiment of dissolution, any knowledge or impression that, ere long, they are certainly to die. But in regard to almost every species of physical suffering, they are equally subject with human creatures to what racks the nerves, and renders that sensibility to impression, from which all plea- sures common to them and us are derived, the source of every kind of anguish, from that which is merely uneasy to that which is most intolerable. By what writhings and contortions, does even the worm, which you inadvertently crush, discover the agony which it endures ! And as we carry our observations upwards, through the various steps in the scale of being, how many most intelligible and affecting indications of pain, in looks, motions, and voice, force themselves on our notice ! How often, too, do we find them suffering not only by those inevitable ills, to which all mortal creatures seem, from the manner of their existence liable, but from the wilful and ferocious assaults of one upon another ; and frequently of the same species with them; elves ! And would God it were only of the irrational tribes of living things, wTe had this to say ! In excuse for them, it might perhaps be plead- ed with truth, that they are incapable of understanding, or estimating, and sympathizing with the misery which they inflict. But alas ! is not man with all his superior intelli- gence and capacity of feeling, as chargeable with this wilful aggravation of the inevitable pains of a mortal state, as the most savage and ferocious of the brutal animals ? Nay. is not the very superiority of his powers often abused, to enable him to inflict both on inferior beings, and on his fellows, anguish more cruel and complicated, than the fiercest wild beast ever caused to its mangled prey ? Contemplated in this point of light, what a sad and lamentable prospect meets our eyes, in every quarter of this 1^6 SERMON \ . lower creation, the condition of which is now linked with that of man ; and in every order of things that live and move, in water, earth, or air \ Insects, from the number- less tribes that are invisible to the unassisted eye, and whose existence is discovered only by the microscope, to the gayest and most beautiful of those that wing the air, — reptiles of every kind, — fishes of all dimensions and forms, — beasts great and small, of every clime and species, — are universally subject to pain and death, from disease, from accident, from mutual enmity and revenge. Nor need I tell any human being that man, the proud lord of all, is not exempted from the common lot. Diversified as are the conditions, in which we find mankind, in respect to knowledge or ignorance, civilization or barbarism, wealth or poverty, strength or weaknes?, rank low or high, authority or subjection, there is no distinction as to this. — " Man that is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble,'" — yea. c; he is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward !" Truly, indeed, might the apostle say, " The whole creation groaneth and travail- eth together under pain." — Yea, though there are many days, and tastes of happiness to mortal creatures, even these often only render threatened evils more formidable, and inflicted evils more intolerable. Nay, what is one of the most dis- tressful considerations to an enlightened mind, in reflecting upon the miseries of its fellow-creatures, is, that we often find them seeking their happiness, and madly rejoicing in those things, which ought to be their grief and shame, — and which, if infinite mercy prevent not, must ultimately involve them in wretchedness without remedy and without end. — The very earth itself, with all its elements, and all that it produces, may be said to groan and travail. What convul- sions sometimes lay waste its surface, and seem to shake it to its profoundest depths ! The air, instead of being kept in CREATION GROANING AND TRAVAILING. 1 -1 healthful motion by gentle breezes only, is vexed by storms and thunders. The ocean is forced, by the same causes, into frightful agitation ; sometimes invading the land from which it had been previously excluded ; sometimes driven back from the dominions, which it had long occupied. And what are all these commotions, these groaningg and travail - ings, but premonitions of a far more terrible catastrophe, in which the great globe itself shall be dissolved, and its most solid elements shall i: melt with fervent heat,"' — when death having finished his devastation of all earth's living tribes, shall seize the earth itself as his final prey ! Such being the present condition of the whole creation around us, let us attend II. To the causes of its being subjected to that condi- tion. And for these we must point, alas ! to the guilt and depravity of man. While man continued holy and unsinning, that blessed condition of all created things, which made the Lord pro- nounce them very good, continued too. But when he, who, alone of all beings below, bore the image of his Maker, and to be subservient to whose pleasure or advantage was one of the great ends for which all inferior creatures received their being, and for whom the globe itself was fitted up as a habi- tation, cast off that image, forgot the dictates of both wisdom and gratitude, and leagued himself with God's arch enemy, and his own worst foe, a deplorable and dismal change took place in the whole state and nature of terrestrial things. For then it became necessary not only to give out against himself a sentence of death, making him liable, therefore, to disease and decay ; but to effect such a mutation on the ele- ments amidst which he lived, and on all other things con- nected with his present existence, as to make them produc- 128 SERMON V tive of disease, and pain, and death. It was necessary to de- prive the earth of its primeval fertility, to make the air ad- mit of unwholesome mixtures, and the waters of deleterious additions. Heat and cold were no longer to remain in that equability of temperature, which is most genial to the hu- man frame, and most conducive to its health and comfort ; but were to be subject to rapid and extreme transitions from benumbing frost to scorching warmth. And though, in his now corrupted state, it was in many respects for his benefit, that these otherwise unfavourable changes should take place, as a means of restraining inordinate vice, and compelling him to the exercise of the active and self-denying virtues, still they were painful in themselves, and deadly in their ul- timate effects. " Cursed," said Jehovah, " is the ground for thy sake : in sorrow shalt thou eat of it, all the days of thy life : Thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee, and thou shalt eat the herb of the field. In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground : for out of it wast thou taken : for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt then return." And when this mighty change was made to man in the state of the earth, and his circumstances as its inhabitant, it of course necessarily affect- ed, in the same manner, and to a like degree, the condition of every thing that lived on its products, and moved on its surface. It would have been an anomaly and inconsistency, incompatible with the general laws impressed by God on the world which he had made, — an anomaly and inconsistency, the maintenance of which wTould have required a continued series of innumerable miracles, — that the same constitution of things, which was to be deadly to man, the most perfect of all the animated beings, with whom he had peopled the earth, should be innoxious to inferior creatures. When man, therefore, became mortal, and the state of elemental nature CREATION GROANING AND TRAVAILING. I 7.'' was so changed, as to permit and perpetuate his mortality, it necessarily involved the mortality of all other creatures inhabiting the same world, their exposure to the operation of all those causes, which produce disease and death ; and therefore their liability to pain in all its forms. It may, how- ever, be contended, that if, when man was created, there were also created those animals, of which there are now so many in the earth, — those who live by devouring others, — lacera- tion, torture, and death, must have been the lot of all those who were preyed upon, even previous to the fall of man ; and that if even man himself derived much of his sustenance, as he now does, from the bodies of inferior creatures, this could not be, without the infliction of death, and therefore of much suifering by his hands. In reply to this, it may be stated, that, supposing such animals to have then existed, it was perfectly possible for the Almighty to have so modified and restrained their natures, as to have suppressed their appetite for blood, and to have satisfied it by some other means ; so that the image of future peace and innocence given by the prophet, might then be a reality actually existing. " The wolf and the lamb shall feed together ; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.11 Or perhaps, on the fall, such crea- tures were first produced, as suited to the purposes for which a deteriorated constitution was then given to the world at large ; or the nature of some which before existed, might be so changed, or the restraints under which they originally lived, might be so removed, as to lead them to pursue that mode of existence, by which they are now characterized. In regard to man, while the inhabitant of paradise, we have the best reason to conclude, that he neither felt any carnivo- rous desire, nor was permitted to indulge it, if he had. God's grant and law to him, in regard to his sustenance, was this, i 130 SERMON V. " I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed, to you it shall be for meat." While in regard to other animated beings, the law of their Maker, and therefore also of their nature, which proceeded from him, was, in conformity to the supposition above stated, in these terms, — " And to every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and to every thing that creepeth upon the earth, wherein there is life, I have given every green herb for meat." And it is said " it w7as so." In the original constitution of the world, then, its Maker did not contemplate either man, or any other living creature, preying on another, and thus deriving the support of life from the pain and death of others. But so soon as sin entered, and death by sin, a different state of things commenced. The carnivorous class of animals then either received a new nature, or that particular modi- fication under which it at first existed, was taken away. Then, too, as we may infer from the new grant of food, and law of life given to Noah and his sons, the constitution of man himself wras so altered, as to make other animated be- ings fit or necessary for his sustenance. " Every moving thing that liveth, shall be meat for yon: even as the green herb, have I given you all things" We have, then, the strongest reason to be satisfied that the system, by which the slaughter of some is necessary to the life of others, and consequently the torture of some to the pleasure of others, did not exist when man received his being in holiness and perfection. And wThat is the unavoid- able inference from this, but that the subjection of all infe- rior creatures to pain and death, is the consequence of human guilt ; and that our continuing in a state of sin is the cause why the " whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain." Such being the case, what, then. CREATION GROANING AND TRAVAILING. 13] III. Is the duty of man as resulting from these consider- ations I To this the obvious and unavoidable reply is, that as our sin, and not that of the inferior creatures, is the causo of all the anguish under which innumerable individuals of every class continually groan, we are chargeable with gross iniquity, and fearfully increase our guilt, if we add unneces- sarily to their sufferings, or deprive them of any alleviation to their miseries, of which their circumstances will admit. If you do not feel the power of this consideration, think of a similar case. If a man should inadvertently break your leg, what would you think of him, if he should, for that reason, wilfully go on to break your other limbs also, or to destroy any means of comfort which might still be left you ? Would you not reckon it his duty that, as he had, however unwit- tingly, occasioned you the first severe injury, he should care- fully abstain from every thing that might cause you farther harm, and endeavour by every means in his power, to in- crease, and not diminish, all practicable alleviations to your loss and pain \ And if he acted in an opposite manner, would you not account him a monster of cruelty and in- justice \ But what better are men, when they inflict un- necessary pain on the animals whom Providence has placed within their power ? Man, when he sinned, did not per- haps contemplate the involving of the inferior creation in the consequences of his guilt : but alas ! it is not for that rea- son the less true, that, in these consequences they have deeply shared, from the moment our race was expelled from Paradise. To aggravate, therefore, to any of them, by cruelty, by harshness, or neglect, those inevitable miseries, of which we are the guilty cause, is unrighteousness the most inexcusable, and must cry to heaven for vengeance. Against cruelty or even unyielding severity to a fellow-man, every one is ready to exclaim. Yet for severity, or even 1S2 SERMON V. cruelty, to a human agent, some apology may often be made, on account of his personal wrongs to ourselves or others. But for cruelty to a brute, no such extenuation can be ever pleaded. Our sins, not theirs, have placed them in the state of suffering. And therefore, every needless pang we give them, is adding grievously to the wrong we have already done them. This is a view of the subject now before us, which, we fear, is not sufficiently considered by most men. For many, even of those who cannot in general be reckoned inhuman, do not, we apprehend, think so much as they ought, of frequently inflicting on their beasts, pain which might be spared, or which a little care might render altogether unne- cessary. Oh let them reflect that, by so doing, they are heaping wrongs on wrongs already too severe. And though the poor animals which they abuse cannot complain, and no human judge may vindicate their injuries, he, 4t who ex- ecuteth judgment for all that are oppressed,"" will not over- look it. Sure am I, that if many even among Christian men, lay this duly to heart, they will see that they have reason for humiliation and repentance, on account of many things, of which they did not think as sins at all ; but which in the sight of God exhibit at once callousnesss and unrighteousness of heart. To show how much that which we now state, corre- sponds with the declared mind of God, I had marked out several texts of Scripture, and intended to have read them, and made some comments upon them : but as I perceive that this could not be done without extending this discourse, to an unreasonable length, I shall satisfy myself with re- ferring you to one. It is that well known and oft quoted one in the book of Proverbs (xiii. 10), " the righteous man resardeth the life of his beast. " Now, brethren, we pray CREATION GROANING AND TRAVAILING. 133 you to mark the wise man's expression. Observe he docs not say, ** the generous man, the compassionate or merciful, " the good orthe tender-hearted man,11 but simply " the right- •• tons man ;" the man of whose amiableness, as contrasted with that of the good, Paul speaks, when he says, "scarcely for a righteous man, will one die; peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die." The Holy Ghost thus teacheth us, that when a man regards the life of his beast, and will therefore inflict on it nothing that will injure its life, or destroy the happiness of it, this does not deserve to be accounted an exercise of benevolence or generosity. It is merely an act of justice, which it were unrighteous to with- hold. What is he then, who can be cruel to any defenceless inferior creature, but in God's judgment most unrighteous or unjust : — chargeable not only with lack of kindness and generosity of disposition, but with acting in opposition to what mere justice imperatively demands. Let every one remember, that when he does needless hurt to any living thing, he is not only unmerciful but unjust. He is condemned by God. He ought to be condemned by his own conscience ; and he would be so, were it not hardened by the deceitfulness of sin, which in certain cases may suggest to him that, if the creature he in- jures, be his own, he has a right to do with it what he will : and in other cases, may whisper to him apologies for his conduct, as plausible but also as hollow. He forgets that the creature, which he calls his own, is also God's ; and that though he is considered by man as having a right of property over it, that cannot invalidate its Maker's prior and more absolute right. And if he oppress God's creature, let him be assured that to God, who is also his own absolute pro- prietor and Lord, he must answer it, JSJr si;k.\lok v, Inhumanity to any animal too, however mean, is mani- festly inconsistent with the great law of every human crea- ture's conduct towards others, " Whatever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye so even unto them/1 I may be told, that this is the law of our conduct to our fellow- creatures and not to beasts. But wherever that true and correct feeling for the happiness of others, which will prompt us so to act to man, is established in the mind, it will pro- duce kindness and prevent injustice even to a brute. He who is cruel to a brute, be assured, would have no scruple to be unmerciful to man, did passion prompt him, and were opportunity for indulging it in his power. Of true benevolence, or what the Scripture calls charity, there are two great branches ; the one negative, the other positive. According to the one, it will inflict no pain or suffering, which, consistently with duty, it can avoid ; agreeably to the other, it will do all it can, consistently with the same, to promote the happiness of all, whose condition it can im- prove. And though in this, it will certainly have chiefly respect to man, it will not overlook any being however mean, that has a capacity of feeling pain, or enjoying plea- sure. He is no true follower of Christ, therefore, or servant of God, who is without compassion to any thing that lives. Yea God himself so cares for the life of even the minutest of his creatures, that our Saviour assures us, " not even a spar- row falleth to the ground, without our heavenly Father." Is any one disposed to object that, at this rate, we must never do any thing painful to the feelings of an animal, far less put it to death I AVe answer, this does not follow. Man being the most important creature in this province of God's creation, if ever the prolonged existence of inferior beings be- come inconsistent with his, or with any material interest of himself or brethren, he is entitled to destroy them, or to do what ( REATION GROANING AND TRAVAILING. 135 he can to diminish their numbers, or their powers of harm. But he is not entitled on this account to use cruelty, i. e. to inflict on them any needless pain. If they must be sub- jected to destruction, every good feeling, and every sentiment of justice demands that they shall not be put to torture, — that their sufferings shall be as brief as possible in respect to time, and as little as possible in degree. He is also, for a like reason, at liberty to avail himself of the strength and activity of the inferior animals, to do for him those services, which he cannot accomplish for himself, or not to the extent which the wants of himself or others may require. But he is not, because of this, permitted to render their existence miserable, to task them beyond their powers of exertion, or to force from them what he demands, by the mere com- pulsion of excessive pain. And it is truly the utmost height of injustice and of barbarity, when a man makes the patient creature, that is the daily companion of his labour, and in- deed the chief agent by whom it is performed, the subject of his savage cruelty. Yet, how often is this, to the reproach of our land as professedly Christian, to be seen among us. The docile horse, or patient ass, perhaps for no greater fault than not comprehending what his master would be at, and which the latter will not take sufficient pains to teach him, is assailed with a fury for which a man could hardly be justi- fied in any case, but that of an attempt on his own life : — or if at another time, pain or suffering make him unwilling to move, the means employed to overcome his reluctance, is violently to aggravate those pains which he already feels, and which he has probably contracted in the service of man. Or if he finds his load more than his strength can move, the method resorted to, to make him put forth an unnatural, and perhaps to him most hurtful exertion, is just the same blind and merciless violence. Sympathy with the suffering crea- 136 SERMON V. ture's toils, gratitude for his services, nay even considerations of self-interest plead in vain, to abate the cruel and most un- reasonable wrath of his task-master. There are cases, in which men enslaved by the injustice of man, are exposed to a similar treatment. It were scarcely inconsistent with Christian charity, methinks, to wish that those who tyrannize over, and cruelly abuse their beasts, were subjected, for a time at least, to the slave's chain and scourge ; that they might learn from what they suffer in their own persons, the unrighteousness and barbaiity of their conduct to their poor animals, over whom they so abuse the power which Provi- dence has given them. How glaringly incompatible too with all justice and be- nevolence, is the practice so often indulged in, and again we must say it, to our reproach and shame in our own land, in spite of all its Christian privileges, of seeking amusement, by setting two poor animals of the same or of different species, to lacerate, maim, and destroy each other? He, who can contemplate such a scene without pain, is des- titute of good feeling : he, who can take pleasure in it, mani- fests a spirit similar to that of the author of all evil ; whose delight, if delight he ever feels, is only in spreading and in- creasing misery. And what, then, must we say of those, who can set on their fellow-creatures to put forth their utmost power and skill, to injure and demolish one another's persons, and can flock to such a spectacle, as one of the most interest- ing exhibitions I We can hardly conceive any thing more like the disposition of the wicked one himself, True bene- volence,— to be destitute of which would be justly counted a reproach, — not to speak of Christian charity, as we have said, will be most averse to see needless pain inflicted, and much more to be in any way accessory to the infliction. It must, on the contrary, in every case desire to prevent it. CREATION GROANING AND TRAVAILING. 137 Oh then how can it take pleasure in the sight of pain, or contribute to promote it. It does, itself, delight in the good of others, and must have pleasure in advancing it. Oh how then, can it have enjoyment in scenes, where men's most brutal passions must be enkindled against each other to the utmost ; and their mutual exertions, instead of being direct- ed to mutual good, are employed for mutual hurt and injury. Let no man, who can take delight in such displays of human ferocity and violence, lay claim to the character of benevo- lence. A Christian he cannot be. A child of the devil, he seems determined to prove himself to be. We would, in conclusion, call on parents to endeavour to guard against the formation of a cruel and uncompas- sionate disposition in the minds of their children. Show them, that although they may have the power, they never can have the right to inflict a needless pang on any living creature. Teach them, that on the contrary, the noblest use of our power over any other being is to increase its happiness ; so far, at least, as that can be done without pre- judice to higher interests. Be careful never to exhibit to them in your own example, either that wanton cruelty in the treatment of the lower animals, in which some strangely seek for sport, or that reckless indifference to their sufferings, which is a certain indication of a mind that fears not God. — If you be Christians, you must acknowledge, that " to have the same mind in you, which was also in Christ," is your sacred duty, and must be your highest perfection. And what mind was his ? Was it a mind of cruelty, taking de- light in the misery of those who were under his power, or even of those who had given him the most heinous provo- cation i No. His was a mind of mercy and of love, who, to rescue from suffering an innumerable multitude, who deserved to perish, took their guilt upon himself, and suf- 138 SERMON V. fered the "'just for the unjust !" and who. to entitle them to a happiness which they never could deserve, patiently and faithfully fulfilled all righteousness in their stead. Imitate this example yourselves. Endeavour to show its amiableness to your children, and engage them to imitate it too ! SERMON VI. ON LOVE TO ENEMIES. MATTHEW V. 43-45. Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thy enemy : 44. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despiteful!// use you and persecute you ; 45. That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven; for he maheth his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. Before considering the admonition of onr Lord, recorded in these verses, it will be proper to make some remarks on the ancient proverbial saying, with which he introduces this part of his discourse. When he says, " ye have heard that it hath been said,1' most readers will probably suppose him to refer to what is said in the Old Testament. And, no doubt, in all the cases, in which he uses this expression, something nearly corres- ponding is found in the Old Testament Scriptures. We ap- prehend however, that our Lord rather intends to speak of the words as expressing a statement commonly current among Jewish maxims of authority, and considered as founded on Scripture, than to cite them as actually contained in the sa- cred writings. In the instance now before us, it is easy to find 140 SERMON VI. in the language of Old Testament inspiration a direct ex- ample of the first part of the saying here repeated : for thus God spake by Moses, " Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: I am the Lord,11 Lev. xix. 18. But had our Lord intended to quote this passage, we appre- hend that he would, as when he referred to it on another occasion, have given the whole clause, and have said not only " shalt love thy neighbour,11 but " shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.11 And for the second part of the saying, " hate thine enemy,11 no direct Old Testament authority can be mentioned : though, as we shall presently see, texts are to be found, on which the Jewish Rabbies built such a state- ment. We fear, the whole is only an instance of that strain- ing or misapplying of the language of Scripture, which those teachers too oft made use of for supporting a very question- able morality. " Thou shalt hate thine enemy11 is a saying capable of being employed to sanction and vindicate the worst passions of our nature, malice and revenge ; and, of course, the worst means which they may prompt men to em- ploy : and it would form a most convenient reply for a wrath- ful or revengeful person, when endeavouring to justify his violence, in opposition to those who might urge him to listen to the dictates of mercy or benevolence. He would admit that, in certain cases, kindness was a duty, — " thou shalt love thy neighbour,11 — while he would scarcely be disposed to admit it to the degree in which the precept demands it, " thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself:" but he would add, with eager vehemence, as giving sanction to the worst that he had done, or meditated to do, " You know what the saying of our Doctors enjoins, ' thou shalt hate thine enemy.1 ,1 Of this, we have said, there is no direct example in the Old Testament, except an angry man, partial to his own OX LOVE TO E NEMIES. 141 cause, shall think it was warranted by the words of Amos, when he commands. " Hate tho evil, and love the good/" But even here, the words are probably just a parallel to those in the preceding verse, " Seek good, and not evil,'1 and there- fore refer to good and evil in the abstract ; in which sense, the one is properly the object of hate to every pure mind, as the other is of love. At any rate, the injunction appears to have been addressed to the unrighteous judges and rulers of Israel, " who had turned judgment to wormwood, and left off righteousness in the earth;'1 therefore they are charged, " Seek good, and not evil, that ye may live. Hate the evil, and love the good, and establish judgment in the gate." The Jew or Israelite, in whom the spirit of vengeance burned, might appeal, with greater appearance of reason, to the examples set in the law of Moses. There we find that the children of Israel were commanded " not to seek the peace or prosperity of the Moabite or Amorite, all their days for ever,11 Deut. xxiii. G : that the Lord is declared to have " sworn that he would have war with Amalek from gener- ation to generation,11 Exod. xvii. 16: and that his people were charged to " blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven,1' and not to forget the treachery and cruelty, with which that nation assailed them when " faint, and weary, and feared not God,11 Deut. xxv. 18, 19. It is to be observed, however, that these are special cases, in which the great Sovereign Lawgiver, for reasons, doubtless, both wise and just, was pleased to suspend the operation of his general and royal law of love, which, we know from the best authority, was not intended to be limited in its applica- tion to those who literally inhabited the same vicinity. But though he wras entitled to make such exceptions, none of his creatures may presume, of their own authority, and at the bidding of any passion, to do the like. 142 SERMON VI. Men might think that they had even more unquestion- ahle grounds for adopting such a sentiment, as onr Lord referred to, in the prayers against enemies recorded in the Psalms, in which their confusion and destruction are repeat- edly sought, and power to requite their enmity is even re- quested. We must remember, however, on the one hand, that some of these apparent expressions of wrath and re- venge are spoken in the person of the Messiah, and are to be considered, therefore, not as the writer's expression of resent- ment against his private foes, but as the Messiah's call on his Fathers justice and truth, to maintain his cause, accord- ing to his promises ; and, of course, to destroy, or effectually put down the enemies by whom he is opposed. And in other cases, where such prayers appear to be those of mem- bers of the church, or of the church at large, we are to keep in mind, that the passages in which they occur, being dic- tated by the Holy Spirit, and recorded under his direction, do not so properly express the thoughts and feelings of the person who wrote them, as the mind of God himself, and are, therefore, to be regarded not as affording to other per- sons an example or authority for expressing or indulging their private resentments in like manner, but as denouncing in a peculiar form, and a form exceedingly awful, the judg- ments of God against the adversaries of himself and his peo- ple.— Our Lord's object, when he spake the words before us, evidently was to expose the false and immoral gloss put on these texts by the Jewish Rabbies, and to teach his disciples what was truly the will of God, and how they were to imi- tate his example : " I say unto you, love your enemies." This is a precept, to which it will not be easy to bring the vindictive and selfish spirit of man to submit : still, however difficult it may be, our minds must be subjected to it, if we would be the children of God. and the followers of OX LOVE TO ENEMIES. 143 Christ. But some, nay probably many, will be ready to say, " Lovo our enemies ! 'tis against nature : one cannot do it, " if one would. Love them, bless them, do them good, pray " for them ! What more could we do for our best friends ! " And is it necessary to religion, to make no difference bc- " tween friends and foes ? The supposition is against rea- " son, as well as against nature/' Such, I have no doubt> is the manner in which human pride and passion, if they would speak out plainly, would be found to reply against God and God's Son, when requiring the love of enemies as a duty. And too frequently professing Christians, nay sometimes, we fear, even those of whom we ought to hope that they are something more than mere professors, show that such is their mind. For, do we not too frequently find that enmity is repaid with enmity, reproach or cursing with reproach, ha- tred with wrath or scorn, and despiteful usage with revenge ? So far, indeed, is the general tone of feeling from according with the injunctions of our Lord, that we fear the man, who, if injured, cursed, hated, and despitefully treated, should li- terally obey them, would be generally regarded, nay despis- ed, as destitute of spirit or sensibility, as a coward, and an abject. But however corrupt nature may argue, however conformity to the world may pervert even the Christian's practice, still, no believer, when he is brought to think de- liberately, can allow himself, for a moment, to regard any command of Jesus as unreasonable or unjust. He will feel it to be his duty rather to arraign himself, than to ques- tion the judgment of his Lord. — Let us consider, then, whether there are not some good reasons to satisfy us, that Christ, even in requiring us to love our enemies, demands of us nothing more than is fit. In order, however, to put the matter on its proper foot- ing, we have still to observe, that to do justice to our Lord's 144 SERMON vr. command, we must suppose that the enmity entertained against us is without cause. For, if we have given reason to our enemies for their hostility, we are ourselves to hlame ; and our immediate duty is to endeavour to remove the cause, and to make amends for our fault, which may perhaps turn their enmity into friendship, and terminate their inju- rious proceedings by a cordial forgiveness. But both the instruction and example of our Lord show, that he means his words to apply even to the case of unreasonable, unjust, or excessive enmity. Suppose, then, that such is the enmity to which any of us are, or have been, exposed, it is, no doubt, a grievous fault in him who indulges it ; and our partiality to ourselves, and our sense of injury, may dispose us to reckon it very heinous. But though a man may have one fault, nay, a great one, it does not follow that therefore he has nothing in him worthy of esteem or love. Though in one respect he violates his duty, he may have many excellent qualities. Though to us unkind and severe, there are perhaps others to whom he is affectionate or generous, and who justly enter- tain for him high regard. We shall, in such a case, act un- justly by our enemy, if for one evil, even though a great one, we deny him our good will. For if one fault, or even more, were to deprive men of a right to their brethren's love, where is the individual who could long command it ? It is true, that on the supposition stated, our enemy has treated us unjustly. But can a Christian count that a rea- son for treating him unjustly in return ; That would be truly to injure ourselves, and to add to all the harm his en- mity may have inflicted, a severer, because a self-wrought, harm. Further, true benevolence will always wish for the hap- piness of a fellow-creature, and be ready to promote his ON LOVE TO ENEMIES. 1 45 welfare when it has the power. Now, the circumstance of a man's being our enemy, or even his having the sin of unreasonable enmity to answer for, will not make true bene- volence or charity cease to regard him as a proper object of its concern. It will but the more pity him, because of his committing, perhaps persevering in, this sin. And if it have opportunity to do him good, the great law which binds it to communicate or increase happiness wherever it can, will make it ready to embrace the opportunity on his be- half too. And if thus it disarm his enmity, or convert it into friendship, that will be to it a much more gratifying result, than the completest retaliation can be to the most revengeful. But though this should not be the case, though its kindness should be unheeded, or misrepresented, or even spurned, still it will have the satisfaction of having acted ac- cording to its own virtuous principles, and of conducting itself agreeably to the will and the example of the highest Teacher, and most perfect pattern of moral worth. Again, though the man who displays to us an unreason- able enmity, is, in that respect, deeply culpable, and, if he never repent of it, must expose himself to the dreadful en- mity of the Almighty, who measures to men as they do to others, still we cannot tell but he may be one of those for whom the eternal counsel of peace was formed, and who was given to Christ in the everlasting covenant to be of the number, in whom " he shall see of the travail of his soul, and be satisfied." If so, he hath been beloved of God before the foundation of the world was laid ; he shall one day be clothed in all the beauties of holiness, and shall exhibit those excel- lencies which shall fit him for the endless society of saints and angels. And if so, shall we dare to refuse our love to one, on whom the unchangeable favour of Jehovah hath been set, and to whom he hath determined not only to do good, but to give K 140' BEllMON vr. the unfading crown of righteousness ? At present, indeed, we may perceive no evidence of this. But it may not, on that account, be the less true. He may have stood uncalled, and employed in any service rather than that of his rightful Lord, till the ninth or the eleventh hour ; but even then the call may come with power, and be productive of all its bless- ed fruits. Shall I dare then, I again ask, to refuse my love and kind concern to a person, who perhaps is not only tho object of redeeming love, but may be destined to be one of my own sweet companions and dear associates in the joys and occupations of a happy eternity ? Surely to any soul which has felt the pleasing constraint of the grace of tho Lord Jesus Christ, it must be far more delightful to contem- plate even an enemy in this point of view, than to regard him as an object on whom resentment is to be gratified, or revenge to be wrought, or towards whom we are to feel only cold indifference, or proud contempt. Indeed, when we take this view of what may possibly be effected by divine grace, where is the human being so depraved, or so abject, that we may not, on this account, see reason not wholly to deny him all respect, or withhold from him all kind affection ? Vitiat- ed as he may be, he has still in him all the elements of a ra- tional and immortal existence ; and who shall presume to say, that his guilt is such that the Saviour's merits cannot expiate it, or his depravity such that the influences of God's almighty Spirit cannot remove it. and form in its stead the renewed image of God ? But the grand reason for believers practising the most sincere benevolence, and persevering kindness, even towards enemies, is, as a little ago mentioned, the command and ex- ample of the highest Teacher, and most perfect pattern of all moral excellence. " Our Father, who is in heaven, maketh his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sendeth rain on ON LOVE TO ENEMIES. HT the just and the unjust." The evil and the unjust are, ac- cording to the description of the apostle, " alienated from God, and enemies to him in their minds, and by wicked works.'1 Yet he beareth long with them, and is kind. Nor is this because he is indifferent to their iniquity, and careless how they act. No : to his perfect holiness all sin must be ever the object of unmingled, unchangeable displeasure ; and it is declared of him, that he " is angry with the wicked every clay," and " reserveth wrath for his enemies." Yet how long does he wait ! How many calls to repentance, and opportunities of amendment does he give, before " sentence against their evil works" is finally and irrevocably sent forth I Not seven times, or seventy times seven, but times more in number than the hairs on their heads, has he withheld the punishment which righteousness demanded to be executed on their guilt, and which no power but his own mercy could have hindered him from inflicting. His sun, whose vivify- ing heat they have used only for the nourishment and indul- gence of their evil passions, and whose light, so necessary for almost every human pursuit, they have employed only to direct them in the paths of ungodliness and rebellion, still shines upon them. Its rays have neither been shut up from them, nor have they been rendered incapable of feeling its warmth, or of discerning its beauteous and glorious light. In order to secure also to the unjust, whom he " reserveth unto the day of judgment to be punished," as well as to the just, whose " habitation he blesseth," the needful supply of all their daily wants, he " sendeth rain" on the one not less than on the other. He is thus " good to all, and his tender mercies are over all his works." Is he, then, thus patient to the perverseness and unthankfulness of man, though he has only to will their punishment, and it will instantly and irremediably overtake them ; and shall we dare to be into- 148 SERMON VI. lerant and wrathful, hasty to render to our injurers all the wrong they do us. and to revenge every insult they may have offered us I How light, and how few are all their offences against us, compared with our offences against him ! In- deed, whatever injustice they may have done to us, is still more an offence against him ; and yet, of the amount of their guilt, in his sight, it forms hut a trifling fraction. Does he then, notwithstanding, continue to do them good, and treat them with lenity and kindness, and shall we, who, in spite of all the grounds of complaint we may have against them, have so much less than he, shut up our affections from them, and regard them as no longer proper objects of benevolent wishes, or beneficent deeds I Xo ! if either his example or his authority have weight with us, we will both feel kindly towards them, and be ready to do them good, if Providence shall put it in our power. Though they use the faculties and talents, the benefits and advantages conferred upon them, in a manner both offensive and ungrateful to him, yet, because he knows that without these they could not exist in the world, or be. in any respect, of use either to themselves, or to their fellow-creatures, he renews, day after day, and year after year, his abused bounties ; he preserves, perhaps increases, their perverted talents ! And yet persons who call themselves his people, and profess to consider him and his actings as the most perfect pattern of all that is mo- rally excellent, think his command hard, when, by the mouth of his beloved Son, he enjoins us to c' love our ene- mies, and do good to them that hate us V But let the professing Christian think of the manner in which God has acted, not only towards his enemies in gene- ral, but towards himself; and he may feel still more power- fully the force of the example which binds him to extend his benevolence to all. and which ought to reprove the selfish- ON LOVE TO ENEMIES. 149 Bess and partiality, which would exclude even an enemy from partaking it. Suppose, then, that the professing mem- ber of Christ's church whom I address has been truly con- verted to God. He can probably recollect the time when it was not so. Now, my brother, how did the Almighty act to you, when you were living without regard to his honour or authority, receiving his benefits without gratitude, and abusing them without remorse, living wholly to your own pleasure, and never consulting him as to the ends to which your being and your powers were to be devoted 'I Did he not still watch over and preserve you I Did he not richly bestow on you all the necessaries and comforts of life ? Did he not maintain all your capacities of acting, of acquiring knowledge, and of prosecuting your worldly affairs \ And did he, during all this period of enmity and alienation, still regard you with compassion, and follow you with kindness ; and has he at last made you a partaker of his saving grace ; and does he seek too much from you, when he tells you in return, to love your enemies, and to show your love by corresponding acts I Nay, my brother, how have you con- ducted yourself towards your merciful Maker and Redeemer, even since you have tasted of the word of life, and been made a partaker of the heavenly gift \ And how has he treated you \ I know you must and will acknowledge that you have oft acted most perversely, and undutifully, have allowed thoughts and passions, which you knew to be hate- ful to his holiness, to arise in your mind, and sayings and doings which neither were good, nor savoured of good, to offend him in your practice. Yet he still continues his loving kindness with you ; he takes not his Spirit away from you ; he multiplies to pardon ; he waits to be gracious ; he lifts you up, when you fall ; he comforts you, when discon- solate ; he renews daily a right spirit within you ! And 150 SERMON VI. amid all this unmerited mercy, love, and grace, will you re- fuse his command to love a fellow-being, who, though he may be an enemy, has not given you a thousandth part of the offence, that you have given to God in the days of your unregenerate condition, or have given him even since you were brought into the number of his children 1 Ah ! if you persist in such a refusal, will you not give reason to fear, that you have not yet truly partaken of the spirit of adop- tion, and been admitted to the privileges of his sons ? For of these privileges, is it not the most eminent and honour- able, to bear the likeness of their Father in heaven ? Or, if the professing Christian, whose heart rebels against the command here given us, be one who is only a believer in name, and not in truth, Oh ! though I know he will not have the will to comply with this instruction of the Lord, has he not still greater cause to yield obedience to it ? For if, not- withstanding that he is not only in reality an enemy to God, but adds insult to his enmity by pretending to be a friend, he still enjoys all the bounties of Divine providence, nay, is admitted to the ordinances of grace, does it not indeed be- come him to be loving and compassionate to all I And if he be not, does he not truly deserve to have the very cup which he fills, or would fill to another, put into his own hand, and the measure which he metes, measured to him again ? But if we would see, in the most impressive light, the beauty of the Divine example, and the manner in which it ought to be imitated by us, let us attend to it, as exhibited by him, who, though all the fulness of the Godhead dwelt in him bodily, took on him the form of a servant, and was made in " the likeness of man." Never were wrongs so un- righteous and unprovoked as his, never enmity so causeless, as that by which he was so unrelentingly pursued. Yet, though his voice, which commanded the sea to be still, and ON LOVE TO ENEMIES. 151 the tempest to be calm, could have commanded the earth to open, and swallow up his foes ; — though a single word from him would have brought legions of angels to his rescue, and to his foes" destruction, he uttered not even a syllable of re- sentment or reproach ! " When reviled, he reviled not again ; when he suffered, he threatened not." Nay, some of his last breath was spent in praying for the forgiveness of his tormentors, and in extenuating and apologizing for their sin. He did not permit his mind to dwell on their barbarous enmity, and vile insults to himself. He thought only of their misery, of the doom to which their guilt exposed them, and in which, if unforgiven, it must have ere long involved them ; and their deliverance from this, not the recompence of their iniquity, was the subject of his solicitude and prayer ! This was truly to " love enemies, to bless them that cursed him, to do good to them that hated him, and to pray for them who despitefully used him, and persecuted him !" Oh, how gloriously superior to all the resentments of nature did he showT himself, when thus malevolence the most unmerited, and cruelty the most savage, exercised upon himself, only awakened his pity, and called forth his pikers ! And surely, brethren, if ever we should be attracted by the beauty of this exanrple, and commanded by its power, it is when we are to be expressly employed in commemorating the death of Jesus, with all the circumstances of horror by which its pains were aggravated, so wonderfully contrasted with the meek pa- tience of the sufferer, the generosity of the motive which made him submit to suffering, and the unconquerable bene- volence which he manifested under it. Has he, then, " left us an example that we should follow his steps,1' consider what manner of persons his example, in this particular, re- quires that we should be. Lastly, observe the high consideration which the blessed 152 SERMON VI. Jesus employs to enforce his precept, " that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven." He does not merely propose to us the pattern of his and our Father, as that which is most worthy to be followed by all intelligent creatures, of every world, but presents to us the honour and blessedness of being acknowledged as his children. tOur Lord, doubtless, does not mean that we can make ourselves the children of God, by any doing of ours ; for that evidently can be accomplished only by the act of the Supreme Father himself, adopting us into his family. But he means that thus we shall most certainly appear to be God's children, and shall have proof in ourselves that we are truly so. Yes ; for the possession of such a mind will show that we have in us the mind of Christ ; and that will prove that we have been renewed with " the renewing of the Holy Ghost," and are, therefore, no longer " children of wrath," as by nature we are, but sons of God, and joint heirs with Christ, of whose Spirit we have been made sharers, as the earnest of the pur- chased inheritance. To be, like our Lord, so completely raised above the weakness and passions of our nature, is more than nature's own powers ever did, or can effect. He in whom it hath been truly wrought, hath indeed " passed from death into life." He " walketh not after the flesh, but after the Spirit ;" for such a lesson corrupt flesh could neither teach nor learn ; and, therefore, he is " in Christ Jesus," and to him " there is no condemnation." But we see that it is not by conjecture, or from inference alone, however clear, that we are assured that all who comply with the injunctions of the text, are members of the family of God. We have it on .the direct affirmation, and infallible authority of his Eternal Son, that it most certainly is so. If, then, we believe his word, we must be sensible, that so to feel and act is not only (as has been proved) most reasonable, and, from its resem- OX LOVE TO ENEMIES. 153 blance to the mind of God and of Christ, most honourable, but also most advantageous. Can motives more cogent be imagined, to engage us to cultivate and exhibit such a spirit as our text enjoins ; to pray for it, and carefully to watch against every emotion of an opposite tendency, which collision with the world, or with one another, may be ready to excite ; and sometimes more powerfully and dangerously to excite, because violently and unexpectedly assailing us I Let ungodly men, let unrenewed nature say, " Hate thine enemy." Jesus says, " Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you : that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven ; for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just, and on the unjust." SERMON VII. ON THE SPIRIT AND MANNER IN WHICH THE DUTIES OF CHRISTIAN LOVE ARE TO BE DISCHARGED. ROMANS XII. 10. " Be kindly affectioned one to another, with brotherly loteP The peculiar force and beauty of the precept before us can hardly be perceived from the words of our translation. For this, however, the translators are not to blame, as the Eng- lish language affords no term corresponding to that which is rendered " kindly affectioned." Those who are acquainted with the original, know that this term is formed from one which signifies natural or kindred affection. It is rendered by these very words in Rom. i. 81, " without natural af- fection ;" that is, the affection which is usually entertained by persons of the same family and nearly related by blood, one to another, as that of parents for their offspring, of child- ren for their parents, and of the children of the same family for one another. To give the entire force of the command, therefore, would require such an enlargement of the expres- sion as the rules of strict and close translation will perhaps not admit. " In your love of the brethren, love with the tenderness of near kindred." Every one knows that, in the affection of persons nearly OX CHRISTIAN LOVE. 155 related to each other, dwelling in the same house, and eat- ing at the same table, there is almost universally a strength, and fondness, and constancy, very different from that which ordinarily accompanies the friendships and connexions which we form with others. The apostle means, then, to show us that our mutual love ought not only to be sincere and undissembled, — not only to be demonstrated by abstaining from whatever might hurt a brother, and cleaving to the practice of good deeds (9th verse), but that it should be cha- racterized by all the tenderness, and warmth, and stedfast- ness which the nearest kindred habitually manifest towards each other. True, in the present depraved state of human nature, we sometimes find that vicious inclinations and ha- bits will overcome and extinguish kindred affection itself, make parents cruel to their children, children regardless of their parents, and the offspring of the same father and mo- ther harsh and unkind to one another. But this is what even unregenerate men, not wholly abandoned to vice, will condemn. It is almost universally regarded with detesta- tion, and spoken of with unqualified abhorrence. Where any thing virtuous or amiable still holds power in the bosom, kindred affection maintains a powerful influence. Often, indeed, it is, in some respects, too strong ; leading men, by their partiality for its objects, to be unjust and injurious to others. Excess, or irregularities of this nature, the Holy Ghost could never intend to recommend ; but all the warmth and constancy, which are usually found to distinguish kin- dred affection, above all other affections, he wTould have Christians to cultivate, in their feelings and deportment to- wards each other. Let us consider, then, in what respects the kindly affec- tion of near kindred to one another, points out to Christians the character which they ought mutually to preserve 156 SERMON VIT. I. The persons, who feel for each other the affection de- noted hy the term employed in our text, are members of the same family. They are the parents and children, the bro- thers and sisters of the same house. Now, all know that, where nature^s affections are not extinguished or miserably perverted by depravity and vice, this, of itself, forms a strong bond of connexion. With what yearning tenderness do fa- thers and mothers regard their offspring, when young ; with what anxious solicitude, or pure delight, according to cir- cumstances, when grown up ! With what fond attachment do children cling to their parents ; with what powerful and invincible regard do brothers and sisters look upon each other ! Nay, how oft do we see that even the utmost un- dutifulness in one party, will not banish affection in the other. Let Christians, then, keep this in mind ; and con- sider what a lesson it teaches them, in regard to the temper which they ought to manifest to one another, and what a re- proof it conveys in respect to that which they generally do actually display. Men, indeed, cannot be Christians with- out some love for one another, and that love must, on the whole, be sincere. But has it the activity, and the strength, the deep interest, and the constancy, which even unregene- rate persons, connected in such relations as have been speci- fied, oft exhibit to each other \ Yet surely if persons, mere- ly because of the same family, feel whatever affects each other, whether prosperously or adversely, as if it touched themselves, Christians have the highest cause for mutual sympathy and regard. They are children of the same fa- mily. They have one Father, not merely in the sense in which, as the Creator of all things that exist, he has given to all being, life, and enjoyment ; but in that peculiar accep- tation, in which he is declared to have " begotten them of his own will, with the word of truth, that they should be a OX CHRISTIAN LOVE. 157 kind of first fruits of his creatures." They arc " born of God, born of the Spirit," in a manner in which those alone are, who " enter into the kingdom of heaven," and inherit its glor}\ Having been thus received into a new, peculiar, and most lasting relation to Him, they ought not only to love Him with attachment and gratitude the most fervent, but for his sake, and under the influence of his Spirit, to love one another. In proportion, indeed, as they yield to the re- generating Spirit, their love will grow; for the Spirit is God, and " God is love," and, from the very nature of things, it must arise, that his work will make itself beloved, where- ever the same work appears. In so far as they are under the influence of the same Spirit, they are of the same mind, even " the mind which was in Jesus Christ :" and what a bond of union is that ! What a mind was his ! a mind of love, the purest and most disinterested, the most ardent and devoted. Let believers, then, consider what a powerful kin- dred aiFection should bind them together, and interest them in each other. Let them remember, that, when they show a cold indifference towards their brethren, they act a still more unworthy part, than relations united by the closest ties of blood, when careless or hard-hearted to each other. For the connexions between the latter may soon be broken, — broken, perhaps, for ever ! But those which connect the members of the family of God, took their rise in the counsels of eternity, and through all eternity shall remain not only undissolved, but continually confirming. Let them love each other, therefore, with all the tenderness, all the con- stancy of kindred affection — of kindred affection refined from all that debases it, and mars its influence. And even if the infirmity and peccability of human nature should occasion- ally produce what might cause a breach in the mere ordi- nary attachments of men, let the love which " forgives un- 158 SERMON VII. til seventy times seven," still display its power ! Let the affection, which " many waters cannot quench, nor floods drown," still maintain its seat in the soul, he ready to heal every breach, and to impart at once new solidity, and new vivacity to the feelings of Christian brotherhood ! There are some peculiar cases, in which this strength and purity of Christian love ought more signally to appear. For example : when persons are united by both the tender ties of near kinsmanship, and by those of grace. How, then, should each class of attachments lend force and interest to the other ! If, more especially, as we trust not rarely hap- pens in families of believers, a father or mother has been the happy instrument, by assiduity and prayer, of introducing a child into the life of faith, as well as the life of nature, and has thus become to his offspring their spiritual parent, as well as the parent of their flesh, with what tenderness and delight ought they mutually to regard each other, as united not only by the most endearing bonds which nature knows, but by those which are destined to survive life and time, and to endure for ever ! Or, if what we know has also some- times happened, the affectionate endeavours of a converted child have been blest to the conversion and salvation of a parent, how should the ties of nature give tenderness the most exquisite to those of grace, and those of grace refine and purify nature's feelings ; while, in the spiritual state, nature's relations have become reversed, — the parent calls his own child father, and the child sees in the parent the off- spring of his spiritual anxieties and labours ! Wherever, indeed, such a relation has been established between those who are related, whether by blood, or neighbourhood, or of- fice, with what gratitude, on the one hand, ought the spiri- tual parent to bless the Father of mercies, for having ho- noured him or her to be the instrument of so much good ; OK CHRISTIAN LOVE. 159 and, on the other, with what strong affection ought they, whom he has heen pleased to place in a relation so important and so deeply interesting, to regard each other ! We may trace this in the tenderness and pleasure, with which we find Paul addressing Timothy and Titus, as " his own sons after the common faith," " his beloved sons," and the like ; — in the lively gratitude and dutiful alacrity, with which they appear to have devoted themselves to any service, in which he judged proper to employ them ; — in the correspond- ing affection with which he speaks of his son Onesimus, whom he had " begotten in his bonds ;"" — in his language to the Corinthians and other churches, whom he had been ho- noured to bring into the fellowship of the gospel, and the hope of eternal life : "As my beloved sons I warn you," " for in Christ Jesus have I begotten you through the gos- pel." And how strongly had the mutual love becoming this sacred spiritual relation been felt both by him and his dis- ciples, when he testifies, that, on his part, " being affection- ately desirous of them, he was willing to have imparted to them, not the gospel of God only, but his own soul also, be- cause they were dear to him ;" and bears them record, on the other, that, " if it had been possible, they would have plucked out their own eyes, and have given them to him !" Though God is certainly to be adored as " the author of every good and perfect gift," and especially of the gift of eternal life, there must always be, wherever the value of that blessing has been rightly felt, a strong feeling of attachment and obligation towards those, whom it has pleased him to employ for the purpose of making us partakers of the calling and privileges of his children. II. Near kindred, the members of the same family, have usually much familiar intercourse. Circumstances may, no 160 SERMON VII. doubt, separate them long and far from one another, even in early life. But we speak of what takes place in the great majority of instances. In these, persons connected by the tender relations implied in the literal sense of the expression used by the apostle, are ordinarily long accustomed to an in- tercourse of the most familiar kind, and such as they have with no others around them. They eat at the same table, as oft as the hours of refreshment return ; they occupy the same apartments ; not unfrequently sleep in the same beds ; are daily engaged in the same employments ; assist each other in the same pursuits, and are the direct instruments of each other's accommodation and comforts, in innumerable wTays. This, of itself, were sufficient to produce a strong attachment, and lasting interest, between them. It is thus, indeed, that probably the greater part of even kindred af- fections are formed and strengthened. In parents there is a natural instinctive tenderness to their offspring, previous to all knowledge of their dispositions and character, and inde- pendent of any experience of reciprocal kindness. But in all other cases, we apprehend, it is chiefly this constant daily intercourse, this frequent exchange of good offices, this feeling of the necessity of mutual aid for the well-being of each, that engenders, nourishes, and raises to such enduring and amiable strength, as have been often exemplified, the kindred affections. And when to this is added the consider- ation of connexion by a common parentage, and a common interest, the peculiar strength of such affections may readily be accounted for. — Now, this may suggest to believers, how their mutual regard may be both best expressed, and most successfully nourished. Looking on themselves as not only members of one family, and children of one father, but as connected by him in a variety of ways, so as to have oppor- tunity of contributing to each other's spiritual advantage and ON CHRISTIAN LOVE. 161 comfort, and as endowed with faculties for reciprocally pro- moting these, let them seek in such friendly and familiar intercourse, and in such habitual concern for each other's good, as are found to have effects so marked and beneficial in producing and confirming the love, by which persons of the same kindred are bound together, the augmentation of their own mutual tenderness, and of their happiness in one another. We fear, that the neglect of this is one great cause of the cold indifference which too frequently prevails among those, who are, it is to be hoped, something more than mere professors. That they who are nothing better, should feel little interest in any, but in those wTith whom some natural tie connects them, independently of all spiritual relations, is not to be wondered at ; for there being no warmth or reality in their religious character at all, nothing sincere or con- straining even in their affections towards God or the Re- deemer, it is impossible that there can be any reality, much less any fervour, in the attachment which mainly springs from love to them, — the attachment in which love to the members proceeds from love and union to the Head, from which all have, in common, their life and energy. Let be- lievers, then, instead of choosing for ordinary associates the men of this world, and losing, in their conversation and ex- ample, all views and all relish of heavenly things, seek out believers around them. In their conversation and society let them seek, and let them endeavour to impart, not only an agreeable relaxation from the cares and toils of life, but the correction of its evils, and the furtherance of their mu- tual edification and joy. As the children of the world flock together in their hours of leisure,- to talk of the politics of the day, of the frivolous news and scandal of their respec- tive neighbourhoods, or to bandy idle, perhaps profane or polluting jests, let the children of 7Ao\\ gather to one L 162 SERMON VII. another's houses or gardens, or accompany each other's walks, to talk of better things. And as members of the same fa- milies naturally speak most together, and with highest in- terest, of the affairs of their own households and kindred, so let the interests, the privileges, the hopes, the fears, the dan- gers, the deliverances of the household of faith, and of them- selves as members of it, be the chief topics of believers' dis- course. So shall they better appreciate each other's worth, nay, they will mutually improve and increase it. And. as near kindred, will talk to one another of family concerns with a freedom and confidence, which they will manifest to no other ; so let spiritual kindred mark their intercourse by the freedom with which they mutually unbosom themselves. As iron brighteneth iron, so shall the mutual action of their minds upon each other promote in them purity of sentiment, and con- sistency of practice. They will contribute to keep each other in mind, what manner of persons they ought to be, and will encourage each other in bearing the reproach of thoughtless men ; and their conversation, instead of assisting, as. that which too generally prevails usually does, to drive from the mind all thoughts that can edify and sanctify, will be help- ful to their growth in grace, to their meetness for doing honour to their Lord, and their preparation for being forever with him. III. The love of kindred is generally both shown and promoted, by their intimate acquaintance with each other $ character arid circumstances. From the connexion and familiar intercourse, which sub- sist betwixt such persons, they must know many things in relation to each other, to which strangers can have no access. Many things as to their family interests, domestic arrange- ments, own peculiar tastes, habits, and inclinations, which u\T CHRISTIAN LOVE. I i'h) thev will keep concealed from those around, they neither can conceal, nor in most cases would w.'sh to conceal, from one another. And though in some instances, alas, the in- timate knowledge of each other's characters thus belonging to near kindred, may unveil a wickedness hidden from the world, and give real cause for a deeper detestation, than others, less informed, may feel, yet where there is any thing amiable, remaining amid the ruins of moral character, it will generally, we apprehend, be best displayed, and best known, among those who are the objects of special affection. Even the robber or the pirate, amid all the atrocities which stain his character, has been known to be affectionate to the wife of his bosom, and substantially loving and kind, if not al- ways gentle, to the offspring of their embraces. Useful ser- vices done, good offices received, have even in such cases tended to nourish and confirm an attachment and benevo- lence, of which we might have been apt to think beings so rude and depraved, altogether incapable. — Those, too, who feel the bonds of kindred attachments, are thereby naturally led to take a deeper concern than others in what affects the condition of their dear relatives, and hence to inquire, with greater solicitude and minuteness, into whatever interests them. Hence a more intimate knowledge of each other's character, circumstances, and state, is both a cause and a consequence of their mutual affection. Here again, then, believers may see what will both tend to promote their mutual love, and what mutual love should prompt. It is because they do not know each other, be- cause they unbecomingly keep at a distance from each other, as if they were aliens and not brethren, that they look upon each other with such coldness, and are so little acquainted with each other's character. Let them be assured, did they more freely bring out their common feelings, impressions, and 164 SERMON vir. convictions, as to their common interests and condition, they would see more cause for mutual confidence and esteem, and find their brotherly attachment confirmed, and their capacity of mutual usefulness enlarged. They will more clearly dis- cover the difference between one another and the world, and how much more worthy of trust and affection those are, in whom Christ has been, in any measure, formed, than those who remain wholly under the power of things seen and tem- poral.