wf^:m^^ # ^iy^yy BX,.3IX37— ^113 7- 1034 Hervey, James, 1714-1758. The whole works of the Rev James Hervey, A. M. The J«hn M. Krcbs Donation. S (L<^ p IL.^'U Ff^. THE WHOLE WORKS OF THE REV.JAMESHERVEY, A. RECTOR OF WESTON-FAVELL, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE. CONTAINING MEDITATIONS AiMONG THE TOMBS. — REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER GARDEN. A DESCANT UPON CREATION. CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE NIGHT. — CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. A WINTER-PIECE. THERON AND ASPASIO. SERMONS. — MISCELLANEOUS TRACTS, AND LETTERS. EDINBURGH : THOMAS NELSON AND PP:TER BROWN. 1834. BUINBURGH : PRINTED BY A. BAI.FOUR AND CO. NIDDRY STRBET PI- CONTENTS. MKDITATIONi AND CONTEMPLATIONS. Fapre The Author's Ijifc, . . v DeiiirHtioii, . . . .vv Prt-f:ife, . . . xvi MeditMrimi'^ ainorifr the Tombs, 1 Reflections on a Flower-Garden, 2.5 A Des^CHHt uooi) Creation, . 51 Conreinpiati )Ms on the N'srht, , 6.5 CoTitefnplatioMs on the Starry Heavens 9fi A Winter-Piece, . . 128 Therofi and Aspasio, or, a Series of Dia- logues and Letters upon tlie most ini- poitant a.-id interesting Suiijecls, I?-! Aspasio Vindicated, . . ii'D Improvement ot' the Doctrine of Justifi- cation, . . . oGj A Defence of Theron and Aspasio, 5(i9 Amendments of Tlieron and A«pasio, (ilG Mar'^hali on Sanctiiication liecommend- ed, . . .619 ser.mons on several important subjects. Serm. I. & II. Many made rifjhteous by the obedience of one, 6?,5, 627 III. The mimstry of reconciliation, 631 IV. The cross of f^lirist the Chris- 637 643 6.i3 664 tian's glory, V. The time of ilan^er, VI. The means of safety, VII. The way of holiness, Mr. Romaine's Sermon on Mr vey's death, Her- 6721 TRACTS ON SEVERAL INTERESTING j SUBJECTS. Remarks on Lord Bolingl)roke's Let- ters on the Study and Use of His- tory, . . . .687 Considerations on the prevailing custom of visiting on Sundays, . 704 A Treatise on the Religious Education of Daughti-rs, . . 70S Preface to Burnham's Pious Memor- ials, . . , . 711 Letter on Trail's AVork«, . 713 Promises to be pasted on Bibles, . 714 Letter to Richaid Nash, I'^sq. . 715 Rules and Orders of the Assembly for Christian Improvement, 717 Rules and Orders of a Religious Socie- ty at Truro in Cornwall, . 719 Mints for promoting Religion, . 723 Mr. Hervey's Preface to Jenks's Medi- dations, . . . 724 A COLLECTION OF RELIGIOUS LETTERS. The Preface, containing some further anecdotes of the Author, . 729 Let. 1. On human frailty, and the ex- cellency of virtue, . 733 2. On the advantage of afflic- tions, . . 734 3. On the last day, pride, and improvement of the com- munion, . . 73o> 4. Reflections on the assizes, 736 5. On Spiritual instruction from natural things, • 736 6. Advice to one looking out for a trade, . . 739 7. The character and duty of a gospel minister, . 741 8. On attending public worship, and the tmcerlainty of life, 744 9. On the intercession of Christ, 745 10. On the wonders of creation, 745 11. Advice to new married per- sons, . . 746 12. On going to a meeting of the clergy, . . 747 13. On the prospect of plenty, and distance from relations, 747 1 1. On preaching the fulness of Christ, . . 74a CONTENTS. Page Let. 1,5. On the vanity of life, . 749 16. Thoughts on different sub- jects, . . 749 17. On the nature and danger of worldly prosperity, . 750 18. On a plentiful harvest, . 757 19. On the fulness and suitableness of Christ, . . 758 20. Christ the believer's refuge, 759 21. On publishing his Medita- tions, . . 760 22. The advantage of religious conversation, . . 761 23. Thoughts on some of the Thirty-nine Articles, 761 24. On the personality and divini- ty of the Holy Ghost 766 25. Thoughts on some books 770 26. Proofs of the divinity of Christ, . . 770 27. On the Holy Spirit's being the object of divine worship, 773 28. On the imputation of Adam's first sin, . . 774 29. Remarks on a passage of Scripture, . . 774 30. Plan of his contemplations on the night; of the study of the Holy Scriptures, 78ti 31. Of promoting the spiritual improvement of infirmary patients, . . 788 32. On the same subject, . 789 33. On the death of friends, and a firm faith, . . 789 34. His dislike of controversy, 791 35. On publishing his Medita- tions, . . .792 36. On the plan of a Christian Society, . . 792 37. On levity in conversation, and attendance on public wor- ship, . . . 792 38. On his Meditations, . 793 39. On a poem, entitled, The Deity, . . . 794 40. The Christian's duty and triumph, . . 794 41. Of the Holy Scriptures, 795 42. An instance of Christian deli- cacy, 43. Sympathy with distress, 44. A narrative of conjugal afilic tion, . . 45. The Bible to be chiefly stu- died, 46. Of sanctified afilictions, 47. On the benefit of aflSictions, 48. Condolence on death, 49. Of the Puritan doctrine, 50. Of friendship, 51. An hospitable turn, &2, The evil of adulation. Let. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 38. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 796 84. 796 85. 796 86. 797 87. 797 88. 797 799 89. 800 90. 800 91. 800 92. 801 Christ's presence at the mar- riage of Cana vindicated, 801 Of acceptance with God, 805 Of assurance and Charity, 805 On the excellency of the Scriptures, , 806 On the Sunday Thoughts, 809 Encouragement to one in afHiction, . . 809 The duty and encouragement of a gospel minister, . 810 On hospitality, . . 811 On various subjects, . 812 Of Zimmermannus, . 813 His method of catechizing, 814< Comfort under spiritual dis- tress, . . 814 Application of salvation the work of the Divine Spirit, 815 On diligence in the ministry, 815 The laudable strife of a Chris- tian, . . 816 The Christian spirit a char- itable one, . . 816 Christian conversation, &c. 817 Of the mystic writers, &c. 817 Of self-elevation and assur- ance . . 818 The comforts of Christianity a powerful motive to holi- ness, . . 818 Faith in a suffering Saviour the foundation of a believ- er's comfort, . 819 A faithful minister to be en- couraged, 819 On Christian patience, 820 On presenting his Medita- tions, . . 820 On miscellaneous subjects, 820 On the improvement of time, 821 A caveat against desponden- cy, . . 821 On cleaving to Christ, . 822 A caveat against the fear of death, . . 823 Comfort against the fear of judgment, . • 824 The necessity of preaching Christ, . . 825 On supply to a poor Chris- tiian, . . . 826 On persuasion of the divine mercy, • . 826 The excellency of humihty, 827 On spiritual sloth, . 827 On ministerial disesteem and success, , . 827 Comfort against reproach, 828 On various subjects, . 828 The evil of unbelief, . 828 The felicity of communion with Christ, . . 829 CONTENTS. Page '■•■■r- 0?,. On miscellaneous subjects, S29 9t. The promise of God the Christian's shield, . 830 9j. Deliverance from trouble matter of praise, . 830 9G. Of Christ a vicarious sacrifice, &c. . . . 831 97. On boldness in Christ's cause, 831 98. On Christian conduct, . 832 99. On what is called honour, 832 100. On his father's distress, 832 101. Christian humility exempli- fied, . . 833 102. Christ the foundation of the Christian's joy, . 833 103. Reconciliation to God pre- vious to our performing holy duties, . 831 lOi. Of a companion for the sa- crament, . . fSfi - 10.5. Of Taylor on Original Sin, 837 lOG. On the success of books, 838 107. On Marshall on Sanctifica- tion, . . 839 108. On mindingrelision in health, 840 109. Sympathy in affliction, 840 110. On obligations to a friend, 841 111. Self-examination recommend- ed, . . . 841 112. Additions proposed to the Remarks on Lord Boii'-ig- broke, . 812 113. A plan of Theron and Aspa- sio, . . 84G 114. A criticism on Heb. vi. 2. 847 115. On various subjects, . 848 116. The diiliculty of commenting on Scripture, . 849 117. On esteeming the Bible, 850 118. On different subjects, . 851 119. On ancient History, . 851 120. Charity to be prudently given, . . 852 121. Of scriptural criticism, 8j2 122. Of publishing Theron and Aspasio, . . 853 123. On miscellaneous subjects, 853 124. On the same subject, 854 125. On his Theron and Aspasio,854 126. On a chronological manu- script, . . 855 127. On Hodge's Elihu, . 855 128. On Fowler's Design of Chris- tianity, . 855 129. On his Theron and Aspasio, 856 130. On different books, . 