— By mutual communication of each other's feelings, circumstances, and trials, they will contribute much to cor- rect one another's mistakes, to clear away one another's doubts, to confirm faith and establish consolation in each other's minds, and to encourage each other in every good word and work. It is from the giving of ourselves so much to the world, instead of coming out and being separate, and the not making of those, who are separate, the men who fear and obey the Lord, our companions, that our characters have so much of the worldly about them, and so little of the lively affection, either to our common Father and Lord, or to one another, by which we should be marked, and which is one of the noblest, as well as sweetest of the Spirit's fruits. IV. Near relatives are generally distinguished by a lively concern for each others interests, and by the earnestness of their endeavours for each other s welfare. Wherever any feelings of real benevolence exist, there will be felt concern, more or less lively, for the happiness of all around ; and this concern will manifest its power by prompting to endeavours for their good. Still more, then, when men have learnt to be benevolent on Christian princi- ples, will they take interest in the well-being of others, and be ready to plan, to labour, and even make sacrifices, for the promotion of it. Yet we only state what all observation ON CHRISTIAN LOVE. 165 teaches us, and what every one, on examining his own mind, will find in himself, when we add, that whatever materially affects the interests and well-being of our near and dear kin- dred, touches us in a manner more sensible than we are con- scious of in the case of others. Our fears for them are more disquieting, our hopes more fond, our rejoicing in their suc- cess or honour more animated, our distress on their personal suffering, or on any calamity in their condition, more poig- nant. This arises from two causes. Of these, one is the influence of habit in confirming and strengthening all our sentiments. Now, from our more constant and familiar in- tercourse with the persons referred to, we necessarily are more accustomed to feel an interest in what affects them ; and hence our minds are more sensible to solicitude and other emotions on their behalf. The other cause of the more lively interest in an individual of our near kindred, which is almost universally felt, is, it must be confessed, the strong tendency of self to mingle in all our affections and desires. Persons who are near of kin, we are apt to identify, in some measure, with ourselves. The wrong done to them we resent, not merely as we would a piece of injustice of the like, or of an even more aggravated nature, offered to one with whom we have no particular relation, but as an insult or injury inflicted on ourselves. While in any benefit con- ferred on them, any advantage or distinction gained by them, we rejoice as if, to a certain degree, our own. And hence the excess and mistakes to which, as already observed, the principle of natural or kindred affection is so often liable, sometimes seeking the interest or happiness of its immediate objects, at the expense of injustice and pain to others. For as selfishness makes too many men willing to advance their own interests, even by what does wrong to their fellow-crea- tures, the same selfishness extended, will make them reck- 166 SERMON VII. less of the rights and enjoyments of such individuals as have no special connexion with them, that they may more effec- tually promote what they suppose to be advantageous to those who have. But in whatever manner formed, or by whatever princi- ple explained, the fact of the peculiar concern we take in whatever wTe imagine to affect the interest of a nearly related kinsman, is well known and undisputed. We should, indeed, be apt to charge any one who did not exhibit it, with an unnatural disposition. Let brethren in Christ, then, let those who are related by the ties of spiritual con- sanguinity, learn from this how sensible their hearts ought to be in regard to any thing by which any material interest of another may be affected, whether in the way of hindrance or advancement, loss or gain. And when we say this, we would remind them, that it is not of the sordid and transi- tory interests of this earthly state we chiefly speak. For, while no true Christian will or can be indifferent to what may afflict or benefit even the outward condition of a bro- ther,— his personal ease or suffering, health or sickness, — he will be peculiarly concerned for what may hinder or promote his well-being and his enjoyments, in those respects in which they are children of one house, — related in spirit, though perhaps not in blood, — connected with one Father, through one Mediator, and by one Holy Spirit. Though the growth of a fellow-believer's fortune, therefore, will be matter of re- joicing to a Christian, as affording not only the means of in- creasing his own enjoyments, but of doing good more large- ly to the world, his growth in grace, the prosperity of his spiritual interests, will be still more so ; and if he will be grieved by the temporal distresses of his brethren in the faith, as these may affect both themselves and others, he will be still more afflicted by their declension from the truth in ON CHRISTIAN LOVE. 167 principle, or their violation of it in practice, as not only most injurious to their own best interests, but pernicious to all within the sphere of their influence. Nay, so much do things spiritual and eternal outweigh, in the estimation of an intel- ligent and consistent Christian, all earthly considerations, that he will even rejoice over the severest worldly calamities which can befal the children of God, if these prove the means of correcting their backslidings, quickening their diligence in the service of their Father, and maturing their prepara- tion for heavenly felicity. If chastisement, though " for the present not joyous but grievous,'" do, " nevertheless, after- wards yield the peaceable fruits of righteousness," he knows he has reason to be thankful for it in his own case, and, therefore, that he has like reason in the case of all whom he loves, and in whose character the glory of their common Lord is implicated. Under the same solemn sense of eter- nal things, he hears, with comparatively little emotion, of accessions to the power, wealth, and dominions of this country ; but to be told of the eminent advancement of pure and undefiled religion in any of its provinces, or of the strik- ing display of the efficacy of divine grace in any of its men of dignity and influence, fills him with the most unfeigned satisfaction, and constrains him to ascribe " glory to God in the highest ;" wdiile the proofs, of which he sees and hears too many, that the divine authority is disregarded, and di- vine institutions set at nought, — that holiness and righteous- ness are declining, and vice going on with more fatal speed, to slay its thousands and tens of thousands, not with tem- poral death only, but with that which is spiritual and eter- nal, make his heart bitter, and cause " rivers of waters to run from his eyes." He has another standard for measuring value than the world ; his main sources, whether of joy or sorrow, lie far deeper. What he chiefly counts profit, is 16S SERMON VII. what will benefit the soul, and promote the interests of im- mortality ; real loss, in his reckoning, is only what will ob- struct the improvement of the soul, and obscure the prospect, or prevent the attainment of its future happiness. When we allow a spirit opposed to this to prevail in our minds ; when all our solicitude about others is confined to the pros- perity of their temporal state, it is an evidence that either we possess not the faith of the gospel at all, or that, if it have ever been formed in us, its power is low, and its exer- cise most imperfect ; that our own spiritual life has not yet begun, or that it is languishing under the influence of some unworthy principle. In proportion as we are ourselves alive to God, and sedulous about eternity, we shall be concerned that others live to him too, and neglect not " the good part which cannot be taken away." While true kinsmanly affection to our brethren in Christ will thus make us feel a lively concern for their best inter- ests, it will also prompt to earnest endeavours to promote their welfare. We naturally judge of the sincerity and strength of every principle and affection, by its actual influ- ence over practice. Even where the words may be good, if there be no corresponding manifestation in the conduct, we must infer that the motive which they express has little inward power. As believers, then, unless they forget their own spiritual welfare, cannot but feel for that of their breth- ren, let them act consistently, — let them endeavour to pro- mote it. If they neither speak nor act for it, can they be deemed to feel for it I Are they ashamed to appear on the Lord's side, or to show too much concern for the happiness of their brethren ? Are they to behave as if godliness and benevolence were characteristics, for which they ought to blush, and which they ought to keep concealed from those around them \ Alas, our backwardness to do what in us lies ,i\ CHRISTIAN LOVK 1 69 for the spiritual welfare of our brethren, is but a symptom too sure of the weakness of our own faith, and the deadness of our own spirits. The soul, which is habitually conversant with eternal things, and acquainted with the happiness that results from the contemplation of them, would feel delight in assisting others to pursue them, and in directing their at- tention to the means which it has found most beneficial to itself, in acquiring the knowledge and the joyful hope of the gospel. As brethren travelling the same road, beset by the same dangers, and struggling with the same difficulties, we ought not only to be careful that we "fall not out by the way," and so obstruct one another, but should seek to be, by all possible means, assistants to each other. "Would you think that those persons acted like brothers, relatives, or friends, who, having to make their way across some foul and dangerous passage, deep with mire, entangled with thickets, infested with pits and snares, never concerned them- selves about one another's condition, never lent a sinking companion a helping hand, never warned an erring one, or endeavoured to make others the better of their mistakes and difficulties, by pointing out what involved them in these, and the means by which they were enabled to escape I Let us endeavour to realize to ourselves such a scene, and think how we should reprobate and condemn such coldness and indifference ; and how we should estimate the worth and intelligence of each individual, by the attention which he paid not only to his own progress and safety, but to those of all within his reach. And if we beheld any one attain a vantage ground peculiarly favourable, should we not expect him, on that account, to exert himself the more for the as- sistance and relief of his struowlinor and endangered kindred ? Let believers, then, show the interest they take in their brethren's welfare, by their endeavours to promote it. Let 170 SERMON VII. them seek to impart instruction to the ignorant, admonition to the heedless, warning to the erring, reproof to the per- verse who sinneth with a high hand, advice to the perplexed, consolation to the mourner, encouragement to the fearful, and strength and zeal to one another by pouring out the fulness of their hearts in all that relates to the advancement of the kingdom of God, within or without them. While under the influence of that charity which delights in, and seeks, the well-being of every creature, they are to "do good, as they have opportunity, to all men,*'' they are especially, under the influence of the kindred affection and brotherly love of the text, to " do good to them that are of the house- hold of faith ;" and therefore, surely, they are chiefly to desire their good as members of that household, and in those things which constitute them members of it, that is, in the knowledge, the faith, the hope, and other graces of the gos- pel, in their union to Christ, and conformity to his spirit and example. They will then be helpers of each other's joy ; and, like persons linked together, will be able to surmount obstacles which would have overpowered them singly, and to maintain their ground, where otherwise they might have been beaten back, or cast down. V. The effect of all the circumstances which we have enumerated in the case of near kindred, is not only to inspire them with a peculiar affection for, and interest in, each other, but to beget a mutual confidence, which they cannot easily repose elsewhere. Where the connexion by blood, the familiar intercourse, intimate knowledge of each other's circumstances, the lively concern for each other's welfare, and the earnest endeavour to promote it, already referred to, exist, confidence must grow. For what is confidence in any one, but the assurance OX CHRISTIAN LOVE. 171 we have, that in any case he will entertain for us a friendly regard, and act to us a friendly part. And how can this so well be produced, or be so powerfully confirmed, as by the continued exercise of mutual good will, and the practice of reciprocal kindness ? " A brother is born for adversity." Whatever we may suffer from the world, whatever cross, or trial we may be appointed by Providence to endure, how- ever we may be deserted by such as once seemed, and were counted friends, yet in the affectionate attachment of a brother or sister, of father or mother, of a child or grandchild, we flatter ourselves that we have still a resource. To their aid we apply without fear, confident that so far as they are able, it will be immediately afforded. To them we unbosom our cares ; on them we rely for kind and disinterested coun- sel. Affairs, which our mind would revolt from communi- cating to persons little known, or unconnected with us, we unburden our hearts by freely unfolding to them. Where all is as it ought to be in relations so near, there can be no coldness, and there will be little reserve. Much of this confidence, so soothing to the heart of man, ought to subsist between Christians, and will subsist be- tween them, where they act in the spirit of the text. And how comfortable this is likely to prove to them, especially in every case of spiritual anxiety and perplexity, may be easily conceived. How many burdens would be quickly lightened, how many fears dispelled, were Christians but accustomed to lay open with confidence to one another, their mutual im- pressions and apprehensions ! Much of the darkness, as well as the tardiness, of the progress of believers, may be traced to their want of mutual confidence, to the unbrotherly re- serve with which they treat each other, and to their back- wardness to make known the state of their feelings, whether as to the grounds of their joy and trust, or the causes of their 1*2 SERMON VII. embarrassments and fears. Christians must surmount this, if they would either do the good, or receive the good, which the Lord qualifies them to impart to one another. " Because iniquity shall abound,'" said our Lord, " the love of many shall wax cold/1 The abounding of iniquity produces this lamentable effect in two ways. First, by its direct influence on the minds of all who are subject to it ; for being selfish and sensual in its whole spirit and tendency, it is necessarily inconsistent with every good and generous feeling. Next, by its indirect, but not less certain, effect on the minds of the righteous. For it destroys that mutual con- fidence which we now recommend to Christians. They can- not help seeing, that, among the multitude of professing be- lievers, there are few, of whom they can be assured that they really know and love the truth. In the prevalence of ini- quity, they are filled with painful doubts, lest he, whom they might be disposed to love and trust as a brother, should be in fact but an enemy, and a scoffer in disguise. Those, whose character and conduct bear the impression of their be- ing serious believers, are so rare, that they find it difficult to confide in any, and even in one another : for hypocrisy is one of the most common forms, under which selfishness and iniquity veil their hideousness. For this I can see but one cure. It is, that true Christians be more resolved, and more careful to act in character. Let them show more decidedly what they are, and to whom they belong. Instead of seek- ing to pass, as it were, unobserved in the crowd, undistin- guished by any thing peculiar from the world around them, let them make it appear, that, according to Christ's declara- tion, they are "not of the world, even as he is not of the world." Let them have the mark of their Lord in their foreheads, and in their hands, that their characters may be above suspicion or mistake, and that, in particular, they may OX CHRISTIAN LOVE. 1 73 have no hesitation in recognizing and trusting one another. This will be, at once a delightful evidence of their kindred affection for each other, and a source of mutual advantage. To have those, in whom we can confide, is always pleasing ; as, on the other hand, nothing is more painful to a good mind than continual distrust. And reciprocal confidence, by en- abling them to unbosom themselves to one another, will mi- nister much to their mutual edification and growth in grace. As matters too generally stand between professing Chris- tians, the experience of every one is locked up in his own breast. No brother is ever benefited by it, in the way of either warning or encouragement, correction or instruction. Things ought not so to be. The more that we follow the injunction of the text, the more will they be improved. Mutual confidence will be the parent of mutual benefit : and by mutual benefit, mutual confidence will, in turn, be con- firmed and increased. SERMON VIII. EFFECTS OF GRIEF OX THE GODLY JOHN XI. 1-35. " Xow a certain man was sick, named Lazarus, of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha," Szc. Is discoursing from this passage, it is not my intention to lay before you a particular exposition of the several verses and expressions, of which it consists ; but to notice and il- lustrate some of the effects which grief produces, and some of the appearances which it assumes, in pious minds ; — the manner of God's dealing with them under it ; — the consola- tions which they receive, and the means by which these consolations are imparted. Of these particulars, the history now read affords an impressive and instructive exemplifica- tion. I. Let us observe the effect which grief produces, and the appearances which it assumes, in pious minds. Under this head of discourse, I remark, 1. That in the godly, as in others, calamitous events pro- duce much anxiety and distress. Under the influence of anxious apprehension, Martha and Mary, when they saw the sickness of their brother, has- tened to give notice to their Lord (v. 3) ; and when Laza- rus had died, their sorrow attracted the attention, and ex- EFFECTS OF GKIEF ON THE GODLY. 175 cited the sympathy, of their neighbours (v. 19). So entire- ly, indeed, does grief seem to have taken possession of their minds, that when Mary went out, on receiving the secret in- timation of the Saviour's approach, the spectators could not imagine any other reason for it, than the further indulgence of her passion. " She goeth to the grave to weep there" (v. 31). On a partial view of the condition and privileges of the godly, we might be apt to conclude that it ought to be other- wise with them ; that no contingency should darken their minds ; that no calamity should distress them. For, is it not said, that " God will withhold from them no good thing V and " that all things shall work together for their good V Have they not good cause, then, to be always joyful I and ought not an unruffled serenity ever to possess their minds I Tears are unworthy of them. Sorrow is inconsistent with their privileges. Nay, has not Scripture said to them, " Re- joice evermore V So might a partial observer, and a superficial reasoner argue. But those who have more fully attended to the Scriptural account of their condition, know that the Lord's people are often described as an afflicted people ; and that the righteous are not only said to have troubles, but to have " many.1'' In the godly, as in others, the feelings of nature remain, and in them the bonds of natural affection are not less powerful, nay, perhaps are stronger than in the children of the world. These feelings and affections, the gospel is not intended to extinguish or destroy, but to correct and re- fine. Its object is not to endow believers with a strange in- sensibility, but to teach them fortitude and resignation ; to show them that, even when they have most cause to weep, they have more to rejoice ; and that, though their losses may have been severe, they have still an invaluable treasure 176 >F.IJMOX VIIT. left. When their feelings, therefore, are wounded, when the just and valued objects of their attachment are torn away, grief is not less natural and necessary to them, than to the rest of mankind. The difference is not in this, that they do not grieve, but that they " sorrow not as those who have no hope," — no hope towards God and immortality. Not only, indeed, from the constitution of their nature, must the godly sorrow, as well as others, when calamity overtakes them, but duty seems to demand it. For, surely it cannot be disputed, that, when heaven bestows upon us, and continues to us, valuable gifts, we ought to value and to hold them dear. If we prize them not, we can feel no gra- titude for them. If we prize them not enough, our grati- tude must be deficient. If ingratitude, then, must be ranked with the basest vices of the heart ; insensibility to the worth of our mercies, from which ingratitude must necessarily flow, ought to share in its condemnation and its shame. But if we be sensible to their worth, can we be insensible to their loss I If they are dear to our hearts, can we give them up without a pang I No. To surrender God's gifts without reluctance, to see them snatched away without a struggle, would prove us to be indifferent to their value, and therefore ungrateful to the giver. If it be a duty, then, to be thankful ; if, consequently, it be a duty to prize the boun- ties of Jehovah, in that duty, sorrow is implied for those dis- pensations by which they are removed. To this, in every instance, our judgment of character corresponds. The re- signation which feels, yet submits, commands respect. In- sensibility is abhorred. Had Martha and Mary never grieved for the death of Lazarus, or had their grief been slight and transitory, their want of feeling would have shocked every virtuous mind ; and even the most charitable must have been compelled to conclude, that they had never duly valued. EFFECTS OF GRIEF OX THE GODLY. 177 never been duly thankful for, so estimable a relative, since they could bear his loss with so little regret. Farther, the most consoling light in which the Scrip- tures represent afflictions, is when they are described as the chastening of the Lord. Chastisement is a proof of love. It is the effect of parental kindness, directed by parental wis- dom. But the very idea of chastisement implies pain. Where no pain has been inflicted, we cannot conceive chas- tisement to have taken place. Chastisement, too, is intend- ed to produce very important effects ; to render us attentive to some duty or duties which we have neglected ; to make us avoid some fault or faults, in which we have indulged. But by that which is unfelt, no effect can be produced. And from that which we feel, in a manner only momentary and feeble, feeble and momentary too must be the correction or amendment which we receive. While, therefore, we are instructed, in Scripture, not to be '< weary of the Lord's cor- rection," nor to " faint when rebuked of him," we are also warned not to " despise (literally not to think a light mat- ter), the chastening of the Lord." It appears, then, that while nature forbids the godly to be more than others insensible to affliction, duty requires that they should feel. It is implied in gratitude for their mercies. It is essential to their improving under the chas- tisements of heaven. It is necessary, in order that they may not be found despisers of their God. Therefore, 2d, When in distress, they, like others, seek relief. The first impulse of every animated being, when assail- ed by pain, whether corporeal or mental, is to procure its removal or mitigation. Hence the worm writhes beneath your foot, to extricate itself from the pressure ; and hence the Stoic labours to render himself insensible to calamity. M 178 SERMON VIII. Hence, too, the worldly and the sensual attempt to escape from their cares by forgetting them ; and hence the godly, when proved by tribulation, pour out their sorrows and their fears to him, " who is able to save them, even to the utter- most." They differ not from others in refusing to .seek re- lief, but there is a marked distinction in the source from which they seek to obtain it. The worldly, accustomed to look only to things that are seen, as the causes of their weal or woe, have no resort in the day of trouble ; or if they do lift up a cry to heaven, it is extorted merely by the force of suffering ; it proceeds not from habitual confidence in divine compassion, or from any comfortable knowledge of the di- vine character. Hence it is recorded as a blemish in the character of Asa. and an instance of inconsistency with the godliness which he usually displayed, that, ,; in his sickness he sought not unto the Lord, but to the physicians." The pious, on the other hand, being accustomed to trace all their enjoyments to the hand of God, and to consider all their afflic- tions as the result of his appointment, naturally look to him in the season of distress, whether for consolation under it, or deliverance from it. Of this, the book of Psalms affords us numerous examples. " Turn thee unto me." says David to his Lord, " and have mercy upon me : for I am desolate and afflicted. The troubles of my heart are enlarged : O bring thou me out of my distresses. " " The sorrows of hell compassed me about ; the snares of death prevented me. In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried unto my God." " Have mercy on me. O Lord, for I am weak : O Lord heal me, for my bones are vexed. My soul also is sore vexed." " Consider and hear me, O Lord my God ; lighten mine eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death." — (Psalms xxv. 16, 17. xviii. 5, 6. vi. 2, 3. xiii. 3.) Indeed, not a page of these divine compositions can be pointed out, in which si- EFFECTS OF Gil IFF OX THE GODLY. 179 tnilar instances may not be found. And thus Martha and Mary had immediate recourse to Him whom they knew to possess all power in heaven and in earth ; and as soon as they heard of his arrival, hastened to throw themselves at his feet.— (vv. 3, 20, 32.) We mean not from this to argue, that there is any thing inconsistent with true godliness, in having recourse to those means which reason or experience may point out as condu- cive to the removal or mitigation of calamity. The sin of the worldly, in such instances, consists not in their employ- ing those means, but in employing and depending upon them alone. In sickness, the godly, as well as the men of the world, think it reasonable to apply to the physician. Nay, more, he will reckon it his duty. But while in this, and in every case of trouble, he will use with diligence every lawful expedient for relief which Providence may place within his reach, his ultimate dependence rests on a higher basis. In the employment of every mean for spiritual improvement or spiritual consolation, for temporal prosperity or temporal de- liverance, he knows that success depends on the permission and blessing of heaven, and expects success, in so far only as Jehovah may accord it. But as human nature is prone to err, we have to re- mark, 3c?, That in giving vent to their sorrows, and in their eagerness to obtain relief, theij are sometimes apt to expostu- late with God on his afflictive dispensations, in a language approaching to complaint. " Lord," exclaimed both the sisters on meeting Jesus, " if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." They had too much reverence for the Saviour, directly to complain of his conduct. But they had been persuaded that Lazarus and they were objects of his affection. They knew, that by 180 SERMON vnr. Lazarus and themselves he was highly beloved. They had flattered themselves, therefore, that as soon as he received their message, he would hasten to their relief, with all the eagerness of tender sympathy. Having witnessed the promptness of his compassion even to those who were utter strangers to his person, they expected its speediest exertions on behalf of his friends. Or should his personal presence have been necessary elsewhere, they might conclude, that he who wrought a miracle of healing on the son of the noble- man of Capernaum, though at a distance of many miles, might, from beyond Jordan, have made the languish- ing frame of Lazarus feel, at Bethany, the virtue of his word. They were ready, therefore, to think him unkind, in both delaying his visit, and in withholding the exercise of his miraculous gifts, the benefits of which others had so frequently experienced. They did not, indeed, presume di- rectly to charge him with an unfriendly demeanour. Per- haps they did not dare even in thought to let such a charge assume a distinct form. But some such ideas were proba- bly arising in their hearts, notwithstanding every struggle to suppress them ; and the supposition that Jesus had been indifferent and unconcerned, would add poignancy to all their other grief. Nor were they, by any means, singular in experiencing such feelings, or in allowing them in some measure, to ap- pear in their language. The Lord calls his people his friends ; and assures them that they are admitted to all the privileges of that relation. And, as if even that were not enough, he assumes to them those titles, which imply the closest and most tender ties. He is the " husband" of his church : the " father" of his saints. Now, upon whom may we depend for an affectionate deportment, and gentle treat- ment, if not on a friend, a husband, and a father ? When, EFFECTS OF GRIEF ON THE GODLY. 181 therefore, the providence of God assumes a frowning aspect, when he overthrows their comforts, and multiplies their sorrows, the thought is apt to arise, that this is inconsistent with the privileges of their state ; nay, perhaps an unworthy suspicion, that these titles arc deceitful, and that their Cre- ator is not possessed of the kind and gracious character which they imply. " Why standest thou afar off, OLordr* said David, " why hidest thou thyself in the time of trouble ! How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord I forever \ How long wilt thou hide thy face from me V And elsewhere, even while he records the manner in which his error was corrected, he tells us how he was prone to argue. u How doth God know \ and is there knowledge in the Most High I Behold these are the ungodly who prosper in the world ; they increase in riches. Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency : for all the day long have I been plagued, and chastened every morning." On another occasion he informs us, that he had exclaimed in the anguish of his spirit, " Will the Lord cast off for ever ? and will he be favourable no more \ Is his mercy clean gone for ever \ Doth his promise fail for ever more ? Hath God forgotten to be gracious f Or if reflection check, as it quickly must in believing souls, such unworthy sentiments of the beneficent and faith- ful Jehovah, their doubts are ready to take another turn, and lead them to conclude that, though God be gracious, they are not the objects of his favour ; and that while he is the unchangeable friend and loving parent of his people, they are not among his children. " Were I beloved of God, " would he thus afflict me ? Were I his child, could he " treat me with such severity ? My calamity is too heavy " to proceed from a father's hand. My stroke is the stroke " of judgment. My trust in the promises has been delusion : 182 SERMON VIII. " for they were not addressed to me. The dispensations of " the Almighty show, that he disowns me. Alas ! are they " not earnests of his wrath V Thus, while they escape im- piety, they are ready to be overtaken by despondency ; and to think hardly of their own state, while they justify their Maker. Their attention being absorbed by their sorrows, they forget that " whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth ;" and that to intimate the severity with which his chastise- ments are frequently inflicted, he is said to " scourge," not some only, but every " child whom he receives." Or should this be suggested, still their troubled soul refuses to be com- forted. The intensity of their suffering makes them think that it can proceed from nothing but vengeance ; and they conclude themselves sinners above all others, because they imagine themselves pre-eminent in misery. In the tumult of their spirits they do not reflect, that our Lord himself has taught us the falsehood of that reasoning, which infers un- common guilt from uncommon trials. They do not reflect, that troubles are comprehended in the portion of all the righteous : and till they have acquired some measure of composure, so as to be able, in some degree, to weigh and compare their calamities with those of others, they do not observe that some of the most distinguished favourites of heaven have been still more severely afflicted than themselves. When returning recollection, however, enables them to take these truths into consideration, they begin to perceive that though chastisement be hard to bear, it were a lot still more deplorable to be without it : and while they say with the prophet, " O Lord let me talk to thee of thy judgments," they say with him too, " righteous art thou, when I plead with thee." They bow to the justice of Jehovah ; they im- peach not his faithfulness, while they smart beneath his rod. They may not be able altogether to suppress complaint : yet EFFECTS OF Gil I El- ON THE GODLY. 183 even complaint is mingled with the efforts of resignation and trust. We have therefore to remark, 4:t/t, That even their expostulations are accompanied with an humble reliance on divine power and grace. Though Martha could not restrain the expression of her anguish and disappointment, still she added, " But I know that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will give it thee.11 When believing mourners " remember the years of the right hand of the Most High," they perceive that there is no measure of outward distress incompatible with the possession of his favour, and that there is no afflic- tion so overwhelming and intolerable, that he can neither grant them deliverance from it, nor impart to them conso- lation under it. As the tempest of natural passion subsides, the views of the divine character, which they had acquired from grace, but which that tempest had obscured, return. They may still feel themselves wretched, and many things may seem to be against them, yet they cannot, they dare not, continue to doubt that God is gracious, that he is faithful to his promises, and willing to hear those that " call upon him in the day of trouble." They pour out their souls before him, and fill their mouths with arguments from the declara- tions of his own word. While they plead, they feel their hearts disburdened ; and prayer being the exercise in which their faith was accustomed both to express itself, and to re- ceive strength, they find their confidence revived, and are prepared to acknowledge it to be at least possible, that their hardest trials may be " for their profit.11 The clouds of sor- row may make it difficult for them to discern how this can be ; and their hearts may struggle against considering that as designed for good, which they feel to be a mighty evil ; yet they endeavour to maintain the hope, that in time they 184 SERMON VIII. shall find it verified, to their comfortable experience : or at least, that what they " know not now, they shall know hereafter." Thus trusting though mourning, and hoping though in darkness, they commit their cause to God ; and from him who alone can, but who can effectually bestow, they ask and expect relief. Let us observe, then, that it is no mark of a godly cha- racter to be insensible to distress. In the godly, the feelings of nature, though refined by grace, are not on that account less exquisitely tender. Though their mourning also be mingled with hope, and even not unfrequently with joy, there is one respect in which, when under trial, they feel more intensely, or at least more solemnly and permanently, than the children of the world. They regard it as the chas- tening of the Lord : and they are conscious, therefore, that they ought neither to overlook, nor to forget the lesson which it teaches. We have seen, too, that it is no evidence of true religion to despise, or to neglect to make application to such sources of relief, as Providence may place within our reach, when overtaken by calamity. We are commanded to be ready, according to our ability, to relieve the distresses of others ; and not to seek relief in our own, were brutish stupidity, or stoical pride, or fanatical superstition ; not duty, or the spi- rit of the gospel. Let us only remember to seek it, as the godly do ; to seek it first from Heaven, and in our applica- tion to all inferior sources of deliverance, or consolation, ne- ver to lose sight of our dependence on the highest. While, however, we mourn both from the feelings of nature, and from the convictions of duty, let us beware of rashly accusing the Almighty, or of suffering our importu- nity for relief to degenerate into impatience. From his absolute sovereignty over us, and over all EFFECTS OF GRIEF ON THE GOULY. 185 things, he is entitled to do with us what he pleases ; and to give, or to withhold, whatever he deems meet : and as we shall have occasion to remark in the sequel, he often acts, even in his severest dispensations, with the most gracious in- tentions ; and while he appears to delay his interposition in our behalf, delays for the kindest ends. Let us remember that to despond is to assert, that our wound is beyond his power to cure, and that our calamity is greater than his pro- vidence or grace is able to repair. And what is that, but to deny the omnipotence of his arm, and the extent of his love ? Let the considerations of his righteousness and his sove- reignty silence complaint, and enforce submission. Let those of his power, faithfulness, and love, raise a barrier to restrain within proper bounds, the feelings of nature. Let them mingle with the bitterness of these feelings, the sweet emotions which accompany hope and trust ; that we may wait patiently for " the end of the Lord ;" and may have it recorded of us, and to the praise of divine grace in us, as of the patriarch of old, that, in all our trials, " we sinned not with our lips, neither charged God foolishly." Amen. SERMON IX. THE DEALINGS OF GOD WITH HIS AFFLICTED PEOPLE, AND THEIR CONSOLATIONS. JOHN XI. 1-35. " Now a certain man was sick, named Lazarus, of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha" &c. Having endeavoured to illustrate the appearances which grief assumes, and the effects which it produces, in the minds of the godly, as exemplified in the case of Martha and Mary, we proceed, II. To state the manner in which God deals with his people under trouble, as exhibited in the same history. This, it may reasonably be expected, will correspond to the manner in which they are exercised under his afflictive dispensations, and to the purposes which he intends to serve by them. These purposes are purposes both of goodness and justice. They respect both his people's good, and his own glory in them. These are objects too important to be per- mitted to fail. His procedure, we may be assured, will therefore be so conducted, as most effectually to attain them. And as it is obvious, that both must be promoted or hin- dered by the spirit and deportment of his servants ; it is equally obvious, that this spirit and deportment must, in a corresponding degree, affect his procedure towards them. To state particularly the different modes of the Almighty's cod's dealings with the afflicted. 187 procedure, corresponding to the different frames and tempers of his people, would doubtless afford occasion for many use- ful and instructive remarks ; but would lead to a discussion too long and too minute to be at present attempted. Under one or two general observations, however, sug- gested by the instance before us, the most important of them may probably be comprehended. We observe, then, 1. That God sometimes seems to disregard the petitions of his afflicted people, whether for deliverance or consolation ; and for a season defers his answer. When the sisters of Lazarus sent unto Jesus, saying, " Lord, he whom thou lovest is sick," they believed that the simple intimation would suffice to ensure his earliest exer- tions on their behalf; — yet "he abode two days still in the same place where he was." Was this, then, because he loved them not, and felt no desire to gratify their wishes 1 The sacred historian seems anxious to prevent any such sup- position ; for, in the sentence immediately preceding that in which the delay of Jesus is recorded, he takes care to inform us, that all the parties concerned were the objects of his Master's peculiar affection. " Now, Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus." Nay, by the manner in which he connects the two particulars together, he seems to inti- mate, that the one was the reason of the other ; that the love of Christ was the cause of his deferring the request of the persons whom he loved. " Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. When he heard, therefore, that he was sick, he abode two days still in the place where he was" (vv. 5, 6) . Now, love surely delights in the good of its ob- jects : it feels their sorrows as its own. If Jesus, then, de- layed compliance with the request conveyed to him, it must have been for the good of his friends. If he inflicted pain, it must have been because he knew it to be salutary. And 188 SERMON IX. though, doubtless, for the time, the effects of his delay were most afflicting to the sisters of Lazarus ; yet every intelligent reader of the history will observe that they, and the church in every subsequent age, must have been deprived of much useful instruction, and much valuable consolation, had events been ordered in a contrary manner. Was the temporary uneasiness, which they sustained, to be compared with the advantages which they derived from the exercise of their pa- tience, the confirmation of their faith, and the enlargement of their views, which the issue afforded 1 Martha and Mary, like the apostles themselves, had pro- bably indulged too much in the prevailing worldly ideas of the Messiah's reign, and were too much disposed to connect with it the prospects of worldly prosperity and success. By the death of Lazarus, they were better instructed. They were effectually taught that Jesus came not to screen his people from temporal calamity, but to confer more important blessings ; and they were led to fix their attention on these, rather than on any imaginary terrestrial good to be derived from their union with him. Perhaps, also, they had pre- sumed too much on the partiality with which they believed themselves to be regarded by their Lord. Perhaps they had too rashly concluded that, because they loved him, and he had honoured them with his friendship, " there should no evil befall them, neither should any plague come nigh their dwelling.'"1 In the tomb of Lazarus, such presumptuous thoughts were buried, to rise no more ; and, through their disappointment, a lesson of necessary humility was con- veyed. Thus, too, their faith was tried and strengthened. So long as every expectation is answered, and every wish grati- fied, weak indeed must be the faith which cannot endure. But when expectation is disappointed, when our fondest de- god's dealings with the afflicted. 189 sires arc thwarted, then our trust in God our Saviour is put to the proof, and opportunity is afforded us to show, that we have too high an esteem of his faithfulness and of his love to he shaken by unfavourable appearances. And when, in such a trial, faith is enabled to prevail, it acquires a strength by which it is fitted for severer conflicts, and prepared for higher triumphs in time to come. To such a trial was the faith of the sisters put, by the death of their beloved La- zarus ; and to such a victory was that of Martha, in parti- cular, conducted, in the conversation which took place be- tween her and Jesus (vv. 23-27). And thus, too, in the case of others, in other times, are their requests deferred, and the divine interposition on their behalf delayed, to in- struct them more perfectly in the ways of God, to humble them before him, to try and confirm their faith towards him. Contentment is always a duty : but, when our wonted comforts are uninterruptedly preserved to us, when our af- fairs prosper to our wish, and " the candle of the Lord shines upon our head ;" we are in danger of being, in some respects, but too well satisfied with our worldly estate, — so well satisfied, as to abate in our concern about the heavenly inheritance, and to take up our rest on earth. Our affections become engrossed by temporal objects ; and, if we do not altogether forget eternal things, we cease to regard them with that stedfastness and desire which are clue to their in- finite importance. This is necessarily most injurious to the progress of the spiritual life in our souls, and to our prepara- tion for the glory and happiness of a better state. Were it allowed to continue unchecked, the saints would speedily " measure back their steps to earth again," and every thing distinguishing in their character would be in danger of being lost in conformity to this present world. To prevent, there- 190 SERMON IX, fore, or to counteract an effect so pernicious to their true honour and interest, the Providence of God, acting in sub- serviency to the purposes of his grace, mingles in their lot the bitter and the sweet, the evil and the good. Disappoint- ment as to their favourite earthly objects, checks the inor- dinate affection with which they pursued them ; and the re- moval of their temporal comforts effectually reminds them, that they have a higher and more lasting happiness to seek, than can be found below. Adversity corrects the erroneous estimate which prosperity had induced them to form of ter- restrial good, and teaches them to depend more for their tranquillity and their joys, on those stable objects which can- not fail, and those heavenly fountains which cannot be dried up. It constrains them to " look, not at the things which are seen and temporal, but at those which are unseen and eternal." And, while they do so, " their present light afflic- tion, which is but for a moment, worketh for them a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." It directs their attention more steadily to " things above.1' It quickens their desires after them, and promotes their preparation for them. When, too, we have succeeded in attaining any earthly object of desire, and have been long accustomed to a serene and unruffled aspect of Providence, we are apt, not only to allow the world to fill too large a portion of our affections, but to indulge a presumptuous confidence in the continuance of our prosperity. What has been, we naturally expect will be. What we have long found to be without change, we are ready to regard as permanent. This conclusion is more easily drawn, and more heartily assented to, when our wishes and our interest coincide with it. We are, therefore, prone to review, with much complacency, the foundations of our prosperity, and to flatter ourselves that they are such as can- god's dealings with the afflicted. 191 not soon, or easily be shaken. And though, in speculation, every one will readily acknowledge the instability of worldly bliss, yet practically we are disposed to keep this unpleasing reflection out of sight, and are apt to reason, and to be in- fluenced in the manner just described. "When the path of life appears smooth before us, it seems altogether unneces- sary to suspect any snare or hardship in our progress. When the horizon is unclouded all around, we are not willing to imagine that a tempest may be near. Nay, self-partiality may so far mislead us, as to make us suppose ourselves war- ranted by religion, to account the perpetuity of our external peace an object of our trust in God ; to regard it as compre- hended in his covenant with us, and to consider him as, in some measure, bound to maintain it for us. By such pre- sumption was the Psalmist deceived. " In my prosperity," says he, "I said, I shall never be moved." And thus, too, did he erroneously persuade himself, that he might depend on the hand which had dispensed his prosperity, to defend it from every reverse. " Lord, thou hast made my moun- tain to stand strong by thy love." He concluded his felicity to be the effect of special favour, and therefore not to be with- drawn. He records the manner in which his presumption was rebuked, and his error corrected. " Thou didst hide thy face, and I was troubled." (Psalm xxx. 6,7.) How dangerously such a presumption must operate on a believer's mind, and how important, therefore, it is that it be repressed, may be easily perceived. Its obvious tendency is to make him, who is under its influence, say to his soul, with the fool in the parable, " Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years. Take thine ease ; eat, drink, and be merry." The restraint which should be maintained over worldly appetites is relaxed. Their ascendancy, at all times too great, receives an injurious increase. And the 192 SERMON IX, care of his eternal interests, though it can never be altogether forgotten by a Christian, is not considered a matter of that instant, immediate, and urgent concern, which, in his esti- mation, it ought to be, Something like the reply of Felix to Paul is too apt to be given to the inward monitor, when it reminds him that he should " gird up the loins of his mind." " Go thy way for this time ; when I have a conve- nient season, I will call for thee." " This enjoyment need " not be interrupted. This business need not be suspended. " I shall have better leisure, and a more seasonable oppor- " tunity for spiritual improvement, against such a period ; " or if not, there will be no want of suitable occasions in " after life.*" Thus, the believer's best employment is, for the time, deferred ; and being once deferred, is more easily put off again, till a habit of procrastination is formed, and the principles of godliness, though not utterly extinct, be- come almost dormant in the soul. And the neglect of our immortal interests being thus encouraged, preparation for immortality is proportionally hindered : our best employment being suspended, our best interests suffer too. But will the watchful guardian, under whose care the elect of God have been placed, allow them to continue slumbering, till they sleep the sleep of death I No ; he will awaken, he will quicken them. The call, indeed, may be loud, the shock may be severe, that is necessary to arouse them. Yet it shall not be withheld ; lor he is too faithful to his trust, he loves them too affectionately, to suffer himself to be misled by that false tenderness, which sacrifices the future good of its objects to a little present ease. And while these considerations show that it may be often necessary that God, in his dealings with his people, should employ the voice of alarm, and the rod of chastisement, they likewise show, why he will often appear slow to deli- god's dealings with the afflicted. 193 vcr, and reluctant to console them, when actually subjected to their trials. Did he remove calamity as soon as it was felt ; did he stay his chastening hand as soon as the cry of supplication reached his ear, it were evidently impossible that his inflictions could continue long enough to accomplish their purpose. There would be no time for the impressions which he intends that adversity should make, to take suffi- cient hold of the heart ; no opportunity for the exercise, and therefore none for the confirmation of those graces, for which a state of tribulation calls. Patience could not have its per- fect work. The season of resignation would be past, ere its first sentiments could arise. The salutary mortification of selfish desires and worldly pursuits would be interrupted, before it were well begun. Even in those cases, then, in which it is his intention to deliver from calamity, he some- times does not early interpose. He allows it to continue, till he sees the purposes for which it was sent sufficiently at- tained. Then, and not till then, he bids trial cease. His people may reckon the season long : they may think their prayers neglected. But to have answered them sooner, would have been cruelty, not love. — Thus, we know that it was the Saviour's purpose completely to remove the causes of affliction to the sisters of Lazarus, by rescuing their la- mented relative from the bands of death. Yet he suffered him to die. He permitted all the mournful preparations for the grave to be finished. He allowed him to be deposited in the tomb, and to remain there till there could be no hope of his coming forth, till " the resurrection of the last day." But thus did Martha and Mary receive that wholesome cor- rection, that useful instruction, that solid and valuable im- provement in grace, which we have endeavoured to point out. And in those cases, where God does not intend to re- K 194 SERMON IX. move the source of suffering, or where it is> of such a kind as not to admit of being taken away ; he may, for similar reasons, see it necessary to defer that fulness of consolation which his people may importunately beg, and which his Spirit can abundantly afford. For were the tranquillity of the soul to be restored as soon as broken, were comfort immedi- ately to heal every wound that grief has made, and to change the sense of suffering into feelings of complacency and satis- faction, the intentions of an afflicting Providence would be almost as certainly prevented, as in the case of deliverance too speedily bestowed. The pang of sorrow, therefore, must not be wholly removed, till the self-abasement, the self- denial, the change of affection from " things on earth to things which are above,'1 shall have been accomplished. Rays of comfort, sufficient to dispel the gloom of despair, and to preserve the faculties from being wholly benumbed by the freezing influence of despondency, will, from time to time, be let in upon the soul : but the day of peace cannot fully dawn, while the evils which affliction was intended to correct, maintain their ascendancy in the heart. Therefore did the Lord delav to bring the language of consolation to the afflicted sisters, as well as to perform the miracle of de- liverance on the buried Lazarus. But when their vain con- fidence had been sufficiently humbled, when their worldly notions had been sufficiently corrected, when sorrow had continued long enough to make its impression lasting, he then hastened to speak peace to their minds, and to teach them the comforts of faith and hope even before he addressed his potent command to their brother in the tomb. Besides, were either deliverance, or the fulness of conso- lation, always afforded as soon as tribulation arrived, and relief was asked, this would only serve to make one species of presumption displace another; to substitute that which god's dealings with the afflicted. 195 is spiritual, and therefore perhaps more dangerous, for that which is worldly. Did we find the hand of Omnipotence thus pliant to our wish, and obedient to our call, we would have too much encouragement to think ourselves somewdiat, and to indulge a pride and self-opinion as inconsistent with the character of right-hearted believers, as unsuitable to our condition. A proneness to be puffed up, on the enjoyment of peculiar and extraordinary privileges, is natural to man, and has been feelingly acknowledged by the most eminent saints. Paul himself was aware how much he was exposed to it. And therefore, when he was in danger of it, from " the abundance of the revelations," with which he had been favoured, he informs us that he wTas visited with " a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet him." This dispensation he felt so severe, that, though repeatedly denied, he persisted repeatedly to beseech the Lord, " that it might depart from him." But to complete the lesson of humility, and to prevent the rise of presumption of another kind, should his petition have been granted, it was still refused ; and the painful appointment was prolonged : while he was reminded, of what he seemed for the moment to have for- gotten, that the grace whose supports he had before so fre- quently experienced, afforded him a sufficient resource against every trial. Moreover, should comfort or deliverance be too soon or too easily conceded, we should be in danger of esteeming them too little, and of being less grateful for them, than we ought to be. Had the death of Lazarus been prevented, or had his breath, as soon as he expired, been recalled, could his sisters so fullv have felt the greatness of the obligation conferred on them, in his resurrection, as after they had had time to estimate their loss ; and when the total despair of ever beholding him again on earth, was succeeded, not only 19G SERMON IX. by the hope*, but by the actual enjoyment, of his society ? Or would the value of the Redeemer's presence have been so perfectly known by them, had he immediately yielded to their call, as when the lapse of so many days and nights had made them acquainted with the disadvantages and the cheer- lessness of his absence ? It is by the want of any blessing, that its value is best understood. That which is most diffi- cult in the attainment, is always most highly prized. And we will be most grateful for succour, when we have strug- gled long enough with hardship, to know our own utter in- sufficiency, and to cry out, with all the instant importunity of the sinking Peter, " Lord, save us ! we perish.'1 Nor ought we to forget, that the benefit of others, as well as of the sufferers themselves, is often a part of God's gracious intentions, in his dealings with his afflicted people. That this was the case in the instance under consideration, is distinctly mentioned by Jesus himself. " I am glad for your sakes,vl said he to his disciples, " that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe'1 (v. 15). It was to correct, enlarge, and refine the views of the apostles, as well as of the sisters, to establish the faith of the former, as well as of the latter, in his divine power, and in the spiritual nature of his kingdom, that he acted in this peculiar maimer ; nay, not of the sisters or apostles only, but of all believers in every after age. And thus also, in more ordinary cases, the afflictions of pious individuals have a more extensive object than their own personal advantage. The trials of one believer operate as warnings to others. The instructions which he receives from the voice of the rod, are impressed upon his brethren too. The virtues which he is enabled to exercise, afford matter of reproof to the negligence, of example to the emu- lation, of those around him. And the beneficial results of his crosses serve to confirm the faith of his fellow believers ; god's dealings with the afflicted. 197 to satisfy them of the goodness and wisdom, as well as of the sovereignty of God, in his darkest dispensations ; and to call forth with renewed warmth, and holy admiration, the tribute of praise, w; Just and true are thy ways, O thou King of saints !" But it is time that we should remark, %. That while, for these reasons, and others such as these, the Lord not only afflicts his hest loved servants, bat seems, for a time, to disregard their grief, and neglect their prayers ; yet, sooner or later, in one way or another, he always appears for their relief. Though Jesus tarried, he came at last. Though the re- quest of the sisters was deferred, it was in due time granted ; and though not in a maimer corresponding to their wishes, yet so as to exceed their utmost expectations. The eyes, that had almost failed in looking long for him, " saw and gave witness to him." The ears, which had listened in vain for tidings of his approach, " heard and blessed him."" And his people in every period shall, in like manner, find that it is not a vain thing to wait upon him. His ear is not now heavier, that he cannot hear ; or his arm more shortened of its power to save. He has revealed himself to them as the hearer of prayer. He has commanded them, at all times, but especially in the day of trouble, to call upon his name. He has explicitly promised, that they who ask shall receive ; that they who seek shall find. He is bound, then, for his own glory, to vindicate his character as the hearer of prayer; to prove that this is no empty deceitful title, encouraging petitions which he means only to reject, and a confidence which he has resolved to disappoint. For the sacred honour of unimpeachable truth, his promises must be accomplished to the full. Yea, sooner shall heaven and earth pass, than one jot or one tittle of them fail. And ob< dience to his com- 198 SERMON IX. mands shall in no ease prove an unprofitable service ; for they are dictated not less by love than by authority; not less by the love which seeks the good of the beloved, than by the authority which exacts submission. We affirm not, indeed, that his answer shall be immediate, or at least that it shall be so to the sensible experience of the saints. We have shown the contrary, and have endeavoured to assign some of the reasons of its being so ; but our Lord has spoken to us the parable of the unfortunate widow, for the express pur- pose of assuring us that God may indeed " bear long with"1 his servants ; may long seem unmoved by their requests, yet will certainly consider the cause of " his own elect, which cry day and night unto him." Let them not say, then, in the heat and impatience of their spirits. " Our way is hid from the Lord, and our judgment is passed over from our God." " For they that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength." " Wait, therefore, on the Lord, and be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart. Wait, I say, on the Lord." Not, perhaps, at the time that we might wish, or in the manner that we might reckon most expe- dient, but in his own better time and way. the Lord will fulfil his word, and accomplish " the desires of them that fear him." Let us wait, then, the issue of his dispensations, not in a cheerless and desponding frame, but in confidence and hope, — confidence in the faithfulness of Jehovah, and hope in his salvation. Then shall the weeks and months of wea- riness be lightened of their burden. Our thoughts of Pro- vidence shall cease to be distrustful ; our views of our own state to be only vexatious and gloomy. " For a night," a night that may perhaps seem dark and long, " weeping may endure, but joy cometh in the morning." Yea. •• even in the night he giveth songs."' ;' For the Lord will not cast off tor ever ; but. though he cause grief, yet will t;ol)S DEALINGS WITH THE AFFLICTED. 199 he have compassion, according to the multitude of his mer- cies." III. Let us consider the source, and the nature of the consolations which the people of God receive in their dis- tress, as exemplified in the history before us. With regard to these particulars, the history of Martha and Mary shows us, 1. That the grand source of the consolation of the saints is communion with their Lord. These mourning sisters seem to have experienced no want of human sympathy and comfort. Not only their re- latives, their neighbours, and acquaintances of Bethany, but many from Jerusalem itself, " came to Martha and Mary, to comfort them concerning their brother"' (v. 19). Yet all the expressions of condolence employed by these friendly visitors, all their efforts to soothe the spirits of the afflicted, seem to have been of little avail. Indeed, their almost only effect on the minds of Martha and Mary, appears to have been, to make them eager to escape from such fruitless comforters, so soon as they were told that a better was at hand. " As soon as Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him" (v. 20). And though Mary, appa- rently from a humility that would not intrude into his pre- sence uncalled, " sat still in the house,',, yet no sooner did she hear of his desire to see her, than, without intimating to any one her design, " she arose quickly, and came unto him." Having reached his presence, Martha, though she approached with a heart overwhelmed by grief, had not long been in conference with him ere her faith was reanimated ; and hope, with all its accompanying comforts, took posses- sion of her breast. The officious attendance of the Jews prevented a conversation with Mary, of the same particular 200 SERMON IX. and interesting kind ; but from the source and nature of Martha's comforts, we may judge what her sister's would have been. Nay, not only what Mary's would have been, but what those of every saint must be. For to them all, the countenance of Him, in wdiose presence is " fulness of joy," is the chief and most abundant spring of consolation. We mean not to deny the usefulness, or the effect of human sympathy and friendship. If wTe did, universal ex- perience would contradict us ; for it proves, that to the minds of the godly and the ungodly, of the savage and the refined, sympathy in sorrow is pleasing, and tends, for the moment at least, to alleviate its pangs ; while a harsh and unpitying demeanour in those around, aggravates distress, and wrounds anew the already wTounded heart. To the godly, in particular, as their feelings are more tender, it is particularly gratifying to partake of the sincere condolence of those whom they esteem, and especially of their fellow- saints, on whom they can depend, not merely for a few com- passionate words, and kind expressions, but for an affection- ate remembrance of their case before the throne of grace. Y et all these are transient and imperfect sources of consola- tion ; and were there no access to any thing more excellent, the spirit of the afflicted Christian, weary and disappointed, would be ready to cry out at last, " miserable comforters are ye all !" To find rest, the soul must have something more solid and effectual on which to lean than human friendship or compassion. " This, indeed," niay the mourning be- liever say, " is soothing for the time. And blessed be those " dear friends, who so kindly interest themselves in my sor- " rows ! But they can neither restore me what I have lost, " nor compensate me for it by better blessings. Their pre- " sence for a little withdraws my attention from my pains ; but " no sooner are they gone than my anguish returns. They god's dealings with the afflicted. 201 " have no control over the turbulent passions that wreck my " peace ; and till these be calmed, I may hear of comfort, but " cannot taste it." But thanks be to God, there is a pre- sence which can quiet the disordered soul. There is a friend whose kindness and whose gifts can make up for every loss ; nay, turn all loss to gain, — the Friend with whom Martha met, and in whose presence, believing, she rejoiced. We cannot now, indeed, like her, behold with the bodily eye his divinely compassionate countenance ; or hear with the bodily ear the gentle accents of his voice. But by a presence not less efficacious, a presence which can never be removed, he is always with his saints. He is pre- sent by that Spirit whom he hath promised to abide for ever with them ; that Spirit, whose name is the Comforter, and whose office it is to infuse into the believer's soul " the peace of God which passeth understanding !" He can not only set before us reasons of rejoicing even in tribulation, but can awaken those feelings in which joy itself consists. Com- munion with him, therefore, is the object for which the believer's spirit languishes, and without which his languish- ing cannot be relieved. If, by some strange fatality, he ne- glect to seek his comfort here, he may turn from side to side, from one object to another, and wonder why it is not with him, as he may have heard it has been with others ; but his search will still be in vain. While those who, with hum- ble importunity, direct their supplications hither, shall find, ere long, their expectations answered. For blessed be his name, " Thus saith the high and lofty one that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is holy," and whose promise is as cer- tain as performance, " I dwell in the high and holy place ; with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to re- vive the heart of the contrite ones." He was " anointed," " to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give them 202 SERMON IX, beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." And if his people derive comfort and advantage, as doubtless they do, from the con- verse of their brethren, that proceeds not chiefly from any virtue in the converse itself, but from its contributing to di- rect their thoughts more perfectly to him ; to recall to their memories, and to impress on their attention, the consolations of his presence and his word. Whatever be the mean by which these consolations are suggested, they are still derived from himself. The more perfect, therefore, our communion with him is, the higher our consolations shall rise. But what is the nature of these consolations ? And wherein do they consist I This may, in some degree, be in- ferred from their source. But the instructive passage of the sacred record now before us, directs us to a more specific reply. We observe then, 2. That these consolations do not consist in immediate relief from the affliction which presses at the time, but in presenting to the mind lively views of the truths and promises of the gospel, and in confirming the faith by which they are embraced. Had Jesus, as soon as he met with the discon- solate Martha, informed her that within an hour he would call her brother from the grave, that she should embrace him alive and well, and that, before their next meal, she should see him take his usual place in their family, and at their table ; this unquestionably would have given her the most immediate relief, and would have been the consolation most agreeable to her own desires. It would have been that which, according to human judgment, was best suited to her case, and which a merely human friend, had he known it, would have been most eager to communicate. But Jesus judged more wisely, and had a nobler end in view. Such a consolation, however effectual for the present, would have god's dealings with the afflicted. £03 been of little use in any future calamity. It might have si- lenced murmuring, but it could not have alleviated pain, when the hand of death should again have been laid upon Lazarus, or when any similar affliction should have agitated her bosom. It was the purpose, therefore, of her gracious Lord, to furnish her with comforts which might not only lighten her present suffering, but be equally efficacious in every after trial, — comforts, which might not only suffice in her case, but be of utility as eminent to the saints in all fu- ture ages. For this reason, he directed her attention to no- thing temporary and transient. He recalled to her recollec- tion, and enabled her to renew the exercise of faith in, the prospect of a glorious resurrection ; when that beloved form, over which she mourned as fallen " in weakness," should be " raised in power," when the present triumph of death should be reversed, and the victory be wrested for ever from the grave. He showed her not only that death should at last give up its prey, but that, in truth, death had no power over those who believed. " I am the resurrection, and the life. He that believeth on me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." Nay, " whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die" (vv. 25, 26.) The believer's better part is rescued from the dominion of death. It doth not, it shall never die. Even the dust, which descends for a season to the regions of silence, shall only remain there, as in a receptacle for its preservation, till the hour arrive when it also sjiall be clothed with immortality. He taught her, therefore, not to mourn over a brother dead, but to rejoice in a brother living, living a life that cannot die, a life secure from all annoy, and abounding in every genuine good. From the faith and con- templation of these blessings, as enjoyed by the dear departed, he led her to the exercise of faith in himself, as her own Redeemer, through whom the same victory, and the same 20± SERMON IX. blessings were secured for her own behoof. As the infinite value of these rose upon her mind, the loss, that but now seemed irreparable, sunk out of view : as the prisoner, in the joy of his rescue from captivity, no longer feels the sores that have been caused by the galling of his chains. If she now thought of her trial, she thought of it as only one of those events, which were appointed to work together for her good : if of her brother, only as one of the blessed company, in whose society her happiness in heaven should consist. " Believest thou this V said Jesus. " Yea Lord,11 answered Martha, " I believe that tiiou art the Christ, the Son of God, which should come into the world.11 She complained no longer. Peace returned to her bosom. Joy overflowed in her heart. And feeling herself relieved, she hastened to communicate to her still mourning sister, the glad tidings of " the Master's11 gracious visit, that she too might come, and hearken, and be comforted. And does she not also call on us, that we likewise may hear and may rejoice I For it is not less true now, than in Martha's days, that " whosoever believeth in him shall never die ;" not less certain now than then, that he is the Messiah promised of old to " bruise the serpent's head,"1 to " destroy the works of the devil,11 to " bring life and immortality to light,11 and " to obtain eternal redemption for us I11 Nay to us, the grounds of confidence in him are even higher than to her. For then, his mediatorial character and undertaking were still incomplete ; now, his work is finished. Then, he tabernacled on earth in a form of humiliation and sorrow ; now, he is "exalted at the right hand of power,11 and hath " all things put under his feet.11 Have we not reason then, Christians, to rejoice I Yea, to mingle gladness with our tears, even in the darkest hours of tribulation I The suffer- ings of this present time are not " worthy to be compared GOl/s DEALINGS WITH THb: AFFLICTED. 205 with the dory that shall be revealed." And when, by a lively faith, we embrace the promises in which it is foretold ; when, by the hope which that faith inspires, we rise to the contemplation of its greatness and its bliss, we are exalted above all the fretting accidents of this mortal state. As an aDgel, sent on God's high messages, looks down from the regions of everlasting sunshine, far beyond the clouds and vapours of this lower sphere, and scarcely hears the bursting tempest, or heeds the lightning's glare ; so the believer, in such happy hours, feels himself in an element too pure to be tainted with the breath of earthly sorrow ; in a region too elevated for its shafts to reach. And even when the sense of suffering forces his attention back to earth, still, in the " livelv hope" of the " inheritance incorruptible, and unde- nted, reserved in heaven, n he can " greatly rejoice, though now, for a season, if need be, in heaviness through manifold temptations. v Hence, then, let the afflicted learn where comfort is to be sought. If they stop at inferior sources, they must be disappointed ; or, if such sources afford any thing that may serve to mitigate the uneasy feelings of the children of this world, whose minds are incapable of the nobler exercises and. desires that characterize believers, they will furnish little that can be pleasant or refreshing to the mo:e enlarged spirit of a child of God. They may engage a momentary atten- tion, but they cannot satisfy him. They are at best but temporary palliatives ; they are not balsam to his wounds. Let his application be immediately, fervently, and unremit- tingly directed to the compassionate Saviour himself. Let him reiterate the prayer of the disciples, " Lord, increase our faith." And, in communion with that Lord, in the ex- ercise of that faith which is his gift, he shall find the peace for which he languishes, and which nothing else can give. 206 SERMON IX. Yea, though for a season, God may seem to hide his face, and to delay his answer, yet, in good time, as we have seen demonstrated hoth by the declarations of his word, and the experience of his saints, the light of his countenance shall be lifted up on them who seek him constantly, and who seek him chiefly. " Whom have I in the heavens but thee ? and there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee ! My flesh and my heart faileth. But God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever" SERMON X. ON OUR DUTIES TO THE AFFLICTED, AND THE USES OF THEIR AFFLICTIONS TO OURSELVES. JOHN XI. 1-35. " Now a certain man teas sick, named Lazarus, of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha? &c. We would now point out those duties towards the afflicted, which are, in this passage, recommended and exemplified, and those uses to ourselves, which may he derived from con- templating the trials of others. IV. Let us specify some of the duties which we owe to the afflicted, as recommended and exemplified in this sacred narrative. 1. Of these, the first which it suggests is, sympathy with their sorrows. Jesus was sent into the world, not only to fulfil all righteousness for his people's justification, but to be a perfect pattern to them of every duty. And the highest excellence at which they can aim, is to have the same " mind in them which was also in Christ.''' What, then, was the example which Jesus set before them on this occasion I What the " mind'1 or spirit which he here discovered \ Did he display his superiority to the rest of mankind, by appearing insen- 208 SERMON X. sible to their trials, and acting as if lie thought their griefs unworthy of attention or emotion \ Xo. " Jesus wept1' with the mourners. " He groaned in spirit, and was troubled," when he beheld the tribulation of Mary and her attendants. His superiority to the rest of Adam's race was exhibited in his superiority to their vices and their follies, not in indifference to the claims of sympathy and compas- sion. And not only when he was himself on earth, and exposed to such afflictions as they endure, did he thus sym- pathise with the children of sorrow ; but even now, when he has " all power in heaven and in earth," it is one of the most amiable characteristics by which he is made known to us, that he " can be touched with a feeling of our infirmities.'" We walk not worthy, therefore, of the Lord whom we serve ; we are not of his spirit, and copy not his example, if we view, with unconcern, the trials of our suffering brethren, — if we enter not into their distresses, and feel as they must feel. By instructing us to " rejoice with them that rejoice," the gospel teaches us to make the happiness of others our own, and thus best to increase our enjoyments : to increase them consistently with the purest virtue. By directing us to " weep with those who weep," it shows us how at once to lessen their distress, and to obtain for ourselves the tender pleasures of compassionate benevolence. Thus also we secure the like alleviation to our own affliction : for to him who manifests a sympathising spirit and deportment, sym- pathy is seldom denied. While to the callous and unfeel- ing, we are disposed to show our disapprobation, by leaving them, in the day of their calamity, unpitied and uncomfort- ed. Nay, those who will not sympathise with others, are, in general, justly punished by an incapacity of relishing the sympathy, which others may be disposed to show them. Their insensibilitv to their brethren's woes cannot defend OUR DUTIES TO THE AFFLICTED. 209 them from the pangs of their own affliction. Such indivi- duals, on the contrary, often display less fortitude under per- sonal trial, than those of a more generous and susceptible disposition. But they are destitute of those finer feelings, which, while they teach us to sympathise, can alone enable us to appreciate the value of sympathy, and to enjoy its con- solations. And when they do experience the compassion of some liberal spirit, which is willing, for the time, to over- look their churlish character, their hearts tell them that they are unworthy of it. The sense of their demerit, self-con- demnation, and self-reproach, dash from their lips a cup, which, to better minds, would be full of sweetness. Thus, while the compassionate and sympathising enjoy, in the con- sciousness of their benevolence, and in the consolations of their brethren's sympathy in return, the " present great re- ward11 of the virtue which they display ; the unpitying and insensible receive an immediate, a just, and unavoidable punishment, in the hardness of their own hearts. Sympathy is an important part of the moral and social constitution of our nature. For it is one of the qualifications by which we are fitted for a social state, that we are dis- posed to catch the impressions which are made on others, and to participate in any sentiment, which appears to have a lively influence upon them. By the movements which we observe in their minds, corresponding emotions are generated in our own : And when, in any case, we observe it to be otherwise, we are offended by the appearance of a moral de- fect ; and are disappointed in an expectation which we feel ought to have been fulfilled. Besides, when those around us treat our sorrows with in- difference, we are displeased on another account. It appears, as if they thought our adversities unworthy of regret, and considered us as mourning without cause. It looks like o r2\0 SERMON X. charging us with weakness or unreasonableness of spirit . with weakness, in being unable to bear without complaint, what they view unmoved; or with unreasonableness, in magnifying, out of measure, evils which they seem to judge undeserving of regard. But what most deeply wounds the heart, in the refusal of sympathy to our distress, is this — that it argues, in our brethren, a total want of friendship and goodwill to us. For we feel that, wherever friendship and goodwill exist, they will always, in proportion to their strength, interest those in whose bosoms they dwell, in the situation and sentiments of the person who is their object ; will make them rejoice in his welfare, and grieve for his calamity. If the afflicted, therefore, observe us to be unconcerned for their affliction, it must make on their minds an impression peculiarly painful, because it leads inevitably to the conclusion, that they have no share in our friendship, and can have no reliance on our assistance ; that they and their interests are no objects of our benevolent concern ; and that, of course, they are destitute of friends, of friendly countenance and aid, at the moment when the loss of valued blessings makes all most necessary. At such a moment, for a poor sufferer to have cause to look round, and say, " I have not a friend ! There is no one " who pities my calamities, or who will think it worth his " pains to make any exertion to comfort or relieve me !" — How mournful his situation ! How depressing and discon- solate his feelings ! — The expression of sympathy, on the other hand, is soothing, as it accords with the state of our own minds, and is an acknowledgment that we mourn not with- out cause. It is gratifying and comfortable, as it assures us that, though we may have lost much, still we are not left friendless in the wror!d, but may depend on the goodness and kind attentions of our brethren, to make up our losses, or to OFT* DUTIES TO THE AFFLICTED. 211 alleviate our distress, so far as either may be in their power. Hence, even among the most uncivilized tribes, men have always regarded it as a duty, to participate in the griefs of those, at least, with whom they were themselves connected ; and have been accustomed, in various rude, but expressive modes, to indicate their sympathy. And hence the rugged Jews, whose national character at this time, as appears from their history, was far from being distinguished by any thing tender or amiable, came to Bethany, to comfort the weeping sisters, and went mourning, with Mary, to the grave. Let us not, then, by a callous and unsympathising spirit, show ourselves to be alike destitute of the feelings of nature, and of the principles of grace ; — alike insensible to the com- mon dictates of humanity, and to the excellence of the Re- deemer's example. Though we may not have it in our power to give the afflicted immediate relief from their dis- tress ; though we may be unable to recollect arguments, or to find language to infuse consolation into their minds ; still let us show that we enter into their situation and feelings. Our sympathy will soothe their spirits, and soften, for the time at least, the acuteness of their pangs. Should we re- fuse it, let us remember that they who " have not the spirit of Christ, are none of his ;" and shall not be owned as his, in the day of his final appearing. Yea, in that day, the rude barbarian, who weeps with his weeping brother ; the rugged Jews, who came to comfort Martha and her sister, shall rise up in judgment against the unworthy professor of the religion of love, who steels his heart against the im- pressions of pity, and denies to his suffering brethren the tri- bute of his sympathy. 2. While we sympathise with our brethren in affliction, let us prove it, like Jesus, by our endeavours to relieve or to comfort them. 212 SERMON X. If we truly feel with our afflicted brethren, a desire to relieve them will necessarily follow : because, as in the case of our own distress, we must wish for its removal or miti- gation ; so, if by sympathy, we take part in the pain of others, we must, in like manner, desire relief for them. And as the desire of relief for ourselves will always produce an exertion to obtain it, in e^ery instance that is not alto- gether trifling, or wholly hopeless ; our desire for theirs will excite us to every effort to impart it. His, then, is not ge- nuine sympathy, who merely breathes a few sighs over the tale of woe, or makes an ostentatious display of sensibility, by a profusion of highly wrought expressions ; but his, who employs the considering head, the active hand, and the will- ing feet, in the service of humanity ; who is ready to use his wealth, his time, and his abilities, so far as consistent with the duties of his own condition, to suspend or take away the afflictions of his fellows-creatures. — Jesus not only pitied the sorrow of the sisters, but removed its cause. — The priest and the Levite might affect compassion, perhaps they might eloquently teach it : but the good Samaritan displayed its power. It is not always, however, perhaps it is not often in our power, actually to remove the trouble, whether of body or of mind, under which the afflicted struggle. And not every one, who may be willing, can command the means to effect it, even in those cases which are susceptible of human aid. But we may be able to console, where we cannot relieve ; to suggest motives to resignation and contentment, where we cannot repair calamity ; to blunt the sense of suffering, and to call up ideas of a more pleasing kind, though we cannot remove its cause. This is the next kind office of sympathy. And in this also, we have Christ for our example. — But while we endeavour, like him, to give comfort, let us likewise OUR DUTIES TO THE AFFLICTED. £13 be careful to employ such means as he employed. — There are many, who are not without some inclination to console their afflicted friends and neighbours, who yet grossly mistake the means to be adopted. Their object is not to establish a solid and lasting foundation of peace in the mourner's mind, but merely to dissipate his thoughts, and to drive his attention, for the moment, from the subject of his grief. Destitute them- selves of the knowledge of the true interest and happiness, and therefore of the true consolations of our nature, their object is limited to the present hour. They only endeavour, there- fore, to divert his thoughts from the channels of gloom and melancholy, by involving him in company, — by plying him with worldly, or what is called entertaining conversation, — by engaging him in amusements, — by surrounding him with scenes of gaiety and mirth. Feeling that what is serious tends rather to damp, than to elevate their own spirits, they carefully shun to mention any subject of that description, in his presence : and they exert themselves to check, or to dis- miss it, when it has been introduced, by any person more considerate than themselves. Frivolous company, frivolous discourse, frivolous books, frivolous employments, form, in short, their most precious medicines for the wounds of sor- row. And, no doubt, with some minds, such means will sometimes not be altogether unavailing. Whatever diverts attention will, in any case, give momentary ease. But when any calamity really important has been sustained, when deep wounds have been given to the heart, unless the mind be made of those light and spongy materials, which are wholly incapable of any thing serious and solemn, and which, though sometimes they may seem to be much impressed, can keep no impression long, — such means are totally un- suitable ; and instead of producing the desired effect, will rather hurt than soothe. When the soul is under the influ- £14 SERMON X. ence of any strong emotion, whatever is discordant with, or in opposition to that emotion, disgusts and pains. This the children of mirth and gaiety know full well, and proclaim full loudly. With what vehemence do they cry out against any individual, who shall happen, by the indications of a sorrowful heart, to mar their mirth ; or by a serious reflec- tion, or an useful admonition, to check the intemperate loose, which they give to laughter and conviviality ! Now, if they find so offensive whatsoever corresponds not with the gay feelings of the moment ; why should they imagine that themes, so remote from the temperament of a profound sor- row, as the frivolous affairs, and still more frivolous amuse- ments, of the world, can be pleasing to the spirits of the sorrowful, or should produce any other effects than those of weariness and aversion I And if this be the case with any mind which is deeply grieved, it must be peculiarly so with that of a Christian. To talk to him of vain amusements, of trifling pursuits, — to fill his ear with unmeaning mirth and idle jests, at a time, when every feeling, as it arises, brings home to his bosom the lesson, which he had often heard, but hitherto perhaps never sufficiently considered, that these, and all things like them, are utterly unworthy of his notice, and incapable of affording him a moment's satisfaction, can only vex instead of comforting. It can but open another source of uneasiness, instead of closing those springs of woe which flowed too copiously before. It may beget impatience and complaint. It cannot impart peace. But, blessed be God, there are themes of consolation adapted to the darkest scenes of sorrow : themes, which no distress can deprive of their importance to any thinking, but especially to any believing mind ; nay, the importance of which is perhaps never so fully seen, as in those moments of anguish, when every comfort that the world can offer, would OUR DUTIES TO THE AFFLICTED. 215 be neglected, as incapable of attracting notice ; or if noticed, loathed as incongruous to the feelings. They do not attempt what were perhaps impossible, and at any rate, revolting to the heart, — to make the Christian lose sight of his sorrows, and banish the recollection of them from his mind; but they teach him to connect with them the expectation of eternal peace ; to regard them as but parts of a fatherly dis- pensation, which, though severe, is kind, as being necessary to ripen him for glory, and to qualify him for the enjoyment of everlasting bliss. They present to his view a state, in which all evils shall be cured, all sorrows healed, all tears for ever wiped away. While he meditates upon them, his afflictions appear to him in a light, in which, so far from seeming a discouragement to hope, or a mark of divine dis- pleasure, he sees them to correspond to the experience and the privileges of God's most favoured children. For he is assured, that " whom the Lord loves he chastens ;" that he " scourges^ all whom he receives as sons ; and " that we must, through much tribulation, enter into the kingdom." These themes impart consolation ; because they give the assurance of effectual relief, and show every pain of time made subservient to never ending joy. And to the soul, which is gradually led on to the contemplation of the great- ness and the value of the objects, from which they are de- rived, every affliction, however heavy, seems light, when contrasted with " the exceeding wTeight of glory ;" and the season of distress, though long protracted, but momentary, when viewed in connexion with eternity. Here, then, are topics, which we may with propriety address to the saddest of the sad. They have in them a seriousness and a solemnity, which will prevent incongruity to the feelings, even when the soul is most depressed. They possess a value and importance, which will command atten- 216 SERMON X. tion in every situation ; except perhaps in the first moments of distraction, when some mighty evil has unexpectedly ar- rived, and when nothing can be heard or adverted to, but the anguish of the heart. They will command attention, when the mind would wholly overlook every worldly argu- ment, or turn from it with dissatisfaction : nay, then pro- bably, they will receive an attention, and be considered with a care, which before they never had excited. These are themes also which can be unseasonable to no mind. For if, unhappily, the afflicted soul be one, by which the blessings of the gospel are unknown, or unesteemed ; to show it the value and the efficacy of gospel consolations, may, by the blessing of God, be the happy mean of turning its attention to the things that concern its eternal peace, and of introduc- ing it to the knowledge of that God, and that Christ, " whom to know is everlasting life/1 If, on the contrary, the mourning individual be one of those who have "believed unto righteousness,1"' though he cannot be supposed ignorant of the truths from which all evangelical consolations flow, or unacquainted with the God and Saviour, to reveal whom is the chief purpose, for which these truths are published : yet frequently it may be of the most eminent utility to the best informed disciple, to remind him of the " glad tidings of great joy,11 and to point out the application of the comforts which they yield, to the case of his own distress. For the pressure of sorrow often banishes from attention and recollection, every thought but that of its cause ; renders the mind incapable of recalling its most valued subjects of meditation, and of deriving from them that advantage, which, in such circumstances, they otherwise might copiously supply. At such a season, it is a useful and a necessary work of Christian charity, to sug- gest the truths, which are, for the time, forgotten ; to point OUK DUTIES TO THE AFFLICTED. ^\1 out the consolations, which the eye, too much fixed on other objects, has, at the moment, overlooked ; to excite and as- sist the mind to re-consider the unchangeable foundations of its joy in God, and to renew towards them the exercise of its faith. In this, the benevolence of the humblest Chris- tian may be often highly useful to the most advanced. For even a babe in the school of Christ may be able to recol- lect and apply that, upon which a proficient, in the tu- mult of his spirits during an hour of sorrow, cannot fix his mind. And whenever a believing soul has its attention guided to the reviving doctrines of the gospel, it must be benefited, in respect both of its edification and its comfort. Its comfort must be increased ; because these doctrines pre- sent it with matter of " joy unspeakable, and full of glory." And its edification will be advanced ; because they afford the most powerful spring of holy sentiment, the most powerful motives to holy action. When we would perform, then, the Christian duty of imparting consolation, let us not attempt it by those frivol- ous and fruitless themes, which will only prove a farther vexation of spirit to our mourning brethren. Let us speak to them, as the Redeemer spake to his weeping friends. Let us speak to them of the life that never dies ; of the re- surrection to glory ; of Jesus, the author of both ; of the gra- cious terms, on which his salvation is offered ; of the secu- rity and the privileges of all who believe in him. Then shall our endeavours procure for them not merely the tran- sient relief arising from a temporary diversion of their thoughts, but shall contribute to enrich their minds with an exhaustless fund, at once of consolation and of improvement. Whereas that diversion of thought, which proceeds from forcing upon notice the vanities of time, in the season of dis- tress, can, at best, be but momentarily successful, even with 218 SERMON X. respect to the comparatively unimportant object of present ease ; and must be lastingly prejudicial to the invaluable purposes of advancement in grace. For it withdraws the attention from the salutary lessons, which affliction is un- doubtedly intended, and is well adapted, to afford ; and there- by prevents the exercise and the growth of all the virtues, to which these lessons point. It is surely, then, a mis- taken kindness, which would procure a momentary present ease, at the expense of spiritual and eternal good ; which would entangle the mind with the frivolous or sinful objects of terrestrial pursuit, at a period peculiarly fitted for the pro- fitable contemplation of eternal things. It is not kindness : it is enmity. Fur it- tendency i.s to hinder, in its objects, the moral improvement of their nature ; and to wrest from the afflicted that crown of glory, for which tribulation pre- pares the saints. Neither let us vainly think, as many seem to do. that. by watchfully suppressing all allusion to the source of their distress, we shall benefit the minds of the sorrowful, or truly alleviate their sufferings. This practice, it is to be feared, has often in it more of the selfish, than of the benevolent. It may save us the pain of witnessing the expressions of their sorrow : but it will not remove the anguish that inly preys upon their spirits. Nay, there is good rea-on to believe that it is often felt as cruelty; and tends to deepen, rather than to efface, the impressions of distress. For every one knows how painful it is, when under the influence of powerful feel- ings, to be denied the opportunity of giving them vent. All strong emotion struggles for expression : and if the means be withheld, it but racks the heart the more. Such erring ef- forts to stop the tide of grief, are frequently not useless only, but pernicious. They are like the vain attempt to dam the rushing torrent, which. for a little, interrupts its OUB DUTIES TO THE AFFLICTED. '2\0 course, only to make the deluge spread wider, and rage more fiercely than before. While permitting to sorrow its natu- ral expression is often found to be one of the most effectual means of drawing off its excess, and diminishing its violence : as by opening proper channels for the waters of the over- flowing stream, they are safely and speedily conducted to their place of rest ; and the devastation is prevented, which they would otherwise occasion. — Let us not, then, from a selfish regard to our own ease, deny our mourning friends the natural, the necessary indulgence of their feelings, in the affectionate mention of the causes of their sorrow. Only let us lead them to connect, with the remembrance of their griefs, that also of the consolations which are adapted to their state ; and of those themes of joy, the power of which is best felt in the season of distress. Familiarity with their grief, and its expression, will better tend to blunt its force, than keeping it imprisoned and rankling in the heart; while the habit of connecting with it the reviving ideas of evangelical consolation, wTill ere long render it a subject of pleasing rather than of painful meditation, a source of peace and satisfaction, rather than of bitterness and disquietude of spirit. It was thus, that Jesus acted to the weeping Martha. When he wished to comfort her, he did not decline to speak of her brother, to speak of him as departed. Neither did he interrupt her discourse, when she referred to that foun- tain of her griefs. No. — But he taught her, at the same time, to look to objects, in connexion with which the death of Lazarus was a subject of gratulation and of thanksgiving, rather than of regret ; and the prospect of her own decease a matter, not of aversion and dismay, but of joy and exulta- tion. And the more closely we can follow the example of the Saviour, the better shall we consult both the edifica- 220 SERMON X. tion, and the real, the lasting, comfort of our suffering friends. We deny not, indeed, that the afflicted, when enduring a long-continued grief, may derive much benefit from en- gaging in innocent or useful employments, and from attend- ing to innocent or useful objects, though of a worldly kind. If the mind confine its attention exclusively to its woes, it will be depressed by a habitual gloom, which will not only destroy its relish for every blessing that God may have still reserved to it, but will extinguish its energy, and unfit it for the common duties, which are an important part of our business here ; and which, though they ought to be performed from higher motives than a regard to the world, are chiefly concerned about worldly things. Nay, though we suppose it to be meanwhile attentive also to the high themes of consolation which we have pointed out, yet these are of an importance and an immensity so vast, that no mind can dwell continually on them alone, without feeling its fa- culties exhausted. The attention needs to be relieved by variety of objects ; the tone of the mind to be restored by variety of occupations. Besides, if God have left us under our affliction, the ca- pacity and opportunity of action, it certainly were very op- posite to the purposes of the moral discipline which afflic- tion affords, that we should be inactive and useless in our generation. Why is the capacity of action continued, but that it may be exerted I For what is the opportunity pro- longed, but that it may be embraced ? Yet while, for these reasons, we not only admit but con- tend for the propriety and usefulness of endeavouring, by the employments alluded to, to vary the course of reflection, we maintain that such means alone as Christ adopted with the disconsolate sisters at Bethany, are able to combat grief OUR DUTIES TO THE AFFLICTED. 221 in its first fierce assaults ; they alone are fit to command a portion of that attention which it would wholly appropriate ; they alone capable of affording a peace and consolation in- dependent of temporary impressions, or diversions of thought ; of producing and upholding a true fortitude of spirit, and of besetting that thorough resignation which will issue at last in a steady serenity and cheerfulness of mind. S. If wre would fulfil our duties to the afflicted, let us pray for them. " I exhort,'1 says Paul, " that supplications, prayers, and intercessions be made for all men.*'1 His request to the dis- ciples, in his own tribulation, was, " Brethren, pray for us." And for whom can the Christian so properly present his supplication, as for those whom the Lord has smitten, and who are fainting beneath their wounds ? When he bows his knees before the God and Father of all, he thinks of all with brotherly concern ; but the mourners peculiarly engage his feelings and attention. He bears them on his heart to the throne of grace ; and, while he there asks for himself " grace to help him in every time of need," he asks it not less earnestly for them. There are thousands, he knows, of his afflicted brethren, whom his most benevolent efforts can never reach ; thousands, whose ears his consolatory words can never soothe. But he knows, too, that there are none whose case Jehovah cannot remedy; none whom his Al- mighty and Omnipresent power cannot both deliver and con- sole. There are none, therefore, for whom he does not esteem it his duty to intercede, — praying that they may at once be comforted and edified, in all their tribulations. Even in those cases which his arm can reach, and in which he has it in his power to speak of consolation to the sorrowT- ful, he is aware that his most strenuous attempts can be but of small avail, unless the grace and the Providence of God 222 SERMON X. co-operate to give them success. On all he does, therefore, for their relief; on all he says for their consolation, he im- plores a blessing. He implores that it may be blest, both for their sanctification and their comfort. In this duty also, we have Jesus, at the grave of Lazarus, for our example. For, though his prayer be not recorded, and was not audibly pronounced, it is evident, from the language of the public thanksgiving, which he delivered in the hearing of the as- sembly, that he had inwardly recommended the case of the mourners to his heavenly Father, and had interceded for their deliverance. That deliverance, indeed, he could have at once commanded, by his own power. But, that he might afford us a perfect pattern of duty to the afflicted ; that he might teach us to remember them affectionately in our prayers, he took care to show that such had been the exer- cise of his own holy soul. " Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me11 (v. 41). Indeed, if we neglect this, the sin- cerity, or at least the strength, of our sympathy may be just- ly questioned : For, if we be deeply interested in the suffer- ings of others, we must, at the same time, be conscious that our best endeavours to communicate ease, or to impart con- solation, may be wholly ineffectual. We must anxiously wish, therefore, that He who is able to do for them " ex- ceeding abundantly above all that we can ask or think," may interpose on their behalf; and these anxious wishes will naturally suggest, as their most proper expression, the affectionate language of intercessory prayer. V. Let us attend to those uses to ourselves, which may be derived from contemplating the sufferings of our brethren. 1. We may learn contentment with our own condition. When those who feel any thing painful or dissatisfactory in their situation, look round on the privileges which they our duties ro the afflicted. 223 conceive others to possess, they are apt to murmur against the Providence ot'God, as if it acted partially and unequally by its creatures. But let the discontented man look round again : let him mark how tasteless are all the pleasures of the happy, — how empty of satisfaction all the affluence of the prosperous, when " the desire of their eyes," the beloved objects of their affection, are " taken away with a stroke ;" or when the hand of heaven reverses the course of their affairs. Let him observe them reckless of all their possessions, and all their sources of enjoyment, attentive solely to their sufferings, and as eagerly pleading for relief as the most wretched of those who know not, in the morning, where to find the sustenance of the day ; or at even, the repose of the night. These things may reconcile the poor man to his hard fare, and his bed of straw ; they may fill his heart with thankfulness, that.; if he do not share in the privileges of his afflicted superiors, neither does he feel their pains. And even though we ourselves have suffered, still, in examining the condition of the numberless mourners in the world, we shall find many cases as calamit- ous as our own ; many, probably, still more so. These may teach us not to murmur, as if our situation were singular ; or to repine, as if we were, above all others, miserable. They show us that " the same afflictions are accomplished in our brethren that are in the world ;" and that, should we arraign the conduct of the Most High, our case would not be unprecedented, were he to aggravate our calamities, and deepen all our wounds. 2. The sufferings of others should teach us gratitude for the continuance of our own mercies. When a person, whose mind is at all imbued with the principles of piety, beholds the distresses that multiply around him, while his own tranquillity is still prolonged, he must be constrained to exclaim, " What am I more than 224 SFRMON X. " others ? And who makes me to differ ? My state is not " naturally less mutable than theirs ; yet I have not been " subjected to the doleful changes which they experience. " My comforts are not of themselves more permanent, yet " they remain unbroken. I have no merit beyond my af- " flicted brethren to entitle me to exemption from adversity, " yet they suffer, while my peace continues undisturbed. " Bless the Lord, O my soul, and be not forgetful of all his " benefits. Bless the Lord, the preserver of me, and of my " mercies ; the author and protector of my tranquillity and " my enjoyments ! Under his Providence's care, the suc- " cessive periods of my life flow on unruffled ; while to " others days and nights of weariness are appointed. My " cup is kept full, while they are tried by losses and be- " reavements." But, 3. Let us also learn, from these bereavements, to be ready to resign our most valued blessings, when it shall please the Almighty to demand them. While rejoicing in the possession of our mercies, we are unwilling to admit the thought that they may soon be taken away. And if a moralizing companion suggest it, we are apt to regard his admonition as unfriendly or ill-timed. It is one purpose of the calamities of others to correct this folly. They are graciously intended to prevent our indulg- ing delusive dreams of permanent, unshaken bliss on earth; to prevent that unwarrantable reliance on the perpetuity of our enjoyments, which we are so prone to entertain. We cannot but acknowledge that we are equally exposed with our brethren to all the vicissitudes of time, to all the shafts of woe : Nay, that the more numerous, the more varied and precious our mercies are, we are but the more liable to be assailed by severer wretchedness, and from a greater variety of quarters. It will be profitable for us, therefore, from I I :; [;l riES TO THE AFFLICTED tin; . to muse on the afflictions of our fellow-men; and to reflect on our own privileges and enjoyments, as pos- which arc sweet indeed, but uncertain, and which another day, or another hour, may require us to surrender. Let us rejoice in them, and be thankful for them, so long as we have them ; but let us beware of giving way to the fond and foolish expectation, that they shall never be mixed with pain, or supplanted by adversity. The condition of others is a mirror, in which we may see our own ; their calamity, a pattern of what we are liable to experience. And if, not- withstanding, we will still persist to confide in the perma- nency of our peace ; if we will still refuse to admit the idea of its instability or reverse, we but lay up for ourselves the sharper anguish and disappointment, nay, remorse itself, when that peace shall be broken. Against that anguish and disappointment, the adversity of others is sent to warn us. May it preserve us from them ! But if wTe would be ready to resign our mercies, then, 4. Let us also beware of indulging towards them an in- n/-< linate attachment. If we centre our supreme affection, and consequently seek our chief good, in any earthly objects, we necessarily insure to ourselves unmingled and intolerable anguish, when those objects shall be removed, and render resignation to their loss impossible. And though our attachment to them be short of supreme regard, yet, if it be excessive, we shall find, in proportion to its excess, the excess of our distress, should they be snatched from us by a bereaving Providence. The numberless calamities which daily befall mankind, pro- claim, with reiterated voices, the divine command, " Love not the world, neither the things of the world." Love them not as supremely good : Love them not as the first objects of regard. If we slight the salutary admonition, we despise r 226 SERMON X. the counsel of Providence, and madly prepare our own deep wretchedness. Let us beware then, lest, by permitting any temporal good to engross our hearts, we open in them a source, not only of un mingled future woe, but of invincible repugnance to the afflictive will of heaven. Then guilt will add to the poignancy of sorrow ; and a rankling wound shall be inflicted, not on the affections only, but on the conscience. 5. Let the calamities that fall under our observation en- gage us more assiduously to pursue a better and more endur- ing portion than the icorld affords. To a reasonable and immortal creature, it never can be reasonable to fix his supreme regard, and his highest happi- ness, in any thing that is not immortal as himself. To his desires, and to his capacity of enjoyment, things heavenly alone are adequate. And though terrestrial blessings could afford him, while they last, a more perfect satisfaction than they have ever been known to yield, yet their instability, and the certainty that ere long he must part with them for ever, prove the miserable folly of placing his affections upon such fleeting objects, and of expecting from them the happi- ness of his being ; while the same considerations as forcibly demonstrate the wisdom, nay, necessity, of seeking, in things more sure and lasting, the foundations of his bliss. Now, what is the language of the vicissitudes and calamities daily presented to our view { What but these considerations inces- santly repeated. To those considerations they demand, by affecting instances, that attention which their importance claims, but which our heedlessness makes us frequently withhold. They show, with irresistible evidence, that there is no permanency in any earthly gocd ; that there is no sta- tion exempt from danger ; no circumstances so favourable, no means of enjoyment so efficacious cr abundant, as to '-(■cure to their possessors a full and unalterable felicity. OIK DUTIES TO THE AFFLICTED, 221 And let those who have been themselves afflicted, permit me to remind them, that if the tribulations of others should inculcate such instructions, their own distresses ought to fix their attention still more pointedly upon them. But thanks be to God, he hath discovered to us objects, in which all that we want, all that earth cannot afford, may be amply found. The way to their attainment is clearly pointed out. And the invitations to enjoy them are liberal as unbounded love. Shall we still then, with eyes awake, seek certain disap- pointment in the things of this vain world, while the springs of pure and everlasting bliss stand open, but neglected I No. Let us " set our affection on things above, not on things on the earth.11 Let us seek our highest good, not in " the things which are seen," for they " are temporal,11 but in " the things which are not seen,11 because these we know to be " eternal11 ESSAYS, These Essays were read before a Clerical Society, which will explain some allusion- in them ESSAY I. ON THE APPLICATION OF THE EPITHET REVEREND, TO MINISTERS OF THE GOSPEL. • There is a subject brought under our notice, almost as often as any correspondent addresses us, on which I have been somewhat surprised that I have never met with the obser- vation, which I propose now to submit to you, and to con- nect with some further remarks. It is a subject, indeed, of no great importance, at least in one point of view : and this may probably be the reason why no one has thought it worthy of his attention. I ought to acknowledge, too, that it may have been long ago adverted to by some one or other, though his animadversion has never fallen in my way. The topic to which I refer, is the application of the epithet Reverend, to ministers of the gospel. Now, though the matter be of small moment, if considered merely in the light of form, or ceremony, it is not altogether unimportant, if we reflect, tin t, by some, it has been made a ground of at least implied censure against the pastors of our own church, and of other churches, both established and dissenting, that they admit of this epithet in the addresses of others, and employ it in designating themselves. It is well known, that Chris- tians of some denominations refuse to give it, and strictly :■,! ESSAY I. enjoin their teachers not to assume it. In the public in- structions of one of their societies to their preachers, we have seen a charge to the following effect, interwoven with matters of the highest and most serious import. " Be not ': ye called Reverend. God is reverend. ; Holy and reverend ': is his name.' r It might have occurred to them, however, that, if this text makes it impious or presumptuous to apply the epithet Reverend to men. it is equally conclusive against denominating them holy. Yet to the latter they cannot ob- ject, since we meet so often with the phrases. '' holy men." and -'holy brethren." &c., in the language of inspiration. The truth is, that men may. with just as much reason and propriety, be termed reverend, that is. respectable^ as holy. They may be respectable or reverend, as they are holy, in degree ; though God alone is supremely reverend, and holy in perfection. Now. as those who prohibit the use of the appellation in question, are persons who affect, and who. I doubt not, sin- cerely mean to be more strictly scriptural, according to their own views, than other professors, in all matters pertaining to ecclesiastical government, offices, and titles, my observa- tion is this — It is wonderful that men, who refuse to ac- knowledge any thing as obligatory in the church of Christ, which is not expressly supported by Scriptural authority, should not have remarked, in their search after inspired rules and precedents, that there is, in fact, a clearer Scriptural warrant for applying the title Reverend, to the ministers of the gospel, than they can produce for several of those prac- tices, about which they appear to entertain no doubt. In truth, as it seems to me, the custom of so applying that title, has been directly ipture, and taken from it. In Paul's first Epistle to Timothy, v. 17. we read as fol- lows,— ;-Lct the elders that rule well, be counted worthy of OX Till- TITLE REVEREND. double honour, especially they who labour in word and doc- trine i" — in the original, SwrAqs rtfirjs a^Lova-Oaxrav, &c. ^ hat, then, was more natural for men, who regarded the authority of this injunction, and who respected and loved their pastors, than to speak or write of them, to speak or to write to them, as Tip]* agiovfievoi, or rtjuou/jewt, that is, in Latin, venerandi, or reverendi; or, in the correspondent English terms, derived from the Latin, reverend, or venerable. — Again, the same apostle, having commended to the Philippians, Epaphrodi- tus, "his brother and fellow-labourer,-" adds, "and hold such evrifiovs" — an exhortation which our translators, re- garding rather its general import, than its literal interpreta- tion, have rendered, "and hold such in reputation.11 But if we consult our lexicons, we shall find evripos interpreted in Latin, by the adjectives, " honorabilis, honorandus, reveren- dus, venerandus ;" all equivalent to the English, reverend. And if a believer found himself charged, by the highest pos- sible authority, to " hold,11 or esteem, such men reverend, was it not most natural and Scriptural for him to express that sentiment, by applying to them the term I — The pas- sage, however, which, I apprehend, has contributed more than all the rest, to make professing Christians, in general, for so many ages, consider it as one mark of their Christian profession, and of their subjection to the authority of the Christian Scriptures, to designate their pastors by this epi- thet, is that which we find in 1 Thessalonians v. 12, 1.3, — " We beseech you, brethren, to know them which labour among you, and are over you in the Lord, and admonish you ; and to esteem them very highly in love, for their worTzs sake." Of the latter verse, the Greek is as follows, — yjyelcrdai dvrovs virep eKTrepMrcrov iv uyanr] bia to epyov civrooi/. It might be alleged, that the other passages found the claim to this epithet, and to the sentiment which it ex- 234 ESSAY I. presses, merely on the personal character of the individuals referred to. But here, it is expressly founded on their office, " on account of their work," or, as in our version, ;t for their work's sake," — the work of labouring among Christians, of being over them in the Lord, and admonishing them. Here, then, it is required of believers, that those who are called to discharge those duties among them, should, on account of their office, be fjyovfievoi iv dycucrj, should be esteemed with lore, — a phrase which strongly and completely marks the import of reverend, in its best acceptation, as denoting the union of affection with respect. Nay, the apostle's language in this place might be pled, as affording full sanction to even the " very reverend," the ,; right reverend'' the ;' most reverend" by which Episcopalian dignitaries, and others, have been dis- tinguished. For none of these, nor all of them together, equal in force, far less exceed the Apostle's tjyovpevoi imep €k- nepLo-aov. Indeed no English terms can fully convey the signification of these, without a considerable circumlocution. Christians, then, who attended to this language, and regarded it as dictated by the Holy Ghost, would feel it their duty to esteem, and to denominate all those whom they acknow- ledged in the character of pastors and teachers, yyovpevovs (even) vnep exTrepLcro-ov iv ayainj \{ the) wrote or spoke in Greek ; venerandi, reverendi, or rather quam maxime jeverendi, if they used the Latin language ; and venerable, reverend, right reverend, or most reverend, if the English. Suppose, for example, that a primitive believer had had oc- casion to address a letter to his pastor, and had superscribed it " To Archippus, or Epaphroditus, the evnpa" (very honour- able) Or " Tipovpevo/" (the reverend), or w^p eKnepLaaov fjyovpevcp. (the more than exceedingly to be esteemed); and that some zealous brother, fearful lest the spirit of the writer should, by the use of such terms, have become too abjectly submis- OX TIIK TITLE REVEREND. 