856 131. On his epistolary insolvency,857 132. Mr. Walker's character, and of the rules of his religious society, . . 857 133. How writings are successful, 858 131. Remarks on some books, 8J8 135. On the same subject, . 859 Lkt. 136. 137. 138. 139, 140. 141. 112. 143. 144, 145, 146, 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162. 163. 164. 165. 166. 167. 168. 169. 170, The author's wishes for him- self, . . . 8,59 Scrijjtural criticisms, . 859 A specimeti of Houbigant's criticisms, . . 860 On the same subject, . 861 On his Theron and Aspasio, 863 Comfort and advice to two malefactors, , 863 Plan of a supplement to Theron and Aspasio, 865 Advice to a physician, 866 On the state of the saints after death, . 867 On various subjects, . 868 Of Saurin's sermons, , 869 Burnham's behaviour at his death censured. The con- version of a libertine, 869 The value of life, . 871 Of Marshall's book. Scrip- ture criticisms, . 872 On different subjects, 873 On Christ's ability and wil- lingness to save, . 873 How to manage controversy, 874 A caution against the fear of man, , 875 Why many learned men treat religion with indiffer- ence, . , , 876 On Bogatzky's Golden Trea- sury, . . 877 On not remedying some grievances : and instances of plain dealing about reli- gious concerns, . 878 On neglecting to preach Christ, . , 879 Some remarks on not preach- ing Christ, . . 880 Plan of a supplement to Theron and Aspasio, 883 On different subjects, 884 On assurance of salvation, 885 A doctrinal tenet censured. A character of some books, . , 885 Character of some writings, 886 On various subjects, . 887 On the same subject, . 888 On courage for the cause of Christ. The benefit of affliction exemplified, 888 A sense of the love of Christ a strong consolation against the fear of death, . 889 Unbelief the reigning sin of the nation, . 890 Scriptural difficulties, 890 Character of Grey's last words of David, . .891 CONTENTS. Pag-e Let. 171. A character of some scriptur- al poems, . S91 172. Marshall defended, • 892 173. Of improving time, . 892 174. A proof of a future state of happiness. Luther's hymn, . . 892 175. On miscellaneous subjects, 891- 176. On the Earnest Invitation. A solemn prayer suited to it, . . . 894 1-77. Comfort under afflictions. A character and extract of the Battle of the Sexes, 898 17S. Of being courageous for Christ, . . 898 179. On different subjects, . 899 180. The hope of glory a strong incitement to duty, 900 181. On different subjects, . 900 182. A caution against despair, 901 .183. Gospel doctrine tends not to licentiousness. Character of one not fit for being a companion, . 902 184. On giving a rose to a lady, 905 185. On different subjects, D05 186. On the same subject, . 906 187. Advice to physicians, 907 188. On different subjects, 908 189. Scripture criticisms, . 908 190. Thoughts on the Ijetters on Thcron and Aspasio, 909 191. A Scripture criticism, 909 192. On different subjects, . 910 Let. 193. On profaning the Lord's day, reproof, different O[)inions, &c. . . '-10 194. On resignation, and an in- V\2 !I12 tcnr!(.-d visit, 195. On different subjects, 196. On JMr. Wesley's u::^,; dealing. 197. On Mr. Wesley's letter, 198. On the comforts that attend relij^ion. . . 013 199. On Mr. Wesley's letter, 913 20(). The excellency of the know- ledge of (hi ist. . 9!4' 201. On a week's preparation for the sacrament, . 91-t. 202. On his answer to Mr. Wes- ley, . . 915 203. On the Letters on Theron and As]ia*io, . 915 204. On Witherspoon's Essay, til'i 205. Scri])ture criticisms, . 916 206. On Fletcher's Purple In- land, . . nr 207. On Alsop's Anti-Sozzo, 9:9 208. Caution against judging of men s sl-ites, . i;2J 209. Gospel doctrines known by their fruits, . . 921 Jacobi Hervey de libro Jobi epis- tola ad Carolum Thayer, 92.5 A translation of this letter, 925 On the death of the Reverend Mr. James Hervey, . 928 Character of Mr. Hervey's Writ- ings, • ... 923 .s '?\ *' Of ' THE REV. JAMES HERVEY. A REGARD to eminent writings, wliich dis- ' pliiy genius, ler.rning, oitliodoxy, and piety, iiatunilly excites a desire to be acquainted with the writer; and this desire is the stronger, when these vvri tings are not only tniJy excellent in themselves, but are mii- versally admired, eagerly read by good peo- ple of aJl denominations, and calculated to j)romote the best interests of maiijas necessary to move him about. Yet, imder all this calamity, he was ever praising God for his mercies, and ibr enduing liim with patience. On the 25th (( 'iuislmas-day,) on which he died, Mr. Maddock paying him his morning visit, Mr. Hervey lifted up his head, and opened his eyes, as he sat in his easy-chair, (for he could not lie in bed.) to see who it was, and said, " Sir, I cannot talk with you." He complained much all this day of a great inward contlict which he had, laying his hand upon his breast, and s.iyir.g, " Oh ! you know not how great a conflict I have." During this he almost constantly lifted up his eyes towards heaven, with his hands clasped together in a jiraying foiin, and said two or three times, " When this great contlict is over, then — " but said no more ; though it M'as understood he meant that then — he should go to rest. Dr. Stonehouse came to him aboiit three hours before he expired. Mr. Hervey urged strongly and affectionately to the Doctor the importance and care of his everlasting concerns, as here is no abiding place ; and entreated him not to be overcharged with the cares of this life, but to attend, amidst the multiplicity of his business, to •' the one thing needful:" Which done, the poorest can no wants endure. And which not done, the richest must be poor.* I'OPE. The Doctor seeing the great difficulty and pain with which he spoke, (for he was almost suflocated with phlegm and frequent vomitings,) and finding by his i)ulse that the pangs of death v.-ere then coming oit, desired that he would spare himself. " No," said he, " Doctor, no. You tell me I have but a few moments to live; oh! let me spend them in adoriiigour great Redeemer." He then repeated the '2Gth verse of Psalm Ixxiii. " Though my llesh and my heart fail me, yet God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever;" and he expatiated in a most striking manner on these words of Paul, 1 Cor. iii. 22, 23, " All things a:-e yours; life and death, for ye are Christ's." " Here," says ye, "is the treasure of a Chris- tian. Death is reckoned among this inven- tory ; and a noble treasure it is. How thankful am I for death, as it is the passage through which I ])ass to the Lord and Giver of eternal life ; and as it frees me from all the misery you now see me endure as long as God thinks fit ! for 1 knov,' he will by and by, in his own good time, dismiss me from the body. These light afiiictions are but for a moment, and then comesan eternal weight of glory! — Oh! welcome, welcome duath I 'i'hou mayest well be reckoned among the treasures of the Christian. To live is Christ, but to die is gain." After which, as the Doctor was taking his final le.ive of him, Mr. Hervey exj)ressed great gratitude for his visits, though it had b;en long out of the power of medicines to cure him. He then paused a little, and with great serenity and sweetness in his countenance, though the pangs of death were upon him, being raised a little ui his chair, repeated those words, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy" most holy and comfortable " word, for mine eyes have *■ Mr. Hervey vised frequently torepcatthoselir.es with such an emphasis, and sigiiificant lock, as con- veyed their important meaning in a manner not easil» to be ibrgot. LIFE OF THE REV. JAMES HERVEY. seen tliy precious salvation." " Here, Doc- tor, is my cordial ! What are all the cor- dials given to support the dying, in compa- rison of that which arises from the promises of salvation by Christ ? This, this supports me." About three o'clock he said, " The great conflict is over. Now all is done." After which he scarce spoke any other words intelligibly, except now and then "precious salvation!" During the last hour he said nothing, but leaned his head against the side of an easy chair, and without a sigh, groan, struggle, or the least