235 sive to his teacher, or that the teacher might have been ren- dered by them too haughty in his pretensions, had rebuked the said writer, in the language of some modern Christians, would not an appeal to the words of St Paul, have at once furnished him with a complete and victorious refutation? And do we say more, or do we say so much, when we write reverend before a pastor's name I It seems to me, then, that those professors of Christianity, whose practice has given occasion to these remarks, instead of distinguishing themselves by denying to ministers of the gospel, this long established appellation, ought, in order to act consistently, to be peculiarly careful and punctual in giv- ing to all whom they acknowledge in that capacity, a title so clearly apostolical in its origin and authority. And they ought not to blame their brethren of other denominations, because they address their pastors by this epithet, or to con- demn those pastors, because they accept it. The professors now referred to, appear to entertain an exceeding jealousy lest ministers should be too much esteemed. Paul seems to have felt little of such a sentiment, when he gave the in- junctions quoted above, and others of similar import. A lamentable experience has no doubt proved that men, arro- gating to themselves (I do not say rightly possessing), the character and office of pastors, have often usurped a most unwarrantable and pernicious authority over their professing Christian brethren ; and that many of the latter have most foolishly and culpably submitted to their domination, and encouraged their pretensions. But I apprehend it to be an evil still more general, and attended with effects no less in- jurious, though less remarked, that men pay too little de- ference to those who teach them. Did this evil affect cor- rupt and degenerate churches only, or were its consequences confined to the ministrations of wicked and unfaithful pas- 236 LYI. tors, it were less to be regretted. But its baleful influence is often most felt, and is most to be deplored, where the truth is most purely taught, and the pastoral duties are most faithfully discharged. It terminates not in diminished ho- nour to the pastor, a matter of very inferior consideration ; but in the diminished effect of those truths of eternal mo ment and obligation, which he is commissioned to declare ; a result to him undoubtedly very painful, but most preju- dicial to those on whom it is produced. Had there even been no other scriptural directions appli- cable to this subject, than those which we find in 1st Timothy v. 17, and Philippians ii. 29, it must have been difficult to prevent the general application of the term under consi- deration, or of some similar epithet, to persons invested with the pastoral office, or to disprove the propriety of its being so applied. For, as this is an office into which all men agree in affirming, that no one who is not cvnpos, or agios rifirjs, ought to be admitted, it follows that, to refuse this title to any individual pastor, is, in appearance at least, to pronounce him unworthy of his office, and to say to the world that we consider him as fit only to be degraded and despised. But however little hesitation some men might have, to assert such things of many who bear the pastoral office, Christians, who have tender consciences, who have the law of charity in their hearts, and before their eyes, and who remember the danger of a harsh and censorious judgment, would feel much difficulty in bringing themselves to express such a judgment, though only in a manner negative and indirect. For this reason, indeed, it were hardly in any case, but where the persons concerned had been publicly and irrefra- gably proved to be unworthy and dishonoured, that they would reckon themselves warranted to withhold the custo- mary title of respect. n\ THE TITLE REVEREND. Zo i I apprehend it, indeed, to be abundantly manifest, that the office held by the pastors of the church, was the only reason why the apostle so pointedly charged their fellow - Christians to show them peculiar respect. Except for this, they were not. in themselves, any farther entitled to it than any other brother, whose character was equally pure. And in the use of the term rev or end, at the present day, no one, we believe, intends by it, in most instances at least, to sig- nify any particular personal estimation for the individual addressed, but merely to acknowledge him as one of a class of men entitled to reverence for " their work's sake." In using it myself, I have the happiness, in many instances, to employ it as only a just expression of the esteem which I entertain for the individuals to whom I may apply it, as well as of the respect in which I hold their office. But, no doubt, there are also cases in which I reckon it my duty to use the same form, where I am not conscious of any particular con- sideration for the persons with whose names I connect it. but where I employ it merely as the due and customary in- dication of reverence for the office with which they are pro- fessionally invested. I believe, indeed, that the great majo- rity of those who use this form, have not present to their minds, while they employ it, any idea of peculiar veneration either for the person addressed, or for his official character, but consider it simply as an established title of office. And thus they write reverend to a pastor, though perhaps little respectable in himself, as they say your honour to a justice, though they believe him a rogue ; your excellency to an am- bassador or commander-in-chief, though his moral character may be infamous ; and your serene highness to a prince, though he may be a mean spirited and peevish wretch. I do not say, that this is the way in which Christians ought to use the term in question, or in which any considerate 238 ESSAY Christian does use it; but it will hardly be disputed, that such is the mode in which it is employed by most. There are persons, perhaps, by whom this discussion might be set down as merely an effort of priestly pride, to support the use of a title that nourishes conceit, and flatters .self-importance. But none of my present audience, I trust, will impute to me such a motive. And so far as I can judge of my own views and feelings on the subject, they are altogether different. I only wish to show, that the great body of professing Christians are not justly chargeable with having given, or the great body of Christian pastors with having allowed and accepted, a mark of respect, inconsistent with Christian simplicity, and scriptural authority. Nor am I so vehemently attached to it, as to forget that the sen- timent of respect, and not this or any other particular expres- sion of it, is what a Christian minister should be desirous of enjoying among his Christian brethren. Neither am I in- sensible, that the sentiment of respect for the pa-toral office may exist in full force, where this special expression of it is withheld ; and the expression may be employed, while there is nothing but scorn and rancour in the breast of the em- ployer, with regard to both the office in general, and the in- dividual whom he addresses. I have therefore said, and said truly, that I look on the matter as of no great conse- quence in itself. But it is surely somewhat hard, that men should be censured as offering unchristian compliments, or assuming unchristian honours, in a case in which they have so clearly the support of scriptural injunction. It is the more hard, because this particular, however comparatively trivial, yet easily attracting observation, is one which, when exhibited as a topic of censure, is more likely to produce, on uninformed minds, an impression injurious to the persons •ensured. o\ THE TITLE REVEREXD. 239 I would also add. that no mind, duly imbued with Chris- tian knowledge and feeling, can account, and therefore that surely no Christian teacher ought to demand, reverence or respect on the part of his brethren, as a sentiment to which he can bring a personal claim, and the refusal of which, or of any external expression of which, he can resent as a personal injury. He may, indeed, be as fully entitled to it as most of those who are reckoned respectable amongst men. He may be more so. It may even be impossible for him to divest himself of the consciousness that this is the case. But he knows and feels that, considered in the ab- stract,— considered in the sight of God, — he has no right to be regarded as an object of reverence. While he knowTs and confesses the numerous moral evils of his nature, — while he remembers his manifold failures in every duty, he feels, that to demand respect as a personal right, or to resent its absence as a personal wrong, were the grossest inconsistency, and would approach to an insult to Omniscience. To Jeho- vah's eyes, how mean, how odious, must appear the pride, the strife for honour, of those wretched beings, whom he knows to be daily chargeable with an ingratitude and an unfaithfulness, on account of which he could justly hold them up as objects of everlasting scorn ! — But the minister of Christ, however denied to the respect of others as a per- sonal matter, however conscious of his unworthiness of it, cannot be indifferent to the respect belonging to his office, without becoming indifferent to the duty which he owes, at once to his Master and to his flock. If he be not respect- ed for his " work's sake," his labours in it must, in a great measure, fail of their effect. And no one, who is desirous that those labours should be successful, will think himself vindicable in withholding the honour that may promote their object. Who was more denied than St Paul to all that 2 tO \ v l. homage from the world which soothes vanity, and nourishes pride \ Yet, with all his pure and heartfelt humility, who was more careful to enforce the respect due to his sacred office, and to the authority which it conferred ? We have thus got upon ground of fir higher importance than that from which we set out, though our ascent to it has been abundantly obvious and natural. And to some of the objects which meet our attention here, let us now direct, for a little, our attention. And, first, it naturally occurs to remark, that, by what- ever forms professing Christians choose to express their re- verence for their pastors, it is their unquestionable duty both to feel and to display that sentiment. To prove this to any one who makes the language of Scripture the rule of his thoughts and actions, no argument can be necessary, farther than a reference to the passages of the New Testament al- ready quoted, and to others of similar import. Or, were any such argument required, it is amply supplied by the consideration, that a pastor's usefulness, and the authority of his instructions, must, under God, depend much on the esteem in which he himself is held ; and that, on the other hand, nothing can so effectually impair both, as aught that tends to lessen him in the opinion of men around him. This is, indeed, so much the fact, that usefulness and respectability may generally be considered as nearly convertible terms, when applied to a minister of the gospel. Yet it is to be feared, that to this even good men are not always sufficiently attentive. A minister is a person set in a public station. In the place where he is most frequently seen, — his pulpit, men are apt to consider him as presenting to notice a public exhibi- tion, which invites criticism, and which may be fairly made the subject of critical discussion. It is but just, to acknow- ON THE TITLE REVEREND. 241 ledge that, when a preacher considers his public appearances, merely, or chiefly, as affording him an opportunity for the display of talent, he, at least, has no reason to complain, if his audience shall treat him accordingly ; and that, if he can be convicted of having spoken sillily, inelegantly, or incon- clusively, it should be marked with appropriate contempt. This is a tax which the candidate for the admiration of his fellow creatures must be content to pay. But, as the im- provement, not the admiration of his hearers, ought to be the object of the preacher ; so the proper business of the hearer is, not to consider whether the discourse addressed to him has been faulty, or unexceptionable in its style, arrangement, and other departments of composition, but to reflect whether he himself has learned, or may gather from it, any thing " profitable for reproof, correction, and instruction in right- eousness." I fear, however, that even Christians, forgetting this, and falling into the general habit of regarding that which is publicly delivered, as a proper subject of common criticism, sometimes allow themselves to speak of their teachers, and of the instructions addressed to them, in terms of censure or contempt, which must operate most injuriously, as to the influence of those instructions, both on their own minds, and the minds of others. In particular, probably, if any thing improper can be pointed out in a pastor's conduct, if any thing in his discourses seem to slight, or to militate against what they conceive to be important truth, they will be ready to imagine that they do but their duty to God and his gospel, by being loud and frequent in their condemna- tions. They seem unmindful that a minister, as a sharer in the common infirmities of human nature, must sometimes need the benefit of the judgment of charity, as well as others; and that, by thus confining their attention and their warmth, to what may appear, or may actually have been, erroneous, Q 242 ESSAY i. they take the surest method to prevent any advantage, which might be derived from what is sound and unexceptionable. Sight muvt be lost of their own edification, while they are only mustering objections, and passing censures. And how unfavourably must this manner of acting operate on the worldly minded and formal professor ! Perhaps in the same discourse, of which a few particulars have provoked such condemnation, important truths were stated, and important duties recommended, to which that professor had the most urgent need to attend. Perhaps his conscience may have been somewhat touched, while he listened. But ere long he hears both the discourse and the discourser spoken of with disapprobation, perhaps with vehement censure, by a person who is reputed more than ordinarily correct in his practice, and exact in his judgment of divine things. What an ex- cuse to his conscience, for despising the preacher, and disre- garding the instruction ! I will venture to assert, what might startle the minds of some, — that the most hetorodox sermon that was ever preached, contained much important and salutary truth ; nay, much more sound and useful truth, than error. Had it been otherwise, common sense could not have tolerated it for a moment. Can it be a question, then, whether it be wiser to use ourselves, and to point out to others what is sound and true ; or to reject ourselves, and prevent in others the benefit of what is good, because accom- panied with something that is of an opposite description \ To adopt the former alternative were probably the best means to preclude, both in their minds, and in our own, any pernicious effects from the mixture of eviL If there be some noxious dishes among the provision of our spiritual table, shall we, for this reason, starve ourselves and others, by re- fusing the wholesome and nutritious part of the entertain- ment too ? Or shall we excoriate our mouths, and blister 0\ THE TITLE KKYF.KEND. 243 our tongues, by chewing the hurtful articles, that we may have an opportunity of showing our abhorrence of them, by the vehemence with which we spit them out ; One of the most edifying discourses I have heard, was one of which some portions were certainly, though, except perhaps to a very few hearers, not obviously anti-evangelical. But there ran through it a rich vein of practical illustration, which made it worthy of much attention. It pointed out, with great felicity and force, what the mass of professors, I am afraid, are too prone to overlook, — the practical use and ap- plication of the doctrinal principles which they avow them- selves to hold. It was admirably calculated both to dis- cover to the unfruitful notionalist the unsoundness of his state, and to excite those who " have believed in God, to be careful to maintain good works. " Should I have done well, then, to counteract the much good which, by the blessing of God, such a discourse was fitted to produce, by a violent effort, to expose the incorrectness or the defects of certain statements, to which probably few adverted ; or, by giving hard names to the preacher, to have at once destroyed his usefulness, and exhibited the uncharitableness of my own spirit \ But do we contend, then, that because a man is invested with the office of a pastor, his conduct, however unbecom- ing, is to pass uncensured; or that his doctrine, however false, is never to be condemned \ No. This were to insist on that passive subjection of the hearts and understandings of mankind, which only the abettors of deceit and unrighteous assumption can desire, and by which the most odious frauds, and the basest impositions on human rights and liberties have been effected. It were to demand, too, what men, in an enlightened age, would only pay in scorn. But I do as- sert, that to speak disrespectfully of a religious teacher, or of 244 ESSAY I. his ministrations, is what no Christian of a tender conscience and considerate mind will lightly permit himself to do ; and that, when duty requires it of him, he will do it with deli- cacy and with caution ; with a delicacy which will rather make censure fall short of demerit, than exceed it ; and with caution, that he may not injure the cause of Christ and truth, while he is compelled to note the faults of its profes- sional advocates. Farther, if we affirm that such is the duty of Christians in general, it is certainly, in a still higher degree, incumbent upon ministers, to avoid every thing by which they may unnecessarily injure the respectability of one another. The mere selfish feeling of a reciprocal interest may, indeed, often produce some attention to this object ; and sometimes, no doubt, has carried individuals too far, in attempting to dis- credit what was undeniable, and to varnish what was inde- fensible. But cases, too, have unquestionably arisen, in which men, invested with the pastoral office, have permitted themselves to sin against prudence and charity, and the re- gard due to the influence of the character of ministers of re- ligion, by the intemperance with which they have spoken of their fellow labourers ; and that, not in the presence of their professional brethren only, but in mixed society. Per- sonal animosity, alas ! is not unknown, even among the preachers of peace : and, when it is allowed to dictate to the tongue, " sharp and bitter words," with little regard to con- sequences, will too frequently be the result. If one suspect that another surpasses him in influence, a little jealousy will be too often tempted to resort to misconstruction and detrac- tion, in order to lower the character of a brother, and thus most effectually to lessen his authority. If the superiority of another's fame threaten to cast that of his neighbour's into the shade, a covert envy will sometimes render them inge- ON THE TITLE REVEREND. 245 nious in discovering diminishing circumstances, by which they may allay to their pride, the humiliation which it too acutely feels. I have more than once been moved almost to indignation, to see the eagerness with which any expla- nation has been grasped at, to account for the splendour surrounding the name of Chalmers, rather than admit the real explanation of the phenomenon, in the superiority of his mental power, and energy of diction ; while any little inci- dent that might seem to indicate a decline in the lustre of his course, has been listened to with greediness, and retailed with evident satisfaction. — And has the spirit of party never distorted the eye of a minister, in looking on a brother in the opposing ranks I Has it never given birth to injurious imputations, and formed a base alliance with malign suspi- cion, and assassinating calumny ? Is it not at least prone more readily to believe evil of those who resist its views, than of its associates, or of neutral individuals ? If we be conscious, then, that we are too truly, in all senses, " men of like passions" wTith our fellows, let us be guarded against the influence of such feelings, and of all others, that might tempt us to the use of language tending to lower the character of a brother ; especially in those si- tuations and companies, where it may be likely to prove pre- judicial to the efficacy of his ministrations. Yet if any thing shall undeniably appear, in the doctrine or conduct of a minister, flagrantly contradictory to truth, or grossly offensive against good morals, it will then become our duty to condemn it, in terms even stronger and more peremptory, than we would employ in the case of other men : not only that we may avoid the common charge of a partial corporation spirit, eager to hide or to extenuate our brethren's faults ; but because such evils have, in fact, a more heinous stain of pravity in him, who is bound, by the most solemn 246 ESSAY I. engagements, to be the advocate of truth, and an example to the flock, and ought therefore to be stigmatized with deeper reprobation. Even where a case may admit of doubt, let us not attempt to screen a servant of the altar, by palliating crime, or by evading what has been just asserted, that it wTere in him more criminal, than in a private member of the church ; but by cautioning the rash not to judge without proof, and reminding the censorious of the injury which they may inflict, at once on the individual whom they are eager to condemn, and on a cause too sacred to be exposed to hazard, without evident and urgent need — a cause, too, their zeal for which is perhaps the motive which they assign for the asperity of their censure. And if we ought anxiously to shun, so far as truth and duty will permit, whatever might tarnish the respectability, or injure the usefulness, of a brother, we ought, on the other hand, so far as we can in consistency with the same prin- ciples, to strengthen each other's hands, and to promote the efficacy of each other's ministry, by not only vindicating one another from unfounded slanders, and endeavouring, in doubtful cases, to make the judgment of charity take place of the dictates of suspicion ; but by a generous zeal for each other's reputation, and the use of every honest mean, to cherish, in all with whom we may have intercourse, a re- spect for each other's character. This is but to do as we would be done by : and it will exhibit an ardour for the in- fluence of religion, of a complexion less questionable, than that which appears in the promptitude with which calum- nious reports are received and circulated, or in the sharpness of the censure, which they give occasion to pour out on a brother's name. The high authority and example, which Scripture so frequently present-, of enjoining the reverence due to the ON THE TITLE REVEREND. 247 pastoral office, may also suggest that, occasionally at least, it will be our duty to make this subject a theme of admoni- tion to our respective congregations. It is one, I confess, which will require to be managed with delicacy and skill, lest our injunctions should appear to proceed from self-seek- ing, and self-importance. And, after all our caution, gain- sayers may still misrepresent our motive. Yet where is the duty, at the performance of which we shall not hesitate, if we are to be deterred by the dread of encountering the cavils of unreasonable men \ And surely it may be possible, with such simplicity and integrity, to deliver every part of the message entrusted to us by our Lord, as to satisfy at least the candid and the charitable, that, even in asserting our claims to this respect, we aim, not at the gratification of our own pride, but a.t the spiritual good of those who attend our ministry. We should never forget, however, or attempt to make others forget, that reverence for the pastoral office is not a principle of universal or unlimited application. To consider it in that light, would give sanction to all the impious pre- tensions and abominable domination which characterized the Romish clergy in the darkest ages of the church, and would make the ordinance of God, " for the edifying of the body of Christ," the instrument of its perversion and destruction. Such an attempt, too, at a period like the present, would not only be followed with inevitable disappointment, but would justly issue in an effect diametrically opposite to that which it was intended to produce. Men are not so little disposed to severity of judgment, particularly in the case of religious professors, as to be sparing in their censures, if they discover in them a palpable effort to support falsehood, or to vindicate vice. They are not so little desirous of the apo- logy for their carelessness of ministerial exhortation or re- 248 ESSAY proof, which the aberrations of ministers afford, as to be ne- gligent in marking the aggravation of the latter, which would result from an endeavour to palliate or deny them, when flagrant and inexcusable. Let us not vainly flatter ourselves. Men will judge and speak of us as they see us to be, and will be abundantly sharp-sighted in penetrating the vail with which we might attempt to cover our own or others' fault. It will be well if they do no more ; if they add not suspected or invented charges to those which are founded in truth. If we look to the authority of St Paul, in whose writings we find some of the most explicit and peremptory injunc- tions, as to the reverence due to the ministers of Christ, we shall discover no less explicit condemnation of those who unwarrantably assume, or unworthily sustain, the sacred office. He who would not have hesitated to pronounce a stern anathema upon an angel had he presumed to preach another gospel, would not have been disposed to spare a human perverter of the truth. And we may judge from his language to Timothy, of the respect which he would have paid to those who are influenced merely by worldly motives in embracing and exercising the ministerial office, — 1 Timo- thy vi. 8-5, " If any man teach otherwise, and consent not to wholesome words, even the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the doctrine which is according to godliness, he is proud, knowing nothing, but doting about questions and strifes of words, whereof cometh envy, strife, railings, evil surmisings, perverse disputings of men of corrupt minds, and destitute of the truth, supposing that gain is godliness ; from such withdraw thyself.11 Such instances, indeed, some persons might be ready to consider as invalidating all that wc have said concerning the tenderness and delicacy to be shown to the characters of pastors, and giving ample warrant ON THE TITLE REVEltEND. 249 for the sharpest and most unhesitating censure, wherever they appear to act unfaithfully. We must remember, how- ever, that there is a difference between condemning an un- questionable evil, and fastening the imputation of it upon an individual. In the one case, we cannot err. In the other, we may, and perhaps often do. For the former, the apos- tle's damnatory sentences afford full precedent. Against the latter, the law of charity, which he has so beautifully evolved, frequently stands opposed. And persons who have not the gift of discerning spirits, must be sensible, that it is only on well established and undoubted facts that they are warranted to condemn. Still, however, he incurs an awful responsibility who attempts to screen from censure unques- tionable guilt, especially in a person bearing the pastoral office. And the apostle, while enjoining reverence to the ministers of the gospel " for their work's sake,1' evidently supposes the work to be performed. He speaks of them as men " who watch for souls, as they that must give account ;" and as patterns, " whose faith'1 it was incumbent on Chris- tians to " follow.'1 This, then, should remind us, lastly, that if respect be due to our office, we are under the clearest obligation to maintain its respectability, by the faithful discharge of its duties, and by walking worthy of our high vocation. If it be explicitly required of those who acknowledge us as their pastors, to show us reverence, it is our part, to give them reason for it. We must not handle the word of God deceit- fully, as men pleasers, or seekers of our own gain ; but, by manifestation of the truth, commend ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God. Nor, while we profess to inculcate on others the practice of morality, and to enforce it by the powerful motives, and awful sanctions of revelation, must we appear negligent of the former in our own conduct, 250 ESSAY T. or insensible in our own minds, to the influence of the latter : but be " examples of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity ." Not only are the grosser sensual vices to be carefully avoided, but whatever is disreputable and dishonourable, in the common judgment of mankind. For if Christians in general ought to study, " whatsoever things are honest (that is honourable), what- soever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good re- port,11 it must be still more incumbent on those, to whom they are to look as their examples. Let their veracity, then, be scrupulously unimpeachable ; and their integrity without stain. Let them keep equally remote from the extremes of niggardliness and prodigality; avoid equally the vice of4' him that withholdeth more than is meet,11 and the profusion of indiscriminate bounty. Let them be firm, without obsti- nacy ; and gentle, without facility ; candid, without weak simplicity ; and prudent, without artifice. Let them be respectful to the higher ranks, without servility ; and atten- tive to those beneath them, without incurring the reproach of hunting for popular applause. Let them be friendly, without partiality ; and public spirited, without intermed- dling with affairs beyond their province. Let their devotion be without fanaticism ; and their moderation, without indif- ference. Without forgetting that they are on earth, and have some interest in its concerns, let their conversation be in heaven, from thence looking for Christ the Saviour. So shall their light shine before men : and if the prejudiced will still revile them, the well inclined will have abundant argument for the refutation of their calumnies. The ap- pearance of a worldly spirit, a spirit greedy of worldly gain, or ambitious of worldly honour, and not too scrupulous about the employment of worldly means for the attainment of its objects, seems peculiarly inconsistent with the character of ON HI E T ETLE R L V E R E N D . 2 5 I a minister of Christ, and peculiarly prejudicial to the influ- ence of his instructions, be they ever so correctly formed on the sacred model. That prominence, therefore, which is too often given in the conversation of clergymen, and in their opinion of situations, to the emoluments of office, is, to say the least, unseemly ; and so far as it is an indication of the principle that rules the speaker's mind, is decidedly unfa- vourable. Virtus post nummos. While to the children of this world, it gives too fair a pretence to say, that the motives which direct our conduct, are no better than those which regulate their own ; and that all our professions of zeal for the glory of God, and the salvation of souls, are but a cloak to our love for the good things of a present life. How little benefit instructions supposed to spring from such a source, may be expected to produce, it is not hard to calculate. Perhaps too, among things that are more indifferent, a greater degree of attention should be paid to that " gravity," which Paul connects with " uncorruptness in doctrine," than is always shown, at least by some of us. I recommend not a starched precision and affected solemnity of manners : because whatever is affected is contemptible ; and whatever reverence it may beget at first, it will speedily become the object of derision. Neither do I think, that a minister will lessen himself by an amiable accordance with the feelings of those around him, or even a cheerful participation of their pleasures or recreations, so far as these are innocent. Yet to seem much interested in the trifle of the moment, to be excessively tickled with the jest, perhaps rude or silly, that sets the table in a roar, to appear an eager sharer in the un- meaning, or at least frivolous hilarity, which to most minds appears to form the great charm of company, — we must surely acknowledge to be inconsistent with the proper frame of a spirit habitually occupied about the sublime concerns of 252 ES.sAY I. religion and immortality, and to have a tendency to lower a minister from the place, which he should aim to hold, in the public estimation. We ought perhaps, in some degree, to guard even against that familiarity, into which a man of an easy and social temper is apt to fall, in the case of those with whom he has frequent intercourse. Persons sometimes men- tion as an article of commendation in their character of a minister, that, in company, he is just as easy in his manners as another man, and never obliges you to recollect that he is a parson. Clergymen, too, have not unfrequently been ambitious of this praise, and perhaps have sometimes but too well earned it. But a sentiment attributed to the celebrated Mr Cecil, and with which I was much impressed on first meeting with it, I apprehend to be more congenial with the great objects of our office. His precise words I do not re- member : but they were to this effect : " I am always dis- " pleased, when a man wishes to forget that I am a minis- " ter. That is an advantage which I do not wish to lose. " It gives me a right to say, what would be unbecoming in " a mere companion, and with an authority which no other " office confers."' For the same reason, too, many little employments, perfectly innocent in themselves, but with which ideas of vulgarity or contempt are associated, ought to be avoided. By lessening the respectability of the man, they endanger the influence of the minister. There is no moral evil, for ex- ample, in a man's feeding his own fowls, or collecting the eggs of his own roost. He may notwithstanding be deeply learned, acutely logical, brilliantly eloquent, and correctly orthodox withal. Yet the general impression that such occupations are beneath his dignity, and form the proper province of persons of inferior consideration, renders them unfavourable to the reverence with which his character OX THE TITLE REVEREND. 253 should be surrounded, and his influence confirmed. There is even something in the circumstances of certain indifferent actions, that will vary their effect, and is therefore worthy of attention. There is, for instance, no moral difference between working in a garden, and working in a field, con- sidering these actions in themselves. Yet probably no one thinks less respectfully of a minister because his exercise occasionally consists in the lighter labours of his garden ; while, most likely, were he to be seen as often with the hoers in the field, he would speedily become the object of many a sneer. We have before adverted to the prejudicial effect pro- duced on the people's minds, in relation to the respect which they should pay their pastor, by the habit of making his public appearances the subject of free, perhaps of censorious criticism. This may also suggest to us a caution. While, in our discourses, we should study, not so much what may best exemplify the rhetorician's rules, and attract to us per- sonal applause, as what may best serve to convert sinners, or edify believers, we should endeavour to compose and to deliver them so as to afford at least no just ground for con- temptuous criticism. Our manner may be affectionate with- out being homely ; our language plain, without vulgarity ; our method logical, without being trivial ; and our theology sound, without doing violence to enlightened philosophy. To return to the topic, with which we set out : a good use may be made of it, in regard to the object of these re- marks,— the care which those invested with the pastoral of- fice should employ, to maintain, for " their work's sake," the respectability of their character, both as to internal qualifi- cations, and external manners, essentials, and non-essentials. As oft as we see or hear the epithet Reverend addressed to us, it should operate as a memorandum, to remind us that <254 liSSAY we belong to a class of persons whom God has made it the duty of our Christian brethren to respect ; and on whom, therefore, it is doubly incumbent to be respectable ; " giving no offence in anything, that the ministry be not blamed ; but in all things, approving ourselves as the ministers of God." Finally, if we consider, only in the point of view now taken, the difficulties of the Christian ministry, the delicacy and caution with which we should often speak and act, the opposite extremes which we have to shun, and how hard it is to steer evenly between them ; to be dignified without pride, and humble without meanness ; to be condescending without familiarity that breeds contempt, and becomingly reserved without being starched or inaccessible ; to wear an inviting demeanour to the lowest of our flock, and yet not to permit the highest to forget the respect they owe us ; presents a task from which human sagacity and resolution well might shrink. And while it demands all our vigilance and care, it may remind us of the necessity of divine assist- ance and direction. It should excite us to importunity in imploring the influence of the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of understanding and of the fear of the Lord, the Spirit of wisdom and of a sound mind. And it should fill us with gratitude for the assurance given, in the person of the supplicating apostle, to all who conscientiously seek the glory of God in the salvation of his sinful creatures, and, in humble reliance on his promise, intreat his succour : " My grace is sufficient for thee ; for my strength is made perfect in weakness." ESSAY II. ON JACOB'S WRESTLING AT PENIEL. GENESIS XXXII 24-30. And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day. And when he saw that he prevailed not against him, he touched the hollow of his thigh ; and the holloa: of Jacobus thigh was out of joint, as he wrestled with him. And he said, Let me go, for the dag breaketh. And he said, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me. And he said, What is thy name? and he said Jacob. And he said, Thy name shall no more be called Jacob, but Israel : for as a prince hast thou power with God, and with men. a nd hast prevailed. And Jacob asked him. and said. Tell me, I pray thee, thy name. And he said. Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my name ? And he blessed him there. And Jacob called the name of the place Peniel : for I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved. I have been led to offer some reflections upon this passage, both because it appears to 'have been intended, as we shall have occasion to remark more folly in the sequel, to afford encouragement to perseverance in prayer, and because it is certainly one of those which are most difficult to be explain- ed, in consistency with the universally acknowledged ideas of ^00 ESSAY II. the Divine Being ; and on which it may be hoped, that in the course of discussion, some one or other of us may be en- abled to throw out something that may contribute to render the views of us all respecting it, more distinct and definite. The preceding context gives us an account of the alarm, into which Jacob had been thrown by the announcement of the messengers, that Esau was coming to meet him, attended by four hundred men — a number too great to be easily reconciled with the supposition of his coming for a friendly purpose. We have a statement of the means which Jacob used to conciliate his brother, and to secure the escape of at least one half of his family and flocks. There is also recorded the prayer, which he offered up to God for his pro- tection, and in which is strongly marked that struggle be- tween faith and natural apprehension, of which perhaps the worshippers of Jehovah are not always sensible ; but which is often brought strongly out, when they are placed in cir- cumstances of alarm or hazard, when their own lives are in danger, or when persons dear, or interests important to them, are threatened, — vv. 9-12. The faith of Jacob here has first recourse for its encour- agement, to the character of Jehovah as the God of his fathers ; and, therefore, the author of the promises, on which he taught them and himself to repose. It next pre- sents to God the consideration, that the peril, in which the patriarch was now involved, was the consequence of his obeying God's command, ;; Thou saidst unto me, return unto thine own country and to thy kindred, and I will deal well with thee."" On which we may remark in passing, that wherever a believer has a clear call in respect of duty, that is, a clear command from God, obedience to which may place him in circumstances which are, or are re- puted to be dangerous, he may regard the command as a ox Jacob's wrestling at peniel .;~)7 warrant to plead for, or to depend on, Divine protection, in the performance of that duty ; or for a favourable issue to himself, whatever the event may be. Lastly, Jacob rests his faith and urges his petition on the special promise ad- dressed to himself, " I will surely do thee good, and make thy seed as the sand of the sea innumerable.'" It is abundantly evident indeed, that, could his faith have fully appreciated and laid hold of this promise, it would have at once eased him of all disquiet, and have enabled him to ex- pect without dismay, the formidable approach of Esau. But natural apprehension mingled itself with the exercise of his faith, and filled him with disquiet. The danger was near, imminent, and evident to sense. The God on whom he relied was unseen, the means by which he might effect the desired protection, unknown. " Deliver me, I pray thee, from the hand of my brother ; for I fear him lest he come and smite me, and the mother, with the children.'" Faith, no doubt, prevailed ; for if it had not, the natural course for fear to have taken would not have been to go forward, but to have immediately fled, or to have returned to the country from whence he came, and to have sought the protection of Laban and his kindred. Yet even in the victory of faith, the strength of nature's fears was shown, by the division of his people, his flocks and herds, into two bands, that, if Esau should come to the one company and smite it, the other might escape. Having arranged and sent off the rich pre sents intended to propitiate his brother, he employed the remainder of that day in sending his family and all his pos- sessions across the ford of the Jabbok, that they might be in readiness for prosecuting their journey on the following morning. This work, which probably, when so many persons and animals had to cross a river, however small, by fording, was one both tedious and difficult, being accom- u ESSAY II. plished, we are told "he was left alone.*" This was, no it, at Lis own desire, and express command : for had it been otherwise, we cannot but suppose that his beloved Rachel, or some one or other of his family, would have pre- ferred remaining with him. They must have felt that it wonld -eem unnatural and unkind to leave him there alone. Nay, as we must suppose that they would fully participate in his apprehensions, we cannot imagine, that at such a time they would willingly have been separated from him. in whom they must have chiefly confided, as their guide, director, and guardian. The purpose, for which he thus caused him- self to be left alone, may be easily inferred. It was that he might more fully, deliberately, and importunately, commend himself and all who were dear to him, to God in prayer. The pleading previously recorded, on which we have made some remarks, -hows that his mind and affections had been to the throne of grace. And thither they would doubtless be ascending through the whole course of the day. But he could not. while so busily engaged, com- mand the composure nece-sary for performing the duty in a manner satisfactory to himself. Besides, he had been ac- customed to be favoured, as we learn from his previous >ry, with direct communications from Jehovah, and special instructions how to act. in important and difficult emergencies. No answer to the petitions oi' this day had vet been received — no intimation of their acceptance, or of the security which he desired. He therefore wished as at Bethel, to hold solitary and undisturbed communication with Jehovah : and he probably expected that, as there. some gracious communication would again be made to him from the God of his fathers. Nor was he disappointed. But the manner in which it was made, must have appeared very mysterious to him: and presents t<» us circumstances ox Jacob's wrestling at peniel. 259 which it is not easy to understand or explain. That the person with whom Jacob conversed and wrestled was God, seems hardly susceptible of doubt, when we attend to his own language in v. 28, " Thou hast power with God and with men. and hast prevailed,1" and to the reason assigned by Jacob for the name which he gave to the place, Peniel or Penuel, the face of God ; " for," said he, " I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved."' The same thing may be inferred from the mysterious wrestler's author- itatively changing Jacob's name, as Jehovah had formerly done that of Abraham. " Thy name shall be no more called Jacob, but Israel." So (xvii. 5.) " Neither shall thy name be any more called Abram ; but thy name shall be Abraham.'1 But nothing can be more inconsistent with the idea of God, as a pure intangible Spirit, filling all space with his presence, than to suppose him to wear a bodily form, of which a man could lay hold, and with which he might wrestle. And if we do conceive him to assume a bodily and tangible shape, it is not easy to reconcile it to our notions of his om- nipotence, that Jacob should successfully resist his efforts, during a whole night, and be acknowledged at last as pre- vailing. These considerations have sometimes led me to imagine, that the term wrestling was here to be understood in a figurative sense, as denoting the exertion of a spiritual energy in prayer, or in other arduous duties ; as when Rachel said " With great wrestlings I have wrestled with my sister, and have prevailed :" or when the apostle warns us, that " we wrestle not against flesh and blood ; but against prin- cipalities and powers.11 So also he speaks of his " striving in prayer," and of believers ;; striving together for the faith of the gospel,11 in which passages, though two different words are employed in the original, both are derived from the same 260 ESSAY II. source, and are expressive of the same determined exertion of strength and skill, as the term used in the passage under consideration. But on deliberately considering the whole of the history before us, it does not appear capable of such a solution. Observe the language of v. 25, '; When he saw that he prevailed not against him, he touched the hollow of his thigh ; and the hollow of Jacob's thigh was out of joint, as he wrestled with him." This was not an effect of spirit- ual wrestling. It was a real corporeal lameness. As he passed over Peniel, " he halted upon his thigh." It was not in memory of a mere figurative wrestling, that the chil- dren of Israel in all after ages, never ate of the sinew which shrank. We must conclude, then, that, while the person with whom Jacob wrestled was God, he was God under a material and substantial human form, of which Jacob laid hold, and by which he was laid hold of in turn, whose limbs were entwined with his, and with which he maintained a real and not a figurative wrestling, till the dawning of the day. It may be alleged, that the prophet Hosea (xii. 4) calls the person who wrestled with Jacob, an angel ; "he had power over the angel and prevailed :"" and that though Jacob called him God, El, he used the term El in that more inde- finite sense, in which it signifies a supernatural agent, — a spiritual being, possessed of powers and faculties more than human. But if we take the whole passage, in which these words occur, we shall see reason for a different conclusion. " By his strength he had power with God : Yea, he had power over the angel and prevailed ; he wept and made sup- plication unto him : he found him in Bethel ; and there he spake with us. Even the Lord (Jehovah) God of hosts, the Lord (Jehovah) is his memorial." This clearly affirms that he, with whom Jacob wrestled at Peniel. is the same whom on Jacob's wrestling at peniel. 261 lie met at Bethel ; and that divine person is declared through the whole history of that meeting to have been Jehovah ; who also afterwards, in the same place, spoke with his peo- ple, even " Jehovah the God of hosts,11 of whom Jehovah is the memorial, the peculiar and exclusive appellation. It may perhaps diminish the difficulty which we at first feel, in admitting this interpretation of the impressive history now before us, if we remember, that, on various other occa- sions in patriarchal times, Jehovah seems to have manifested himself in a human form ; and that not a mere unsubstantial vision, but a real material body. We refer more particular- ly to what is recorded in Genesis xviii. 1, " The Lord ap- peared unto Abraham in the plains of Mamre."" In what manner the Lord appeared, we are informed in v. 2. " Abra- ham lift up his eyes, and lo, three men stood by him." In the next verses, we have Abraham's hospitable invitation of them to his tent, and an account of the feast prepared by him, of which it is said (v. 8) " they did eat.'''' " And they said, Where is Sarah thy wife ! And he said, Behold in the tent. And he said," he of the three who spake, " I will certainly return unto thee according to the time of life, and lo, Sarah thy wife shall have a son" (vv. 9, 10). Then, after having mentioned Sarah's laughter, and the cause of it, the narrative proceeds (v. 18), " and the Lord (Jehovah) said unto Abraham, Wherefore did Sarah laugh f Clearly indicating that one of the three was a personal appearance of Jehovah, in human form : and that this was a substantial human form, the circumstances of his having his feet washed, and partaking of the repast provided, as well as the others, certainly prove. I say these circumstances prove ; for there is no mention of there having been any distinction between him and the two by whom he was accompanied. It is after* wards recorded that they went towards Sodom, while the 262 ESSAY II. Lord remained to commune with Abraham. And Abraham having now discovered the high dignity of the person who had condescended so to visit him, proceeded with earnestness, but with the humility becoming a man and a mortal, to address Him on behalf of the guilty and miserable inhabi- tants of the plain, vv. 23-25. The appeal to him as " The Judge of all the earth,'1 shows that the patriarch considered himself as speaking to the Most High ; which appears also in his language in vv. 27, 81, 32. finally, it is added in v. 33, " and the Lord (Jehovah) went his way, as soon as he had left communing with Abraham." Here, then, is an in- stance particularly narrated in which the Supreme God, he whose being fills infinity, did appear in a real material hu- man form, possessing, to all appearance, the ordinary attri- butes of such a form. And in a like form, we apprehend, were made all those appearances of Jehovah, which are re- corded in the early part of the Scripture history. However revolting, therefore, it may at first seem to our notions of the Deity, there appears to be no reason why the same divine person, whose feet were washed at Abraham's tent, who ate, who drank, and who conversed with the Patriarch, but to whom, in the end, the latter offered prayer and worship, might not lay hold on the person of Jacob ; or why Jacob, while ignorant of his power and dignity, which it pleased him to disguise under the semblance of a fellow-mortal, might not wrestle with him, as if he had been such a creature, whom he might at first have suspected of a design to overpower him when alone, and in the night, for some sinister purpose. Such being the conclusion to which we are led from the examination of the passage, of the inspired reference to it, and the statement of the fact related in it, found in the pro- phecy of Hosea, as also from the account given us of other appearances of Jehovah in the early ages of the world, we ox Jacob's whestling at peniel. 263 have reason to infer, that this and similar manifestations of the Deity were anticipated manifestations in the flesh, of Him, who, in the fulness of the time, was " made flesh," and dwelt among us " God manifest in the flesh ;" and that one great purpose of this manifestation was, in like manner, to unfold more clearly to the patriarch, and to his posterity, and through them to others, the gracious and condescending character of Jehovah. It was he, then, who, from the be- ginning took the form of his Father's messenger or angel, to make known his own and his Father's pleasure to the heirs of salvation. He, therefore, is the angel of whom the dying Israel spake, " the Angel, which redeemed me from all evil" (xlviii. 16) ; and to whom, as a divine person, he prayed for his grandsons, " the Angel, which redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads !" nay, whom in the same petition he acknow- ledges as " God, before whom his fathers Abraham and Isaac walked, the God which led me all my life long, unto this day." " God, before whom my fathers Abraham and Isaac did walk, the God which fed me all my life long, unto this day, the angel which redeemed me from all evil, bless the lad." He also then, we may observe, is the A ngel or mes- senger of the covenant, spoken of by Malachi (iii. 1) ; and by him likewise denominated Jehovah : " The Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple, even the messenger of the covenant, whom ye delight in : behold He shall come, saith the Lord of Hosts." The same divine person is also doubtless the subject of Isaiah's grateful acknowledgment (lxiii. 9), " In all their affliction he was afflicted, and the Angel of his presence" the Angel, in whom he was present, " saved them, and he bare them, and carried them all the days of old." Ainsworth indeed asserts that, according to the ancient Jewish Rabbies, the person who wrestled with Jacob, was the Messiah. ESSAY II. Now, if it be thus established that the Infinite and Su- preme was accustomed to manifest himself, in the early ages of time, under a bodily form, not only visible and audible, but real and tangible ; and if this was the same divine person, who was afterwards " made flesh, and dwelt among us,1' and who manifested " his glory, the glory as of the only begotten Son of God ;" it may be asked what was that bodily form, and whence came it I Was it created with the commence- ment of creation, to walk in the shades of Paradise, and to hold converse there with the first parents of our race ? Was it the pattern in the image of which, their corporeal frame was constructed ; as their souls were in the likeness of the Divine mind, " in knowledge, and righteousness, and true holiness V Or was that form only a temporary vehicle, assumed on par- ticular occasions, and cast away, when these were past ? * ^Jfr -Tjt T^ -$K 3f ^ Whatever may be in this conjecture, the omnipotence of God can furnish a ready solution of any difficulty arising from the appearance, or disappearance, of the visible and tangible frame, in which he was pleased, from time to time, to speak and act. He who formed from the dust of the ground the material person of the first man, could easily from the same element, in any place and at any time, rear up a visible form of the same nature and likeness, with all necessary adjuncts, to serve as the temporary vehicle, in which he might manifest himself, if he saw cause ; and could as easily return it into the same element again, when its purpose had been served. But whatever, and whencesoever, that material form was, in which God appeared to Jacob at Peniel, and wrestled * A long paragraph follows upon the topics suggested in these questions. It is omitted, because the idea, which the writer chiefly illustrates, is, as he himself states, only " conjecture." on Jacob's wrestling at peniel. 265 with him, for what purpose did a manifestation so peculiar, and, in some of its circumstances, so inconsistent with our ordinary ideas of the Deity, take place \ Why did this form, animated by Jehovah himself, struggle for hours through the darkness of the night, with the man Jacob, and suffer itself to be successfully withstood by him ? Before proceeding to reply, we may premise, that the learned in the Hebrew tongue, say that the word rendered wrestled, is peculiar, and found only in the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth verses of this passage. Buxtorff derives it with sufficient probability, from a term which signifies dust : " quoad," he says, "hoc, luctari, in pulvere fieret. " Unde," he adds, " apud Virgilium, fulva luctantur arena." The Septuagint renders the word by 7ra\aico of precisely the same import. In short there seems to be no difference of opinion, among translators or lexicographers, as to wrestled and wrestling, being the proper interpretation of the original ; fixing us down to that sense of the term, which we have observed, we find so difficult to be reconciled to our usual ideas of the Deity. In answering our question, then, I would remark, I. That it appears to have been intended for the trial and exercise of the faith of Jacob, — perhaps for the correc- tion of his fault. When the patriarch, about to proceed to his intended acts of prayer and supplication, was unexpectedly laid hold of by an unknown adversary, who endeavoured to put him down and get above him, for the purpose, he might reason- ably suspect of taking his life, or making him a captive, or at least of plundering him of any thing valuable he might have about him, his purposed duties were interrupted and prevented. It is probable that in the course of the pro- tracted struggle, he might expostulate with his mysterious ESSAY II. and persevering ani _ st, telling him for what purpose he e remained alone, and begging - permitted to follow out his bjeet. We doubt not, t heart won! I ts to God, not only leliver hi evil whi feher : but from this, a- he won! 1 esteem it. new and un- locked for evil. H> si earnestness in prayer were thus, perhaps, m< si _. tried and called forth, than if he had been permitted * liately in his in- tend tions. He was m I feel more deeply than ever his dependence ( .h\s aid and countenance, and at them. And when he was at last rosly made known, the _ ~ . for fat re confidence, the most animating motive - I future g titnde. were presented dm. How the disco v< - of ] nent - we may stance p .ticularly mention-. :i would immediately that bis bein£ 5 1 b success - not _ : at of pow - b i ance and com- -- For when by simply touching the hollow of Jacob's fehi^ . I lisabled the strongest ly have paralysed or ren- - . had ... aily have effect any extent then in hands whi h I bun, but - 5 nee too of th person who h; ^ht rise on 3 the day beg - ger, as if wes t go, ON JACOlTs WRESTLING AT PENIEL. 267 Jacob, impressed with the belief that it was his God who was with him, and encouraged by the kind forbearance which he had experienced, replied, " I will not let thee go, except thou bless me ! " His language showed how earnest he was to obtain that blessing, and also that he had now ascertained who it was that had treated him with such con- descension : for had he looked upon him merely as a fellow- mortal, whom he could detain by strength of arm, he would not have thought his blessing of much importance. And a witness of the struggle and its sequel, who could not be mistaken as to what actually took place, the Holy Ghost, by the prophet Hosea, in language already quoted, shows us that he detained " the Angel," " the Lord God of Hosts," not by mere bodily compulsion, but by prayers and tears ; " He wept and made supplication unto him." — We may add, that the situation in which Jacob was left, would con- strain him to more single and entire dependence upon God's protection. For, though his lameness did not altogether incapacitate him for walking, it must have rendered him in- capable of defending himself against Esau by doing battle, or of escaping from him by flight. God alone, then, was now his refuge. But on God, he had received special en- couragement to rely. Before leaving this part of the subject, I may remark that the argument used by the divine wrestler, to induce Jacob to let him go, — " let me go, for the day breaketh," — seems to me misunderstood by some commentators. They suppose that the speaker urged it on his own account, because he was unwilling to be seen by Jacob in open day, so as to allow the latter to distinguish the lineaments of his face. And in confirmation of this idea, they quote such texts as these, " the Lord hath said that he would dwell in the thick darkness ;" he " dwcllcth in light that is inaccessible 268 ESSAY II. and full of glory ,"and therefore, they infer, that it was his unwillingness to let Jacob behold him more clearly that brought forth this consideration. For this supposition, how- ever, there seems little ground. No such anxiety to conceal his face or person, was displayed by the holy person who conversed with Abraham, on the occasion already mentioned, and on various occasions narrated in these primeval histories. Had there been any thing in the supposition now referred to, Jehovah would have been equally unwilling to permit himself to be seen at those times, as at this. The argument, on the contrary, was taken from Jacob's circumstances. It was as if the speaker had said, " I am now willing to let thee go : " (for that is necessarily implied in his requesting Jacob to quit hold of him.) " I am now willing to let thee " go, so let me go : for the morning already riseth ; thou " hast much to do on this momentous day — to see that all " the arrangements yesterday appointed, may be properly " carried into effect, to prepare thyself and all who are with " thee for encountering Esau and his troop. Thy family " will be in despair, if thou do not quickly appear among " them. They will think that either some fatal accident " has befallen thee, or that thou hast forsaken them in the 4* night, to flee thyself to Isaac for protection, some other " way, leaving them to the fury of thy brother. Up then, " let me go, and hasten to the encampment of thy family. " Thou hast the less need to tarry ; as the disabling of thy " limb will render thee less capable of advancing speedily." These considerations might not be urged, totidem verbis, by the speaker ; but they could hardly fail to throng in on Jacob's mind, when he was reminded of the approach of day. And He, who made the suggestion, was fully aware of the effect it would produce. He knoweth what is in man. It was thus an additional trial of the faith and prayer- on Jacob's wrestling at peniel. 