emotion in the world, he shut his eyes, and died, between four and five in the afternoon, on Chrismas day, 1758, in the forty-fifth year of his age. God grant that we may all live the life, and die the death of the righteous, and that our last end may be like his ! When his body was conveyed to church, it was covered, by his express desire, with the poor's pall, and he was buried under the middle of the communion-table, in the chan- cel of Weston-FavcU church, on Friday, Dec. 28, in the presence of a numerous congregation, full of regret for the loss of so excellent a pastor. His funeral \vas in- deed a most awful and very affectiiig sight. Mr. Maddock, his curate, who buried him, was himself in tears. Some were wringing their hands, others sobbing, many were si- lently weeping, but all were inwardly and sincerely grieved, as their looks sufficiently testified ; and his attendants then bore a vi- sible witness," that he had not been altogether imserviceable in his generation. The poor thankfully acknowledged it ; and, as they looked into his grave, seemed to say within themselves, " There lies the man whose tmwearied kindness was the constant relief of my various distresses ; who tenderly vi- sited my languishing bed, and readily sup- plied my indigent circumstances." Others, once ignorant and ungodly, looked at his grave, and seemed by their expressive sighs to say, " Here are the last remains of that sincere friend who watched for my soul. I tremble to think into what irretrievable ruin I might quickly have been plunged, had not Lis faithful admonitions and repeated ex- hortations, arrested me in the wild career. I was then unacquainted with the gospel of peace ; but now, enlightened by his instruc- tions, 1 see the all-sufficiency of my Saviour. His discourses are still warm on my heart, and I trust will be more and more operative on my life. It may be truly said of Mr. Hervey, that few lives have ever been more heavenly, and few deaths more triumphant. He died in the Lord, and is now at rest, where even the wicked cease from troubling. His name is recorded in the annals of eternity ; and the honours conferred on him by Christ will for ever continue blooming and incor- ruptible in the world of glory. His character, both in his public and private capacity, was of the most exemplary kind. As a minister, be performed all the duties of that office with the greatest strictness. In the pulpit he was earnest and fervent, and showed that he felt the efficacy of what he preached. Nor did bethink it sufficient to preach on the Lord's day only, but set up a weekly lecture every Wednesday evening, at Weston- Favell church, which was very well attended. His zeal for the performance of his duty was, however, for some time before he died, much interrupted by the ill state of his health, which would not permit him personally to take due care even of the parish of Weston, where he resided — a cir- cumstance that gave him inexpressible con- cern. The last two or three years of his life he could scarce do any thing more than preach once on the Lord's day, when people for many miles around flocked to hear him. His Wednesday evening lecture at seven, he discontinued for the last year. He had not been able to preach for some time at Collingtree,* or to visit his parishioners at their own houses, as his custom had been ; but he encouraged them to come to him, and to converse freely on the subjects re- lating to their eternal interests ; and on such occasions he would speak with a force and propriety peculiar to himself. He would frequently lament his inability to serve his people, comparing himself to a bleeding disabled soldier, and only not slain. He always preached without notes, ex- cept on some very particular occasion ; but his method was judicious, clear, and not en- cumbered with too many subdivisions. His weakness having rendered him, for several months before his death, incapable of speak- ing to his congregation as usual, he short- ened his discourses, and took a most useful method of inculcating his instructions ; for, after he had expounded his text, and divided his sermon into two heads, (rarely into more, ajid never exceeding three,) he would speak briefly, and, at the conclusion of each head, enforce what he had said by a pertinent text of Scripture, desiring his congregation (which was generally very numerous) to tum to their Bibles, and double down that text. " Now," added he, " my dear brethren, if you forget my sermon, you caimot forget (rod's word in this text, unless you wilfully throw your Bibles aside. Show these to your children, or the absent part of your fa- mily, when you return home." Then he * Weston-Favell and Collingtree, the two family livings, are within five measured miles of each otlier ; which Mr. Hervey and his curate used to attend al- ternately, till his ill health confined him entirely to Weston-Favell. LIFE OF THE REV- JAMES HERVEY. gave a striking exhortation, and at the end of it another text for them to double down ; so that they had always three texts ; in order to their tindini;; of which, he paused in the pulpit two or three minutes. This method was attended with another good effect ; it obliged the generality of his hearers to bring their Bibles along with them; for those who were without a Bible lost the benelit of the texts, and were imemployed, while the ma- jority who had one were very busy in look- ing for the passages referred to in his ser- mon. He endeavoured as much as possible to divest himself, in his public discourses, of his usual elegancy of style, and to adapt his language to the lowest capacity. In this he followed the example of Luther, who, in his Table-talk, says, " If in my pleaching I were to pay a regard to Philip Melancthon, and other learned divines, then I should do little good. I preach in the plainest man- ner to the illiterate, and that gives content to all. Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, I spare till we learned ones come together." Mr. Hervey thought perspicuous language and evangelical doctrine of much more import- ance to his parishioners, than elaborate or ornamented discourses ; though few men living, perhaps, were more capable of satis- fying a polite or learned audience. His method of catechising children in church, and of speaking to them in private, was very engaging and useful. He would put little questions to them, after they had repeated the words of the catechism ; as for instance, " Well, my little maid, let me hear if you understand what you said. If you do understand the meaning of these words, you will then be able to answer the questions I shall put to you." He would at these times ask not only such questions as were suitable to the words of the catechism, but also such as would strike at the capital vices of his parishioners, yet without giving personal of- fence. He did not forget that he was a minister in his house ; for he worshipped God with his family twice a-day. He supped at eight every night, and at nine he expounded a text of Scripture for about a quarter of an hour, and seldom longer, except when some friend was present, to whom he thought his dis- course might be useful, or when particularly requested to enlarge. After this he con- cluded with prayer. He breakfasted at nine ; and about eight he called his family together, and lequired each of his servants to repeat by heart the text w'hich he had explained tiie preceding evening, and then he would recapitulate his exposition ; by which method both his text and commentary were imjjrinted on their memories. After this he had prayeis. In the aftcMiuon, when he was called down to tea, he used to bring his Hebrew Bible or Greek Testament with him, and would speak (as he was ever studious how he miglit promote the glory of God and im- prove time) either upon one or more verses, as occasion offered, in the most instructive and entertaining manner imaginable. And in the summer season he would now and then drmk tea, when his health would per- mit him, with some of his most serious pa- rishioners ; and then five or six of the neigh- bours were invited, and Mr. Hervey's con- versation was remarkably affecting, as he had a hap])y talent at spiritualizing