269 ful spirit of Israel. Had he listened only to natural reason, he might have argued : " True it is time I were across the " Jabbok, to attend to my numerous and important con- " cerns there. So, since I am released, let me not lose " another moment.'1 But faith replied, " No ; I have now " an opportunity which I may never have again — I have " something more precious to ask and obtain, than all that " my care or presence in the camp, could do. I will not, I " cannot let my God go, except he bless me ! " He held fast the sacred form which he had been permitted to enfold, when ignorant of what it was ; and which, had he known whose presence it bore, he would not have dared to make one motion to oppose. But he had been allowed to wrestle with it all night, and still he lived : nay, it addressed him in friendly accents. To part without its blessing, without some token of the favour of Him who dwelt in it, he could not consent. He retained his grasp : he added tears and entreaties to corporeal efforts ; and his importunacy was not in vain. I have said, perhaps this mysterious occurrence had partly for its object, to correct a fault in Jacob. With much pro- priety he had retired, after sending his family and flocks across the river, to spend some time in earnestly imploring divine guidance and protection. But this he ought to have done with much solemnity and care, before he began his journey. It is not said that he did not : but there is rather reason to think that, from the hasty manner in which his departure from Charran was determined upon, and carried into effect, he had not attended to this duty. If so, with what poignant self-reproach may we suppose him to have been filled, when, on proceeding to the devotions which he contemplated, he found himself suddenly seized by an un- known, and he might imagine, a dangerous adversary. " I 270 ESSAY II. " neglected this duty, when I had time and opportunity " to perform it. I was so full of my earthly cares, that I " forgot my dependence on my heavenly Father, without " whose blessing all my zeal and exertions about them are " vain. And now, when I would embrace this last and " only opportunity of performing it, and when I am in cir- " cumstances rendering it so urgently necessary, this strange " and unexpected adversary, this new and unthought of " danger, deprives me of the power ! How justly am I " punished for my worldly-minded haste ! The Lord for- " give, and spare me ! and deliver me from this obstinate " interrupter !" And when he began at last to surmise who it was, that had permitted him to contend with him, how much more deeply would the thought sting his conscience ! " Is it Jehovah himself, who hath thus forcibly prevented " the intended performance of my devotions ! How dis- " pleased has He been at my omission, since he will not " suffer me to repair it now !" Thus, while the forbearance of the Lord in permitting him to struggle so long in the mysterious conflict, gave him encouragement to implore, with an earnestness that would take no denial, his all-im- portant blessing, the obstacle which that same Lord placed in the way of his fulfilling his intended duty, would make him feel more contritely the guilt and presumption of his former negligence. Hence he not only prayed, but wept : he poured forth the tears of deep repentance, as well as the supplications of intense desire. But, II. We apprehend that this marvellous occurrence was intended to afford to the patriarch, and to all who read his history, encouragement to persevering importunity in prayer. Scoffers have said, that it is to represent God, in a man- ner unworthy of him, to speak of him as requiring importu- ON JACOBUS WRESTLING AT PENIEL. ^rl nate entreaties to obtain any favour of him, or as being at all moved by the frequency and pertinacity of our suits. They say that, if he see any thing to be necessary for us, his goodness will move him to give it whether we ask for it or not ; and that he is neither like the vain man of wealth or power, who is gratified by seeing a number of suppliants continually waiting on him ; nor like the weak man, who, to rid himself of trouble, concedes to the importunities of those who apply to him, what he would not grant sponta- neously, or on a simple request. Yet surely both the in- structions of divine wisdom, and the example of the saint*, alike recommend the practice. Jesus himself said much to enforce it. By the success of the widow's reiterated entrea- ties to the unjust and godless judge ; — by the prevailing importunity of the friend, who went at midnight to borrow three loaves of his reluctant neighbour ; — by the respect which he himself paid to the unrelaxing urgency of the Sy- rophenician woman ; — by such injunctions from his Spirit as these, " continue instant in prayer," — " pray without ceas- ing,"— " in every thing, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, make your requests known unto God," — he holds up the character of the persevering and importunate worshipper, as one that is peculiarly acceptable to God, and peculiarly becoming in his people. But as whatever he re- quires must be supported by sound reason (though that rea- son, we must at the same time remember, may not always lie within our ken), it may not be impossible to assign con- siderations to show that importunity in prayer is as decidedly recommended by reason, as it is expressly enjoined by reve- lation. Regarding the Almighty, then, as perfectly ac- quainted with the whole character and condition of his rational creatures, and therefore beholding, with the clearest intuition, the utter unimportance to immortal creatures of this 272 ESSAY II. life and world, considered in themselves, and their infinite importance, considered as the state and period of introduc- tion to eternity ; we must be sensible that what it chiefly became him to enjoin upon us, and what we have reason to believe he will chiefly require, is what may tend best and most effectually to prepare us for the happiness of the immortal state. It is not to the transitory hour, that he chiefly looks, but to its results in the long eternity which en- sues. This being the case, it follows that, to bring our minds to a right state, to establish in them good affections, and to inure them to sound habits, must be the objects which he will keep in his eye, in all the moral practices, or religious duties which he may prescribe. In this respect, it must be of prime importance that we be imbued with just views, impressions, and feelings, with regard to himself. For of all beings in the universe, he is to us, and to all others, the most important. Our whole existence and well-being con- tinually depend upon him. To him we owe wdiatever is useful and distinguished among our faculties, whatever is de- sirable in our state : so that, if any benefit or series of bene- fits, which we receive from our fellow creature, entitles him to our gratitude and affection, that is only a reason, why we should feel ourselves more highly indebted to God. For who gave being to that fellow- creature ? who endowed him with the disposition to befriend us l who furnished him with the talents, or the gifts of fortune, which have enabled him to do us good ? — Considering the Deity, too, as the great Father of the moral universe, nothing can be of greater mo- ment to the right affections and conduct of every member of this vast family, than that each of them should feel and act towards him on all occasions, as they ought. When he is forgotten, — his will, as the supreme rule of all that is wise and good, not respected, — his favour, as that which alone ox Jacob's wrestling at peniel. 273 can secure their real and lasting welfare, not sought and secured, — his displeasure, as necessarily inferring the ruin and wretchedness of all against whom it is put forth, not deprecated and shunned, — nothing can be right, or safe, or happy. For if he is wise and just and good, there is a cer- tain moral order and course of things, in the worlds both of sentiment and action, which alone can accord with his good- ness, justice, and wisdom : whatever is in opposition to this, all these attributes will make him thwart, disappoint, and punish. His benevolence itself will require him to oppose and destroy all those, whose reckless wilful selfishness would subvert that order, and consequently defeat all the good which it is intended to secure, and introduce many evils, which it has been established to prevent. Yet notwithstanding the almost intuitive truth and cer- tainty of what we now affirm, what considerations are there, that are actually less present to the minds of the majority of men ? what, that have less influence over the actual state of their minds, or the conduct of their lives 2 How many are there, in whose thoughts, it may be said without hyperbole, that God is not at all \ Even though his name may be sometimes on their lips, implying, of course, a recognition that there is a being so denominated, does any reflection on what he is, or on their own relation to him, accompany the wTord I No ; they are as little determined what to do, or not to do, by the thought of his existence, as if he were not, cr had nothing to do with men. — Now the usual state of the minds of such men, is that, I fear, to which the minds of all are prone. We are all looking to things which are seen. These are the whole immediate objects of our know- ledge— the immediate objects, too, of all our natural plea- sures and pains. They therefore naturally engross our ex- clusive attention. An effort of reflection and abstraction is &74 ESSAY II. required to withdraw attention from them, and fix it on things unseen : and if attention to the latter be of a nature to cheek, or to mingle with disquieting and remorseful feel- ings, our attention to the more natural and immediate ob- jects of our desire and pursuit, we fear our minds will be but little disposed to withdraw themselves from the in- fluence of the seen, to place themselves under that of the unseen. We need not say, ice fear. We all know it to be the fact. Who in truth do more readily acknowledge it, or so deeply lament it, as those very individuals who have most attained the power of living under the influence of things unseen, and are thereby most raised above the seduc- tion and command of their opposites I Even they feel that the natural habits and propensities of their minds are much, far too much, towards this visible and transitory ; and that all their vigilance and efforts cannot retain them sufficiently within the sphere of the higher influences, under the government of which they wish their hearts and lives to be. — Now of all the means that we can suppose to be employ- ed to make on the minds of men a due impression of things unseen, and especially of Him who is the greatest and most important of them all, what can act so powerfully as the prac- tice of frequent and habitual prayer \ This does, as it were, compel the soul to recognize his intimate presence with it — its entire dependence on him, — and continual accountable- ness to him. It makes us feel that with every faculty he hath endowed us, that every good thing he hath given us, and that no faculty can be well employed, but in subserviency to his will, no blessing legitimately enjoyed, but agreeably to his permission. And what a powerful moral influence must it have over a rational agent, to be thus brought to feel ha- bitually his intimate presence with, and accountableuess to, a Being of moral excellence the most consummate and pure ! ox Jacob's wrestling at peniel. 875 While this consideration serves strongly to recommend the practice of frequent devotion in general ; the tendency of frequent and importunate petitioning, in particular, to confirm and increase the feeling of dependence, will point it out as highly useful and indispensably necessary. Every view of our condition, whether as connected with a present or a future world, is marked by dependence on God : and from his irresistible control, nothing that pertains to our in- terests in either, can be exempt. There should seem to be nothing, therefore, concerning which our impressions ought to be more constant and operative than this. Yet is it not lamentably true, that in most minds it is wholly wanting, and in more still altogether inefficient ? When this is the case, there can be no true appreciation, or just feeling of the relation, in which men stand to God. Nay, that relation, in its most important and essential feature, is entirely over- looked. And to this may be traced almost all the practical ungodliness that exists in the world. For the insensibility of men to their dependence on God, makes them incapable of almost every other feeling of which he ought to be the object. It must prevent gratitude : for how can a man be grateful to a being on whom he feels no dependence ; and to whom, therefore, he can also feel no obligation I It must extinguish the desire to please him : for to what purpose try to forego our own pleasure, to gratify one on whom we feel no dependence, and to whom we own no obligations. It will equally put an end to all feelings of contrition for of- fending him, and will effectually restrain prayer before him. It will, in short, practically annihilate God to the soul : so that he, who is under it, whatever he may profess to be in theory, will be virtually " without God in the world.11 As the most powerful corrective of this evil, to which the minds of all have a native proneness, God has prescribed to 216 ESS A! I us not only prayer, but frequent, constant and importunate prayer. He seems even to make it a condition on which is suspended, in all ordinary cases, the bestowment, enjoyment? and continuance of the most precious spiritual blessings. (When we speak of it, in this light, we are to be under- stood to regard it, not as a condition of merit, but of instru- mentality.) In this case, as in all others, God adapts the operation of the means he employs, to the nature and defects of those whose benefit he contemplates. Were he to confer spiritual benefits, or even providential favours on his people, without their asking them, they might be apt to regard these blessings as coming to them, merely in that ordinary course of things ; for which, as not having been established for their special benefit, they might be apt to think they were under no special obligation. Or were the benefits required, to be easily conceded, on the first request, they might be led to presume on the facility of the giver, to value his gifts less than they ought, or to imagine there was some virtue in their petitions, which commanded divine approba- tion and interposition. God, by requiring them to " inquire of" Him for even those things which he has most explicitly promised, makes them to know their dependence : by with- holding them till long and importunately asked, he renders the feeling deep and powerful. We become thus at once more sensible of the value of his benefactions, and of their being wholly the effects of his bounty, for which we are de- pendent on solely his good pleasure. Importunate prayer, too, is often necessary, in order to bring our minds into a proper state for receiving and rightly improving the gifts of God. Our understandings and con- sciences, from our opportunities of consulting the Word of God itself, and from other means of instruction, are often en- lightened as to the mere knowledge and acknowledgement ux Jacob's wrestling at pf.niel. 277 of what is good, in a degree to which the desires of our hearts by no means correspond. I fear, therefore, that our prayers are often rather the asking of what we know to be right, or what we have learnt we ought to ask, than the petitions of souls really impressed with a sense of their necessities, and hungering and thirsting after righteousness. This, I fear, blasts many of our prayers with barrenness. They are dic- tated by knowledge not by feeling. Considered in them- selves, they may be good and appropriate : but they are the artificial product of ratiocination, rather than the genuine fruit of intense desire. And how must he wTho searches the hearts, and who regards chiefly the homage of the heart, re- gard such prayers ? Here he beholds creatures going over a train of petitions for blessings of the most inestimable nature, and expressed in language adapted to the utmost earnestness of intreaty ; while he also beholds the ideas of those bless- ings passing through the mind without any warmth of desire being excited by them, nay perhaps, without any becoming effort, on the part of the understanding, to apprehend them clearly ; and the most appropriate expressions of urgency and longing are framed and poured forth, where neither longing nor urgency has been felt. How must such prayers appear in the eyes of him, to whom they are addressed I Must it not be as almost a tissue of lies I In each petition we say we long, we desire, we thirst, while we neither thirst, nor desire, nor long : and all this must be to him the worse, be- cause the things expressed in these petitions are truly worthy to be longed and thirsted for, with the utmost intensity of desire. If there were not at bottom, such convictions of the value and necessity of those objects, as to produce some wish to have them, such prayers, indeed, would be utter abomina- tion in the sight of God : for we can conceive no position more offensive to him, than when a rational creature stands 278 ESSAY II. up, or kneels down in his presence, to ask in the words of humble and earnest request, invaluable blessings : while, for these, the presumptuous creature has no desire at all. It combines insult to the omniscience of God, with contemptu- ous disregard of his gifts, even while pretended to be esteem- ed and sought. Bat even where there is that kind of sin- cerity, which is produced by the convictions of the under- standing that certain things are good and useful, though we are conscious of no real appetency towards them, it is not fit that the blessings asked should be sensibly bestowed, till there be awakened some ardour of feeling, some true and abiding earnestness of desire after them. Now, what can be better adapted to awaken this, than that the believer should be required daily and habitually to keep these blessings be- fore his mind, in prayer \ It is in the immediate presence of God, that he will most clearly perceive his need of them, and that his desire after them, therefore, is most likely to be quickened. His Maker's " bearing long" with his requests, without seeming to answer them, while he is made, at the same time, to see more and more the excellence and necessity of their objects, will serve to imprint on his soul that sense of need, which transient impressions, and occasional convic- tions fail to produce. The habit of constant and frequent prayer, must strongly contribute to preserve, in particular, that sense of dependence which corresponds to the whole reality of our condition ; and which so soon as we forget or cease to feel, we wholly forget both what we really are, and what becomes us. With a just feeling of our dependence, is naturally connected grati- tude for all the good things, which he on whom we depend, bestows, — a solicitude to please him, and to use his benefits aright, that he may not be provoked to Avithhold, or to take them away, — a reliance on him alone, as the source of all ox Jacob's wrestling at peniel. 279 good, — and that humility, which is so suitable to our con- dition, and which nothing can so thoroughly produce, as the conviction aud feeling of our own emptiness and nothingness, our entire, absolute, and continual dependence upon God. God's requiring importunity in prayer, also exercises faith, and enforces submission to his will, and deniedness to our own. And all these graces, too, are intimately connected with the just perception and feeling of our dependence. — It is moreover an important truth, that in the case of moral and spiritual blessings, sincere desire after them is the same, or nearly the same, with the possession of them. He, for example, who truly desires to be devout, humble, just, true, benevolent, and the like, will be so in proportion as the graces implied in these terms, are truly the objects of his desire. Now, if prayer, in general, be in this point of view eminently useful, as serving not only to express desire for the graces of the Spirit, but to call them forth and strengthen them, importunate prayer, in proportion to its continuance and energy, must more completely and powerfully promote the same effects. Hence, not only the commands and ex- amples of importunity in prayer, with which we often meet in Scripture, but the manifestations of God's complacency towards it, and his delight in it. He marks it with pleasure in his saints as a fruit of the spirit of grace and supplications, and an evidence, in every case in which it is directed to its proper objects, that the love of what is good is making pro- gress in the soul, that is, that the soul itself is advancing in goodness. Now, the history of Jacob at Peniel gives the most di- rect and animating encouragement to importunate prayer. The human person in which Jehovah dwelt, though he con- vinced him by a single touch, that he could instantly have annihilated his strength, permitted him to wrestle with him, 280 ESSAY 11. from night till day-dawn. Nay, even alter that proof of the power of the one and the feebleness of the other, the former permitted the latter to hold him fast, and not to let him go, till he obtained a blessing : till his struggles, his tears, and supplications received a gracious answer. And though the painful effect of the touch of power was permitted to remain, at least for a time, yet when connected with the assurances that accompanied it, and the happy issue of the whole extraordi- nary occasion, in the pacifying of Esau, and his being recall- ed to fraternal feeling and deportment, it was a memorial to Jacob of that for which he had perhaps more cause to be grateful, than for anything that had ever occurred to him in life, rather than a ground of regret or humiliation. Even as Paul's thorn in the flesh, by the importunity of prayer which it produced, was the means of obtaining for him that declaration, far more valuable to himself, and infinitely more precious to the church of Christ, than any personal delive- rance of the kind entreated for, however prompt, however complete, could by any means have been, — " My grace is sufficient for thee ; for my strength is made perfect in weak- ESSAY III. REVIEW OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCE IN SEVERE AND PROTRACTED SICKNESS. I need not inform the kind friends around me, that, in the course of two years past, I have felt much bodily weakness, and have been conversant, in no small degree, with bodily suffering. With that weakness and suffering they have kindly sympathized ; and to them and others I have been much indebted for alleviating its burdens, by their season- able assistance, as well as for other pleasing testimonies of their condolence. There were times, I have reason to be- lieve, when my situation appeared to those who should have been best able to judge of it, more probably about to issue in my dissolution than my recovery, and when, to my own sensations, nature seemed so exhausted within me, as scarcely to be capable of any further struggle. It has pleased the wise and gracious disposer of all things, to disappoint the apprehensions of my friends, and to restore, in a great mea- sure, the vigour, which I was more than once ready to think had gone from me for ever. To those who receive the Scriptural and Christian doc- trine of Providence, there can be no doubt that an afflictive dispensation, so long continued, and so varied in its forms, was intended for some wise and good purpose, and ought to have been followed in me with some beneficial effects, both of correction and of instruction in righteousness. It ought 282 ESSAY iir. to have been productive of a more exact self-knowledge, and of a truer estimate of the value of religion, as compared with objects which compete with it in the heart. In moments of solitude and meditation, I have therefore sometimes set myself to gather up and bring together the results of my experience in the season of discipline. And I have imagined, that it might not be uninteresting or un- edifying to this meeting, to state to it some of the particu- lars with which my own mind has been most impressed in the review. That it may not be uninteresting, I infer not merely from the partiality which all of you have been pleased to show to me, but from the concern with which you must regard every thing that tends to illustrate the moral condi- tion of our species, especially in respect to religious subjects. That it may not be unedifying. I do not conclude from a vain idea that there has been, in my experience, any thing peculiarly instructive, or that there is likely to be, in my manner of exhibiting it. any peculiar felicity or skill ; but from the consideration that, as all are liable to suffer, the like trial may befal one or other of my hearers as well as myself; and that, therefore, it cannot be useless to learn what has been felt, in such circumstances, by a fellow-crea- ture, compassed with like infirmities. In what follows, however, I do not intend, by any means, to enumerate all the particulars on which it has been the duty of conscience to fix as matter of humiliation and self-reproach, or on which gratitude has been called to dwell as subject of admiration and thanksgiving. It may be readily conceived, that this could not be done in such an address as this, without draw- ing it out to an intolerable length. Besides, it may often be more expedient to conceal than to uncover some parts of the picture presented to the self-reviewing eye ; for probably there is evil rather than good in laying bare all the darkness EXPERIENCE IN' SICKNESS. and perverseness of depravity. If, on the one hand, the just exhibition of it might be supposed useful in affording warn- ing, or exciting abhorrence, there is danger on the other of its communicating infection. The contemplation of it may shock, but it may also taint. I. In the first place, and in general, the persons who com- pose this meeting will naturally expect that, when a fellow Christian has suffered long and much, the effect of it should be, to increase in his esteem the value of religion 5 — to pro- duce a deeper conviction of its truths, and a more lively feel- ing of the preciousness of its consolations. Something of this, I trust, I can truly say that I have experienced. I have more sensibly felt, how invaluable a privilege it is to have a resting-place, on which the mind can firmly set itself, when all the ordinary means of support and comfort fail : and I have had more deep conviction of the wretchedness of that condition, in which a man has nothing to rely on, nothing to which he can cling, but objects which every moment is wresting from him ; and which, though he could retain them, would be of no avail to him in that state, to which the pro- cess of mortality is hurrying him along. Oh ! how bereft is he, who, when friends, possessions, honours, must all inevi- tably be left behind, has no good thing of which he can say, " This cannot be torn from me. It shall attend me to the '; unknown world ; and continue to bless me there.'', I think that, in particular, I have never so strongly felt the infinite importance of the doctrine of the atonement to the peace of a sinner's mind, in the prospect of judgment and eternity. Its importance, indeed, can never be doubtful to any one, who has been at all convinced of sin and righteous- ness,— of the demerit of the one, and the necessity of the other. But while a man's strength is firm, and his great 284 EhSAr III. change seems remote, the perilous condition of a soul, with nothing but its own worthiness to recommend it to God, comes not so forcibly to the feelings and the conscience. When one at his ease compares himself with others, or with what he knows himself to have been in former periods, he may be apt to flatter himself that there is something in him not so much amiss. But when the thought is impressed upon him, " Within a few hours, or days at most, I am to " appear in the immediate presence of the heart-searching, " the just, and the infinitely holy God, and am to have ap- " plied to me the spotless standard of his own purity,'1 — how are all the fond visions of his self-complacency utterly dispersed ! how consciously naked does he find himself ! how completely stripped of every thing, on which even his own eye, with such a prospect opening to it, can bear to look ' The best that has been about him, in sentiment or practice, he sees now to be so deficient, that he can hardly even dare to reckon it the fruit of the Spirit, and an evidence of his re- lation to Christ ; far less, then, can he view it as the ground of his acceptance, or as affording him a claim on the justice of his Maker. O how irresistible at such a moment is the conviction, that he has but one plea to hold up to his Judge, in bar of eternal reprobation, — the sufferings of the " Lamb of God ;" but one refuge from sure and just destruction, — the " Man, who is as an hiding-place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest ;" but one title to favour and a blessing, — the " everlasting righteousness,"'1 which Messiah has brought in ; but one ground of hope, — the assurance that " God so loved the world, as to give his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him might not perish, but have everlasting life ;" but one way of access to the realms of bliss, — the " new and living way, which Christ has conse- crated for us, through his flesh.11 At such a time, too, if EXPERIENCE IN SICKNESS. ^85 ever a concern about an interest in the Saviour has ap- peared to be a matter that might safely be postponed for a season, till some other thing that the corrupt heart pursued as more immediately desirable, had been ascertained or en- joyed, how instantaneously is all this vain dream dispelled ! Of what momentous weight, of what immeasurable worth, does the " one thing needful" then appear ! Could such im- pressions last, all things else would not merely be counted as loss and dung in the deliberate judgment of the under- standing, but would seem utterly contemptible to the imagi- nation itself, though, in spite of the convictions of the intel- lect, it is so easily dazzled by the fugitive glare of worldly vanities, — and prove tastless and loathsome even to the heart, whose passions these often so intemperately inflame, and so exclusively engross ! Nor is it merely as an individual, that I ought to im- prove by the discipline with which I have been favoured. Its lessons should give additional weight and fervour to my instructions as a minister of Christ. I can now with greater confidence speak to my fellow-creatures, and especially to the afflicted, of the necessity of resources, higher than nature can afford, to impart substantial peace ; and of the inexpres- sible comfort to be derived from the views which the gospel presents, of the character and dispensations of God ; while I can hold them up as matters, not only of belief or testi- mony the most credible, and of conviction from argument the most conclusive, but of personal feeling and experience. Perhaps I cannot better represent the strong impressions, which in those circumstances, I had on such subjects, than by relating what was presented to my imagination, with almost the distinctness of a vision. As I lay, about dawn one morning while at Cupar last summer, in a state not un- common to the sick, neither soundly asleep, nor fully awake, 286 ESSAY IIT. with my mind unsteadily and interruptedly wandering over the topics to which I have been referring, I imagined myself seated, somewhat near my father-in-law's house, with the usual scene of fields, buildings, and enclosures before me. In a moment, the whole face of the earth began to sink ; and, to the most distant horizon, woods, and farms, and valleys, and hills, were quickly merged from view : while, on every side, I beheld nothing but a dark and fathomless abyss, in which there could be but obscurely discerned only huge volumes of smoke or dust, rolling far beneath. In the meantime I sat secure, and looked on undismayed ; for I felt under me an adamantine pillar, standing erect amidst the universal abolishment. It remained firm ; and I had full confidence that it was immoveable. — As waking con- sciousness began to prevail, and I became sensible where I really was, my pillar seemed still to be in view. And so lively was my idea of its form and appearance, that, were I a painter, I could at this moment delineate it. " Christ and the world," I said to myself; " the world and Christ.11 Such was one part of my perceptions, convictions, and feelings, in the season to which I now look back. But, on the other hand, I have to acknowledge that there were in it times at which my mind lay helpless, in all the impotency of doubt and darkness, as to every object of religious belief or expectation. I say the impotency of doubt ; for, in such a state, the mind is as a person projected into intangible and illimitable space, without one fixed or solid object within reach or view. There, of what avail were the strength of Samson, though united with the most consummate skill, and energetic activity, and indefatigable perseverance, in the exertion of it. Strength, with nothing on which to fasten its grasp ; activity, without a stable object from which to put itself forth, were as powerless as new-born infancy, or EXPERIENCE IN SICKNESS. 287 nerveless age, at its dying gasp. And thus it is in the in- tellectual world, in those helpless moments when all seems shadowy and uncertain, — when the mind, distrustful of it- self, questions every argument on which it has built opinion, and every conclusion from which it has drawn confidence or hope. I do not at present speak of that kind of hesitation and darkness in which a man, while he admits the truth of what conscience suggests, and Revelation affirms, is fearful about the future condition of his soul ; and the more fearful, because deeply impressed with the certainty of a judgment to come, and of the retribution following ; — but of that yet darker and more widely spreading doubt which casts a cover- ing of uncertainty over every object of speculation, and obli- terates every line of truth ; — which is unsure, not only as to the particular doctrines, but the existence of a Revela- tion ; — nay, as to the attributes, the character, and even the being of its Author ; — as to the immortality and account- ableness, nay, the distinct essence of the mind itself ! Such was the darkness which sometimes came over my spirit at those hours when, apparently sympathizing with the ex- hausted body, the one became as powerless in the grasp and application of truth, as the other in the ordinary exertions of strength. Hume talks of escaping from the conflict of opposing dogmata, into the obscure but quiet regions of scepticism. I felt all their obscurity : but of their tranquillity I know nothing. Such a state of mind, according to my experience at least, is one of the most uneasy that can be conceived ; and, to one who has enjoyed the comfort of distinct and cer- tain views respecting the highest and most important objects which can awaken human concern, is peculiarly distressing. I do not mean, as exciting in him a dread of the doom pro- nounced on unbelief by Jesus Christ : for that, to say the 288 ESSAY III. least, appears, at such a time, no less uncertain than all the other matters of Revelation ; and is but a small item, among the vast mass of things once reputed substantial and sure, which then seem attenuated into shadows, or shrouded up in darkness. It is because his mind, in such a condition, is deprived of all confidence, not only as to its own state and prospects, but as to the interests and relations of all his fel- low beings, — as to the world at large, and the great uni- verse itself. For nature, and nature's laws, whether as to morals or matter, seem then equally unfixed, with all the other subjects of his thought ; and no assurance remains to him of the perpetuity of any thing that is good, no likely prospect of the permanent amelioration of the character and circumstances of man. All is then truly left to the whirl- ing vortices and fortuitous concourse of Epicurean atoms. Not only the individual himself who has sunk into such a frame, but the mighty whole around him, is as a frail bark, driven far on a boundless sea, without chart or compass, without sail or rudder, without sun or star, the mere sport of every gale ; while there is an utter uncertainty whether it may continue to be impelled over the waves, or be borne to land, — in what deeps it may be engulphed, or against what rocks it may be dashed to pieces. Oh, how strangely con- stituted must be that mind, which can esteem a state of uni- versal scepticism happy or desirable ! Give me rather the undoubting confidence of the wandering Pagan in the gross traditions of his ancestors. In these, one would have at least something positive on which to fix, some premises from which to argue, some grounds on which to cherish hope. To the man who has been accustomed to clear and steady views on the grand themes of Deity, and Providence, and Spirit, and Immortality, and Redemption, granting, that among his dogmata, some fallacies may be detected, the al- EXPERIENCE IN SICKNESS. 289 bernation to Pyrrhonic doubt, is, as if, while ascending a mountain from which he had been wont to enjoy a beauti- ful and extensive prospect, he should find himself suddenly involved in clouds. In a moment, instead of the fair scene of sunny hills, and smiling dales, of waving harvests and verdant pastures, of lake and river, sea and land, he beholds nothing but masses of dark and gloomy vapour gathering about or rolling under him, impalpable to the touch, but impenetrable to the eye ; and which speedily render his place dubious, his path uncertain, his return dangerous. Who would prefer the gloomy horrors of such a situation, to the clear light of heaven, the blue serenity of the sky, the rich and various aspect of the earth \ Perhaps I ought to account these fits (as they may not improperly be styled) of paralyzing and painful doubt, a just punishment for having wilfully indulged, in the commence- ment of my studies, and from a very early age, an extensive and daring scepticism. Before I had ever heard, so far as I can recollect, of the name of Hume, the leading doctrines of his metaphysical system were familiar to my thoughts. I can remember laying myself down, and struggling with them, till my mind became absolutely sore, and I was glad to escape from the mental torture by hastening to the vivacious sports and exercises suited to my boyish years. And I can remember, too, how I smiled at myself for the eagerness with which I engaged in employments, all of which implied a lively impression of the reality of my bod)', and of the ex- ternal world, immediately after having convinced myself that I had no proof of the reality of any thing but my own spirit, and its ideas. What originally gave such a turn to my thoughts, so early in life, I cannot pretend to say : but I well know that what stirred up and confirmed a sceptical habit in my mind, after that habit had become perhaps less T 290 ESSAY III. extravagant, but more dangerous, was what 1 suspect to have originated or inflamed it in most of the avowed or vir- tual enemies of revelation, — an impatience of the moral re- straints of religion, an aversion to the duties and exercises which it enjoins, and a sort of vengeful resentment on ac- count of the tremendous penalties which it threatens, and which I was not willing to take the prescribed measures to avoid. — And, as the motive of my youthful scepticism does little credit to infidelity, my more recent experience of its assaults enables me distinctly to say, that unbelief is the ef- fect, not of the strength, but of the weakness and disorder, of the mind. It was in the langour and exhaustion of my powers, when my memory and understanding could not pro- perly act in aid of each other's operations, that I became thus involved in darkness and chaos. When my faculties ,vere again roused, and I felt conscious of the return of my capacity for mental exertion, the evidences of the truth were again beheld in all their force and brightness ; and some- times, perhaps, with a power which I had seldom known before. The mists broke away. Darkness and confusion fled. The sunshine and loveliness of truth appeared anew. It would seem as if the grand adversary, who is ever on the watch to injure and destroy, had been permitted to seize the moments of weariness and imbecility, to make me feel more deeply my former folly, by recalling those dangerous trains of thought, in which, at his bidding, I had so long and so perversely indulged. AYhat I felt in the season now referred to, and at other times (for that, though a marked, has not been the only occasion in which I have suffered in the manner described), has often made me earnestly wish, that I could prudently and effectually warn the young against giving way to a sceptical disposition, whether tempt- ed to it by the pride of intellect, or by the unruliness of EXPEIil l.\'t 1'. 1\ -It K \ , ..') I passion. I have sensibly felt that it produces an injurious feebleness and indecision of mind, in regard both to the ap- prehension of evidence, and to the determinations in which the perceptions of evidence should result. I neither see truth with the force, with which it might otherwise have presented itself to my understanding, nor feel its influence with that vivacity and persuasion, which ought always to attend it. — And those who yield to such a disposition, are establishing in their bosoms an inmate, which, if allowed to govern permanently there, will effectually shut out all holi- ness, and piety, and godly comfort ; and which, even after being apparently put down, may arise, and resume its chill- ing power, at times when they have most need to be under the reviving influence of principles altogether opposite. Perhaps, however, it is one of those evils, the pernieiousness of which cannot be understood, till it has been felt. And as the perversity of nature borrows occasion to rush more determinedly upon ill, even from the command to shun it, I have been afraid, lest the attempt to point it out might prove the means of introducing it into inexperienced minds. rather than of excluding it from them. Perhaps I ought not to quit this topic, without re- marking, that the statements which have been given, serve to show how important the promised assistance of the Holy Ghost, in bringing the truth to remembrance, may some- times prove to Christians, not only in recalling to their me- mory, and fastening on their attention, those particular doc- trines or precepts of the divine word, which their respective circumstances may render necessary for their admonition or reproof, their correction or instruction in righteousness, but in presenting to their minds, and enabling them to take hold of those general truths and arguments, upon which their faith, as a rational principle, and a principle of efficaciouj essay in. moral influence, is built. The mind once debilitated by scepticism, and having besides so many obstacles in the vvTay of its return to sound opinion and fixed belief, appears too feeble to accomplish that return by its own powers. Once afloat on the ocean of uncertainties, it seems to become every moment less capable of regaining the firm shore, and fixing its anchor there. What cause, therefore, have we to be thankful that a gracious provision is made, not only for the correction of those particular mistakes in divine things, that might be partially injurious to our holiness or our peace, but for our recovery from those comprehensive, and more fatal errors, which include a total shipwreck of the faith, and the loss of all its consolations and all its blessings ! II. Another effect, which familiarity with suffering ought to produce, is improvement in patience; and in the exercise of resignation. In some small measure, I hope that this also was expe- rienced by me. I was enabled more than once to say, un- der my severest distress, and I trust without hypocrisy, that, as to recovery or the contrary, the shortening or prolongation of my affliction, I desired to have no choice, and, if possible, not a wish. Those matters I considered as in better hands than mine ; and to these I desired to leave them. Yet I must confess, too, that there were times when a weariness of suffering came over me ; and when impatience, had it dared, would have given utterance to its murmurs. This weari- ness, arising from the protraction of anguish or infirmity, forms, I apprehend, the greatest difficulty with which the afflicted Christian has to struggle, and the most formidable obstacle to the unbroken exercise of resignation. It requires but a moderate share of resolution to submit to pain of even the most severe description, if but transitory. Persons of no EXPERIENCE IX SICKNESS. 2.98 great firmness of nerve have repeatedly borne the extraction of a tooth. But he would be a hero indeed, who could calmly endure the same degree of anguish, and have shocks of like violence to his jaws and head incessantly renewed (supposing that were possible without destroying life) for twenty-four hours together. I might bear for a day, with- out much complaint, what I would shudder to think of suf- fering for a week or a month ; and for a week or two, what would completely master my fortitude, ere a year were gone. For this reason, I am apt to think the case of the long-con- tinuing sufferer the most trying, even though the degree of his distress be not, in any one moment, so great as that of some more transitory afflictions ; and if borne with steady equanimity, and thorough resignation, a more signal instance of the power of grace. O how natural is it for him to be weary of the rod, who is " chastened every morning, and plagued all day long :" who, week after week, and month after month, finds himself still cut off from the common en- joyments of life, — his nerves racked by the same pangs, — his spirits exhausted and his strength wasted away by the same pining sickness ! Since soul and body, in their pre- sent intimate connexion, so deeply sympathize, is it wonder- ful that the weary and enfeebled condition of the one should sometimes affect the other ; especially if there be added to the protraction of bodily trouble, the disquietudes of the mind, whether from the perplexity or ruin of worldly con- cerns,— from the afflictions or the loss of loved and valued friends, — or from the still more overwhelming pressure of spiritual discomfort I Yet though I ought to be humbled in recollecting some- what of an impatient weariness of spirit arising within me, on the prolongation of my disease, and my repeated disap- pointments of recovery, it is nevertheless not in this respect 294 ESSAY III. chiefly, that I reckon myself to have been wanting in the proper exercise of resignation. It is in this, that, in the latter stages of my distress, particularly, my endurance, though perhaps seldom interrupted by offensive complaints (such at least as is offensive to the ear of man), was more akin to stoical resolution, than to filial submission. Its language seemed to be rather, " Since I must suffer, I will " bear it," than, " such is the will of my Father in heaven, " therefore I will take it meekly." And though my pride did not presume quite so far as to say, ,: I will disdain to " complain," I am not at all sure that a leavening of pride was not at the bottom of the equanimity, such as it was, which I displayed. On the whole, it had more, I think, of the character of a natural acquirement, than of a fruit of the Spirit, and might have been exhibited in an equal, or more perfect degree, by one wholly a stranger to the grace of God, if possessed of an equal or superior firmness of nerve and determination of mind. The savage Indian supports, with- out a sigh, the fiercest tortures that his enemies can inflict. But this is not the effect of resignation to the Almighty, or of confidence in his love. It is perhaps of a somewhat higher order, but morally is nothing better than the obsti- nate endurance of the fox, who utters not a whine or a groan, while torn in pieces by the hounds. A patience of this description, however pleasing it may appear to bystanders, is assuredly an evil . It tends to pre- vent the effects of chastisement, as the discipline of divine goodness and justice. It finds its resources at home ; and draws them not from above. It thus nourishes dependence on self, rather than on God : and so obstructs a right feeling of one of the most important lessons of affliction. — In some measure, perhaps, it arises from what has often been re- marked as one of the happiest 'pialifications of our nature- EXPERIENCE IN SICKNESS. 295 [lie power of adapting itself to its circumstances, and of be- coming reconciled, under the influence of habit, to situations ihe most opposite, and to changes the most extreme. But however beneficial this faculty may be, it is something alto- gether different from pious acquiescence in the will of God, and humble submission to his correcting providence. It is an endowment for which we ought to be grateful, and which it may be well that we should cultivate ; but which must not be confounded with resignation, and ought not to be made a substitute for it. Such mere endurance, without reference to a dutiful motive, may be more peculiarly apt to be formed in those, who have naturally a stronger degree of hardihoood and re- solution, than others in general possess. And thus, in this instance as in others, a quality, which on many occasions may be eminently useful, but which has often received more admiration than its due, is nearly allied to dangerous sins ; and may injure as well as bless. III. What I shall last remark, is, that the experience of affliction should serve to quicken sympathy with others, and to render benevolence more tender and active. This is an effect of suffering so natural and obvious, in any mind at all imbued with humanity, not to speak of Chris- tian morality, that I should have been a base example of insensibility, had not both my convictions and my feelings on this head been rendered more deep and prevalent. " Oh. " I have ta'en too little care of this,'1 said Lear, when him- self " exposed to feel what wretches feel." — Yet here, too, I have to remark an instance of the perversity of nature ; — namely, that suffering, especially protracted suffering, tends powerfully to nourish selfishness, and to concentrate one's at- tention nnd concern on one's own person. Perhaps it is not 296 ESSAl III. difficult to explain this. And it may be of use to lay open the cause in order to guard against the effect. We all know that, in all situations, we are too apt to confine our attention to ourselves. Our own wants, our own gratifications, our own employments and interests, necessarily, and in many instances properly, engage much of our time and thought. But they tend to engross the whole. In opposition to the apostle's rule, we are apt to wi look," every one " on his own things." and not c* on the things of others. " Yet when we are ourselves at ease, and nothing particular fixes attention upon self, we can bestow some care on the distresses or interests of our fellow-creatures. But in the time of trouble, our attention is not drawn to self, merely by the ordinary preponderance of " our own things :" it is compelled. However gladly it might dwell on other objects, every recurring pang, every new feeling of sickness or of langour, every want and discomfort, turns it home again. It might willingly expatiate on the condition of others, or lose itself in the fields of speculation ; but it is dragged back, as by a hook fixed in a tender part, scourged in, as by a lash, to the little sphere that self fills up. Pain leaves us no option whether we will attend to it or not. It forces itself on notice : and vain is every effort to refuse its demands. To the man who is in pain, his own situation is, therefore, by inevitable necessity, the chief object of his thoughts. The means to remove it, or its cause, — the va- rious expedients to alleviate it, while it continues, and to render his situation altogether less intolerable, occupy much of his concern. If he have, moreover, the happiness to be sur- rounded by affectionate and sympathising relatives or friends, their conversation and kindness, though they may awaken his gratitude, and confirm his attachments, have all a similar tendency. For he is the chief object of their solicitude : EXPERIENCE IX SICKNESS, 297 and their language and example all serve to keep his atten- tion fixed on his own circumstances, his own sufferings, and his own relief. Of this, one of the most frequent and obvious, though perhaps most harmless effects, is the disposition, so general among the valetudinary, to make the detail of their ailments and sufferings the matter of their conversation. For all persons are naturally inclined to talk of what deeply interests themselves, and what has been much the subject of their own thoughts. It is thought which always supplies topics to the tongue : and though sometimes what most powerfully exer- cises it may not be expressed, this is always the effect of design and restraint. In most instances, we w7ish others to partake in the interest, which has been excited in our own minds, and feel disappointed if they do not. But personal distresses, as has been noticed, interest us per force ; and, whether we w^ill or not, take up much of our attention. They will of course be continually presenting themselves to the faculty of speech : and considerable vigilance and self- control will be required to prevent them from largely en- grossing it. When we are under trouble, there is also a na- tural desire to enjoy the sympathy of our fellow-creatures. It flatters our self-love, and self-importance : for we naturally measure by it the place which we hold in the affection and respect of others. To suffer without it, therefore, wounds both the powerful principles that have just been mentioned. Hence, in order to excite it, we are prone to dwell on our peculiar pains and trials, and to exhibit, as strongly as pos- sible, our claim to be the objects of this kindly affection. I have sometimes been amused, on meeting with a brother in infirmity, to find each of us contending, as it were, for the first share of notice and sympathy ; and apparently more intent on drawing the observation of the other, or of the com- 298 essay in. pany around, to his own grievances, than to give heed to the narration of hs neighbour's. Since, then, it is the natural and inevitable effect of a state of suffering, to fix upon one's self a large share of one's attention, it follows that, if such a state be much protracted, the influence of that to which we have been long accustomed, combining with the native preponderance of self, will natu- rally produce a habit of attention to self and selfish concerns, too entire and exclusive ; and will, of course, render us less capable, and less disposed to pay a due regard to the feelings or the circumstances, the distresses or the joys of others. It is apt to make us look on the instances of self-denial and be- nevolent exertion, which our situation draws from those around us, as matters of right and obligation ; and to cause us to murmur, if we think them interrupted or withdrawn. Intent on our own relief or alleviation, we do not sufficiently consider the sacrifices which it may demand from others, the privations or the toils to which it may subject them. Our sensibility to their pains and pleasures may not, indeed, be destroyed : but it is not in exercise. Another train of sen- sations and reflections has filled up the place which it ought to hold. Attention is confined to our own state ; and can- not, therefore, bestow due consideration upon theirs. Instances of this occurred to me during my months of affliction, so gross as to force me to loathe myself; and so absurd, that, had they not been the proper objects of a deeper feeling, I could have laughed exceedingly at their ridiculous- ness. Sometimes they were so palpable, that, when in any way brought under my notice, I could not help being asto- nished that they should have escaped my observation before. And had not attention been exclusively filled, in the manner which I have endeavoured to describe, by self; had it not been blinded to every other object, by being directed to that EXPERIENCE IX SICKNESS. 299 alone, they could not but have been most evident, and being evident, avoided. Alas, how different is such a state of mind from the spirit and practice of the sacred precept, " Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself!" How inconsistent with doing to others whatsoever we would have done to us ! It might be matter of jest to the sportive, and of scorn to the indignant satirist. To the professed follower of Christ, it should be the subject of humiliation and shame. It is, indeed, but a farther degree of this exclusive regard to self, this negligence of others, that is the source of almost all the crimes, on account of which men complain of one another. What is it else, that makes the intemperate father or husband waste in riot, what should be sacred to the sub- sistence or education of his family { What but his excessive attention to his own gratification, and his consequent heed- lessness of the privations of comfort, and the positive suffer- ing, which his vices occasion to those, of whose welfare he should be the guardian, and whose happiness should be dear to him as his own ? Whence, but from the same base dis- position of the mind, in still farther progress, the apparently unnatural pleasure, which some persons seem to find in gra- tuitous cruelty and outrage? They have frequently seen that their gain is connected with another's loss, that their ease is procured by another's toil, and their success or honour, by another's degradation or disappointment. Hence, it would appear, they absurdly infer, that their advantage has a necessary dependence on the injury of their brethren ; and they act accordingly. They feel, too, a more sensible plea- sure in their own possession of the blessings of life, and their being exempted from its troubles, when they behold their fellow-creatures deprived of the one, and involved in the other. And hence, a horrible delight in destroying the for- mer, and occasioning the latter. How often have we seen 300 ESSAY III. a schoolboy give a reward to a companion, for permission to inflict upon him certain pains ! His companion's pains can bring no real accession of pleasure to him. The reward he gives is so much positive loss. Yet because the condition of the other is made so much worse, he imagines according to his perverted mode of computation, that his own is so much improved. And it is but the ultimate extension of the same principle which makes the wicked, when in wretchedness, feel a shocking gratification, and seek a detestable solace to their own suffering, in destroying the happiness, or aggravat- ing the miseries of others. They imagine their own state to be proportionably bettered, if they can but involve another in equal or more severe distress. Their pride and envy are no longer galled by the idea of his comparative superiority of condition. When they can sink him beneath them, these base principles are even gratified by the comparative advan- tage of their own situation. While their love of power, perhaps, is also pleased with the thought, that the change in their relative circumstances, has been effected by their own exertions, or their own arts. " How," said the Chancellor Denon, to a French soldier mortally wounded, who was em- ploying all his small remains cf strength, to throttle an ex- piring Mameluke, who was prostrate beside liim on an Egyptian field of battle, and to hasten, by a few moments, the fate which was at any rate, rapidly approaching the poor Mahommedan, — " How can you behave so, — you who are " yourself in such a state V " It is very well," answered the dying man of blood, " It is very well for you, who are " safe and sound, to talk so ; but I, who am so near my death, must have somepleasure while I may." In an account, which has been lately published by some of the survivors who escaped the horrors of the lamentable shipwreck of a French frigate on the coast of Africa, are repeated examples ! XPERIENCE IN SICKNESS. 301 nieiitioned of the diabolical delight, or diabolical solace to their own misery, which men, bred in the same infidel and ferocious school, — the revolutionary and invading armies of France, — appear to have taken, in aggravating the calamities of their fellow-sufferers ; even though, in some instances, they thereby rendered their own more inevitable and severe. And what, but a similar principle, is one of the prime mo- tives of the grand adversary himself, in endeavouring to spread sin and wretchedness over the moral and intelligent part of the creation I Ought not one, then, to be humbled indeed, when he has discovered in himself the traces of a spirit such as this, though but in its lowest and least offen- sive degree \ And to what but to the compassion of the Almighty does he owe it, that he has not been permitted to exhibit, in its worse form and colours, all the hideousness of a Satanic mind I For the vice, to which wre allude, the pa- rent of almost every other, naturally tends, like all vices, un- less effectually checked by the barriers which divine Provi- dence interposes, or the influences which divine grace sheds upon the heart, to increase in strength, and to extend its dominion, till it engross the man, and obtain command over all his faculties. In fine, I have to request the prayers of my friends and brethren, that the good which I may have learnt, or which I ought to have acquired, in our heavenly Father's school of suffering, may not be wholly lost, or foolishly forgotten by me ; — that the moral evils which I am conscious to have experienced, and the unworthy nature of some of which I have just endeavoured to expose, may not be permitted to prevail in me and over me ; — and that I may find, and be enabled to show, that my chastening has been for my profit, by its effect on my temper and manners as an individual, and on my spirit and conduct as a minister of the gospel ! ESSAY IV. EXAMINATION INTO THE MEANING OF BEING "BORN OF WATER AND OF THE SPIEIT." JOHN III [t i> to the interpretation of our Lord's words inverse fifth, that I mean more particularly to request the attention of the meeting. " Jesus answered, verily, verily. I say unto thee, except a man be born of water, and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." And in proposing to make this passage the subject of some remark-. I cer- tainly do not act on the supposition, that any one amongst us is in doubt about the important doctrine, which all serious Christians agree in considering it to asseit. We all are satis- fied, and we all teach, that on every descendant of Adam a great change must pass, ere he can he admitted into the spiritual and eternal kingdom of our God and Saviour : or to -peak perhaps more correcdy. that, in this change, his ad- mission into that kingdom consists. And we consider this change as consisting in nothing merely externally ; and as real, too. and not metaphorical. I have sometimes blushed, and sometimes, I must con- ss, have been provoked to almost disgust and contempt, in marking the pertinacity, with which many Protectants. rn British Protestants, contend for what is called bap- tismal regeneration. That this should be a iavourite dosfina ONT BEING B011N OF WATEK AND THE SPIRIT. of the self-named Catholic church, is not wonderful. It is al- together in accordance with that system, which makes the whole efficacy of the means of salvation, to depend on their heing administered hy a priest consecrated after certain forms ; a system admirably calculated, so far as it is re- ceived by mankind, to support priestly domination, and to make the rest of the world dependent on the clergy. Per- haps a motive of this kind has had some weight, in making so many divines of the English church, even at this day, to take up so keenly the assertion of baptismal regeneration. One doughty champion, at least, of that church, seems fully determined to set up for her and for her priesthood, a great proportion of the claims advanced by the ecclesiastics of Rome. He very truly says that all the covenants of God are made with his church. And then, if you concede what he holds to be undeniable, that the church means the ecclesias- tical establishment enacted by decree of Parliament, consist- ing of archbishops, bishops, &c, and possessing the tithes and parochial places of wwship, and that nothing else is or can be the church, his inference is irrefragable, that, to the members of the church thus constituted, the covenants, with all their benefits, are confined. To be excluded from a covenant- relation to God has, however, been generally understood to imply exclusion from the kingdom of heaven, and of conse- quence, the doom of eternal confinement to that of misery and guilt. But probably the Archdeacon thought it would be adventuring rather far, in these times, to consign at once the whole body of Anti-episcopalians to the bottomless pit. His own mind, I hope, revolted at the idea. He wras there- fore obliged to invent a new hypothesis, expressed by a new term in theology ; of both of which, I believe the merit to be exclusively his own— "the uncovenanted mercies of God; " — a class of mercies, about which, I apprehend, preceding 304 ESSAY IV. divines knew nothing; and the supposition of which en- abled him somewhat to narrow and to soften the harsh and sweeping conclusion, at which he had arrived, — that all per- sons not conforming to the Church of England, as by law established, were absolutely cut off from the covenant of re- demption. This covenant alone, no doubt, can afford a sure ground of hope and confidence to sinners. Yet non-confor- mists may have still a chance. There are " uncovenanted " mercies," says Dr Daubeny, "as well as ' the sure mercies " of David ;' " and, though confessedly we know little about the former, and have no warrant to confide in them, — though there is nothing revealed as to their nature, efficacy, and extent, — yet by them, some even of those who are per- verse enough to keep without the pale of the covenant, as fenced in by the concurrence of King, Lords, and Commons, may possibly be saved. Could the Archdeacon, however, have prevailed on his countrymen in general, to believe the doctrine, there can be little doubt that all of them, all, at least, who had any care about their souls, would have forth- with hastened into the national church. For every one must feel that a specific covenant affords a much surer foun- dation for trust in God, than those newly discovered mer- cies, to which the reverend gentlemen compassionately leaves all Presbyterians, Independents, &c. Of this set of opinions, that of baptismal regeneration forms a very suitable part ; and is obviously of eminent use to promote the same end, — the union of all parties to the Church of England. For if the covenant be confined to that church, then all its seals, as administered by any one, except her accredited office bearers, must be null and void ; but coming through her hands, will be efficacious for all their purposes. If, therefore, regeneration be conveyed at baptism, and be necessarily connected with it, as has been loudly as- ON BEING BORN OF WATER AND THE SPIKTT. 505 serted, then no one who has not been baptized according to her ritual, and by a person regularly ordained by the impo- sition of a bishop's hands, can be regenerated. Of course, since no one " can enter into the kingdom of God," but those who arc " born again," it follows that this kingdom is shut against all such individuals, and can be opened only by hands episcopally authorized. True — they have still the " unco- " venanted mercies," to which they may apply; and these, according to the Archdeacon, may open for them some other access into the kingdom of God, than that which is pointed out in the gospel. But who will be hardy enough to trust to these, on even the Doctor's authority, in opposition to the decisive assertion, unaccompanied with any exception, or any reference to mercies uncovenanted and unrevealed, u Verily, verily I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." I have perhaps treated this matter too lightly. But there is a feeling of ridicule which always comes over me, when I think of men endowed w7ith learning, and not desti- tute of ability, gravely maintaining such a dogma ; and which makes it almost impossible for me to speak of it with serious- ness.* To see the old exploded tenet of the opus operatum, set up by persons imbued with the philosophy, and enlighten- ed, or who might be enlightened, by the spirit of rational and liberal inquiry, which is astir in these days, and which does not recognise a proposition as placed beyond question, merely because enounced by some one, who was dubbed sanctissi- mus, or maxime doctus, by a barbarous age, — is altogether ludicrous ; and were it not connected with some more so- lemn thoughts, and productive, so far as it prevails, of con- * This was written in the beginning of 1823 ; but is just as appli- cable to much of the doctrine disseminated still more lately by the authors of the Oxford Tracts. u 306 ESSAY IV. sequences, materially injurious to the progressive influence of evangelical truth, might as legitimately be the subject of jest, as the quiddities of the schoolmen, or Lord Peter's dry crust, transformed, at his pleasure, into a shoulder of mutton, or a tankard of ale. It is not indeed to be denied, that, were God pleased to connect the gift of regeneration, and of meetness for eternal life, with any external rite however trifling, his power is competent to the effect. But how unphilosophical is it, how derogatory from the character of a being, all whose actings are dictated and directed by the most perfect reason and intelligence, to suppose him to establish such a connexion, without any assignable motive worthy of him- self! And can the strained application of a few figurative expressions in the Bible, be sufficient to countenance, in op- position to its many plain declarations, and to the general tendency of its purely spiritual doctrine, a notion seemingly so adverse, at once to common sense, and to the rational in- terpretation of Scripture ! I confess that I am difficulted to conceive that some men, who have argued for it, really be- lieve it. Can it be their motive, with Jesuitical disingenu- ousness, to frighten those of their flocks who still adhere to them, from deserting their communion, or to hound back to the fold those who have leapt the fence I — a rather forlorn hope ! Charity forbids this conclusion too. Their advocat- ing such a principle is perhaps to be considered as an ex- ample of the power of peculiar circumstances and interests, to warp men's judgments, and pervert their consciences ; — to make them think bona fide, what in different circum- stances, they would, with the same light, have despised as childish, or rejected as false. And if so, it may suggest to us and others, who stand in particular relations to society, the importance of endeavouring to guard against their in- fluence, in tinging the medium through which many objects o\ BEING BORN OF WATER AND THE SPIRIT. 307 may appear to ue, and insensibly imparting an obliquity to our opinions concerning them. Meanwhile, it is a subject of some gratulation, that the superstitious and unscriptural dogma, to which we refer, has never had, so far at least as I am informed, a supporter within the bounds of the Scottish Presbyterian Church, however solemnly it has been asserted, and gravely argued for, by mitred heads, and heads that as- pire to mitres. We maintain the obligation of baptism ; and in the case of converts from other religions, in particular, its necessity, as a testimony of faith in Christ : but that it either necessarily implies the effusion of the Holy Ghost up- on the heart, or is essential to that effusion, we hold to be absurd. The Lord Jesus, indeed, joins together being born of water, and of the Spirit ; and employs this expression as exegetical of being born again. But though we should grant that being born of water signifies baptism, we do not grant that its presence or absence can increase or diminish the se- curity, which being born of the Spirit affords to every man, who has been the subject of it, for his eternal salvation. Baptism, or the want of it, may affect a person's relations to the visible church ; but the one does not constitute, and the other cannot prevent, his union to that, of which the " names are written in heaven.'" I have long been of opinion, however, that in our Lord's words, in the fifth verse of this chapter, there is no reference to baptism at all ; and that the term water is introduced, merely as explanatory of the nature of that change, which is effected on a sinner, when he is bom of the Spirit. I know that an opposite opinion is held by many excellent men, whose theological orthodoxy, and sound sense, cannot be questioned. And I rather believe, that their view of this matter is that which is commonly adopted by evangelical divines ; viz., that when Christ said, " A man cannot enter 308 ESSAY TV. into the kingdom of God, except he he born of water,"' the meaning is that only by receiving the rite of baptism, as in- stituted by our Lord, he can be received into the visible church, or kingdom of God on earth ; and that, when he asserts the impossibility of entering into that kingdom, without being born of the Spirit, he teaches us that, without being renewed in mind by the power of the Holy Ghost, we cannot obtain admission into the church invisible, the kingdom of God. spiritual and eternal. Perhaps those who take this view of the subject, may think it confirmed, by supposing our Lord to have intended his language as a reproof and warning to Nicodemus, for his irresolution and hypocrisy ; because, while he professed to be inwardly convinced of Christ's divine mission, he yet shrunk from openly acknowledging it ; and, even when he came to receive his instructions as those of an inspired mes- senger, " came by night.-" Had this, however, been really our Lord's intention, I cannot but think that he would have stated it much more explicitly ; and especially, that, when he proceeded to intimate to Nicodemus. the connexion be- tween faith in him, and being born of the Spirit, he would have brought baptism, and its relation to the Spirit's opera- tion, distinctly into view ; so distinctly, as not to leave any uncertainty about his meaning. Without doubt, the first great object of Jesus in this address, was to make Nicodemus advert to a most impor- tant fact, of which he seems to have been hitherto altogether ignorant ; though, from his acquaintance, as a y Master in Israel," with the writings of the Old Testament, he ought to have known it well, viz., that a real and thorough change of mind was essential to his becoming a member of the kingdom of heaven. That change our Lord regarded as so great and comprehensive, that he calls it a new birth, being OX BEING BORN OF WATEK AND THE SPIRIT. -)0!> • born again," — so great, that it is as if a man, laying down the life which lie received in his natural birth, should enter, by a seeond birth, into another. To this corresponds the expression of the same doctrine by his apostle, under a dif- ferent form, " If any man be in Christ Jesus, he is a new creature^ Kaiv-q ktktis, a new creation. While the nature and effect of this change, in contrast with the state from which the new creature is translated, is elsewhere thus described by the same apostle, — " They, that are after the flesh, do mind the things of the flesh ; and they that are after the Spirit, the things of the Spirit/1 And one of my reasons for thinking that baptism is not at all intended by our Lord, in his discourse to Nicodemus, is drawn from those views of the subject of it, which are suggested by the texts just quoted. It will not be denied, I presume, that the same thing which our Saviour expresses in the verses which we have read from the third chapter of John, is also expressed in the above quotations from the writings of Paul. Now, to a " new creation," while we consider nothing but divine power as competent, we must also allow that nothing else is necessary : unless we contend, like the advocates for baptis- mal regeneration, that there is some arbitrary, cabalistieal, and unintelligible connexion, between a rite applied exter- nally to the body, and the moral state of the understanding and affections. Nor can we conceive a person's " minding the things of the Spirit," to be at all dependant on his body's being affused with water, or immersed in a font. That minding can be produced only by the Spirit of God himself. Such affusion or immersion can contribute nothing to it. And where the new creation, and the minding of the Spirit nvc> there is salvation : there, the man is truly entered a citizen of the kingdom of God, whether he may have had opportunity to receive the ordinance of baptism or not ; or 310 ESSAY IV. though, perhaps, as may be easily conceived to be the case with a Hindoo convert at the present day, he may have long been difficulted, from which of the sects of professing Chris- tians before him, he should receive the ordinance, and with which declare himself connected. Now, if we can suppose baptism to have been of such high importance, in our Lord's estimation, as to be not only mentioned by him, in the same sentence with regeneration by the Spirit, but made with it the subject of one single affirmation, we must also suppose that there is between these things a connexion, of whatever kind, too close and too momentous to have been overlooked by Paul, when treating of the same subject, and especially, when illustrating it so particularly, as he has done in the eighth chapter of the Romans. Comparing then the language of Christ in the verses be- fore us, with that of other Scriptures, in which the same topics are inculcated, and considering him as intending to instruct Nicodemus in what was absolutely essential to sal- vation, but hitherto overlooked by him, though taught to the ancient church ; I do think that what was only matter of form and profession, though of much importance as such, was yet too unimportant, to be mingled, in the very first in- struction to the inquiring Pharisee, in the same expression, with the great and indispensable change to be wrought by the Holy Ghost. I cannot suppose that any thing not ne- cessary to a moral change, and directly conducive to a moral effect, would have been mentioned by Jesus in such a man- ner, on such an occasion. This conclusion is confirmed by the language employed in the immediately contiguous context. The third verse speaks only of a man's being "born again;" i. 6ep. And the change which it denotes, is expressly declared to consist in a washing, or application of water ; and this washing is again affirmed to be identical with, or effected by, the " renewing of the Holy Ghost." The apostle thus appears to affirm, only in terms somewhat different, the same thing, which I have endeavoured to show is said by Christ himself. " No man can enter into the kingdom of God," says the latter, " unless he be born of the washing, or cleansing influence of the Spirit." " We are saved," says the former, " by the washing of regeneration, OX BEING BORN OF WATER AND THE SPIRIT. 3&1 and (or even, as «u is often rendered), the renewing of the Holy Ghost."' — I did not choose, however, to refer to this text, till I had established the propriety of interpreting the term watr,\ in our Lord's discourse, by the purifying in- fluence of the Spirit ; because I am aware that these very words of Paul form one of the strongholds within which the advocates for baptismal regeneration endeavour to entrench themselves. They tell us that ^ovrpov does not signify wash- ing, but a laver, or vessel in which to wash ; and that \ovrpov ■rraXiyyeveo-Las does not denote, as we fondly imagine, a sanctify- ing operation of divine grace on the heart, but the bason of stone or brass, employed in the ancient churches, for admi- nistering baptism ; and that this text, therefore, proves tl:nt. when baptism is duly administered from such a vessel, and by a hand duly authorised, it is of saving efficacy, and is al- ways accompanied by " the renewing of the Holy Ghost." In confirmation of this, they present us with two or three quotations from the fathers, in which the expression here used by Paul, appears to signify the baptismal font and or- dinance. And they give us long details of the rabbinical traditions concerning the bathing of a heathen, and of every thing about his person, in water, on his being admitted as a proselyte into communion with the Jewish Church, and about his being saluted, when he came out of the bath, as 7ra\iyy€VT]Tos, introduced into a new life, and so forth. But there is no doubt that hovrpov signifies the water in which a person has been washed, as well as the vessel that contains it ; and, therefore, may as fairly be interpreted the water, or washing of regeneration, as the font or bason. The lexico- graphers, indeed, make a distinction between the word, as employed in the one of these sen:-::,, and the same as em- ployed in the other, by a difference in the accents placed ov< i them. These aecentu?1 marks, however, there is the best 822 ESSAY IV. reason to believe, were introduced long after the days in which the New Testament was written, and are therefore worthy of no reliance, in the explanation of a particular term. Where they are intended to indicate a difference of meaning, in words consisting of the same characters, they only show what was the opinion of that meaning, enter- tained by the grammarian or copyist by whom they were superscribed. But, granting those divines that \ovrpov. in the case before us, does signify, not the water, but the vessel in which a person is washed, we really think that the mighty superstructure which they have reared on this text, when the term is so translated, stands on a very narrow ba?e, if indeed it have one at all. The force of their argument de- pends on their being able to prove to us that, when Paul used the expression Aovrpov nakiyytvecrias, he thereby meant the baptismal font, and nothing more. It will not suffice, for this end, to show us that certain Greek writers, in after ages, occasionally used the terms in that acceptation : for this they might do, by a natural accommodation, even though themselves might have ordinarily understood them in a high- er sense. Xor, because some of those fathers, in their eager- ness to prevail on those for whose conversion they laboured, to receive the ordinance of baptism, and thus to become avowedly and decidedly Christians, sometimes magnified in a manner, for which the Scriptures afford no warrant, the importance and necessity of the rite, are we to infer that these exaggerated representations were authentic remains of apostolical doctrine. Did we ascribe to the apostles all the absurdities contained in the writings of those who are called the Fathers, we should grievously injure the character of the inspired founders of the Church, and of their teaching. Or, did we argue that, because the words of Scripture have been employed to express some of those absurdities, therefore the ON BEING BORN OF WATER AND THE SPIRIT. 328 absurdities themselves were of scriptural origin and autho- rity, we should not interpret it better, or more wisely, than the illiterate sectarian, who, on setting up his coach, a luxury against which, it is alleged, he had often railed, when he could not afford it, endeavoured to silence his censurers, by reminding them that, in the 21st chapter of the book of Acts, wre read that Paul and his companions " took up their car- riages !" Though we should grant, then, that Xourpoj/, in the case before us, signifies a bath or laver, what could be more natural to the apostle, frequently accustomed to see, in the countries which he traversed, the bath employed, — equally accustomed to consider sin as pollution, and the sanctifying operation of the Holy Ghost, as the only effectual means of removing it, — familiar, too, with those scriptural representa- tions, which describe the Spirit's influence as water, and his operation as that of cleansing, than to regard the 7rakiyyeveaia, the renovating energy of the Divine Spirit, as the bath in which our defilements are washed away, and our purity re- stored ? I have no hesitation, therefore, in interpreting this text, in the same manner in which those of Ezekiel inter- pret themselves ; and, in considering the sense that has been so confidently attributed to these words of it, as a mere as- sumption, and all the learned labour which has been em- ployed to establish it, as a collection of the rubbish and chaff of antiquity, instead of its wholesome grain, or precious stones. Finally, I would submit that, to me, it appears very doubt- ful whether baptism was instituted, as a rite of initiation into the Christian Church, at the time when our Lord used to Xicodemus the words, on which we have been commenting : and if so, it was impossible that he could have that rite in his eye, when he employed the expression born of water. It is at least certain, that in the form, in which it has been 324 ESSAY IV. administered ever since Hi- ascension, it was not then insti- tuted : for of that form we have no trace or mention, till he uttered the command, " Go ye, and teach all nations.'" We read, indeed, in the beginning of the following chapter, that at a period probably not long posterior to his interview with Nicodemus, " the Lord,'1 not by his own hands, but by those of his elder attendants, " made and baptized many disciples." What was then done, however, T apprehend to have been something very different from what is understood by baptism as afterwards appointed, — a solemn admission, on the part of the Church, of certain individuals as members, and a solemn profession on their part, of their union to her. John was at that time, baptizing still. And this baptism by Christ's disciples. I believe to have been something of the same kind with John's. — a profession of repentance, and of a resolution to submit to the kingdom of the Messiah, so soon as he should appear. That it was not baptism in the name of Jesus himself as the Messiah, is most certain. For at a period subsequent to this, his Messiahship was not freely spoken of, or very clearly recognized, among his disciples themselves ; as is abundantly evident from the conversation, in which Peter's avowal of faith in him as "the Christ"" was particularly commended, and from the strict charges he gave them on that, and on other occasions, not to make him known. Since then, if baptism did exist at that time as a token of discipleship, it certainly was not baptism in his name, as the Messiah, the Head of the church of God, I ap prebend we aire warranted to say that, as a rite of initiation into his Church, and a symbol of union to himself as the Church's Head, it did not then exist : and, of course, could not be contemplated by him, in using the words ;" born of water? or be understood in that acceptation by his nocturnal visitor. OX BEING BOltX OF WATER AND THE SPIRIT. 325 Some difficulty may appear to be thrown on the inter- pretation, which has been given of this and other texts, by the language employed by our Lord, in giving his com- mission to his disciples, as it is recorded by Mark, — " He that believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved." Here, how- ever, I would first observe that the order in which baptism is mentioned, is different from that in which being "born of water " is spoken of in John iii. In the latter, the birth by water stands first ; in the former, baptism follows believing. Nor can I imagine that the Lord Jesus either did, or could, mean to invalidate or restrict what he had formerly asserted, again and again, that " whosoever believed in him should have eternal life;*'1 and that those who "are born of God,11 or "born of his Spirit,*1 shall possess the kingdom of heaven. But as his Church, though not of the world, was in the first instance to be established here, some form of profession was necessary, by which its members might declare their acces- sion to it, and be received into fellowship with it, — might separate themselves from the world, bear testimony to it, concerning the truth, for its conversion, and bear testimony against it, for its condemnation, if it rejected the gospel. Such a form was baptism ; — a form most significant, and admirably adapted to the end. And our Lord, in connecting baptism with believing, in the passage referred to, means no more, I am satisfied, than Paul does, in connecting good works with faith as essential to salvation, in all who profess to have believed ; notwithstanding the strenuous determination, with which he contends against any works of men, having any share in procuring for them, or conveying to them, the benefits of justification. It is merely because those, whose professed faith does not produce good works, are not true be- lievers, since genuine faith cannot be unfruitful ; and because that sort of hesitating conviction of the truth, which would 326 ESSAY IV. not lead a man to avow, in any circumstances, his recogni- tion of Jesus as the Son of God, and his adherence to Jesus' Church, cannot be considered as believing, or be the means of introducing him to the blessings of salvation. There might be in the first ages of Christianity, and, I doubt not, there are now, many persons, who from the force of argument and the influence of example, have so strong an impression that Christianity at least may be true, that they cannot venture to run the risk so palpably incurred by disavowing and re- jecting it, who yet have not that clear and decided conviction of its truth, which would make them renounce all worldly things, mortify the flesh, and hate life itself, for Christ's sake. Such persons, had no solemn pledge of union to his Church and of separation from the wwld been required of them, might have flattered themselves that they could be interested in all the blessings of his redemption, by professing belief in him, in their closets ; though, as to all evidences of their faith, which were visible to mankind, they might be undis- tinguishable from the heathens, or unbelieving Jews, around them. Even granting that their belief had been sincere, a timid and worldly spirit might have induced them, by dis- guising it, to deprive their fellow-men of all the benefit of their example, and of all the influence of their testimony on the gospel's behalf; while it must have been most unfavour- able to their own cultivation of those virtues, of which faith is the root, and which were necessary to their own meetness for a better world. Our Lord, therefore, on this occasion joined baptism with belief, in describing the characters of those, to whom he made the promise of salvation, not to narrow the privileges, with which he had formerly declared all believers to be endowed ; but to point out at least one test, by which true belief was to be distinguished from hesitating and imperfect convictions, — an unequivocal and openprofes- ON' BEING HORN' OF WATER AXD THE SPIRIT. 327 .ion of faith and of adherence to himself: even as the great champion of justification through faith alone, insisted also on the indispensableness of good works, not as accessary in their effects to that of faith, but as the necessary result of it, from the nature of the truths which it embraces. — It is also to be remembered, that, when our Saviour addressed his apostles on Mount Olivet, he was not, as when he spake to Nicodemus, discoursing to persons absolutely ignorant of the fundamental truths of the gospel. They had been carefully instructed in what was so unknown to him, as only to ex- cite his astonishment, when it was presented to his mind in Christ's first words. Though Jesus, therefore, found it ne- cessary, before he left the earth, to appoint some form, by which the pastors of his church might distinguish between those who received, or professed to receive, their doctrine, and those who rejected it, and by which their converts might reciprocally distinguish themselves, there was no danger, that, in mentioning baptism to his apostles, in his parting charge, in the manner recorded by Mark, he should perplex their minds, as to the nature and origin of the spiritual transformation necessary to believing ; or lead them to ima- gine that the application of a material element to the body, could form any part of the operation by which the soul is savingly changed. And now, if you ask what advantage I conceive to arise from this long discussion, I have to answer that the inter- pretation of our Lord's words in John iii. 5, which I have stated, and I trust established, seems to me to have, in seve- ral respects, the advantage of that, which, I have reason to think, is held by many orthodox divines. It disencumbers his declarations of the apparent incongruity of blending a matter of merely external form, however important, with that great moral change, which is in all cases indispensable to salvation; nay, of giving the precedence to the former. — 328 ESSAY IV. It trees us from the necessity of supposing him to speak of the ;- kingdom of God," in two distinct senses, in the same moment ; and one of these a sense, in which, I am satisfied, it will be found impossible to prove that he ever employed the phrase, on any other occasion. It does away with the idea that any mere form, or material agency, is necessary to the work of the Spirit, in the great moral change which he effects upon man. It ascribes to him alone, all the praise ; and it teaches us to regard him, and to confide in him, as the sole and effective, and all-sufficient cause, from which it proceeds. — When compared, too, with other texts treating of the same subject, it harmonizes with them, and is sup- ported by them. — Lastly, it takes away one of the fulcra, with which some theologians have endeavoured to maintain the gross and irrational superstition, involved in the doctrine of baptismal regeneration ; whether that doctrine be suppos- ed to have originated in a weak credulity of mind, or to have been resorted to, as an engine for upholding clerical import- ance and pretensions. Before concluding, permit me to mention an instruction, of which I know that I myself at least stand much in need. It is, — that the Holy Spirit's agency, in not only commenc- ing, but carrying on and perfecting the great work of our renovation after the image of God. is of no less importance to ourselves, than to our flocks. I am afraid, however, that this is often overlooked, and that a man may talk to his peo- ple learnedly and logically, and even scripturally, upon this momentous topic ; nay, may even press it on their attention with much force of argument, and elegance of expression, yet feel little concern about personally experiencing the in- fluence which he describes, and the necessity of which he proves. I fear, indeed, that there is a natural tendency in our writing and arguing about such matters, to make crea- t ures labouring under our imperfections look upon them in ON BEING HORN OF WATER AND THE SPI11IT. 329 a cold uninterested manner, as merely subjects of intellectual exercise, which it is our professional occupation to state and to defend ; and in the statement and defence of which we are to display our abilities, and to earn the favourable opinion of our fellow mortals. The stranger who enters a jeweller's shop, is dazzled with the brilliancy of polished silver, and the mellow lustre of gold ; he is enchanted with the diver- sified beauty of numberless gems, with the ingenuity and excellence of the various instruments, by which the work around him has been so exquisitely performed. But the working tradesman, though his eye may be more skilful to discriminate the nature and value of both the one and the other, looks on them all. with as indifferent a mind, as on the pebbles in the street. The precious stones and metals are but the materials of his labour ; the admirable instru- ments, but his daily tools. The sight and handling of them kindle in him no emotion, awaken no transport. And are not we too often apt to look on that admirable instrument, which the Holy Ghost has put into our hands, for carrying on the work committed to us, as but the tool, with which we are to labour in the field around us, without equally con- sidering that it is to be as assiduously employed in the cul- ture of our own hearts ? Perhaps the only way, in which this unhappy effect of familiarity with sacred themes as subjects of inquiry and ar- gument, is to be counteracted, is importunate prayer for an abundant measure of those quickening and purifying influ- ences, to the value of which, it is a great part of our duty, to excite the attention of others. — May they be imparted to each of us ! Then, from a fulness supplied by God himself, we shall be enabled to bring forth, with a fervour kindled from above, the stores of divine wisdom and truth, which constitute the means, under his blessing, alike of our own and our people's improvement, comfort, and salvation. ESSAY V. ON THE HUMANITY OF JESUS CHRIST. All the members of this meeting are well aware, that there has been recently brought forward, and with great pertina- city maintained, an opinion regarding our Lord's humanity, which the last General Assembly of our Church condemned in the person of Mr Maclean. This opinion is, that our Lord, in becoming man, not only took a true body of flesh, of the substance of his mother, subject to all the diseases, pains, and calamities, to which human flesh universally is heir, but that he took it, such, in all respects, as it is in other men, susceptible of all the passions, lusts, infirmities, and corruptions, by which its fallen condition is, in other men, daily manifested. With this is combined the at least seemingly contradictory assertion, that from all actual taint of sin, either in thought or act, he was continually and per- fectly kept free, even from his first conception in the womb, by the plenary indwelling of the Holy Ghost, which " was not given unto him by measure,'1 and by whose miraculous agency even his flesh was conceived. We shall have occa- sion to take notice, ere we have done, of the reason which the defenders of this opinion believe they have in Scripture for their statements ; and why they hold it to be of such importance, as apparently to consider the acknowledgment of it as essential to true faith in Christ, and the denial of it ON Till HUMANITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 8 31 as nearly equivalent to the rejection of him. Tt may natur- ally he supposed, that my connexion with the person who has been, not indeed, as some have supposed, the originator of this doctrine (for it was taught before him), but its most active and persevering modern propagator, has led me to pay more particular attention to it. The result of that attention I mean now to state. And it certainly has been, that, though our Lord's flesh, as formed from the substance of his mother, partook of all that was penal in the condition of our fallen flesh, it did not, and could not, partake of any thing that was sinful, or, in a moral sense, corrupt. I. To assert the union in one person, of a person of the Godhead with the natural sinfulness, or proclivity to sin, of fallen man, appears to me to assert what is contrary to the nature of things, and, in itself, impossible. Every person of the Godhead is possessed of the same attributes of Divinity ; or, as it is emphatically and felicit- ously expressed in our catechism, all the Sacred Three " are the same in substance, equal in power and glory." Each of them, therefore, is infinite, absolutely perfect, and un- changeable in holiness. And hence every person, of whose being any of these persons forms a constituent and insepar- able part, must be possessed of such holiness, — holiness per- petually and unchangeably perfect. But to the existence of perfect and unchangeable holiness in any person, the co-ex- istence, in the same person, of all that is sinful and corrupt in a fallen nature, is directly contradictory. For, just in so far as there is sin in either the constitution or practice of any person, his holiness is imperfect, and must be mutable, being susceptible of either diminution or increase, according as the sinful proclivities of its constitution are either encouraged or mortified, confirmed or subdued. This one simple view of ESSAY V. the matter appears to me to set the question at once at rest. and to prove that to suppose the union of fallen humanity, in all that characterizes its fallen state, in one person, with the perfection of the Deity, is a supposition of which the one part destroys the other, and is, in the nature of things, im- possible. And it is this consideration. I apprehend, though perhaps not always distinctly perceived, that has made every orthodox believer shudder and revolt, when this doctrine was first proposed to him, however much he may have been subsequently talked over, so as to admit it. Qualities of the most opposite and mutually destructive natures may dwell in the same person, if imperfect in degree. But a qua- lity absolute and perfect, whether good or evil, cannot sub- sist at the same moment, in the same being, with what is contrary to it. Holiness and sin, for example, are found in every saint, during his earthly pilgrimage. But why ? Be- cause neither the one nor the other is perfect in him. But suppose either the one or the other to be perfected in any moral agent, and you immediately suppose the utter exclu- sion of its antagonist. Where there is perfect holiness, there can be no sin ; where perfect sinfulness, no holiness. It may be said, and has been said, that weakness is as inconsistent with omnipotence, and ignorance with omni- science, as a sinful constitution, but without actual sin, is with divine holiness ; and we know it is said of Christ, that he was " crucified through weakness ;" and he himself de- clared, that at one period, at least, he was ignorant of the time of the day of judgment. But we must remark, that the cases are not parallel. Perfect holiness is incompatible with any kind or degree of sin. The perfection of power is not in- compatible with the restriction of its exercise within certain limits ; and that is all that is meant by weakness. It is a limitation of power. And this God exercises in all the acts ON THE HUMANITY OF JESTS CHRIST. of his omnipotence. He proportions the exertion of it to the occasion. Were he to put forth his whole power in punish- ing, lie would exterminate a universe at a blow: or in creat- ing, he would, instead of forming each creature in its time and order, at once replenish infinite space with all manner of existences. Neither is partial knowledge in the huma- nity inconsistent with omniscience in the divinity of our Lord. Because the latter may not impart to the former all that it knows, or the former may not be capable of receiving all. Even in the operations of our own minds, we may per- ceive something analogous to this. Suppose that I both have the knowledge of some important fact, and am able to explain it. At some subsequent period, my memory may have lost recollection of the fact, while my understanding still re- tains the power of illustrating and explaining it, should it again be presented to my attention ; or my memory may retain the fact, while my understanding has lost the faculty of investigating and expounding it. That is, the same thing may be an object of knowledge or perception to one faculty of my mind, yet not to another. Much more, then, when there is the union, however intimate, of two distinct natures and essences in one person, may we suppose certain things to be matters of the clearest perception to the one, which are not perceived by the other. With mistake, or error, in regard to any thing that had become the object of our Lord's personal attention, his possession of omniscience is un- questionably inconsistent. And could it be proved, that he expressed a false statement of any fact, or pronounced an erroneous opinion concerning any truth, that would be suf- ficient to disprove his divinity. For it would show that even where he meant to convey information, and must have been, therefore, desirous to be ascertained of the truth and cer- tainty of what he said, he did not possess in himself resources 334 ESSAY V. sufficient to enable him to discover it ; — in other words, that there was not in his person that perfect and unbounded knowledge, which is an inseparable attribute of divinity. In like manner, had he failed in any thing which he actually attempted to perform, the failure would have demonstrated that there was not in him, in any respect, the fulness of omnipotent power. But there was no defect or mistake in any thing, which he taught. Whatever he attempted, however difficult, or apparently impossible, he accomplished with ease. But there is this further and essential difference between holiness, as comprehending all moral excellences, and know- ledge or power, as natural attributes. What is naturally or physically infinite, we cannot conceive to become, by any means, the attribute of any created being, far less, then, of man. The infinitude of power, therefore, or the absolute knowledge of all things, past, present, and to come, could never become the property of a human person, any more than we can conceive infinite space to be comprehended within its limits ; for what is necessarily bounded can never be the recipient of what is unbounded. Some portion of the latter it may receive, but the whole it cannot contain. We have no difficulty, however, of conceiving that any moral agent, how limited so ever in physical power, or even in in- tellectual ability, may be perfect in holiness. His whole moral faculties may be in harmony with the will of God : he may have not even a single volition in contrariety to that will. In proportion to the feebleness of his powers, he will be a feebler instrument of glorifying his Maker ; but, in his measure and degree, he will be perfect. Although, there- fore, the very fact of the man Christ Jesus being a man, ren- dered it naturally impossible, that, in his humanity, there could reside either the infinitude of knowledge, or the infini- »)\ THE HUMANITY OF JESUS ( HRIST. 835 tude of power, though, from its union to his divinity, it could command the resources of both, whenever necessary ; there was nothing, in his becoming man, to hinder his being perfect in holiness. If there had, how could he command his disciples to be " perfect, even as their Father in heaven is perfect ;?" — not perfect, surely, in knowledge or in power, as he is perfect, for that is physically impossible ; but per- fect in holiness, in moral integrity and purity, which, praise be to his name, we know, is possible through his grace. The necessary limitations, therefore, of the created nature which the Son of God took into personal union with himself, ne- cessarily precluded its possessing infinity of knowledge or of power, but were no bar to its possessing an absolute perfec- tion of holiness; — that absolute perfection, without which, we repeat, it appears inconsistent with the nature of things, that it could be admitted into personal union with holiness that is divine. Limited power and infinite power, limited knowledge and omniscience, only differ as parts from the whole, or space that is bounded, which is still space, from space without bounds. But holiness and sin differ, not in degree, but in kind ; they are absolutely repugnant. The smallest infusion of the latter instantaneously destroys the perfection of the former ; even as the least shade of black tarnishes the lustre of perfect whiteness, or as the smallest impregnation of any other substance puts an end to the per- fect purity of water. Nor is it sufficient to contend, as the advocates of the hy- pothesis against which we argue have done, that it was no actual sin which our Lord took into union with himself, but only a nature prone to sin, and which would have sinned, even as that of any other man, had it not been perpetually restrained and sanctified by the Holy Ghost : — that it was rather sin in posse, than in esse. For it is proneness, or pro- JuO ESSAY V. clivity to siii; that is manifestly the worst part of a corrupt- ed moral state. Were those actions, which we call sins or crimes, mere accidents, unconnected with depravity of prin- ciple, or obliquity of motive, we might lament their hurt- ful effects, but we would not consider the actors, as subjects of moral blame, or proper objects of punishment. No, — what rouses our indignation at the mention of any specific crime, is not the mere fact, but the internal wickedness of which it is the outward demonstration. And thus, we are assured, it is, but in a much more perfect degree, with the unerring Judge. ;i Manlooketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh upon the heart." — Hence, according to the doctrine we are considering, the immaculate holiness of God did, in the person of Jesus Christ, take into the most intimate union with itself, the worst part of sin ; nay, that which alone causes any thing to be sin. I say the most in- timate union : for, if two natures be united so as to form but one person, that is the most complete and intimate union that can be conceived. In other words, then, there is affirmed to be in our divine Redeemer the most intimate union that can be imagined or expressed, of the holiness of God with the moral corruption, which makes men thieves, liars, adulterers, mur- derers, proud, cruel, revengeful, &c. ! ! A disposition to all these things ! a capacity of taking pleasure in them. For what is proclivity to all manner of sin (a favourite expres- sion, on this subject, with the advocates of the doctrine in view), but a desire after forbidden things? And this implies taking pleasure in them : for that which affords, or from which we expect, no pleasure, cannot be the object of desire, or of proclivity. We again affirm, therefore, that the personal union, which has been supposed, and which is obstinately maintain- ed to have taken place, in the constitution of our Lord's per- OX THE HUMANITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 337 son, between the perfection of holiness in his divinity, and the whole sinfulness of fallen man in his humanity, is, in the nature of things, impossible ; and that the argument of its consisting not in the actual existence of sin, but only in a proclivity to it, will not render the hypothesis more admissible. We, therefore, farther affirm, that, though the flesh of our Lord was formed from the substance of the Virgin, it did not partake of the sinfulness which was naturally inhe- rent in her, as in all the descendants of the fallen Adam. Had his participation of this sinfulness been necessary, as has been asserted, to the accomplishment of the end for which he came into the world, there appears no good reason for his human person having been generated in any other way, than that in which other human beings are procreated, and by means of which moral corruption is transmitted from sire to son, through all the generations of mankind. But the first element of his human existence, being generated in her by the Holy Ghost, must have been absolutely sinless ; unless we will make sin the immediate creation of God. And that which he generated sinless, he preserved so, through the whole stages of its existence : so that there never was, and never could be, in our Saviour's person, any proclivity to sin, any capacity of taking pleasure in it, or of being allured by it. We hold, therefore, not that human nature in our Lord was, in itself, as corrupt as any other man, and was kept holy, only in consequence of the union of his divine nature to it in one person, but that it was originally generated in perfect holiness in order to be capable of that union, and that, from the moment in which the union took place, it became ne- cessarily and immutably holy. With this statement, the language of revelation harmo- nizes. Christ is declared to have been u without sin" whether actual or constitutional : to have been " holy, harm- Y 338 ESSAY V. less, undefiled, and separate from sinners :" expressions, which, in their full and unqualified sense, seem wholly irreconcil- able with the idea, that his flesh, or human constitution, was imbued with the whole corruption inherent in our fallen na- ture. And no restriction or modification of these terms is presented in the places where they appear, or is suggested by the context. Nay, not only are these things affirmed of the Saviour, after he had been tried, and had patiently, stedfast- ly, and, at last, victoriously finished his conflict with all evil ; but, when Gabriel announced to Mary his miraculous generation in her womb, he denominated that flesh, of which she was to be the mother, " that Holy thing which shall be born of thee." But on the hypothesis which we oppose, it was not a holt/, but a sinful thing, — nay, a thing having in it, and con-natural to it, all the proclivities to sin, all the capacities of moral evil, ever exemplified in any of the child- ren of Adam. To whose authority then are we to bow I to that of certain modern theologians, or to that of the angel who " stands in the presence of God V It may perhaps be asked, why then was Jesus generated in the womb of a confessedly sinful being 1 Why was he not created at once by the power of God, as Adam was, in all the perfection of manhood \ We reply, because it wTas necessary that he should suffer, and should die. The nature of new-created man was not susceptible of either suffering or death, disease or pain. It became so only in consequence of sin. And had our Lord been created in the same state, his nature could have been so, only in consequence of his own transgression. He was generated, therefore, in the womb of the Virgin, and the substance, though not the first element of his human being, was nourished from hers, that he might be capable of pain, and suffering, and death, and all the penal ills, to which mortal flesh is heir. ON' THE HUMANITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 339 II. But farther, I contend that, though the union of sin- ful humanity with sinless divinity had actually taken place, in any one period of our Lord's existence, it could not have subsisted for a moment. In confirmation of this, I will appeal to any one who has a feeling of what holiness is, on the one hand, and sin on the other, who cherishes a due esteem of the former, and disesteem of the latter. Suppose, that any one of us had a power conferred upon him, by which he could, at once, instan- taneously and for ever banish from his flesh and spirit, every evil affection and propensity, with all that springs from them, root and branch : and then suppose that he delayed to do it. Would you not hold this as a demonstration that he had no true love to holiness, no adequate hatred of sin, or sense of its evil ; Yea, if he tarried, but for a moment, to exercise that power, would it not be a proof that there was something wrong at the heart, still some secret hankering after that, of which the Lord hath said, that his soul hates it \ I am sure, I think, that the very supposition of such power makes every one, who hears me, sigh at the thought that he has it not ; and that his feeling is, that, if he did possess it, he would put it into complete and instant operation ; that not one moment longer, should any remnant, particle, or taint, of that which is abominable in Jehovah's eyes, continue in any passion of his soul, or any corner of his material frame. Now, if we admit that in the person of Jesus all the attri- butes of the Godhead were conjoined with all the essential properties of man, we must also admit that in his person there dwelt a power thus instantaneously and completely to expel from his soul and body, however deeply infected with corruption, the whole loathsome mass at once and for ever. For of the Godhead, infinite power is an immutable and in- separable attribute. What, then — shall any sinful mortal, in 340 ESS AST V. whom holiness is but a nascent thing, feebly struggling with corruption, ever in danger of being choked and vanquished by it, and upheld only by continual supplies from divine grace — shall he say, or dare to say, that love to holiness, and abhorrence of evil are stronger in him, and would operate more powerfully, than in the divine person, who is the Holy one, and the Just ? or that the soul of Jesus would tolerate for a moment the indwelling of that, which his own would immediately expel I If it be emphatically said that " the " soul of God hates'1 it, could it be tolerated in the soul of him who was " very God,'"* though also " very man?" We assert, then, that even had the union, which has been so strangely, yet so strenuously, argued to have sub- sisted in our Lord's person during the whole period of his tabernacling upon earth, from his conception to his expiry on the cross — even had that union for a moment existed, it could have been but for a moment. The utter abhor- rence, which divine holiness in the soul of Jesus must have felt to all that is morally evil, must have instantly constrain- ed his divine power to cast forth from every thing pertaining to his person, all that was sinful in propensity, will, or act. No, we dare not to suppose in him, the voluntary tolerating within him for any measurable time, far less through his entire earthly existence, of that, the least approach or feel- ing of which must have been to him the object of the deep- est loathing. III. The doctrine of the favourers of the notion, which we refute, is self-contradictory. No one asserts more strenuously, than its chief advocates, the perfect purity of our Lord's person, or is more sensible that this was indispensably necessary to the acceptableness of his offering unto the Father, and of course to the success ON THE HUMANITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 341 of his interposition for the salvation of mankind. Accord- ingly, in connexion with others, they have declared, with all the solemnity of men feeling their responsibility to the God of truth, and, I have not a doubt, with the most entire good faith, that they " utterly detest and abhor any doctrine, that " would charge with sin, original or actual, our blessed Lord " and Saviour Jesus Christ, whom we worship and adore as " the * very and eternal God, of one substance, and equal " ' with the Father ; who, when the fulness of time was lk k come, did take upon him man's naturo, with all the es- "'sential properties, and common infirmities thereof, yet " 'without sin;1* who, in the days of his flesh, was 'holy " 'harmless, undefiled, and full of grace and truth, a Lamb " 'without blemish and without spot;'" and they further declare, that " all their peace of conscience, progress in sanc- " tification, and hope of eternal blessedness, rest upon the " sinlessness of that sacrifice, and the completeness of that " atonement, which he hath made for us, as our substitute." So, in endeavouring to guard against the charge of imputing any thing like moral evil, or defect in holiness, to the cha- racter and person of our Lord, it has been stated, that both his flesh and spirit were perfectly sanctified by the Holy Ghost, in the generation, in the womb, and from the womb, through all the periods of his existence. Yet, at the same time, it is asserted that sin was in that flesh during his whole mortal life ; that he bore it with him to the cross ; and that it was only destroyed in his flesh, by the same means, by which it is finally destroyed in his people in ge- neral, that is, by death. Now, if this be not to affirm and deny the same things, I am incapable of understanding what affirmation and denial are. And if contraries cannot be true, this doctrine must be given up. To all ordinary apprehend * Confession of Faith, chap. viii. 342 ESSAY V. sion, at least, in that which is perfectly sanctified, no sin re- mains, either in its constitution or its actings. Nay, we re- gard the expulsion of sin from the nature or constitution of any moral agent, as more essential to his true sanctification, than the avoidance of it in operation. For we know that the sinful workings, by which its presence and power in the internal constitution are displayed, may be suppressed or done away, while it retains all its inward defiling influence. Again, it is denied by the advocates of this hypothesis, that there ever was original sin in the person of our Lord. But if original sin denote the corruption transmitted from fallen Adam to his posterity, that hypothesis unequivocally affirms it. For it asserts Jesus to have derived from his mother the identically same nature that was in her, and that is in every child of Adam. From whom, then, did Christ derive it ? From Adam, surely. Then, according to this doctrine, Christ had in him the same nature as that of fallen Adam, and derived it directly from him. That is, surely, he was a partaker of original sin.— No, reply our opponents, for original sin can be transmitted by ordinary generation alone ; and the generation of the Messiah was supernatural. This, however, is merely a quibble, and does not affect the real matter in question. If the evil, that was in Adam, was truly in Christ, and came to him, by uninterrupted descent, direct from Adam, wherein differs it, whether it came to him by generation ordinary or extraordinary, natural or su- pernatural \ If the plague that is in my neighbour's house get into mine, what difference does it make whether it entered by the door or the window, whether it crept along the ground, or came down the chimney \ It is the same plague, whichever of these may be the case ; and to assert that the mode of its entrance constitutes an essential difference, is mere trifling. My friend has been so pressed with the self contradictori- ON THE HUMANITY OF JESl\s CHRIST. 34-3 ness of his system, that he has been compelled to acknow- ledge it. But what then I Does he, for this reason, give it up I No. He says, if you fully tell out the doctrine of Scripture concerning Christ, you must affirm contradictions, for the Scripture itself affirms them — affirms, at least, what seem so to us. But this evasion of our argument we cannot admit ; because if a proposition appears to us to be undeni- ably contradictory to itself, it is impossible for us- to believe it : for we have no idea of the incredible and impossible more clear than this, that nothing can be, and not be, at the same moment. Every orthodox believer, no doubt, main- tains as to the being of God, what has often been represent- ed as self-contradictory. But this he does not admit. He says that there is but one God : yet, that there are in the Godhead three person?. Now, did he affirm that God is one, in the same sense that he is three, or three in the same sense that he is one, the proposition would be self-contradic- tory, and the belief of it what we could never bring our minds to, by any process or effort. We therefore only acknow- ledge the fact of a Trinity in Unity, in the nature of the Deity. The mode of its existence, we confess ourselves un- able to explain. But with respect to holiness and sin, we have ideas sufficiently distinct, to convince us that any in- fusion of the one, in any manner or degree, into the nature or constitution of a moral agent, destroys the perfection of the other. Of this we have as clear a conviction, as that one man cannot be three men, or one god three gods. We will not admit, therefore, that Holy Scripture affirms what is palpably contradictory ; for that were to represent it as demanding our belief of what is impossible to be believed. It may be asked, then, what could be the motive of my friend for affirming propositions loaded with so many diffi- culties, and which even all his talents and ingenuity have f)44 ESSAY V. not been able to reconcile ? — It has been, first, to make the doctrine regarding Christ's person agree with what is said of him, in two texts of the epistle to the Hebrews ; — the one, that " it behoved him to be made, in all things, like unto his brethren ;" and the other, that he was " tempted in all points, like as we are, yet without sin." The object ex- pressed in the first of these texts, it is contended, could not be attained, unless the nature of the Redeemer was, in all respects, the same as that of other men ; having the same passions, affections, and desires : and by consequence, in it- self, inclined to, and capable of, the same sins with them, whether of heart or action. And in regard to the second, it is asserted that he could not be tempted like as we are, un- less he had really existing in himself, the same appetites and propensities, to which temptation is addressed in us. In regard to the first of these texts, it is however obvious, that if we must understand the words " made in all things like unto his brethren,1' in that literal acceptation, which this interpretation of them would require, then even accord- ing to the system which we oppose, these words are not true. For none of his brethren were, like Jesus, generated in the womb of a virgin, by the operation of the Holy Ghost. None of them have been sanctified in the womb, and the birth, and the whole life, by the plenary indwelling of the Holy Ghost, so as never to have conceived a sinful thought, or spoken a sinful word, or done an unholy deed. In all these respects (not to speak of the union of the divine nature to the human, from the first moment that the latter took being, which alone constitutes an immeasurable difference, and an invincible distinction) — in all these respects, and none can be more material, he was not " made like unto his brethren,''1 or his brethren to him ; he was diverse from them. — The words, therefore, must be understood in some sense, recon- ON THK HUMANITY 01«' JKST'S CHRIST. 