almost every ijicident, and was naturally of a most obliging and cheerful disposition. He was a member of an assembly formed for Christian improvement, which was es- tablished in his neighbourhood on the 7th of July 1747, and constantly attended it so long as he was able to ride to the place of meeting. A shoit account of the rules of this assembly is given at the end of his Tracts, together with two j)rayers composed by him for the use of the members thereof. In the exercise of his charity, Mr. Her- vey chose to clothe the poor, rather than give them money ; and he would get some judicious person to buy linen, coarse cloth, stockings, shoes, &c. for them at the best hand ; alleging, that the poor could not pur- chase on such good terms wliat they want- ed, at the little shops, and with small sums of money. " I am," said he, " God's stew- ard for the poor, and I must husband the little pittance I have to bestow upon them, and make it go as far as possible." But when money would be really serviceable to a family,. as to a prudent housekeeper dis- tressed by sickness or misfortunes, he would give five or more guineas at a time, taking ciue that it should not be known whence the money came. Pope's com])liment to ilr. Allen of Bath might be justly applied to him. who would Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame. He was particularly desirous of getting the advice of a))hysician (or at least of some judicious apothecary) for the sick poor ; and was very ready to procure them the best medicines — a most beneficial sort of charity to mankind, and in which it were to be wished he had many imitators. He woidd frequently petition such physicians of his acquaintance in diffi'rent parts of the king- dom, as he apprehended thus charitably dis- posed, to give their advice occasionally, when they rode through a town, to such poor creatures as the clergyman of the place, or some substantial inhaljitant, should re- commend as real objects of compassion. Mr. Hervey would then, with great plea- sure, and with as much gratitude to the i)hy- sician as if done to himself, defray the ex- pense of wliat medicines were wanted- lie LIIE or THE REV. JAMES HERVEY. greatly disapproved indeed of the clergyV littemptiiig to give ntediciiies to tlieir j)a- risliioners ; as he judiciously inferred, tliat it was itiipo-;sible for them to do it with tlie requisite judgment. " Let my brethren," he would s;iy, " give them wine, bread, or beer, and get good spoon-meats made for them ; but medieiiies are of tuo important a nature to be given iiidisL-riminately." He observed, tliat by Ids own method the siek poor had the viiy best medicines, as the physician saw them himself, and bought them very cheap, because the ajiothecary, knowing they were for charitable uses, charged the jdiysician for them no more than prime cost, with some little allowance merely for his trouble in com])ounding them ; and as the physician knew what dis- eases were curable, there was no waste of medicines in fruitless attenipts to cure cases which, though actually incurable, persons of less judgment could not pronounce to be so. He g;ive away a great number of good books, witii suitable instructions for their use, iind especially Bibles. In the blank leaf he frequently wrote something capable of making aib impression, or else stuck in a prijited paper relating to the promises of God in and through Jesus Christ, or to creation, preservation, and redemption.* All the future profits of his work's he has left to some of ihe charitable uses above specified, excejit bis ft'leditations ; the copy of which he had sold, after it had passed through several editions : which sale of the copy, and the profits of the former impres- sions, amounted to about L.700, all of which he gave away in charity. He said, that it was devoted to God, and that he would on no account apply it to worldly uses-; that he wrote not lor profit or fame, but to serve the cause of God ; and as Providence had blessed his atteinj)!:, he thought himself bound to relieve liie distresses of his fellow- creatures with It. In any expenses relating to himself he was extremely frugal, tha.t he might be libe- ral to others; and it was always his desire to die jit-t even with the world. " I will be my owjM executor," said he ; and, as he died on Christuias-day, his fund ex])iied almost with Lis life. "What little remained, he desired might be given in \^■arm clothing to the ])oor in that severe season. To these instances of his charity, we may properly add an incident, which, how trifling soever in itself, yet affords a very strong pr<;of, not only of the benevolence of his heart, but of his regard to ])ract:eal leligic n, and to the doing of every j:ood work within his power. A day or two before his death, when he * bet a fi'i'V ol'lh;? ju'.iilni iuici ;nncp^' his Tr;;cl;. was reduced to such extreme weakness as to be unable to read, and could with difii- eiilty speak, a little account being settled with him by a friend, on the balance of which he received I8s. looking on the money with great indifference, he exjiressed him- self to this effect : " I would gladly dispose oi" this small sum in such manner as may do most good. It is the only act which I now i.m, and probably the last that I shall be, able to perform. Give yt)urself the trouble of looking amongst these books, and you will find JNIr. liichards' pamphlet ; at the latter end of which are, I remember, some Hints concerning the means of pro- moting religiiju in ourselves or others, which (even with some additions and improve- ments which you might easily make) will not fill more than a sheet of paper,* and, if stuck up or franied, might be particularly useful in that form. Let, then, such a number of them be printed and given away as this money will admit of." His orders weie properly executed ; aiid the evidences of such an angelic temper were equally matter of edification and comlbrt to his fi'iend, as this charitable legacy, if we may so call it, will be to all v\ ho receive and rightly use it. This incident affords a striking evidence of the happy fruits and effects of his favour- ite doctrine, and strong expressions of the all-sufiicient righteousness of Christ as the sole requisite to justification before God i;iKl acceptance with him, and shows that i;;dLtd his fuiih wrought by love. No man liad ever a greater disregard for money, which he esteemed unworthy of his notice on any other account than as it furni.shed him with the means of doing good. Surely we may here borrow the sentiment and expression of the celebrated Mr. Poi)e, and justly conclude, that He .tit Ill's ruling passion strong in de.ith. ]\ii. Kervey M'as indeed too negligent of his diess, \a hich, though it could not in the least lessen the resj)ect paid to him in his own parish and neighbourhood, where he was so well known, yet he would unques- tionably have avoided it if he had lived in a. public scene, where the dicency and pro- liriety of aj;pearance are of much greater imjiortance. In learning be was inferior to few. Greek was almost as familiar to him as his native language. He was a great master of the classics ; and, in the voimger part of his life, had x^ritten some copies of verses, which showed no contemi)tible genius for poetry. He had a critical knowledge of tlie Hebrew tongue, and delighted in it. With respect to his private capacity, he was never known to be in a passion. Ide ' Tlic Hints, &c. arc sul-juiiicJ lo the- 'J"r?.cis>. LIFE 01- Till: ?A:viIIS IIERVEY. lived as in heaven. No worldly concern (though he sometimes met with \evy trvin;;^ oiks) ever affected him. His humility rendered him invidnerable. When he was misrepresented and calumniated, he would say, " Om' enemies are sometimes our best friends, and tell us truths ; aiid then we should amend our faults, and be thankful for such information ; and if what they say be not true, and only spoken through ma- lice, then such persons are to be con.