345 cilable with the acknowledged facts of the case, and with the other declarations of Scripture. There is no necessity for taking them in a sense, which would infer what is contrary to the nature of things, and, in itself, impossible — what can- not be supposed to have existed more than the smallest imaginable space of time, even if it had at all existed, — and what is self-contradictory, and therefore incredible. They mean only that Christ was made like unto his brethren, in all the circumstance of his outward condition, exposed to the same sufferings and persecutions, and capable of the same sorrows, pains, and trials. In regard to the second of these texts, the sense which has been mentioned above, and which, it is alleged, re- cmires the hypothesis, which we have endeavoured to over- turn, proceeds upon a false interpretation of the word rendered tempted, taken from the common acceptation of the words tempted and temptation. In that acceptation, to tempt signifies to entice to sin by the excitement of some sinful passion : and a temptation is a presenting to the mind or senses, of some alluring object, fitted to awaken sinful ap- petites or affections. Now I think myself warranted to affirm, that the Greek words usually rendered by these terms, do very rarely bear this acceptation ; and that, in the epistle to the Hebrews, in particular, they bear it not even once. If I rightly recollect, indeed, there are only two places in the whole New Testament, in which either of them can be certainly shown to have such a sense. One of them is the well known and oft quoted passage, James i. 13, 14, " Let no man say, when he is tempted, I am tempted of God : for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man : but every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed." The other is 1 Thessalonians iii. 5, " I sent to know your faith, lest, by some means, the tempter 34:6 ESSAY V. have tempted you, and our labour be in vain.'1 n*ipa& and Treipao-pos, the terms in question, every tyro knows, are de- rived from Trapa, a trial, an experiment, and hence an attempt, neipafa, therefore signifies to make a trial or experiment, to try, when the person or thing, on which the trial or experi- ment is made, is the object chiefly intended ; and to attempt or make an attempt, when the actor is principally in view. When God is said to have tempted, more properly, to have tried Abraham, Abraham was the subject of the trial. When a man makes an attempt, he makes trial of himself — trial, whether his strength, or skill, or other faculties, be sufficient for the thing attempted. To make trial ofis, how- ever, the usual sense of treipafa. And it were to be wished that this, or some equivalent word or phrase, had been com- monly employed to render it. To have done so, would have prevented the misconception of various passages of Scripture, in which the meaning is not that which is sug- gested by the common acceptation of the word tempt, viz. to entice to sin, and would have removed the necessity for those cautions and explanations, which we find it necessary to employ when tempting is ascribed to God. If we take the original meaning of the word tempt, as indicated by its derivation from the Latin tento, it was much the same as we have shown the Greek terms properly to bear. But univer- sal and established usage has given to tempt and temptation the sense already specified. And it is not difficult to per- ceive how they have come to bear that sense. When an enticement or allurement to sin is presented to any one, a trial or experiment is made of him, whether he have resolution and conscientiousness sufficient to resist it ; whether he will show more deference to the authority of God, who forbids it, or to the sinful inclination which desires it. And in this «en«e. God, of whom it is said that he neither can tempt OX THE HUMANITY OF JESUS CHRIST. '64-*1. nor be tempted with evil, is said to have tempted, that is, tried Abraham ; and to have protect or tried his peo- ple in the wilderness, and by means of the nations who were left in the land of Canaan. In the last cases, the Hebrew verb is the same that is employed in regard to the trial of the father of the faithful ; the same also that occurs in Psalm xxvi. 2, where it is rendered prove. " Examine me, O Lord, and prove me,11 that is, try, or put me to the proof ; and in Psalm xcv. 9, " When your fathers tested? me," that is, made trial of me. It is most true that, in the case of such a trial as that to which Abraham was subjected, a strong inducement or temptation is thrown in the way of the per- son tried to commit sin by disobeying God. The Almighty, however, most certainly did not intend the trial of Abraham to produce that result, but to give him an opportunity to de- monstrate the strength of his faith, and the extent of his obedience, and thereby to confirm and strengthen both these important principles. And so, in every case of persecution or suffering for conscience1 sake, which is what is chiefly meant by the words rendered tempt and temptation in this epistle and other parts of Scripture, an inducement or en- ticement, strong in proportion to the severity of the suffering, is presented to the persecuted, to make them desert their duty, and violate their conscience. But though this, no doubt, is the effect which the persecutor wishes to produce, yet, considering persecution as a part of the Providence of God towards his people, they are to regard it not as a mean employed by him to seduce them into sin, but as a test or trial of their character. It puts to proof whether the autho- rity of God, or the fear of man, has more influence over them ; the love of God, or their own present ease ; the hope of immortal glory, or the dread of transitory suffering. And the sufferings of Jesus having been infinitely and inexpres- 348 ESSAY v. sibly dreadful, may doubtless be regarded as having been an inducement, strong beyond our utmost conception, to aban- don the task which he had undertaken, to draw back from his engagements, and to leave sinners to perish under the curse of that guilt, the burden of which he felt to be so in- tolerable. But such was not the result intended or expect- ed by the Father. No. He intended that this most awful trial should issue in the glory of his incarnate Son, by prov- ing his superiority to all that could be suffered, not only from men and devils, but from divine justice itself in its avenging retributions. That this was, in reality, the form in which Christ was tried or tempted, is declared in Heb. ii. 18, " He hath suf- fered, being tempted,1' words which intimate, that while he suffered, he was tried, or that his trial was the purpose of his suffering, and his suffering the means of his trial. And let it be remembered, that of all the trials of duti- ful obedience, of all temptatious to desert it, suffering is the most severe. Wherever it occurs in its more formid- able degrees, it is far more powerful than any that can arise from the most intemperate vehemence of the passions, which usually try men's fidelity, or seduce them to disobedience. Let a man, under the influence of the most furious animal appetite that ever urged a mortal to break through the laws of God and men, have but one joint of his finger caught in a vice, a single turn of the screw will instantly extinguish his desire, will reduce all his sensations to one, that of intense pain, and all his wishes to the single wish for deliverance. And though temporary toil and hardship have been endured for the gratification of the corrupt passions of the mind, where is there one among men that will long resist the continued application of severe pain \ Ambition the most grasping, co- vetousness the most rapacious, wrath the most fierce, revenge ON THE HUMAKITY OF JLSUS CHfclST. 349 the most implacable, will be banished from attention by a sufficient application of this most commanding means of in- fluencing human thought and action. He, therefore, who has been signally tried by this, and whose love to God and duty has proved victorious in the trial, is able also to over- come all other trials or temptations. He has shown, that over his principles, they will be powerless, and to his judg- ment and feelings, insignificant and contemptible. If we have succeeded in showing that, from the eternal, necessary, and unchangeable repugnance between divine ho- liness and all sin, it is impossible to suppose that sin could have place in our Saviour's person, we must see that this most formidable species of trial or temptation is the only one to which he could be subjected. For having no sinful pas- sion in his nature to which enticement to sin could be ap- plied, his mind was utterly inaccessible to temptation in the ordinary sense of the word, the excitement of sinful desire. But in respect of pain, the most terrible trial of obedience and dutiful submission, and which may, therefore, be also the incomparably most powerful inducement to desert duty, he was truly " tried in all points, like as we are, yet without sin." For he came to " suffer for sins, the just for the un- just. " It was, therefore, necessary that he should assume a nature capable of suffering, and liable to death. And of all our affliction he took a share. " He bore our griefs, and carried our sorrows.'' He can fully sympathize with all the suffering, and " deliver them that are tried" Now, let us remember, there is this marked difference between temptation by the excitement of sinful passion, and the temptation or trial which consists in suffering, that it is, in no degree, inconsistent with the purest holiness in any person or being, that he should be averse to pain, and should shrink from it with a repugnance proportioned to its severity. S50 ESSAY V. For were pain no trial to any being, however holy, — did he feel no desire to escape from it, — and did not that desire be- come more vehement and overpowering, as the pain became more intense, that were just to say that it was no pain to him, whatever it might be to others. For the very idea of pain is that of a state to be hated and shunned, and which, if excessive in degree, must excite longings for deliverance, the most restless and uncontrolable. — And if we attempt to compute all that Jesus suffered from God and men, in body and mind, when " the iniquities of us all were laid upon him,*1 when " his soul was poured out unto death, and made an offering for sin," we may be satisfied that never was " any sorrow like unto his sorrow, wherewith the Lord afflicted him ;" that all our pains, in comparison with his, are but as " the drop of the bucket;'" and that he, having en- dured and overcome the greater, can enable us to endure and overcome the less. There is no need, therefore, of the hypothesis which we oppose, to explain these texts, or to render them strictly consistent with what we are taught elsewhere, concerning our Redeemer's person. Nay, granting that that hypothesis were true, and that, therefore, the expression, '; tempted in all points like as we are," is to be understood as the supporters of that hypothesis would have it to be, it still would not be true that Jesus was so tempted in all points. For in order to be tempted as I have been, he must not only have had a capacity of feeling sin- ful passion, but must have actually felt every evil desire that has raged in my heart, as powerfully, and in the same degree as I have done. For without the feeling of desire, there is no temptation : and the mere capacity of desire, never suf- fered to become desire, is therefore not temptation. But it is asserted of Jesus by our opponents, that he was kept per- ON THK HUMANITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 351 feetly holy, in every stage of his being, — that is, sinful desire was never permitted to enter into his soul, — that is, tempta- tion was never permitted to touch his heart, — that is, he was not, in this sense, tempted in all points, like as I have been ; nay, suffering excepted, he has been, in no point, tempted as I am. — Thus, after all, this strange and revolting hypothesis fails of effecting the very purpose for which it was devised. A second argument, on which much is rested for esta- blishing this hypothesis, is, that it is necessary to a just idea of our redemption. To redeem fallen human nature, it is said, that it wTas needful that Christ should come into that nature, such as it is by the fall ; and that, in his own person, he should encounter, vanquish, and cast out all its evils. And this redeeming of our nature, our whole nature, is con- tinually dwelt upon, as constituting the salvation wrought by him. This term nature, too, is sometimes used, as if it denoted the whole properties, passions, and faculties which distinguish fallen men ; sometimes, as expressive of the whole body of our fallen race. But in regard to the first of these uses of the word, which is the only proper one, it has been justly observed, that human nature does not denote any being or person actually existing. It is a metaphysical abstraction, and, in itself, a non-entity. We might as well talk of redeem- ing fear, or love, or hatred, or any other abstract principle. Such terms merely represent the ideas which we have of certain qualities ; but these are nothing in themselves, till they appear as distinguishing concretes of some indivi- dual or individuals. In this sense, then, redeeming the na- ture, the whole nature of fallen man, is an absurdity. If it denote merely the redeeming of Christ's own person, soul and body, from the evils of that nature, then, as his person is not mine, redeeming it in him is not redeeming it in me, Sc>2 ussay v. or any other individual. I must be identified with his per- son, and that not figuratively, or by substitution, but really : his person must be mine, and mine his, ere the redemption of the one can be the redemption of the other. — If, again, we take the term, as it is frequently used by writers on that side of the question, as denoting the whole race of beings of whom that nature is distinctive, what is asserted is mani- festly contrary to fact : for all these beings have not been included in the one person of our Lord. That assertion could only be true, if, by some strange process, the whole persons, souls and bodies, of all mankind, had been collected together, and formed into one huge mass ; and the person of Christ had become consubstantial with the whole, had per- vaded and animated the whole ; and by casting all corrup- tion out of itself, had simultaneously cast it out of them. And on this supposition, no human being, none, at least, since the resurrection of our Lord, could have had any sin in his mind or body : for, on this supposition, he redeemed the whole nature that had sinned, cast all corruption out of it, and put all that corruption to death on his cross. — An hypothesis implying such absurdities, is its own refutation. Still further, it is argued that our Lord's taking a nature, in all respects essentially sinful as ours is, was necessary, in order to show that he is able to deliver us from its bondage and pollution. It is said, "I find myself so deeply imbued " with sin, and it is so necessary to my salvation that I be " wholly purified from it, that, in order to enable me to put " my confidence in any Saviour, for his delivering me from its " indwelling and dominion, he must show me that he can " do it, by doing it in himself. It is not enough to tell " me that he will, or that he can do it. I must see an exam- " pie of his having completely and triumphantly effected it." Now, if a man believe that the Saviour is a divine person, OX THE HUMANITY OF JESUS CHItlST, 35% and that God himself has undertaken the redemption of man- kind, he must have a very faithless and low idea of divine power, if he doubts of its ability to accomplish his deliver- ance from the yoke and corruption of moral evil, — a deliver- ance solemnly promised, and made sure to him by the oath of Jehovah, — unless he see performed the incredible and re- volting experiment of a divine person taking into personal union with himself, human nature, infected with all the cor- ruption of fallen humanity ; and behold him undergo, in this compound person, all the struggles, conflicts, and pangs, which that corruption can occasion, till he at last overcome and eject it ; and hear him then say to the objects of his re- demption, " You see I have encountered and vanquished " sin in myself, and completely expelled it from my own " person ; now, then, believe that 1 can do the like for you." If the omnipotence and all-sufficiency of God, who has or- dained, and of the Saviour who has wrought out salvation, be admitted, nothing else can be necessary to satisfy us of the ability which is put in operation, to effect our redemp- tion in all its parts. Or, if an example of the actual accomplishment of that re- demption be necessary to form a sufficient ground of confi- dence for our faith to rest upon, it is evident that the pur- pose would be much more perfectly answered by giving that example in a man like ourselves, in all the circumstances of our birth and natural condition. Were I in the faithless mood supposed, and the example of what has been wrought in Christ himself were pointed out to me, to correct my unbe- lief, I might justly reply, " What avails it to show me the " discomfiture and ejection of sin, in a person so peculiarly " constituted as he was. He was generated by the power " of the Holy Ghost. He was kept perfectly pure from sin, " by that power, through all the stages of his existence. 354: ESSAY v. " He was not a mere man. He combined in Lis own per- " son, all that is essential to human nature, with all that is " proper to the Godhead. I was not generated by the Holy " Ghost. I was not born in a sinless state. I have not " had the plenary indwelling of the divine Spirit, from the " first commencement of my being. I am not one person " with God Almighty, all-perfect and all-glorious. That " might be easily done in Christ, which cannot be done in me. Ci Xo ; give me an example of a mortal like myself, ' shapen " ' in sin, and brought forth in iniquity/ long feeling, and " long exemplifying, like myself, the fearful dominion of moral " evil; — show me a David, a Paul, a kinsman, 'washed " ' thoroughly from his sins, and cleansed from his iniquity.1 " That will be a case in point ; I may then believe that I " too may be, in like maimer, purified, emancipated, and " made more than a conqueror. But the instance, to which " I am directed to look, is so totally diverse from mine, its " circumstances are so peculiar, the person, in whom it is " given, is so immeasurably raised above all that is merely •; human, that from it I can take no encouragement and " gather no consolation.'1 Besides, I am convinced that the difficulty, with which the new-born faith of the awakened penitent has to struggle, is not about the power of God, or the sufficiency of divine grace, to purge him from his sins. For that, the idea of his omnipotence is sufficient at once to set to rest. The great difficulty is to believe, in opposition to the solemn and awful denunciations of the wrath of God on every soul of man that doeth evil, confirmed by so many facts in the history of his Providence, that he will suffer the sinner to escape from punishment, and will restore him to favour. This is the great cause of the convinced sinner's alarms and disquietudes, from which nothing can relieve him but the belief of the ON' THE HUMANITY OF JESUS CHRIST. wondrous fact, that vC God loved us, and gave his only begot- ten Son, to be the propitiation for our sins,'1 — not that his Son took a sinful nature into personal union with himself, maintained with it a long and painful struggle, and at last overcame it, but not without being obliged to yield up his own life in the dreadful contest : — a doctrine, which he could not be supposed to understand, and which, if he did understand it, does not meet the difficulty, under which he labours. * * * # ESSAY VI. OBSERVATIONS ON THE NATURE OF FAITH. In the religion of Christ, faith has always been esteemed a most important principle, ever since, in the early part of his ministry, he said to Nicodemus, " He that believeth on the Son of God, is not condemned : but he that believeth not, is condemned already," and in the conclusion of his earthly labours affirmed to his apostles, " He that believeth and is baptised, shall be saved : but he that believeth not, shall be damned." To every one who regards these assertions with the principle just mentioned, to every one who has faith in them, or believes them, they must indeed appear of the most momentous interest. Even those, whose faith in them goes no farther than to regard them as perhaps, or as probably true, must feel no common anxiety excited by an atten- tive consideration of them. For the ideas, which they include, of eternal happiness, or everlasting misery, as im- mediately connected with believing or not believing, are the most awfully important that can be presented to the hopes or fears of man. Hence all who are under the in- fluence of religious concern, are so anxious to ascertain whether they have faith or not. Hence the earnest exhort- ations to be " stedfast in the faith," and the like : the ad- monitions to " examine and prove our ownselves, whether we be in the faith." Hence, too, have men, according to ON FAITH. Sol their different characters and systems, formed and propagated very different notions respecting faith. Thus the Anti- nomiaii conceives it to consist in attributing such a design and extent to the atonement of Christ, as to supersede, to his people, all or most of the obligations of morality, and to take away the necessity of personal holiness in order to their everlasting welfare. Others, in their zeal to avoid and coun- teract such errors, have gone into the opposite extreme, — have supposed so many pre-requisites, alleged so many things to be necessary to, and implied in faith, that salvation by faith, as explained by them, turns out little different from salvation by works. Hence also a variety of distinctions have been stated as characterizing faith in different persons. Thus we hear of a speculative faith, supposed principally to concern itself in forming theories of religion ; of a no- tional faith, which consists in adopting the wild fancies, and extravagant interpretations of enthusiasm, for divine truth ; of a doctrinal faith, which, though not perhaps erroneous as far as it goes, is alleged to confine itself solely to matters of opinion, as if those of practice were comparatively unworthy of regard ; of a historical faith, which acknowledges the facts of Christianity as historically true, but regards them, like other events of past time, as in little or in no degree interesting to persons of after ages ; of a practical faith, which, considering doctrines as matters of difficulty and doubt, throws them almost wholly out of view, and applies itself only to the study and obedience of the precepts of the gospel ; — while those, who would shun the errors, which these terms are intended to denote, endeavour to convey what they regard as the just idea of faith, by the terms justifying and satiny faith. None of all these expressions, however, is authorized by Scripture ; not even the last. For though we are said to be "justified by faith,11 and to be 358 ESSAY VI. " saved by faith," and so to justify or to save may be reckoned properties of faith ; yet Scripture nowhere adds to it these designations or titles, by way of distinction, as if it admitted that any thing which it calls faith in the gospel, or faith in Christ, was not justifying or saving. — And hence to anxious and inquiring minds, very great difficulties have arisen respecting two questions, which in themselves seem very plain, and which could otherwise have been very easily answered, — What is faith? and, have I faith ; While opinions are so discordant respecting the first, it must be difficult satisfactorily to resolve the last. And the difficulty is very much increased by the fact that there are multitudes in the world who make a profession of faith, but seem not to be possessed of the character which Scripture ascribes to believers, or to act from the principles of believers. It appears to be going too far, to deny, in the face of their solemn and repeated professions, that they have faith : and yet if they have a faith, it is but too plainly not of the right kind. It is manifest that of the two questions alluded to, the answer of the first is essential to that of the second ; for till we have some clear and satisfactory notion of what faith is, no one can ascertain whether he possess it or not. And, on the other hand, if we can arrive at a clear and simple idea of faith, that will be nearly sufficient as an answer to the second inquiry too. Because, of any principle, of which we have a distinct and precise conception, it cannot be difficult to as- certain whether we find it in our minds or not. My chief ob- ject, then, will be to state and vindicate what appears to be the true scriptural notion of faith. From examining and comparing the most important pas- sages of Scripture, in which the nature of faith, its operations, and the blessings connected with it, are mentioned, as well ON FAITH. 359 as from considering the nature of things, and the manner in which motives and principles operate on the human mind, I think myself warranted to affirm, that faith is a simple un- qualified assent to the truths of Gotfs word, so far as discovered to our minds. In other words it is the same with what we usually term belief and consists in the belief of those truths. I call it a simple and unqualified assent, because the mind which professes it, believes the whole of these truths, so far as known ; and because it does not presume to correct, mo- dify, or explain them away, so as to render them more agree- able to Ls own prejudices or inclinations: but wherever it can ascertain what is obviously the purport of the sacred re- cord, acquiesces in it without hesitation or reserve. Faith is the same principle, then, though different in its object, by which we believe in the truth of any assertions or facts, which are not at the moment subjects of ocular inspec- tion, either from the testimony of others, or from comparing such facts or assertions with our own experience. That is, as to the facts and history related in Scripture, faith is the same principle, by which we are assured that there is such a country as France, and that its ruler* and people are in a state of hostility to the government and inhabitants of these realms ; — it is confidence in credible and sufficient testimony- Or to state a case more nearly parallel, it is the same princi- ple, by which we consider it a matter not capable of dispute, that a great and salutary revolution was effected in Great Britain about 120 years ago, by which despotism and Popery were defeated in their united attempts to re-establish their baneful sway among us ; — it is assent to the concurring and well authenticated testimony of those who were spectators and narrators of that great event, and its attending circum- stances, as handed down to us through channels which can_ :'r This was written in 1808. 360 ESSAY VI. not be suspected. And let us observe that a very great part of the doctrines of the Gospel are the objects of faith, as thus described, — almost all, indeed, which do not relate to matters of personal feeling and experience. For a doctrine is nothing, but simply the statement of some important fact : and faith in the doctrine is just believing that the fact is as stated. Thus, the doctrine that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah, is nothing but the assertion of the fact that he is so, that he is the person long foretold under that name to God's peculiar people, and long expected by them. The doctrine of his divinity or Godhead, is merely the statement of the fact that " the Word," which " was made flesh," was " with God, and was God." The doctrine of his atonement is simply a declaration of the fact, that in his death and sufferings he endured the just penalty of his people's sins, and that thus they rightfully escape it. The doctrine of his justifying righteousness only affirms the fact, that he also fulfilled, in his people's stead, that perfect obedience, which was necessary to entitle them to eternal bliss ; and that thus they obtain a sure interest in the incorruptible inheritance. And the doc- trine of his intercession informs us of the fact, the comfort- able and encouraging fact, that having finished on earth what- ever was needful to be accomplished for their salvation there, he now pleads the merit of it for us in heaven ; and to secure a favourable answer to our prayers, continually presents them, so far as they are fit to be answered, before his Father's throne. Faith in these doctrines is the clear and fixed conviction of the mind that these facts are really so, — do actually exist ac- cording to these statements. Again, as to much of what Scripture teaches concerning the condition and circumstances of human nature, the changes to be wrought in it, and the blessings necessary for it, faith is nearly the same principle with that by which we assent OX FAITH. 361 to the propositions and reasonings of a philosopher, who gives a just and accurate account of the constituent principles of the human soul, of the manner in which they act, and are acted upon : or the same with that, hy which we agree to the statements of a physician, who sets hefore us a true detail of the symptoms and progress of a particular disease, and ex- actly points out the most successful means of relief or cure. It is the conviction arising from experience. We believe the philosopher or the physician, from the conformity which we observe between the propositions of the one or the state- ments of the other, and the facts with which experience has made us acquainted in ourselves, or has noticed in others. And we receive the declarations of Scripture concerning the state, wants, and miseries of our nature, because we find in them an exact agreement with what experience daily shows us in ourselves, and in our fellowr-men. But still, in either case, faith, whether as founded on testimony or experience, appears to be nothing more than a simple and unreserved assent to the truths asserted in the Word of God, — a clear and settled conviction that they are truths. We would now endeavour to show from Scripture, that this is a true representation of the sense in which faith is there exhibited : for on the very principle now asserted, if such be not the sense of the Scriptures, it is not to be admitted by any who believe them. To examine every text in which faith or believing is mentioned, would prove, though not a unless, yet a very tedious task. I propose, therefore, to con- fine myself to a brief review7 of some of the passages, in which it is treated of by the apostles John and Paul, in whose writings we know that the doctrine of Scripture concerning it is chiefly conveyed. It is, however, first to be marked, that the term mans appears almost universally in the native Greek writers to denote simply belief; except when in some 302 ESSAY VI. instances it is transferred, by a common enallage, from the agent to the object, and denotes worthiness to be believed; of which we have frequent examples in the use of the corres- ponding term faith, among ourselves. Among such writers too, the verb jrurreva seems, except in a few metaphorical ex- amples, to denote merely the exercise of belief, or what the Romans would have expressed by fidem, not fidueiam, habere. The presumption is, that the inspired penman, in using the language of these writers, would use their terms in a similar sense. And the only circumstance, which seems to have suggested to translators and interpreters of various ages a sense somewhat different, corresponding to fiduciam habere (though no doubt implying the other), is the insertion of the preposition £v or «s between the verb and its object. Instead of saving simply, with common authors, iriareveip nvt, or ma, they frequently write iv twi or eu two.* It is presumed that had not this peculiarity of phraseology appeared, it would never have occurred to the interpreters of Scripture, to render the terms in any ether sense than that which they usually bore. In that case, we can conceive no motive for their hav- ing done so, nothing to suggest it to their minds : and if any of them had ventured, without such reason, to have done it, every judicious inquirer would have charged them with pre- sumption and unfaithfulness. Xow, it has been shown by every critic, that the insertion of these prepositions after this and some other verbs, in the language of the Xew Testament, is merely one of those Hebraisms, of which there are so many * It may be observed that, according to the strict Greek idiom, it would seem that the accusative should be used after this verb, in ex- pressing the thing believed ; and the dative, in indicating the person to whose assertion we give credit. This distinction, however, is not always attended to by the native writers, and apparently still less so by the scriptural authors. ON FAITH. 363 examples in it. In Hebrew it is usual to connect the verb with its object, not merely by casal terminations, as in Greek and Latin, or by apposition, as with us, but by those prefixes, which, when used prepositionally, correspond nearly to eV and €iy, and which are always used with eamin, the Hebrew equi- valent of -mo-Ttvtiv. Even those who contend for the peculiar sense of ma-reveiv iv or e«, as applied to God and Christ, dis- tinctly state and acknowledge this ; of which we have an example in Pasor. Yet had he attended to the consequence to be hence deduced, he would have seen it to be fatal to the theory maintained by him and others. For, if this form of speaking " xere Ilebraismus est" it can express no more than the corresponding Hebrew idiom conveys. But that idiom, it is incontrovertible from thousands of instances, imports nothing more than the relation of the action expressed by the verb to its object, signified in other languages by a change of termination, or, as in our own, by apposition. — It may, in- deed, be with reason alleged, that an idiom in one language sometimes expresses more than the nearest corresponding one in another. But surely the New Testament writers, had it been their object to express trust or affiance, rather than belief, were not destitute of, and, we shall see, were well acquainted with, proper Greek terms, to convey their meaning without ambiguity, or violation of correctness. The general conclusion to be derived from these consi- derations, will, it is presumed, be rendered certain, if we can show, from the writings of the before named apostles, that they often use the verb without the preposition (in which cases, therefore, there can be no pretext for deviating, in our interpretation of it, from its proper sense), when they have unquestionably the same thing in view as in those instances in which the prepositions appear ; and, moreover, that there are occasions in which these prepositions are used, when it 364 ESSAY VI. is evident, from the nature of the object, that the idea in- tended is simply fidem, and not jiduciam, habere. If to this, additional confirmation be supposed necessary, all that can be required will surely be found, if we can produce, in an instance held up as a pattern to all ages, an elaborate illus- tration of faith, by one of these apostles, in which assent to God's declaration is explicitly the idea of it which he ex- hibits. One of the most striking passages concerning faith in the writings of John, or indeed in Scripture, is the address of Christ to Nicodemus, John iii. 16-18 ; to which corresponds the language of the Baptist, detailed at the close of the chapter. Here the preposition hs occurs in all the instances. Yet even here, the Baptist appears to consider Xafipavew tt]v uvtov fiaprvpiav (to receive his testimony) as denoting, and em- ploys it to express the same thing, vv. 82, 34. And, in the fifth chapter of the same gospel, Christ, speaking of himself as the object of faith, repeatedly employs the same verb without the preposition, vv. 38, 46. And, if any one should allege that he speaks, in these verses, only of assent to the parti- cular declarations which he was then making, and not of faith in him in general, as the Messiah, I answer, that it appears that he employs the term in the same general sense which it usually bears in his discourses, from the manner in which he puts the question contained in v. 44, and from the reason which he assigns for the unbelief of his adversaries, — a reason which has, in all ages, been attended by similar effects. " How can ye believe, which receive honour one of another, and seek not the honour that cometh from God only f1 Or, if even this will not satisfy the objector, it is to be hoped that the language of v. 24 will, where, without the preposition, the term is employed to denote the same act of the mind with that which is mentioned to Nicodemus, ON FATTH. 365 as is evident from its being affirmed to be connected with the same blessed and glorious consequence. " Verily, verily, I say nnto yon, be that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me (jriarevcou too nen^avTi) bath everlasting life." Again, in chap, viii., we have instances, vv. 80, 31. " Many believed on him. Then said Jesus to those Jews which be- lieved on him, If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed.1' Here both the forms are employed, and are manifestly employed as equivalent. They who, in v. 80, ewKTTevaav eis avrov, are, in V. 81, Tre7ri(7T€VKOTas avra ; SO also, 111 x. 87, 38, " If I do not the works of my Father, believe me not (maTevere pn). But if I do, though ye believe not me, believe the ZCOrks, (e/Aoi, jit] in oti Irjaovs eaTiv, to believe that Jesus is the Christ ;" — to believe that fact, — to receive the truth asserting it with full and unqualified assent, v. 1. In v. 4. he asserts of the same class of persons, " Whatsoever is born of God, overcometh the world :"" and what is the mean of victory I " This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith." And what is this mans2. Just, as before, the belief of the important fact of the Saviour's high relation to Jehovah, assent to the truth, by which it is revealed ; — " Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that beliexeih that Jesus is the Son of God?" v. 5. Let us now examine, in a few instances, the manner in which St Paul expresses himself on the same topics. He, it is to be observed, sometimes connects with starts, and its verb, another preposition, «ri, of which I do not remember to have observed an example in John. While Paul, then, employs the expression mo-Tis *v Xpio-ra>, and tthttis 77 <=V Xpio-Ta>, as in Eph. i. 15, and Col. i. 4, he frequently employs the simpler expression mans Xpurrov. Thus, in Romans iii. 22, he speaks of " the righteousness of God, which is by faith of UN FAITH. 367 Jesus Christ 8ia marr€v en avrco ; and verse 14, as op eTTKTTevaav. But in iv. 8, and again in Gal. iii. 6, we find the faith of Abra- ham, which he repeatedly holds up as one of the most illus- trious examples of that grace, expressed by the ordinary and proper idiom of the Greek : " Ettio-tcvitc Appaap r to show that the idea present to his mind, while he employed them, was simply that of belief or assent to the truth concerning Christ. Thus in 2 Thes. ii. 12, those who are damned are those " who believe not (^ ir&narevKOTes) the truth" who did ESSAY VI. not really assent to the truth. But according to those who maintain that faith is something more than assent, this de- seription is by no means sufficiently comprehensive ; for according to them, there are many, who " believe the truth, "' but only with a faith historical, or speculative, or temporary, or belonging to some other of the classifications which they have invented, who nevertheless are equally exposed to dam- nation with the unbelieving themselves. — Again, he com- prehends the Thessalonians (2 Thes. i. 10) among believers, because they believed his testimony, assented to its truth ; '; because our testimony among you was believed. iirurrevOri^ — In Rom. x. 9, we find this remarkable expression, " If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt be- Here in thine heart that God raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved ;** where no ingenuity can make out the ex- ercise of mind denoted by 7rurrev. ON FAITH. • ] \ All who arc accustomed to exclaim against the con- sequences of preaching salvation by faith alone, as destruc- tive to good morals, will be ready to assail this statement. They will repeat their usual allegations about a mere specu- lative assent, residing in the head or imagination alone, and possessing no influence on the heart or conduct. They will support their allegations by instancing the examples which were at first used as illustrative of our statement. They will assert that belief in the existence of such a country as France, or in such an event as the revolution, is accompanied by no emotion in the soul, and can have no effect upon our actions. — Others, again, who hold the doctrine of salvation through faith alone, may be disposed to allege that faith is not merely an assent to the truths of Scripture, but consists in affiance in Christ, in a renunciation of all dependence for salvation on our own strength or virtue, and in trusting in him alone. They will tell me that James speaks of a " dead faith :** and remind me that by his authority we are assured, that the devils themselves have such a faith as that of which I speak, " they believe and tremble." With regard to affiance in Christ, and self-renunciation, I most cheerfully admit, nay confidently affirm, that they are comprehended m faith, that they are essential to it, or necessarily flow from it ; but I cannot admit that they alone are faith. unle>s I can allow that a part is the whole ; or that a principle which is equally concerned with every par- ticular of divine truth, is to be restricted in its exercise to a few. But as to the objections now stated, I will be bold to assert, that, if all men believed in one God, as clearly and firmly as the devils do, there would not be an Atheist on earth ; and that if any individual of mankind believed the leading facts of Christianity as clearly and certainly as Satan himself and many of his infernal agents, there would not 372 ESSAY V exist among them one speculative or practical unbeliever,— not one who was not most sincerely a Christian. What then, I may he asked, is the faith of devils and that of Christians the same I Does not that of Christians purify the heart, and work by love? Does not that of devils leave them still unchanged, nay, does it not augment their hate I To all, I reply, most true* But in turn, let me ask why I It is because of the difference of the situation of the parties concerned. It is uniformly according as our own situation and interests are affected by any particular fact or principle that we regard it with aversion or with pleasure. The tidings of victory and national success, which fill us with joy and ex- ultation, are matter of humiliation, disappointment, and rage to our foes. — He who learns that he has prevailed in an im- portant lawsuit, rejoices in the same sentence, which his antagonists consider with regret. He probably will be in- duced by it to commend the wisdom of the laws, and the integrity or discernment of the judges by whom they are administered : while his competitors perhaps regard it as a sufficient proof, that either the judges, or laws, or both, are partial and unwise. — The well authenticated account of the approach of a deliverer and avenger gladdens the captive's heart. It fills his oppressors with dismay. — Thus it is evi- dent that the same principle, faith or belief in the same facts, produces very different effects on the minds of those concerned, according to their respective situations. And the effects on each will exactly correspond to the degree of faith, with which the account of the events supposed is respec- tively regarded by them. If it be altogether disbelieved, it will produce no effect of either joy or sorrow, except perhaps a momentary feeling of resentment against its fabricators. If esteemed merely as what may perhaps be true, it will excite some little emotion of fear or hope, of pain or pleasure : but OX FAITH. ->iO that will be almost entirely .suppressed by the opposite im- pulse arising from the likelihood that it is false. If reckoned probable, the emotion supposed will be increased ; and, in proportion to the degree of probability attached to it, will become stronger and stronger : while the counterbalance arising from the opposite supposition will be more and more feeble. When accounted certain, the emotion will be as great as the case admits, and will experience no diminution or alloy from the passions which the idea of a contrary state of facts would naturally excite. — And thus in men and devils, who truly believe the gospel, their respective belief operates exactly according to their circumstances. The gospel was devised and revealed for the advantage of men, not of devils ; Christ w7as appointed, and came into the world, as a Saviour to the seed of Adam, not to the angels that " kept not their first estate." The men, therefore, who hear and believe the gospel, rejoice in.it, and embrace the Saviour. Devils who believe it, because they witnessed many of its most important facts, and therefore cannot disbelieve, envy and hate men on account of the favour shown to us, and denied to themselves. Their enmity against God is inflamed to greater violence, because of his passing by them, to set his redeeming love on creatures less noble in their original rank, and endowed with far inferior powers. While Jesus they contemplate with mingled rage and terror, as the person by whom, on the one hand, God's partial purposes, as they will term them, to mankind are executed ; and from whom, on the other, they themselves are to receive their full and final doom. Hence all their hostile efforts against men, against God, and against his Christ. — The argument of James, then, in his reasoning with false professors, I apprehend, is not intended to show that the faith of the latter is no better than that of devils, but that in fact it is not so good ; that is, AY VI. not so real. The faith of deyils not being mere matter of profession, but of sure though unwilling conviction, produces in them powerful practical effects, both as to principle and action, corresponding to the state in which they are placed : while by that of the false professor, no effects suited to his circumstances were produced in him. And though James speaks of a faith which is " alone," " dead,*1 " without works,1" I will boldly affirm that he did not mean by that term any thing, which, in any sense, can be called believing in Christ, or believing his gospel. So far from both was that to which he alludes, that it was in fact a denial of every principle of the gospel, and of every word that Christ uttered. It doubt- less was a profession of believing something, nay a profession of believing in Christ : but it was believing that sin was no evil, that holiness was neither good nor necessary ; that re- demption from sin was no deliverance, and renovation after the image of God no benefit ; it was believing that God does not hate sin, that he has no desire after righteousness, or delight in it : that Christ came not '; to destroy,11 but to establish "the works of the devil,11 not to overthrow, but to confirm his empire. It was, in short, making " Christ the minister of sin/1 And accordingly, Jude describes such per- sons, not as in any sense believing in, but as " denying the only Lord God, and our Lord Jesus Christ.11 But it would not have answered the purpose of James simply to deny that they had faith : for of their faith they boasted, and by a loud and obstinate assertion of it. would have set aside his allega- tion. It was necessary for him, therefore, to show by acknow- ledged facts, that wherever faith in the gospel is real, it pro- duces real and powerful effects, corresponding to the state and circumstances of those in whom it exists. He showed that such was the case in devils. They ;; believe,11 and therefore " tremble.11 He showed it to be the case in men, by the OX FAITH. instances of Abraham and Rahab : of Abraham, in whom they gloried as their father because the father of the faithful or believing ; and of Rahab, from whose history, as alleged to have been a person of impure character, they perhaps argued that carnal impurity was not incompatible with faith, or the relation of a child to God. Abraham believed ; and therefore he obeyed, yea carried his obedience so far as to " offer his son Isaac upon the altar. " In him, therefore, his faith wrought by his works, and by his works " the perfection of his faith" was proved, James ii. 22. Rahab believed. She believed the Israelites to be the peculiar people of God, and their enemies to be doomed to destruction. Her faith, too, wrought by a suitable effect : ;; she received the messengers, and sent them out another way.11 Still I may be reminded that there is such a thing as a mere speculative assent to facts and doctrines, residing only in the head, and communicating no gracious influence to the heart, from which " are the issues of life ;*" such a thing as a cold light in the understanding, imparting no fertilizing or animating warmth to the affections. I may be told that the belief of such propositions, as there is such a country as France, there is such a continent as America, can produce no emotion in the heart, can have no influence on our actions. I reply that there is no proposition, fact, or doctrine, in which interests of much importance to us are involved, that can, if believed, be for one moment matter of mere speculation, be confined to the head, without affecting the heart. To ex- emplify this, let us take the propositions just mentioned. Let us be placed in certain circumstances, and immediately these propositions will powerfully affect our minds, and in- fluence our conduct. The sure belief that there is such a country as France, in relation to which and its inhabitants, the situation of Great Britain and her people is that of ob- S76 ESSAY VI. jects of the bitterest hostility, is the cause, in all of us, of no light emotion. It begets anxiety and alarm for every thing that is dear to us as patriots, or even as individuals. It en- gages many amongst us in pursuits and labours, of which they otherwise would never have thought. It makes all carefully guard against trusting their persons or their property, with- in the territory or the power of France, and resort to many troublesome and costly expedients to protect their interests from the effects of her power. And if we know a relative, a friend, a countryman, to be under her power, and within her territory, the mention of her name, and the belief of her existence, is attended at once with a lively resentment of that inveterate hate which makes their circumstances so forlorn, and with commiseration and sorrow for their fate. The belief that there is such a continent as America, with which an advantageous trade may be maintained, is most in- teresting to the merchant, the manufacturer, and the states- man ; and produces many exertions on the part of each. It sets the statesman to work, to devise, negotiate, and put in force, terms and regulations for the most beneficial prosecu- tion of that trade. The actual prosecution of it busies the merchant ; employs his head in speculation, and his hand in correspondence, in short, all his talents in the various details of traffic. And the industry and ingenuity of the manufac- turer are exerted and rewarded in providing the materials of commerce. With respect to affiance in Christ, self-renunciation, and the like, which we have already acknowledged as compre- hended in true faith, let it be shown that they, so far as war- ranted by Scripture, contain in them any thing more than the belief of certain truths exhibited in that divine record, and I shall be satisfied. Or rather let me say, that, if they consist in believing any thing which is not declared in it, I ON FAITH. 6 i I will affirm them to be not faith, but presumption, and in so far, unbelief. For the spirit, from which unbelief proceeds, is no less displayed, when we exceed our warrant, than when we refuse to come up to it. In the cases lately put, it must be admitted, that the be- lief of the facts specified may be interesting and influential, or not, according to the particular outward circumstances of individuals. While there are many, on both whose minds and actions they must, and do exercise a powerful influence, there are others on whom their effect is little or nothing. But however diverse the circumstances of men's temporal state may be, the facts recorded, and the truths declared in the Gospel, are such as must always be most deeply interest- ing to every individual of the human race. For there is not an individual among them, who is not in the miserable si- tuation which revelation declares to be that of sinners, — not one, Avho is not exposed to the doom which it denounces against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, — not one, therefore, who does not immediately stand in need of the deliverance which it makes known, and to whom the bless- ings necessary to, and comprehended in, that deliverance, are not unspeakably valuable. While to render the discovery of them more completely interesting, there is not one for whose deliverance from impending and everlasting destruc- tion, for whose exaltation to imperishable honour and happi- ness, these blessings are not sufficient, — not one, who feels his want of them, and is desirous to obtain them, to whom they are not offered in the freest and most liberal manner, nay, on whose acceptance they are not earnestly and affec- tionately pressed. The belief of the facts and truths relating to them, therefore, can never cease to be powerfully interest- ing ; and of course, wherever it is real, must be operative, powerfully operative. 378 LSSAY VI. To illustrate this a little farther, let us take some parti- cular instances. Does a man truly believe, has he a clear and settled conviction that he is, by nature and by sin, under the curse of God. liable to his eternal wrath, and thus to wretchedness endless and unmixed ? I affirm it to be in the nature of things absolutely impossible that such belief can be matter of speculation only. To him who has this faith, it ever was and must be the matter of his first and most anxious inquiry, " How shall I be extricated from this mi- " serable state ; how escape from the wrath to come V If any one shall affirm the contrary, I will also affirm that a person suddenly awaked in the night, and informed by one in whose testimony he has implicit confidence, that the house is in flames around and underneath him, nay feeling himself already the stifling effect of the smoke and heated air of the conflagration, instead of instantly starting from bed to exert every effort to escape, will composedly lie still, and after a few calm speculations on the nature of fire, or on the causes or consequences of the present instance of its violence, will cover his head from the stifling air, and undisturbedly resign himself again to sleep, because it may peradventure be still a few minutes before the beams that support his chamber be absolutely burnt through, and he and his couch sink to- gether in the devouring element. And if it must be granted, that mere speculation and indolent inaction are in the latter ca^e incompatible with nature and reason, that is, morally and physically impossible, they are not less so in the other. Again, does an individual convinced, as supposed above. " of sin and judgment, " also believe with full and unqua- lified assent, that Jesus Christ is able and willing to rescue him from his wretched state, and that none but Je3us can I I affirm of this article of belief, that it cannot, any more than the preceding, continue for a moment to be matter only of ON FAITH. -M.l> indolent and unfruitful speculation. Alarmed by his danger, his soul will eagerly grasp at the hope of deliverance ; as- sured that Christ has power to relieve him, he will neither hesitate nor delay to apply to Christ, with the most earnest importunity, that that power may be exerted on his behalf; while in proportion to his persuasion that the Saviour's in- clination corresponds to his power, will be the confidence and hope by which such importunity will be encouraged and supported. Or, if I shall still be told that this may be, and has been merely the subject of speculation, without affecting the heart or conduct, I will then assert too, that the person formerly described, aroused amid the flames, and finding every avenue of escape cut off, every mean of which he could avail himself for his own rescue out of reach, will hear with indifference the calls and offers of a benevolent assistant, placed in a situation to afford him relief, and provided with every mean to render that relief effectual, — will rather re- turn to his repose, in the certainty of soon awaking in tor- ments, than accept of the proffered aid. And if this be not in nature or possibility, neither is the other. Are we not all convinced, that in such a case the helpless and despairing mortal, did his eye catch a fellow creature from whose inter- position there might be the faintest probability of escape, would most vehemently importune it, even though he had cause to doubt either his ability, or will, or both ? Yea, though the fellow creature should be one whom the endan- gered individual had formerly treated with indignity, and whose resentment lie had just reason to apprehend, still, were it possible that through this fellow creature's aid he might be saved, the horrors of his situation would vanquish the re- luctance which in other circumstances he might have felt, and the pressing nature of his peril would make him imme- diate and urgent in his application. Nay more ; though 380 essav vr. there should be some possibility that his own efforts might avail him, though there should be some means within his grasp, by which he might have a doubtful chance of extri- cating himself, yet would he prefer these efforts and means to a certain prospect of deliverance, by the generous aid of one endowed with sufficient ability, and possessed of every requisite for its accomplishment? Much more, therefore, those who believe that Jesus, and that Jesus only, is able to save them, will make to him importunate, and unremitting application : and those who, in like manner, believe that he is ready, as he is able, will rely on him, and on him alone. Again, do men really believe that sin is so evil in itself, so shameful to the perpetrator, so offensive to God, so inju- rious to themselves, as Scripture represents it to be, and as it especially appears in the death of Christ, and can they wilfully commit, or knowingly continue in it ? We may as well assert, that he who assuredly believes certain substances to be poisonous and destructive to life, will deliberately use them as his food ; or that a man will knowingly follow what he is clearly and certainly convinced will bring him nothing but disgrace and pain, — in other words, that he will choose pain, and seek disgrace, on their own account. Or again, can men believe that holiness is so obligatory in itself, so amiable in the eyes of God and of all moral agents, so neces- sary to the happiness and essential to the honour of every immortal being, as the same Scriptures represent, and not esteem, desire, and follow it \ To affirm the contrary were to affirm that words have changed their meaning, — that desir- able means hateful, and hateful desirable, — that honour means shame, and is therefore to be shunned, — that happiness is woe, and must therefore be refused, — that moral obligation is licence, and is therefore to be renounced, — that loveliness is deformity, and therefore to be abhorred. As soon may OX IA1T1I. 381 we suppose that a man will wittingly refuse what he knows to be healthful, nourishing, and pleasant, and that he will decline what he is firmly assured is conducive to his interest, advantageous and necessary to his credit and reputation. In fine, if we truly believe what the Gospel declares con- cerning the excellence and the love of Christ, we must love him : and that, not merely as a part of holiness, obedience, or virtue, but as every rational being must approve, whether he will or not, what is truly good, and must also delight in it, in all cases at least, in which he believes it to be exhibited on his own behalf, and to have himself for its immediate ob- ject. And what is it to approve and delight in any person, but to love him ? As the motive of approbation and the cause of delight rises, the love will be the more intense. In the case, therefore, of simple and unreserved assent to the truths of the Gospel concerning Jesus, it will be raised to the highest possible degree. In short, in matters of religion, men are governed by the same principle by which they are directed in every import- ant concern in life, — their belief or judgment of the good or evil, advantage or disadvantage, of things and measures. Thus, if a merchant believe on information, or infer on his own judgment, that a certain speculation will be eminently profitable, he will make many alterations in his commercial arrangements, take much trouble to secure sufficient funds for its prosecution, exert himself to obtain all the necessary instruction as to the steps to be followed ; in a word, will spare no pains in providing every thing that may be requi- site for embarking in it, and carrying it on to the best ad- vantage. And when it has actually commenced, how un- remitting his vigilance, assiduity, and activity ! On the other hand, if he have good reason to believe that any enter- prize in which he is engaged, is likely to prove, in technical 3ti2 ESSAY VI. language, a losing concern, then, however partial to it he may have originally been, all his solicitude is to withdraw from it with the least possible injury, and to prevent or re- pair his loss, by a different direction of his capital and his exertions. So the mechanic, if he have cause to conclude that employment will fail, or that wages will prove inade- quate in any particular line, though that which was origi- nally the object of his own choice, and which habit has ren- dered pleasant, will betake himself to any other, which, in his belief and apprehension, will afford him more certain oc- cupation, and more adequate returns. Nay, we know that such persons, even when they have no such motive, as is now supposed, for changing the application of their talents, will often embark in a new, perhaps a painful and hazard- ous employ, will alter their residence, habits, and mode of life, merely on the prospect of some additional emolument. To give this argument its due force, let it be remembered, that in such cases men act on probability only. In the great majority of such instances, neither the merchant nor the artizan can have any thing like certainty in the views by which they are influenced. But their belief being real, so far as it has grounds to go, produces in their conduct real, nay, great and laborious effects, perhaps important and pain- ful sacrifices. Much more, then, when the mind, by a simple and unqualified assent to the truths of the divino word, holds, not as probabilities merely, but as certainties, truths infinite- ly more important than any information that can influence the proceedings of the merchant or the artizan — objects in- finitely more valuable than any which they can hope by their utmost and most successful exertions to attain — it is impos- sible, absolutely impossible, that it can remain inactive and unconcerned. Its capacity of knowing, feeling, and acting, must cease, ere such faith can be matter of idle speculation, ON FAITH. S8S of theory cold and unproductive. But the capacity and the possession of knowledge arc implied in belief: and to sup- pose the seul without the faculties of action and of senti- ment, is to suppose that it has ceased to be ; for these are essential to a spiritual and intellectual existence. It will farther establish and illustrate the deduction now formed, if we remark, what is indeed implied, and has been already suggested in it, but what has been often overlooked in treating of this topic, — the identity of belief and opinion. To say that you believe any person's declaration is, in other words, to say that you are of the same mind or opinion with him as to any matter about which his declaration has been issued, at least if it be supposed that he speaks truth, that is, that he gives a lair and undissembling account of what he himself thinks and knows. You may, it is true, mistake his meaning. You may suppose him to affirm what he did not intend, and thus, without purposing any impeachment of his veracity, you may adopt ideas very different from those which he himself entertains, and which it was his object to convey. But this, it is plain, is not to assent to his declara- tion, but to our own error, whether proceeding from care- lessness, prejudice, passion, or interest. To yield a simple and unqualified assent to the declarations of Scripture, is then, to be of the same opinion and views with God him- self, respecting eATery subject of which Scripture treats, and on which his mind is there announced. And can there be a higher or more forcible assertion of the rectitude of any man's, nay of any angel's mind, than to affirm that, with regard to every important and interesting object, his opinions are the same with his Maker's unerring and unalterable judgments, and are fixed in unison with these, as being formed on an unerring and unalterable standard ? Who could wish or hope for higher moral and intellectual excel- 384 ESSAY VI. lence. than such a unison implies I This were indeed to be " spiritually minded." It were to have " the same mind in us, that was also in Christ.''1 Taking together, then, the conformity of mind to the mind of God, which is thus included in an unreserved and unhesitating assent to the truths of his word, with the neces- sary influence of opinion on conduct, already remarked, it is evident that, in such assent, every excellence in Christian principle is contained, and every excellence in Christian practice founded. That what has been stated is a true account of faith, ap- pears, therefore, not only from its conformity to the language employed in Scripture concerning faith, but because all the effects ascribed to faith clearly and directly flow from it as thus denned. It is easy to see. by following out the reflec- tions that have been suggested, how, considered in this light, " it overcomes the world." " purines the heart." " is the substance of things hoped for," " works by love," and the like. It needs not, then, be difficult for any one. capable of the exercise of understanding, to answer the question, Have I faith or not ' Or if, from the remaining influence of miscon- ception as to this article, or from any other cause, the matter should still seem doubtful, either in our own case, or that of our fellow-creatures, an appeal to the natural and necessary ef- fects, which a full and unreserved assent to Scripture doc- trine must produce, will decide the question. Where these are wanting, it may indeed be truly affirmed that there is nothing but idle speculation in the mind. The profession of faith, without them, may be a convenient mask for the hy- pocrite to impose on the world, or for the wilful self-deceiver to pacify or parry off for a time the remonstrances of his own conscience, but faith itself is not there, the truths of God's word are not really assented to. — in short, are not believed. 