^ide^ed as diseased in their minds, and we should pray for them. They are to be pitied," says he, " and I might be as justly angry with a man who is diseased in his body." All this he spoke with humility, serious- ness, and sweetness ; for it was the lan- guage of bis heart, and not of affectatioii. In his ordiiuuy transactions with others, he was ever cheerful, punctual, just, and can- did to ))ersons of e\ery denomination. He frequently wrote religious letters to his acquaintances, according to their diffe- rent circumstances, in the most an.iiable and convincing manner ; and he seemed to make it almost an invariable rule, not to write a letter on any occasion, without at least one pious sentence* in it ; and that not introduced in a forced and awkward manner, but interwoven so as to appear naturally to arise from the suijject. Of this kind some specimens may be seen in the note at the bctiom of the l)age.-|- Notwithstanding Mr. Hervey lived a very holy and exemplarj' life, preaching Jesus Christ and him crucified, and incul- cating the practice of real religion and holi- ness in heajt and life, yet his enemies (for strange as it is, even Air. Hervey hijnself, the most inoffensive of men, had enemies) have not scrupled to assert, that " his tenets were dishonourable to (jod, subversive of all gospel-holiness, destmctive even of com- mon morality, and very injurious to society itself, by making men melancholy, and re- gardless of business." These were the very words of an abusive and anonj-mons letter sent to him by the post; on which * Kiilla dies sine linea, nulla epistola sine Christo, were Mr. Hervey's maxims. + These specimens are Uiken from hasty message- c.irr's, or billets, to some of his intimate friends. " When I see my dear friend, we will Ui'k about the contents of his last. My money is Christ's, .ind I only desire that he will give mc benevolence to dis- pose of it willingly, discretion to iK'Stow itprudently. I hope you have quite recovered, and adopted tlie P&slmist's resolution. Psalm cxvi. 8, f). What do you think Is the meaning of th.-.t remarkable expres- sion, " I will walk before the Lord ? " In another billet to a person about retiring from business, he writw,— " Thanks for your VVitsius de fficonomia Kte/eviim. The time, I hope, is coming, when you will h ve leisure to read, a heart to relisli, and a tongue to display such precious doctrines." In another he writes, — " Let us all remember, my dearfriend, that time is wpon the ^ving; eternity is at our door; therefore what we do for cur blessed Master we must do ((uickly." that meek and most excellent mnn observed to an intimate friend, with all his usiial mildness, " Indeed this gen-l'.'man may be said, I think, to write at random. Surely he has never read my work If I knf^w wiiere to direct to him, I should desire him to tm-n to what I have advanced in the ninth paragraph of my Contemplation oa i the Starry Heavens ; and such a reply, I would hope, niiglit convince him of his mistake-" Some of Mr. Hervey's friends thouErht he carried the Calvinistical tenets so tar, that consequences disadvantageous to reli- gion might be deduced from them, and which he himself, instead of assenting to them, would have startled at and rejected with abhorrence. The fact is, the doctrine he delivered in his writings is innely scriptural, and agreeable to that contained in all tl;e confessions of the reformed chv.rches ; and is so far from having a tendency to \veukeji the obligations to pmity and holiness of life, that it promotes them in the most effectuai manner, and has the most happv influence on morality. When persons of judgment have pointed out to him some expressions that were liable to be misunder- stood in that respect, he always disavowed any such meaning ; and afiirn;ed, that the fault was not in the evangelical doctrines so much insisted on by him, but in the misap- prehension, ignorance, or inattention, of those who abused them to licentiousness. He woidd then add, he was I'eady to alter or retract any sentiment or expression whith he apprehended to be really objectionable ; but that to make things equally clear lo every one's apprehension, or to have the same effect upon every one's mind; was an impiT.ttticable attempt ; tluit he professed himself a Calnnist, and that, consequently, the Arminians would not relish some things he advanced, though what he wrote was exactly conformable to the church articles, which are Calvinistical ; yet he hoped they woidd not reject the whole, because they could not, in every point, concur with him ; at'.d that his writings in general might be useful, how much soever some of liis par- ticular (though truly scriptural) opinions might be doubted or censured. And on this head let us hear Mr. Hervey himself He, in a letter written by him a very little before his happy death, thus expresses himself: " Do tliey who deny faith, and extol their good works, distinguish themselves by the l)ractice of tbcm ? I will be bold to say, that, on an impartial examination, the ma- jority will be foimd on the side of th(>se who embrace the doctrine of the imputa- tion of Christ's righteousness, aiid who ex- pect salvation by him alone." Of the compliments publicly paid to h's j)iety and genius, it will be suificient to i/i- LIFE OF THE REV. JAMES HERVEY. scrt a paragraph from the Northampton jMercury, which may be seen at the bottom of the page;* and the following eulogium extracted from the Rev. Mr. Dodd's poem on the Epiphany. Thou HerveT, too, Whose pa<;e and soul alike breathe humblest love To thy adored liedeemer, thou hast shown That piety and polish'd elegance May well together suit; and while remains Or piety or elegance, thy works, Like genuine gold, the touchstone will abide. And grateful to thy countrymen remain: Oh ! may I to my lowly strains derive Some merit from the friendship of thy name; Strains, whose exalted subject fills thy heart So constant with delight ; and from thy tongue In converse pours such streams of eloquence. That the wrapt hearer wonders at his fears Of death ere-while, and glowing with the love Of Jesus, caught from thee, longs to behold His Saviour in the clouds: for who can stand Amidst the sweetness of Arabian groves. * On Christmas-day, in the afternoon, died, in the 45th year of his age, the Rev. Mr. James Hervey, rector of Weston-Favell, near Northampton, and au- thor of the Meditations among the Tombs, Flower Garden, &c. He was one of the most eminent in- Btances of the power of Christianity upon the human mind. In his ministerial province he was pious, fer- vent, and indefatigable. In his ordinary connexions with the community he was ever cheerful, conscien- tiously punctual m all his dealings, and amiablv can- did to persons of every denomination. To his chari- ties he set no bounds, scarcely leaving himself the mere requisites of his station. Under the severest trials of infirmity, for several years he displaved the highest example of fortitude, serenity, patience, and an entire resignation to the divine will. His writin-'s most abundantly evidence his learning and ingenuity • But, reader, it is not the acquisitions of hFs under- standing, but the improvements of his heart, and his confiderice in the great Redeemer, which will now avail this most excellent man. And not bear thence jome fragrance ?— Valued friend. Proceed ; and (thy too feeble strength renew'd) May to hoar age thy jonrney be prolong'iU And strew'd each step with blessings to mankind ! We -shall close this account of Mr- Her- vey's life with the following elegy on him. Urania, speak ! in pensive numbers tell How Zion trembled when great Hervey fell : When fail'd his strength, and when his pulse beat low. Tell how she moum'd to see the imiiending blow ! O thou, to whom all sacred themes belong. Pour forth the sweetly melancholy song ! " Alas ! grim death hath shot the fatal dart. Which long seem'd pointed at his languid heart ; The insatiate tyrant, crown'd with funeral gloom. In triumph drags him to the hollow tomb ! Who now so well can paint the blooming flower. Or preach from sepulchres at midnight hour ? Who now so well the starry heavens scan. And read the lectures nature meant for man ? No more his voice a careless world can move. Or tell the wonders of redeeming love ; No more shall thousands round his pulpit throng. To hear the heavenly precepts of his tongue ; For lol above this gross impurer air, Released from every pain and every care. He soars aloft (angelic hosts his guide) On wings new plumed, which ne'er before he tried. With rapid speed his golden pinions rise Through starn' planes, and skim the empyrean skies. And now, where sparkling portals wide display The blissful regions of eternal day. His Lord receives him 'midst celestial choirs. Who crown his head, and strike their golden lyres : Through heaven's glad courts the greeting anthems roll, .