0NT FAITH. By these effects are men to try their faith, or more properly their profession of faith. Where they are not, faith is not ; as where heat is not. there is no fire, — where breath is not, there is no life. When they are few and imperfect, faith is defective, not extending to the whole truth ; or erroneous, mingling mistakes and prejudices with the sound dictates of inspiration ; as where heat is small, the fire is weak, — and where the breath is feeble and interrupted, some deadly or injurious influence suspends, or counteracts the vital powers. It maybe objected, however, that if this account of faith and of its influence be just, then every genuine believer must be, what experience proves that no one ever was, impec- cable, and uniformly holy — It may be observed in passing, that this objection ought not to be made by those who assert that faith is something more than a simple assent to the truths of the divine word. For while they must admit that such assent is comprehended in their notion of faith, they surely will not allege that what they consider as addition- ally necessary is any thing that will render assent less effica- cious and useful in its influence, than of itself it would na- turally be. Whatever the additional principle is, they mean, it is presumed, to represent it as improving, not as impair- ing the power of assent. — But to meet the objection. We ad- mit, nay maintain, that it is the proper and natural tendency of faith, as described and explained, to make men pure and sinless. And were it always in exercise, always vigorous and complete, it would make them wholly or nearly so. There are three things, however, one or other of which does, in all cases, hinder the perfection both of faith and its effects. The Jirst is, that faith is not always in exercise. The atten- tion of the mind, even in the best believers, is often withdrawn from the objects which faith regards. There are times when Bb 386 ESSAY VI. it has no more recollection of the truths which faith embraces, than if it had never known them. Of this, every one is from experience perfectly sensible. Now, when those ob- jects are not attended to, when these truths are forgotten, their influence ceases ; and for the time, they can possess no more control over the mind, — can no more give direction to its determinations and exertions, than if they had never ex- isted ; or, which is the same thing with respect to it, had never been revealed. — When we reflect, then, how often the objects of faith are wholly out of view, and when in view, how unsteadily regarded, — when we consider how often divine truths are excluded from the sphere of thought and sentiment, and when admitted, how imperfectly they fill it, need we wonder at the manifold inconsistencies which mark the characters of even genuine believers, at the opposite and contradictory influences which are exerted on their minds, and the effects of which appear in their deportment ? The second cause of the imperfection of faith and of its in- fluence is, that our corrupt passions either altogether prevent our assent to some particulars of revealed truth, or render it, at least, weak and partial. This forms a most powerful and dangerous obstruction to faith and its effects. But as a description and illustration of it will appear in the discussion of a subsequent objection, we rest satisfied at present with having mentioned it. Thirdly, our assent to divine truth is always imperfect, either from the deficiency of our knowledge of it, or our for get- fulness of many particulars which we may have once learned and recognised. Though revealed truth in general is so plainly declared, that " he who runs may read," though the great lines both of doctrine and of duty are too clearly marked to be easily liable to be either overlooked or misconceived, vet where is the scholar in the school of Christ, who will 0\T FAITH. 387 say that he has learned the whole, that there are none con- cerning which he labours under a mistake, or that ho is aware of the full extent and application of even those with which he is most thoroughly acquainted ? Did we meet with any person asserting such pretensions, we should only say of him, with the apostle in a similar case, that " as yet he knoweth nothing as he ought to know.11 Yet, unless we could both make and vindicate such pretensions, our assent or faith must be incomplete, and its fruits, of course, deficient. And if many defects in divine knowledge may be imputed to even the best informed believers, and will be readily ac- knowledged by them, how miserably behind are the common herd, who, instead of " having their senses exercised to dis- cern both good and evil,11 are still but " babes in Christ,11 labouring under all the ignorance and errors to which in- fancy is prone ! Moreover, even that which we do know, we have not always in readiness to apply. It does not occur to us at the proper time : or its application to our particular situation is not at all, or not justly, apprehended. Its influence, there- fore, both on sentiment and conduct must be partially or totally impeded. That this is frequently the case, every one, who has been at all accustomed to compare his heart and life with the principles by which they ought to be regu- lated, knows and mourns. Farther, many things which were familiar at times, when particular circumstances directed to them our train of thought, gradually lose their hold of our minds ; their im- pression is weakened by other impressions, and though perhaps not so totally effaced as not to return, when the attention is again directed to its cause, yet for a season it ceases to be felt, and to produce its proper fruits. Hence much of the inconsistency that has been observed in Chris- :S8 KSSAY VI. tians,— the decay of their zeal and activity in some parti- culars, even when becoming more conspicuous in others. Whether it be that our minds are too limited, or that they are too little in the habit of right direction, to be capable of giving to all important objects their due measure of attention, the fact undoubtedly is that while one is adverted to, an- other, more or equally valuable, is in danger of neglect. Thus persons, active in one duty, are often found remiss in others, or while becoming more attentive in some points than before, become less so in some which we may reckon, and which may really be, more obligatory. Every one who attends to his own experience, is conscious that at times he has, from various causes, had clearer views presented to him of certain truths, than those to which he had been ac- customed, and of course felt at the moment convictions and obligations in respect of certain duties more forcibly than before, or which before perhaps he had not felt at all. Under these, he probably formed the resolutions, and expected the effects, of greater vigilance and activity in these particulars, than in previous life. Yet, when afterwards by any circum- stance reminded of what he then saw so clearly, and felt so strongly, he has been humbled and astonished to find, that the measures which he proposed to pursue, and the effects which he anticipated, have not been realized ; or, if in some degree, and for a little accomplished, have soon ceased to appear of the same importance, and to exert a proper in- fluence on his actions. This, however, is not because he has been led to disbelieve the truths to which he had assented, or to deny the obligations which they imply, but because the truths themselves ceasing to be present to his recollec- tion or attention, the impression of obligation resulting from them speedily becomes more and more weak, till ere long it cease to have any sensible influence upon him, ON FAITH. 389 Now, if each of these causes must be followed by conse- quences so powerful and injurious, not only in obstructing the proper operation of our assent to revealed truths, even when it is real, but in suspending or preventing assent itself, we need not wonder that the influence of the whole united — an influence to which every believer is exposed, should tend much to impede, and to render incomplete, the natural and sanctifying effects of faith. To this topic, too, it is not foreign to remark, that to believe that the gospel is a revelation from God, and to be- lieve the gospel, though things that ought always to go to- gether, are in fact very different, and may be found apart. There are persons, concerning whom it would be too much to say that they are infidels, in the ordinary sense of the term, that is, avowed deniers of the divine original of Scripture. They have perhaps written eloquently, and argued success- fully in its defence. And it is not easy to be conceived, that they are insensible to the force of their own reasoning. Considerations of interest, perhaps, or impressions of educa- tion, or a sense of the importance of maintaining the autho- rity of revelation to even the temporal welfare of the world, make them willing to see the general evidence of Christi- anity in a favourable light, and averse to entertain or to countenance doubts of its genuineness or authenticity. Yet examine their lives, and review the tenets which they profess to hold as the truths of revelation, and it becomes impossible for one who yields to it an unreserved assent, to consider them as believers of the gospel. They have no objection that there should be a revelation, or even to own that the gospel is such : but the native enmity of their hearts to its truths continuing unsubdued, they wilfully mistake, they grossly pervert, they daringly interpret its doctrines, not by the obvious import of its own language, but by the notions 300 ESSAY VI. which may be most easily reconciled with their own preva- lent corruptions. Nay, so numerous and satisfactory are the external evi- dences of Christianity, that, could we suppose any person with an unbiassed judgment, and sufficient means of infor- mation, to set himself to consider them, we might reasonably expect him to arrive at a decided conviction that the gospel came from God, though he had never heard a word of it, and was totally unacquainted with all its contents, the truths ex- cepted which must occasionally be mentioned in the detail of its proofs. Yet, though such a person certainly could not be called an infidel, in the usual acceptation of the term, no one could account him a believer. It is even conceivable that if he afterwards proceeded to examine the gospel itself, his natural aversion to its obvious dictates would lead him either to the same audacious licence of interpretation, which many of its professed advocates have displayed ; or might even so prejudice his mind against it, as to make him sus- pect, cavil at, and finally reject the very evidence, by which he had been formerly convinced. — Perhaps a case in some measure agreeing with this, is that mentioned in Heb. vi. But again, if faith be nothing but a simple conviction of the truths of the gospel, why, it may be asked, is not faith found in every one to whom the gospel is preached ; For, surely the friends of the gospel will not assert that these truths are so obscure as to require any extraordinary pene- tration to discover them, or so doubtfully revealed as to de- mand any unusual sagacity to determine their sense. Nay, are not the facts, which some of the most important of these truths assert, to be found in every human bosom I facts, therefore of the correspondence of which with the proposi- tions that affirm them, every one, who is not fatuous, is capable from his own consciousness and experience, to judge! ON FAITH. 391 Neither surely will any advocate of revelation declare that either its general evidence, or the proof of its particular as- sertions, is so recondite and hard to he understood, that any uncommon powers of discernment are necessary to discover, or of intellect to comprehend it. Is it not the boast of those who plead the controversy of the gospel, that its evidences are so clear as to be obvious to any understanding that will impartially consider them, and to render inexcusable both the blasphemies of the avowed unbeliever, and the perversion of its truths by those, who, while they profess a general as- sent to the arguments which support it, use a presumptuous licence in the interpretation of its contents \ Why is " grace" necessary to the existence of faith \ Why must faith be "the gift of God11 (Eph. ii. 8), instead of the spontaneous homage of the mind to indisputable truth \ This were, indeed, an objection very stumbling, both in the general question of the truth of Christianity, and in the admission of that account which has now been exhibited of faith, were it not explained by a well-known fact, — a fact of frequent, and universal occurrence. It is, that the under- standings of men, both as to the perception and tie belief of truth, are much under the influence of their passions and in- clinations ; so that, in every case in which these are inter- ested either for or against any particular proposition, their understandings can neither rightly discern, nor fairly judge of the truth. For example, of what fierce controversy are we not daily witnesses, in the political world, about facts and measures, concerning which the opposing parties have equal opportunity to be informed and to decide ; and res- pecting which, therefore, did not passion bias judgment, they could have no difference of opinion \ Nay, in political and in other cases, do we not often find the very existence of the simplest matters of fact disputed, while one side holds the 392 ESSAY VI. evidence, by which they are established, to be palpable and conclusive, and the other is equally confident that they are disproved \ It is not merely by the weakness or the blind- ness of our reason that such instances are to be explained ; for persons who are out of the bustle, and who are not under the influence of the same passions, can see clearly and decide justly, though possessed of less vigorous minds than the parties concerned, and having opportunities of information far inferior. It is by the power of the passions to pervert reason, to hold it in subjection, and make it their instrument, — it is by this power alone that such phenomena can be solved. It were not difficult, indeed, to produce instances, in which persons, even after having been convinced in the clearest manner, at an hour when passion was still, of the ruinous consequences of certain practices in common life, and having formed fixed purposes to avoid them, have yet, so soon as temptation returned and passion was rekindled, lost sight of their convictions and abandoned their resolutions ; or if these were at all remembered, and reason was again employed, it has only been to devise some plausible pretext, by which for the moment to evade conviction, and to palliate the violation of their purposes. But it is unnecessary to multiply instances, since almost every case of disagreement, about matters of fact especially, is a proof of what is now affirmed. Now, those who know the gospel, know that the corrup- tions of the human heart are in direct hostility to almost every principle and precept which it contains. This hosti- lity, too, is perhaps keenest in the case of those doctrines, the facts asserted by which are, as was before observed, found within ourselves. The natural mind conceives itself espe- cially insulted by the assertion, and rejects with indignation the doctrine, that it is natively so impure, as to be only an (i\ I'AITII, S93 object of abomination to (rod's holiness, and practically so guilty as to deserve nothing but his wrath. Against such declarations, its pride, its lusts, its habits rise up in arms. Imagining itself worthy, and conceiving that when a man cannot be charged by human laws writh any gross breach of social duty, no guilt can be imputed, it scorns to adopt so degrading an estimate of itself, and represents such ideas as propagated only by fanaticism and immorality, to afford an apology for their vices. Moreover, as every passion must necessarily be attached to its indulgences and its objects, the natural mind loves its sins, its worldly courses and pursuits, loves them so well as to persuade itself, that in the main, at least, they are innocent and laudable : and if conscience will not be so far deluded (indeed it cannot be) as to admit of no exceptions to this conclusion, still the natural mind will not allow that they are either so bad in themselves, or so crimi- nal in the sight of God, as they are represented in the gospel. Unwilling to renounce them, yea resolved to persevere in them, it hates, and therefore doubts, rejects, or explains away the affirmations of Divine truth concerning them. It cannot seriously admit that they are damnable, and yet retain them. Its reason, therefore, instead of attending to and employing the evidence of their damning effects, to produce correction and reform, turns aside, under the influence of inclination, from that evidence, looks only where inclination bids, and persuades itself that all is safe and smooth, because it is un- willing to discern its danger. What, however, is all this, but decided unbelief \ It may be accompanied, indeed, with a profession of faith, but it is not assent, it is contradiction to the gospel. Again, to many things which the gospel does not merely recommend as excellent, but asserts to be absolutely neces- sary to salvation, the natural mind not only has no desire, ol)4« ESSAY VI. but entertains a rooted, and while its prevailing passions re- tain their sway, an invincible aversion. Its self-love, how- ever, will not admit the idea that it must be damned with- out them. It therefore disbelieves their necessity, and of course the word by which that necessity is affirmed. And as minds in such a state must find, that attention to the gos- pel only serves to disturb and to alarm them, they most firmly, though perhaps not formally, resolve to disregard it, and thus practically say, " Depart from us, for we desire not the knowledge of thy ways.11 Now, if daily experience prove, that any one passion, even when but slightly moved, can in a thousand instances blind and bias reason so as to make it obstinately reject that, which, if impartial, it would at once admit, can we wonder that the whole host of passions, joined in unanimous enmity to the truths of the gospel, should make men pervert, dispute, or deny them I The wTonder, indeed, is, that among such creatures any should be found to believe at all. And most evident it is, that while their passions maintain their native and experienced sway, in short while men are left to them- selves, they never will. They may, they probably will have doubts, suspicions, and fears : but a real assent to gospel truth, the events of every day demonstrate, it is impossible they can yield. Nor does it at all alter the case, that the things which the gospel asserts, are most reasonable in them- selves, consistent with fact and observation, corroborated by the circumstances, and correspondent to the wants, of human nature : the resolved and deplorable enmity to them which possesses the human mind, is sufficient, more than sufficient, to make human creatures either openly, or, at least, practically reject them. In truth, while under the influence of this en- mity, the more vigorous the natural powers of reason are, the more daring and undisguised will that rejection be. But ON FAITH. 395 where this enmity is subdued, the weakest understanding will have discernment enough to see truths so plain, facts so palpa- ble, and evidence so strong. — Hence the necessity of Divine influence to produce assent or faith, and all its fruits, and hence what I apprehend to be the proper province of that influence in this important work. Grace is necessary so far to control and overcome our corruptions, as to destroy the evil bias which they communicate to the intellectual powers, to remove their darkening effects, and to leave reason at li- berty to see things as they are, to discern the reality, impor- tance, and necessity of evangelical truths. Thus, according to the apostle, " where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is li- berty." And hence, in a passage formerly quoted, it is not merely said, that he who receives Christ is he that believes him, but that he who believes " is born of God." The mind which has been brought to such an assent to Divine truth, as has been specified, may indeed be called a new creature, and be said to have received a new nature ; for its views of the relative importance and desirableness of every object of pursuit are altogether new. It acts, therefore, from new motives and considerations, as well as by a new and better rule. Agreeably to this, it may be remarked, that our Lord in his discourse to Nicodemus evidently uses believing, and being bom again, as convertible terms, descriptive of the same state, and indeed appears to employ the former as ex- planatory of the latter. A few practical hints may suitably close these observa- tions. 1. From what has been stated, the necessity is evident of divine aid to preserve and maintain, as well as to produce faith. The original corruptions of the believer's nature re- main, though checked. Their hostility to divine truth is not, and cannot be altered. If permitted, therefore, to re- 896 ESSAY VI. same their old ascendancy, they will soon be attended with their old effects. This, it is presumed, every Christian who reflects on his own experience, has felt verified in himself. In proportion as he has allowed any corrupt propensity to prevail, or a worldly frame to get possession of his mind, he has found his views of divine truth obscured, his assent to it less decided, and its influence less sensible. The power which first controlled the inward and most dangerous ene- mies of the truth, must therefore control them still ; for it is proved, as we have seen, by innumerable facts in common life, as well as in religion, that reason, though it ought to be their master, cannot. 2. We may observe the necessity of the knowledge, and of growth in the knowledge, of the divine word, in order to the existence, preservation, and improvement of faith. Xo proposition that is unknown, can be the object either of as- sent or of denial. It is only, therefore, so far as the gospel is known, that it can possibly be believed. Assent may be easily conceived to fall short of knowledge, but cannot go beyond it. Says the apostle, wi faith cometh by hearing.'" If we know little, therefore, however sincerely we assent to it. our faith must be very limited. On the other hand, as knowledge increases, and becomes more clear, faith, if we possess the genuine principle of assent, will become more perfect, both in itself, and its effects. Hence we may under- stand the apostle's meaning, when he rejoiced concerning the Thessalonians. that " their faith grew exceedingly,*1 and expressed his anxious desire to visit them again, that he might " perfect what was lacking in their faith.'1 We may see, too. the reasonableness of the prayer, ;t Increase our faith." I can remember the time when these expressions scarcely seemed intelligible ; for, though of comparative as- sent, there may be an infinity of gradations, from perhaps m ON' FAITH. 397 probably \ and from probably to certainly; yet that absolute, or simple and unqualified assent, which I found always to be implied, when the Scripture speaks of faith, does not admit of degrees. But, though not as to certainty, it may increase as to the number of its objects, as to the clearness and cor- rectness with which it regards them. So the apostle longed to see the Thessalonians again face to face, that he might perfect what was lacking in their faith ; because, in his first visit to them, it was impossible for him to communicate, or for them to receive, the whole truths with which he was in- trusted, though the fundamental principles of the gospel had been both faithfully preached, and cordially embraced. Their faith, though genuine and saving, was therefore in- complete, because, however well disposed, they could not assent to truths which had not yet been laid before them, and which they had had no opportunity to know. He wished to perfect it, by presenting to their assent all the truths which are its proper objects. Knowing the sincerity and cheerfulness of their assent to the gospel, so far as at first made known to them, he rejoiced that their " faith grew exceedingly," by the diligence and success with which they improved the means of increasing their acquaintance with the oracles of God. Without some degree of knowledge, then, faith can- not exist at all, and without the improvement of knowledge, faith must remain lame, halt, imperfect ; and therefore, as before observed, incapable of its proper exertions and effects. 3. In the preceding discussion, we have seen the im- portance to the Christian character, of keeping faith in ex- ercise ; or, in other words, of having the attention of the believer's mind frequently directed to the truths to which he has assented, and of habitually maintaining the impres- sion of the objects which they reveal. For, if truths un- known can produce no effect, truths forgotten or not advert- 398 essay vr. ed to, must be equally inefficacious ; and the neglect of what is now recommended, has been proved to be one copious source of the imperfections and inconsistencies to be lament- ed even in real believers. But when these objects are habi- tually contemplated — contemplated as real, and therefore infinitely important, they must acquire a powerful and salutary ascendant over the Christian's spirit and conversa- tion. 4. Some things that have been stated, strongly prove the futility of the cavil, that "preaching faith is destroying mo- " rality." Faith is the grand efficacious principle of all obedience ; for it recognizes without reserve the authority of the divine Lawgiver, and therefore of his laws ; and it assents without hesitation to all those considerations which consti- tute the motives to obey. So that as faith is weak or strong, obedience will be languid or lively ; as its views are clear, just, and consistent, or the contrary, our conduct will be such as becometh the gospel, or such as to bring discredit on ourselves, and to mar the lustre of the Christian cha- racter. 5. It appears to me, that distinctly to keep in view, and explicitly to state the idea of faith which I have attempted to vindicate, would afford to the minister of the gospel con- siderable advantage in dealing both with genuine, and with nominal believers ; in urging the former to their duty, and convincing the latter of their state. Of the former, many consider saving faith, that faith which men are chiefly in- terested to possess, as exclusively confined to assent to some particular articles, accompanied by certain regards and affec- tions towards them. Others, whose views are more enlarged, still consider it as chiefly concerned with these, and though not to be divided from the rest, yet as connected with them rather by inference, than by direct and immediate relation. OX FAITH. 399 Of this, the unworthy indolence and corrupt inclination of our nature avail themselves ; and dispose men to he more attentive to theoretical views of these articles, than to their practical tendency, — dispose them to pay a sort of exclusive attention to these, which is prejudicial to a just attention to the immediate rules of practice, though the latter are equal- 1 v with the former the proper ohjects of assent. I well know, indeed, that by strong and incontrovertible inference, the articles to which I allude lead to practice. I know, they constitute its chief and most powerful motives. But where the practical consequences are removed but by a single step from the premises on which they depend, the evil principles formerly mentioned too often make us stop short there, — make us rest satisfied with the premises, without going on to the conclusion which they infer. But by representing faith as a principle, which is equally concerned with every part of divine truth, with its practical rules as well as its doctrinal statements, we shall get quit of this evasion. If we can then show any thing to be the will of God, to be taught in the divine record, we shall be able to say to every believer, " Here is a part of that truth to which you assent, " and to which your faith can no more hesitate to yield a " practical concurrence, than theoretically to acquiesce in " the most important doctrine which it embraces/' In short, it will thus appear that to disobey, in any case where the mind of Heaven has been clearly indicated, is as incon- sistent with true faith, as to disbelieve ; and that the influ- ence of faith over temper and practice, is not less immediate and direct, than over judgment and opinion. Were this distinctly seen, and uniformly kept in view, there is reason to hope that it might be of use in engaging Christians to walk more by faith, and more agreeably to their faith, and in making them escape those inconsistencies, by which they 401) ESSAY VI. too often seem practically to reject some parts of the same system of truth, which they speculatively maintain with such earnestness in others, I grant, indeed, that the belief of some articles, such as those which we usually term the peculiar doctrines of the gospel, may better serve than that of some others, as a sort of ' experimentum crucis, to try the genuineness of our assent. For it is to these that the natural mind is most averse : while to the others now alluded to, it does not so much ob- ject to profess at least, in some sense, an assent. Yet a true assent even to these, as parts of the divine testimony, I am much inclined to doubt that it never did yield : and on the other hand, it seems to me that the sphere of true or saving faith is not to be confined to any doctrine or doctrines, however important, but equally extends to all which God has revealed, so soon as discovered and understood. Indeed were it possible to suppose faith, even in the peculiar doc- trines of Christianity, to be separated from assent to any other of its truths, practical or doctrinal, — could we suppose a faith in the former to exist, while the latter, though equally obvious, were denied, I would affirm that that were not true or saving faith : because it is manifestly not an assent to the testimony of God, but is regulated by some other standard, which it holds of superior authority, and is conformed to His declarations, only in so far as they coincide with that. Again, in dealing with the nominal Christian, the view of faith which has been given, I apprehend, would facilitate our endeavours to detect to him his state, and would com- pel him to admit, that either his mind must be changed, or he must at once acknowledge himself an unbeliever. Those who are Christians chiefly from education and example, must generally have, from what they so often hear, an impression of great advantages being connected with faith. ON FAITH. 401 or a dread of the consequences of unbelief, which perhaps acts more powerfully upon them than the other. Though, therefore, very unwilling to believe, they are very willing to imagine themselves believers : and it is easy to conceive a variety of reasons, on account of which they may be desirous to be so reputed by their brethren. When, therefore, they are led to conceive of what is termed saving faith, as exclu- sively confined to certain articles, or at least as principally concerned with these, they contrive to get notions of them, of some sort, though probably very false or inadequate, lodged in their heads, and have them ready, on necessary occasions, to employ their tongues. And thus, without having any serious impression of the truth even of their own mistaken notions, they conclude from their agreement in verbal profession with those who are sound in the faith, that there is no reason to question their being as good believers as their neighbours. And though doubtless a faithful exhibi- tion of the practical consequences which a true assent to these particulars must produce, would serve, if properly attended to, to disprove their supposition, they, still more obstinately than those to whom we formerly alluded, stop short at the intermediate step between premises and inference ; and even when hardest pressed, the most you can bring them to is this, " Perhaps our faith has not all the fruits which it ought " to have : but whose has 2 Still we are believers." But were this narrow notion of faith, in which they find it con- venient to rest, exploded, — were that more enlarged idea of it, for which we now contend, generally admitted, as con- sisting in an unqualified assent to whatever is discovered to be the mind of God, they would be unable to maintain the ground in which they now entrench, or rather imprison, their consciences. Their persevering violations of moral ob- ligation, would demonstrate even to themselves that they c c t02 1»A\ \T. are unbelievers in the Scripture doctrine of the hatefulness and pernicious effects of sin : their uncorrected omission of many duties, that they have never assented to what revela- tion teaches concerning the excellence and necessity of holi- ness. And if James truly argued, that he who offends even " in one point, is guilty"" in respect of the whole law — be- cause his wilful transgression in this proves that his apparent conformity in other particulars proceeded from something else than a principle of obedience, seeing that would have equally recognized and submitted to the authority of all — we have also reason, on perhaps even clearer grounds, to say. that he who refuses an absolute and unreserved assent to any one article that is clearly shown to be a part of reve- lation, disbelieves the whole. For this demonstrates that his professed faith in any other portion or portions of it, does not proceed from assent to the testimony of God given in the gospel, but from some other and independent principle, in which, therefore, and not in gospel truth, he is to be rec- koned a believer. Of revelation, indeed, he is evidently a denier : because his conduct proves that, in his estimation, not it. but something else, is the deposit and the test of the truths of God. If so, then, much more in cases, where, on the idea of faith that is now contended for, persons cannot disguise even to themselves, that there is not one only, or a few, but a multitude of particulars, to which they cannot even pretend an unreserved assent, it must appear, and they must be compelled to own, that they are not believers, how- ever convenient or agreeable they may find it to be to assume the name. I am well aware, indeed, that those who hold the narrower notion of faith that has been often mentioned, are able to argue on it in nearly the same manner, and to the same conclusion. But it seems to me, that on their scheme, that conclusion is not so immediate and direct, not (XN FAITH. tOS so clear and unavoidable, as on that which has been now ad- vanced:— in which respect, therefore, the advantage appears to be with the latter. Some Reflections on the Reason* and Advantages of consti- tuting Faith the mean of conveying to men the benefits of Saltation. In a general point of view, it is evident that it is only by faith, that the benefits of salvation can be obtained by men. For as to facts that have not fallen under our per- sonal observation, and intentions, whether in our favour or to our prejudice, which we have no personal access to learn, we can have no means of knowing them, but by informa- tion given us ; and that information will only affect our minds, and influence our conduct, so far as it is believed. It is manifest, however, that unless the gospel be considered as proclaiming indiscriminate forgiveness and reconcilia- tion to all, it is necessary, in order to our enjoyment of these blessings in the present life, that something be pointed out to mark the distinction between those to whom they belong, and those to whom they do not, — some mode, by which they may be obtained and enjoyed, — or some condition, on which participation in them is suspended. Of the modes, to which mankind have had recourse for this end, different from or superadded to the exercise of simple faith in the di- vine testimony, two may be considered as comprehending all. The one supposes that the zealous observance of reli- gious forms and rites, will secure the blessings of salvation. This is the system of the hypocritical, and the superstitious. The other considers a man's own virtue as the efficient cause of the distinction between him and others. This is the scheme of the self-righteous ; which, modified into a t\\r\- 404 ESSAi" VI. sand forms, endeavours either to substitute itself for, or to blend itself with, the righteousness that is by faith. In op- position to both these, we have the doctrine, that all the be- nefits of redemption have been purchased by merits wholly independent of any thing in us, and are gratuitously bestowed on all who believe the record that reveals them, or rather, we ought perhaps to say, are bestowed by means of believing. To enable us to judge between these schemes, we may lay dowTn the following axioms. 1. No system can be worthy of God, or safe for man, which is inconsistent with the true state of the case : and conversely, that system is more ho- nourable to God, and best entitled to mai^s reception, which is most conformable to truth. 2. That system is most worthy of the beneficence of the Deity in conferring salva- tion, and most advantageous to man, which may best enable the redeemed to enjoy the privileges and comforts of their condition. 3. That scheme is most conducive to the divine glory, and the good of man, which best serves, on the part of God, to demonstrate the evil of sin, and the indispensable nature of holiness ; and which is most efficacious to promote in man his restoration to purity of heart and life. It might be added, lastly, that no doctrine can be supposed honourable to the Creator, or good for his creatures, which is not in har- mony with the declarations of his word. This is, however, little else than to enunciate, in a different form, what was mentioned first. Applying these indisputable tests, it is almost a waste of words to say, that the system which makes rites and forms the procuring cause or condition of our acceptance, will not bear to be tried by any of them. We shall therefore at once dismiss it. But the system, which represents our eternal welfare as suspended on the condition of our own repentance and obedience, has more to say for itself; and therefore is UN' FAITH, 405 better entitled to examination. In particular, all its advo- cates loudly insist that it is most favourable to morals, and therefore most worthy both of God and man. Whereas, making mere belief in a righteousness wholly without us, the work of another many ages ago, the immediate instru- ment of our justification, is, they contend, to break down the barriers of virtue, and to give vice full licence to do its worst. — But, 1 . If the scheme which is most conformable to truth, be most worthy of God, and most safe for man, the question will be soon decided between the opposing systems. The salvation of a sinner must be by grace. A sinful being does not possess that holiness, or moral perfection, which alone can be loved and approved by the purity of God. He is in- capable of that spotless conformity to the mind and image of his Maker, which alone is entitled to the bliss and honours of everlasting life. He cannot atone for the guilt he has contracted, except by suffering the penalties, to which the justice and the law of the Most High have doomed it. But if he be subjected to these, his salvation is impossible ; for of salvation the leading idea, the first and most important blessing, is redemption from the penalties of guilt. — In this state of the case, let us suppose, that, instead of a simple be- lief of the truth, such an imperfect obedience as that of which man is capable, is the mean of our acceptance, this would inevitably lead to views, and imply a doctrine, inconsistent with truth. If it did not lead directly to the conclusion, that there is some imperfection in the Redeemer's merits, which must be made up by our own, it would at least imply that there was in our righteousness something propitiatory and meritorious, in the sight of God. It would represent him as accepting that for righteous, which, from his own nature, and the declarations of his own word, it is impossible 406 ESSAY VI. can be so. It would be making him to pardon sin, through the medium of that which is itself defiled. And when we consider the rooted self-importance of man, — how strongly disposed we are to arrogate as much as possible to ourselves. such a view of the means of our justification will have a swift and powerful tendency, to make us rest our whole claim to life and glory, on our own integrity— a tendency, which, if we may judge from the declared opinions of some professed Christians, has not rarely or obscurely exemplified its influence. " Therefore," as says the apostle, " it is by faith, that it might be by grace ;" that, in conformity with the real state of the case, our salvation might clearly appear to be wholly gratuitous, so far as we are concerned — the fruit of an atonement presented by another, and of a righte- ousness in which we have had no share. For, though I have no hesitation in expressing my conviction, that where- ever any mind has been brought simply to assent to the truths of the gospel, there a great moral change has been eifected, a change, too, to the better ; yet it is manifest that in believing a truth distinctly stated to him, and clearly proved, no man can arrogate any merit to himself: more especially, when in that belief he expressly renounces all de- pendence on himself, and confides in the obedience and righteousness, atonement and intercession of another, as the sole foundation of his hope. In this point of view, then, the reasonableness of the connexion which is established between faith and salvation, is clear. It is that only which is con- sistent with the facts of our state and relation to God. The view of the matter which some have attempted to establish in its stead, is unworthy of him, and unsafe for us, because it would imply what is false in fact, and what would war- rant pretensions utterly incompatible with the character of God. and the condition of offenders. ON FAITH, Mh 2. Let us endeavour to apply the second test. AVc have said that that system is most worthy of the beneficence of the Deity in conferring salvation, and most advantageous for man, which may best enable the redeemed to enjoy the privileges and comforts of their condition. When a man hears the doctrine of Scripture concerning the character and law of God, and believes it, what must be his convictions I In what condition must he find himself ? Contrasting the state of his own soul with the holiness of God, he must see himself loathsome and abominable in the sight of that im- maculate Being, who is "of purer eyes than to look upon iniquity." Contemplating the justice of Jehovah, he must see his Maker not only disposed to cast him off as offensive, but under an eternal and inviolable obligation to condemn him. Adverting to the terms of the divine law, he finds that it prescribes nothing less than the absolute perfection of righteousness, and that to suppose less accepted would be equally derogatory to it and to its author : that its denunci- ations are those of " indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish to every soul that doeth evil," and that to suppose these not fulfilled were to suppose God a liar, and his law a mockery of his creatures, or rather an empty bugbear to frighten the timid, but to move only the contempt of firmer minds. In short, if, under such views, he consult the verdict of his own conscience, he sees himself left without any plea that he can maintain before his judge ; he is condemned in the tribunal of his own bosom ; and how can he stand in the presence of his God I — Now, to a person in such a state as this, how may the benefits and consolations of a redeemed state be best and most effectually applied I Suppose it rest- ed, as some would have it, on his personal attainments in purity, on his personal exhibition of virtue. To a man with the views just specified, such a doctrine could preach nothing 408 essay vr. but despair. Unable to satisfy his conscience, finding him- self continually to come short, he could still less imagine any thing in him acceptable to God, or equal to the standard which divine holiness prescribes. In such a condition, in- stead of advancing in security and comfort, in proportion as he grew in the knowledge of his Maker, and of the force and extent of moral obligation, he would but sink the deeper in horror and despondency ; and the tidings, which are em- phatically termed " tidings of great joy to all" that receive them, would be to him only tidings fraught with woe. And such a state of mind, as it would preclude the enjoyment of all the comfort of the divine life, it might be easily shown, would be incompatible with the exercise of many of its graces. The cheering, invigorating, and active influence of that love which constraineth a believer not to live to himself, could not reach a bosom frozen by continual horror, and darkened by habitual despair. On the other hand, experience warrants us to say that in persons with different views, in those who have false and low ideas of the character of God, and of the nature and ex- tent of moral obligation, such a system would encourage a presumption the most pernicious and unwarrantable. Even they, indeed, can hardly be supposed to look at the law of God, and yet conclude themselves sinless beings : but as it must be admitted, on the hypothesis about which we now argue, that the obedience required, and the repentance to be accepted, are not absolutely perfect, they will eagerly leap to the conclusion that they already have enough, and that to be anxious about more is only fanaticism, and righteousness overmuch. This is evidently the case with all " who trust in themselves that they are righteous." It is but too plain- ly, not because they are really better than those who have humbler ideas of themselves, but because their moral percep- ON FAITH. 409 lions are more obtuse, and their impressions of the holiness and majesty of God less solemn. It would seem, then, that the only way in which, con- sistently with the purpose of God in saving men, it is pos- sible to make the objects of his salvation acquainted with their happiness, to convey to them its consolations, and enable them to enjoy its advantages, is that which we have already shown to be most conformable to the facts of the case, — to inform them that what they cannot do has been done for them, that a righteousness fully satisfactory to God, and honourable to his law, a righteousness, in which they may be justified and raised to glory, has been finished by Jesus Christ in their stead, and that of this they are freely invited and fully warranted to avail themselves. When they are brought to see this distinctly, and to believe it humbly, then do comfort, hope, and joy spring up within them. The heart, which had been else the seat of despair, is filled with the peace of God ; and the lips which breathed nothing but lamentation, utter the voice of gratitude and praise. The Christian can now go to the labour of love with cheerfulness, because though he knows that nothing which is his can be worthy of divine regard, yet being accepted in the beloved, it shall not be in vain. Patience can now have its perfect work, because the hope which sustains it has now obtained a sure foundation . Zeal for the glory of God, and benevolence to man can now have full scope in his bosom, and influence on his life, because now, on every view of his condition, the impulses of gratitude and love rush in upon his soul, and set all its powers in motion. But while we thus expatiate on the happiness and ad- vantages attendant upon this mode of conveying the know- ledge and enjoyment of the blessings of salvation to the soul of man, the advocates for their own righteousness will be 410 essay vr. impatient to interrupt us with their favourite argument, — " There is danger in such views. They undo all the obli- " gat ions of morality. If men are taught that it is not their " own repentance, by which they shall be saved from future " misery, what inducement will they have to repent ? If " they believe that it is not their own obedience which is to " conduct them to future glory, what motive will induce " them to obey 2" To this, which is so often urged as rea- soning invincible, a sufficient answer might be given by re- peating what has been already suggested. But we shall meet it directly by contending, 8. That as that scheme is most conducive to the divine glory and the good of man, which best serves, on the part of God, to demonstrate the evil of sin and the indis- pensable nature of holiness, and which is most efficacious to promote in man his restoration to purity of heart and life, — the scheme which we have illustrated, demands our prefer- ence and esteem. It wears a specious appearance to say, that to represent a man's own repentance as the only effectual propitiation for sin, or as that without which no other propitiation wTill avail, is the most likely means to engage him to repentance ; and that to tell him that his hope of future glory depends on his own exertions, is the most powerful consideration to spur him on to diligence. But the real practical effect of this system we have already seen. Those whose views of God and moral obligation are just and adequate, will only be plunged by it into the horrors of dismay, and paralyzed by the dreadful agency of despair. How many of them, after being rescued from the temporary influence of such ideas, have recorded this as their own experience ! While in others it will but serve to teach presumption, and encourage indo- lence.— to make them act not on the principles and after the OX FAITH. Ill example of him, who, notwithstanding the most signal ser- vices and glorious attainments, ;i counted not himself to have already attained, or to be already perfect,11 but like those, who wrapt themselves up in their own sufficiency, and said, kl We are rich, and have need of nothing."" But more. The persons of whom we now speak are mighty sticklers for the dignity of human nature, and the excellency of human >virtue. They charge those with un- justly and perniciously degrading both, who represent that nature so corrupt, as to be capable of nothing worthy of God's acceptance, that virtue so defective, that in itself it has no charms to attract his complacency or satisfaction. They do not, however, seem to be aware, how inconsistent their own scheme is with the honours which they wish to secure for our common nature. Their objection to the system which we maintain implies, that they are convinced that there are no means of reaching the principles of human action but by sel- fish motives, — that every thing which is animating in grati- tude, constraining in love, transforming in admiration, will be addressed to men in vain, if their contemplation be not immediately directed to the considerations of profit and loss. What a mean and sordid scheme of morals is this ! How low an estimate must wre form of the creatures to whom it is adapted, — adapted, as the language to which wTe reply infers, to be alone efficacious ! They surely, to say the-least, speak more honourably of our nature, who, though they mourn its deep depravity, and confess the utter unworthiness of every thing in it, yet maintain that, when touched by a spark of celestial fire, it can be kindled into a glow of holy passion, in which, while every principle that is merely selfish is con- sumed, the soul can be animated to a fervour and constancy of exertion, that no self-regards can ever furnish. For there is this mighty difference between the nature and degree of -1 1 2 ESSAY VT. the exertion which proceeds from a state of gratitude and love, and that which is animated only by a regard to pergonal interest, that, in the latter case, so soon as we can persuade ourselves that we are secure (and that, on this scheme, will probably be at an abundantly early stage), we will be dis- posed to think that we have done enough, and that our souls may sit down, and take their ease ; while he, whose mind is pressed by the conviction of infinite obligation, will never be able to think or say that his exertions have been sufficient ; considering all that he has done and attained, as still but a most imperfect expression of his gratitude and attachment, he will aim at yet purer sentiment, and more active obedience. We may come more directly to the views of sin and holiness which the two systems we contrast will produce. In the theory of morals adopted by the man who imagines his own imperfect repentance to be in any sense a compensation for his guilt, that guilt cannot appear a very weighty matter. What views must those who entertain such an opinion, be led to embrace respecting the law, character, and government of God I That justice cannot be supposed very strict, which is satisfied with a repentance that even a man's own con- science cannot unreservedly approve ; nor that law inviolably sacred, the sentence of which can be evaded by an atonement in which its own precepts are transgressed. Neither can it be deemed an object of very great importance to maintain the authority of God's moral government, when those who have trampled on it, and who in truth continue to trample on it, can so easily secure impunity. Now, as was formerly remarked, no opinion, by the subject of which our eternal interests are effected, can be matter merely of speculation. Our prevailing views of such topics must influence our moral and religious character. Of that character they form the principles : they must therefore affect the practice too. In ON FAITH. 41 3 proportion, then, as men think gnilt a light evil, and easily removed, will they, in practice, be more easily reconciled to the indulgence of sin ; and the less awed must they be by the denunciations of that vengeance, which, they imagine, may with such facility be eluded. — Let us farther observe the influence which such a system, encouraging the deceit- fulness of sin, will have on moral character. Those who hold it, hold of course that the repentance, on which they rest so much, is wholly their own work, and must, therefore, be always in their own power. How encouraging such a system to that delay of serious consideration, which so lamentably prevails ! To every conviction it enables the sinner to reply, " Why urge repentance so particularly now ? I shall have it " in my power at any time. Go thy way, till a more con- " venient season.*1 Howt powerful an instrument of Satan's worst purposes may such a system prove ! With what in- fernal triumph may we suppose him long deluding a wretch- ed soul with the idea that sincere repentance is all that is required of him, and that this repentance is always in his own power, and then, at the last, bursting on his vic- tim with all the horrors of despair, — " Repentance has been " too long deferred : it is now unavailing or impossible !" — With some such delusion, every impenitent sinner, who hears the gospel warning, must fortify his soul. How pernicious the system, which gives it such direct encouragement ! Can it be necessary to contrast with this system, that which considers sin as an object of such malignity as to be wholly inexpiable by any human effort — which asserts the justice of God, and the requisitions of his law to be so in- flexible and so sacred, as to demand the full and unmitigated punishment of every offence — which holds the majesty of his government so high, as to require an ample reparation for every sin by which it has been dishonoured— which esteems 114 ESSAY VI. his holiness so immaculate, as to he incapable of accepting any atonement which is contaminated by any thing impure either in the character, or the performance of him who offers it — which, in fine, regards the incarnation, death, and suffer- ings, of Him who made and sustains the world, as necessary to the expiation of our guilt, and as the only atonement for it \ There is surely something in such views of sin, and of the divine character and government, which must impress on the mind that really receives them, with infinite force (if we may use the expression), the evil of whatever is unholy — with a force, in comparison with which all the impressions derived from the opposite system must be as nothing. It is a force, indeed, which must utterly overwhelm the soul with the consciousness of its own demerit, and its irrevocable ruin, did not the same system exhibit in the very facts by which it proves the evil of sin, the means of deliverance from both its condemnation and its power. And if such be the views of sin which the doctrine of justification through the faith 'of Christ suggests, they must produce in the mind which they possess, a horror for its domination, an anxiety to avoid it, a struggle to overcome it, which no other can effect. Again, that system does not suppose the demands of the divine law to extend far, which asserts that they can be satisfied by the very imperfect obedience of man. It cannot imagine the divine holiness very nice in the selection of the objects of its love, when it can regard with complacency, for their own sakes, such moral excellencies as mortals dis- play. To human morals, indeed, excellence is a term which can be applied only in a very limited sense. The best will own that it is rather what they have some idea of, and some desire to attain, than what they have really reached. And before we can suppose Jehovah to consider human virtue as in itself the object of his approbation and delight, we must ON FAITH. H5 suppose him alt >gether such an one as ourselves — nay, as in truth less discriminating in his judgment, less delicate in his choice, than even a human agent of refined character, and well-informed mind. This must generate low ideas of the holiness at which man ought to aim, and cool the ardour with which it ought to be pursued. The highest attainments will not appear so indispensably necessary as to be the objects of unremitting exertion. For, as on this system it is held, that a very imperfect virtue is in itself the object of divine approbation, nay, that even the most perfect degree of it at- tainable by man is not absolutely required, those who main- tain such principles will be easily led to suppose a very small degree sufficient — such a degree, as they find most easy for themselves, requiring little mortification or self-denial, little zeal or active exertion. — Nor is the ultimate plea to which the abettors of this system are driven when they are com- pelled to own that their good deeds, if weighed in the balance of the sanctuary, must be found wanting, much more favour- able to zealous and active virtue. It is sincerity. If we be sincere, all is well. And so, being, as they believe, very sincere in such supposed virtues as they find it convenient and agreeable to practise, they are quite content : and speak of those who take a higher flight, and aim at closer resem- blance to God, and more intimate communion with him, as only enthusiasts or hypocrites. On the other hand, the gospel believer has so exalted ideas of the obligation of holiness that he considers nothing .short of perfection as sufficient. He considers the justice of God as so strict, and his law as formed to so high a standard, that nothing less can meet the claims of the one, or be worthy of the reward which the other has to confer. He believes the Divine purity to be so pure, that nothing tinged with sin can in itself be the object of its love, or have communion 416 ESSAY VI. with it. In short, he believes that as the sufferings of Jesus, as the substitute of men, were the only expiation for our guilt, so the perfect obedience of " the Word made flesh1' could alone procure us the expressions of the Divine compla- cency, and make it consistent with Divine justice to crown us wTith honour and glory. In this system, holiness is re- presented as matter of so indispensable obligation, nay the perfection of it as so absolutely requisite to our dwelling with God, and being the eternal objects not merely of his com- passion, but of his complacency, that the mind must be ir- resistibly impressed with a sense of its necessity. It must feel not only the loveliness and the obligation of holiness, so as to seek it in some degree ; but must feel that to be " pure as God is pure" is indispensable. For if nothing less than perfect purity could please God, and propitiate his favour, nothing less can qualify us for the full, uninterrupted, and eternal enjoyment of it. Here are considerations, which, if really believed, will teach us to make light of all attainments that we have reached, and all exertions that we have made. They will lead us instead of reviewing our imagined virtues with delight, as the worthy objects of the complacency and approbation of an infinitely holy God, to account ourselves not to have already attained, but forgetting the things that are behind to reach forward to those that are before, to press on to more exalted heights, to be more unremitting in exer- tion, more wakeful in vigilance, more holy in all manner of conversation. Indeed, so high does the doctrine of faith raise the obligation of holiness, so exalted is the standard which it exhibits, as that at which we must not only aim, but actually reach, that did it not present us wTith the pro- mise of the attainment, and direct us to means, and aid of sufficient virtue to secure it, nothing could be more replete with despair. LETTERS. i)