\nd joys new blooming feast his ravish'd soul; Joys which to tell all eloquence is faint. And which the loftiest muse can never paint." * The reader may be assured, that these verses were wrote by a very serious and well-disposed young man, apprentice to a Jersey comber, in the town of Northampton, in a low station of life, and of no li- bera! education ; whosemind, by Mr. Hen'ey's preach- ing and writings, had been very early impressed with the sacred ardour of piety and poetry. TO MISS R- Madam, These Reflections, the one on the deep- est, the other on the gayest, scenes of Na- ture, when they proceeded privately from the pen, were addressed to a Lady of the most valuable endowments, who crowned all her other endearing qualities by a fervent love of Christ, and an exemplary conformity to his divine pattern. She, alasl lives no longer on earth, unless it be in tlie honours of a distinguished charactiT, and in the bleeding remembrance of her acquaint- ance- It is impossible. Madam, to wish you a richer blessing, or a more substantial happi- ness, than that the same spirit of unfeigned faith, the same course of undefiled religion, which have enabled her to triumph over death, may both jmimate and adorn your life. And you will permit me to declare, that my chief inducement in requesting your acceptance of the foUoAving Meditations, now they make a public appearance from the press, is, that they are designed to cul- tivate the same sacred principle, and to pro- mote the same excellent practice. Long, Madam, may you bloom in all the vivacity and amiableness of youth, like the charming subject of one of these Contem- plations. But, at the same time, remember, that with regard to such inferior accom- plishments, you must one day fade (may it prove some very remote period !) like the mournful objects of the other. This con- sideration will prompt you to go on as you have begun, in adding the meekness of wis- dom, and aU the beauties of holiness, to the graces of an engaging person, and the re- tiiiements of a polite education. And might — O ! might the ensuing hints furnish you with the least assistance in pro- secuting so desirable an end ; might they contribute in any degree to establish your faith, or elevate your devotion ; they would then administer to the author such a satis- faction as applause cannot give, nor censure take away — a satisfaction which I should be able to enjoy, even in those awful mo- ments when all that captivates the eye is sinking in darkness, and every glory of this lower world disappearing for ever. These wishes. Madam, as they are a most agreeable employ of my thought, so they come attended with this additional circumstance of pleasure, that they are also the sincerest expressions of that very great esteem with which I am, Madam, Yom- most obedient most humble servant, JAMES HERVEY. Weston-Favell, near Northampton, May 20, 174ft PREFACE. Tiir. tirs^t of these opcnsioral Mpditation^ begs leave to remind my reader* of their latter end ; and would invite them to set, not their houses only, but, which is inex- pressil.ly more need/'ul, tlicir souls in order; thnt they inKV be able, through a]l the in- termediate ^tages, to look forward upon their approaching exit without ajiy anxious a;)prehensions ; and when the great change commences, may bid adieu to terrestrial things, with all the calmness of a cheerful resignation, with all the comforts of a well- grounded faith. The other attempts to sketch out some little traces of the all- sufficiency of our Redeemer ior the grand and gracious pur- poses of everlasting salvation ; that a sense of his unutterable dignity and infinite per- fections may incite us to regard him with sentiments of the most profound veneration, to long for an assured interest in his merits with all the ardency of desire, and to trust in his powerful mediation with an affiance not to be shaken by any temptations, not to be shared with any performances of our own. I flatter myself, that the thoughts con- ceived among the tombs may be welcome to the serious and humane mind ; because, as there are few who have not consigned the remsuns of some dear relations, or ho- noured friends, to those silent repositories, so there are none but must be sensible, that this is the house appointed for all living, and that they themiselves are shortly to remove into the same solemn mansions. Aud vKo woidd not turn aside for awhile from the most favourite amusements, to view the place where Iiis once loved com-' pariions lie? who would not soinetiints survey those apartments, where he himself is to lake up an abode till time shall be no more ? As to the other little essay, may I not humbly presume, that the very subject it- self will recommend the remsu-ks ? For who is not delighted with the prospect of the blooming creation, and everi charmed with the delicate attraction of flowers ? Wlao dees not covet to assemble them in the gaiden, cr wear them in a nosegay? Since this is a passion so universal, who would not be willing to render it produc- tive of the sublimest improvement ? 1 his piece of hoiy tiiigulity I have ventured to suggest, and endeavoured to exemplify, in the second letter ; that while the hand is cropping the transient beatifies of a flower, the attentive mind may be enriching it^eif with solid and lasting good. And I cannot but entertain some pleasing hopes, that the nicest taste may receive and relish rebpious impressions when they are conveyed by such lovely monitors ; when the instnictivt lessons are found, not on the leaves of some formidable folio, but stand legible on the tine sarcenet of a niucissus ; when they savour not of the lamp and recluse, but come breathuig from the fragrant bosom o( a jonr^uU. MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMES, LETTER TO A LADY. Madaji, Travellimg lately into Cornwall, I hap- pened to aliglit at u considerable village in that comity ; where, finding myself under an unexpected necessity of staying a little, I took a walk to the chiu'ch.* The doors, like the heaven to which they lead, were \'ii(le open, and readily admitted an unv.or- thy stranger. Pleased with the opportunity, 1 resolved to spend a few minutes under the sacred roof. In a situation so retired and awfid, I coidd not avoid falling into a train of medi- tations, serious and mournfully pleasing ; which, I trust, were in some degree profita- ble to me, wliile they possessed and warmed my thoughts ; and if they may administer any satisikction to you, Madam, now they are recollected, and committed to writing, I shall receive a fresh pleasure from them. It was an ancient pile : reared by hands, that ages ago were moiddered into dust — Situate in the centre of a large burial-ground, remote from aU the noise and hurry of tu- multuous life. — The body spacious, the structure lofty ; the whole magnificently ])lain. A row of regular pillars extended them- • 1 had named, in some former editions, a particu- lar churcli, viz. Ivilkhampton ; where several of the rnoiiunitnts, ilcscribeJ in ilie following pages, really exist. Lut, as 1 thought it convenient to mention some cases liere, wliich we not, according to the best oi'my remembiauce, rcfdrcil to in any inscriptions there : 1 have nqw o.nitied the name, that imagination might operate inore freely, and the improvement of the reader be consulted, withoutany thingthat should look tilu: a vartaticu from truth and tact. selves through the midst, and supported the roof with simplicity and with dignity — The light that passed through the windows, seemed to shed a kind of luminous obscuri- ty ; which gave every object a grave and venerable air The deep silence added to the gloomy aspect, and both heightened by the loneliness of the place, greatly increased the solemnity of the scene — A sort of re- ligious dread stole insensibly on my mind, while I ad\'anced aU pensive and thoughtful, along the inmost aisle. Such a dread as hushed every ruder passion, and dissipated all the gay images of an alliu-ing world. Having adored that eternal Alajesty, who, far from being confined to temples made with hands, has heaven for his throne, and the earth for his footstool ; — I took particu- lar notice of a handsome altar-piece, present- ed, as I was afterwards informed, by the master-builders of Stow;* out of gratitude, I presume, to that gracious God, who carri- ed them through their work, and enabled them to "bring forth their top-stone with joy." O ! how amiable is gratitude ! especially when it has the supreme Benefactor for its object. I have always looked upon grati- tude, as the most exalted principle that can * The name of a noble seat bclon;jing to the U'.e Earl of Bath, remarkable formerly lor its exctl.cijt workmanship and elegant furniture; once the piiiici- pal resort of the quality and gentry of the wesi ; but now demolished, laid even with the ground, and sciirce one stone left upon anothir. — So that corn ir.-.y ffow, or nettlts spring where Stow Ij.tely stood, B MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. actimte the Iie.ivt of man. It has something noble, disinterested, and (if I may be allow- ed the term) generously devout. Repen- tance indicates our nature fallen, and prayer tiu-ns chiefly" upon a regard to one's self. But the exercises of gratitude subsisted in j)aradise, v.-hen there was no fault to dej)lore ; and will be perpetuated in heaven, when " God shall be all in all." The language of this sweet temper is, " I am imspeakably obliged ; what return shall I make ?" — And surely, it is no improper expression of an unfeigned thankfulness to decorate our Creator's courts, and beautify " the place where his honour dwelleth." Of old, the habitation of his feet was glorious ; let it not now be sordid or contemptible. It must grieve an ingenious mind, and be a re- proach to any people, to have their own houses wainscotted with cedar, and painted with Vermillion, while the temple of the Lord of hosts is destitute of every decent ornament. Here I recollected and was charmed with Solomon's fine address to the Almighty, at the dedication of his famous tcm]5le. With immense charge, and exquisite skill, he had erected the most rich and finished structure that the sun ever saw. Yet upon a review of his work, and a reflection on the trans- cendent perfections of the Godhead, how he exalts the one, and abases the other ! The building was too glorious for the mightiest monarch to inhabit ; too sacred for unhal- lowed feet even to enter, yet infinitely too mean for the Deity to reside in. It was, and the royal worsliipper acknowledged it to be, a most marvellous vouchsafement in un- created excellency, to " jjut his name there." The whole passage breathes such a delica- cy, and is animated A\dth such a sublimity of sentiment, that I cannot jjersuade myself to pass on without repeating it. * But will God * 1 Kings vii. 27. But will. — A fine abrupt begin- ning, most significantly describing the amazementand rapture of the royal prophet's mind ! — God : he uses no epithets where writers of inferior discernment would have been foud to raultiplv them ; but speaks oi" tlie Deity as an incomprehensible Being, whose per- fections, and glories are exalted above all praise — Dwell: To bestow on sinful creatures a propitious look, to favour them with a transient visit of kindness, even this were an unutterable obligation : Will he then vouchsafe to fix his abode among them, and take up his stated residence with them ? — Indeed ; A word in this connexion, peculiarly emphatical ; expressive of a condescension wonderful and extraordinary, almost beyond all credibility. — Behold : intimating the con- tinued or rather the increasing surprise of the speak- er, and awakening the attention of the hearer. — Be- hold ! the heaven. The spacious concave of the fir- mament, that wide extended azure circumference, in which worlils unnumbered perform their revolutions, is too scanty an apartment for the Godhead. — Nay the heaven of heavens; those vastly higher tracks which lie far beyond the limits of human survey, to which our very' thoughts can hardly soar; even these (un- bounded as they arc) cannot afford an adequate habi- tation for Jehovah ; even these dwindle into a point when compared with the infinitude of his essence ! even these " are as nothing before him." — How much less proportionate is this poor diminutive speech, which 1 have been erecting and embellishing, to so august a Presence, so immense a Majesty, indeed d\vell on earth? Behold ! the heaven and heaven of heavens cannot contain thee ; how much less this house that I have build- ed ? — Incomparable saying, worthy the wisest of men. \Vlio woidd not choose to possess such an elevated devotion, rather than to owai all the glittering materials of that sumptuous edifice? We are apt to be struck with admiration at the stateliness and grandeur of a master- ly performance in architecture, and perhaps,^ on a sight of the ancient sanctuary, should have made the superficial observation of the disciples, " What mamier of stones, and what buildings are here !" — But what a nobler turn of thought, and juster taste of thing;* does it discover, to join with Israel's king, in celebrariiig the condescension of the divine Inhabitant ! That the high and lofty One, who fills immensity with his glory, shoidd, in a pecidiar manner, fix his abode there f shotdd there manifest an extraordinary de- gree of his benedictive presence ; permit sin- ful mortals to approach his majesty, and pro- mise " to make them joyfid in his house of prayer!" — This shoidd more sensibly affect om- hearts, than the most curious arrange- ment of stones can delight our eyes. Nay the everlasting God does not disdain to dwell in our soids by his holy Spirit, and to make even our bodies his temple Tell me, ye that frame critical judgments, and ba^ lance nicely the distinction of things : " is this most astonishing or most rejoicing ?" — He humbleth liimself, the scripture assures us, even to behold the things that are in heaven.* It is a most condescending fa- vouT, if HE pleases to take the least approv- ing notice of angels and archangels, wheii^ they bow down in homage from their celes- tial thrones ; will he then graciously regard, will he be united, most intimately united, to poor, polluted, breathing dust? — O ! unpar- alleled honom- ! Invaluable privilege ! Be this my portion, and I shall not covet crowns, nor envy conquerors. But let me remember what a sanctity of disposition, and uprightness of conversatioti, so exalted a relation demands ; Remember this, " and rejoice with trembling." — Durst I commit any iniquity, while I tread these hallowed courts ? Coidd the Jewish High- Priest allow himself in any knowai trans- gression, wliile he made that solemn yearly entrance into the holy of holies ;f and stood before the immediate presence of Jehovah ? No, truly. In such circimistances, a think- ing person must shudder at the most remote .solicitation to any wifid offence. I shoidd now be shocked at the least indecency of be- haviour, and am apprehensive of every ap- pearance of ev'il. And why do we not car- ry this holy jealousy into all our ordinary * PiaUn exii. G. t Heb. ix. 7 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 3 life ? Why do we not in every place rever- ence ourselvos ;* as persons dedicated to the Divinity, as living temples of the Godhead ? P^or, if we arc real, and not merely nominal Christians, the God of y;lory, according to Lis own promise, dwells in us, and v.alks in usf — O ! that this one doctiine of our reli- gion might operate, with an abiding eflicacy, upon our consciences ; it would be instead of a thousand laws to regidate oiu" conduct ; instead of a thousand motives to quicken us in Lis holiness. Under the influence of such a connction, we should study to maintain a purity of intention ; a dignity of action ; and to walk worthy of that transcendently ma- jestic Being, who admits us to a fellowship with Limseif, and with his Son Jesus Christ. The next thing which engaged my atten- tion, was the lettered floor : the pavement somewhat like Ezekiel's roll, was written over from one end to the other. I soon per- ceived the comparison to hold good in ano- ther respect ; and the inscriptions to be mat- ter of " mourning, lamentation, and woe."| They seemed to comt my observation ; si- lently inviting me to read them And what would these dumb monitors inform me of? — " That beneath their little circumfcrer.ces were deposited such and such pieces of clay, which once lived, and moved, and talked ; that they had received a charge to ])reserve their names, and were the remaining trustees of their memoiy." Ah ! said I, is such my situation ? The adorable Creator around me, and the bones of my fellow creatures under me ! Surely, then, I Lave great reason to cry out, with the reveling patriarch. How dreadfid is this place !]| Seriousness and devotion become this house for ever : May I never enter it lightly or irreverently ; but with a profound awe, and godly fear ! Oh ! that they were wise : § said the in- spired penman. It was his last wish for his dear people ; he breathed it out, and gave up the ghost But what is wisdom ? It con- sists not in refined speculations, accurate re- searches into nature, or an imiversal acquaint- ance with histoiy. The divine lawgiver set- tles this important point in his next aspira- tion : Oh ! that they understood this ! That they had right apprehensions of their spiritual interests, and eternal concerns ! that they had eyes to discern, and inclinations to pursue * PANTAN DE MALIS AISCHIITREO SE AVTON , was the favourite maxim of Pythagoras, and supposed to be one of the btst moral precepts ever given to the Heathen world. With what superior force, and very singular advantage, does the argument take place in the Christian Scheme ! where we are taught to regard ourselves, not merely as intellectual beings, that have reason for our monitor, but as con- secrated creatures, wlio have a God of the most con- siuiuiiate perfection ever wiUi us, ever in us. t 2 Chron. vi. lo. t Kzek. ii. 10. 1 Gen. xxviu. l/- § Deut. xxx. 29. the things which belong to their jjcace I — But how shall they attain this valuable know- ledge ? I send them not, adds the illustrious teacher, to turn over all the volumes of litefr ature : they may acfiiiire, and. much more expeditiously, this scene of life, by consider- ing their latter end. This spark of heaven is often lost under the glitter of pompous erudition, but sliines clearly in the gloomy mansions of the tomb. Drowmed in this gen- tle whisper amidst the noise of mortal affairs, but speaks distinctly in the retirements of serious contemplation — Behold ! Low provi- dentially I am brought to the school of wis- dom !.* The grave is the most faithful mas- ter ;f and these instances of mortality, the most instructive lessons Come then calm attention, and compose my thoughts : come, thou celestial Spirit, and enlighten my mind ; that I may so peruse these awful pages, as to " become ^\^se unto salvation." Examining the records of mortality, I found the memorials of a promiscuous mul- titude.! They were huddled, at least they rested together, without any regard to rank or seniority. None were ambitious of the uppermost rooms, or chief seats in this house of momiiing. None entertained fond and eager expectations of being honourably greet- ed in their darksome cells. The man of years and experience, reputed as an oracle in his generation, was content to lie down at the feet of a babe. In this house appointed for all living, the servant was equally accom- modated, and lodged in the same stoiy with his master. The poor indigent lay as soft- ly, and slept as somidly, as the most opulent possessor. All the distinction that subsist- ed, was a grassy hillock, boun-d witL osiers ; or a sepulclirai stone ornamented with im- agery. Why then, said my working thoughts, Oh ! why should we raise such a mighty stir about superiority and precedence, when the next remove will reduce us all to a state of equal meanness ? Why shoidd we exalt ourselves, or debase others ; since we must all one day be upon a common level, and blended together in the same undistinguished dust ? Oh ! that this consideration might humble my o\\7i and other's pride ; and sink our imaginations as low as our habitation will shortly be ! Among these confused rtlics of humanity, there are without doubt, persons of contrary interests, and contradicting sentiments : But * The man who wise, who sick of gaudy sceaes. Is led by choice to take his fav'rite walk Beneath death's gloomy, silent, cypress shades, Uupicrc'd by vanity's fantastic ray ! To read his monuments, to weigh his dust, Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs ! Mght ThuunMs. t Wait the great teacher, death. i'upe. X Jlistasenumac juvenum densantur funerr.. Hit :Mf:L)ITATIOXS AMONG T[IE TOMBS. •ieath, like some able days-man, has laid his hands on the contending parties, and brought all their differences to an amicable conclu- sion.* Here enemies, sworn enemies, dwell together in unity. They drop every embit- tered thought, and forget that they once were foes. Perhaps their crumbling bones mix as they moulder ; and those ^\■'ho, while they lived, stood .doof in irreconcilable variance, here fall into mutual embraces, and even in- corporate with each other in the grave — Oh ! that we might learn from these friend- ly ashes, not to perpetuate the memory of injuries ; not to foment the fever of resent- ment ; nor cherish the turbulence of pas- sion ; that there may be as little animosity and disagreement in the land of the living as there is in the congregation of the dead ! — But I suspend for a while such general obsen-ations, ami address myself to a more' particidar inquiry. Yonder white stone, emblem of the inno- cence it covers, informs the beholder of one, who breathed out its tender soul almost in the instant of receiving it. There the peace- fid infant, without so much as knowing what iaboiu- and vexation mean,f " lies still and is quiet ; it sleeps, and is at rest." Staying only to wash away its native impiu-ity in the laver of regeneration, it bid a speedy adieu to time and terrestrial things — \VTiat did the little hast}' sojourner find, so forbidding and disgustful in our upper world, to occasion its precipitant exit? It is written, indeed, of its suffering Saviour, that when he had tasted the vinegar mingled with gall, he would not drink : \ And did our new comestranger be- gin to sip the cup of life ; but perceiving the bitterness, turn away its head, and refuse the draught ? Was this the cause why the wary babe only opened its eyes ; just looked on the light ; and then withdrew into the more inviting regions of undisturbed repose ? Happy voyager ; no sooner launched, than arris'ed at the haven. § — But more eminently happy they, who have passed the waves and weathered all the storms of a troublesome and dangerous world ; who, " tlirough many tribulations have entered into the kingdom of heaven ;" and thereby brought honour to their di\'ine Convoy, administered comfort to the companions of their toil, and left an instructive example to succeeding pilgrims. Highly favoured probationer ! accepted without being exercised ! It was thy pecu- liar privilege not to feel the slightest of those • Hi motus animorum, atque htec certamina tanta, Pulveris cxigui jactu compressa quiescent. J'irg. t Job. iii. la i Matt, xxvii. 34. 5 Happy the babe, who privilep'd by fate To shorter labour and a bghtcr weight, Heceiv'il but yesterday the gift of breath ; Oriler'J tomorrow to return to death. Prior's 3ol. evils which op])ress thy sun'iving kindjvd r which frequently fetch groans from the most manly fortitude, or most elevated faith ; the arrows of calamity, barbed with anguish, are often fixed deep in our choicest comforts. The fiery darts of temptation, shot from the hand of hell, are always tl\'ing in showers around oiu- integrity. To thee, sweet babe, both these distresses and dangers were alike unknown. Consider this, ye mourning parents, and dry up your tears. Why should you lament that your little ones are crov/ned with vic- tory, before the sword was dra^^'n, or the con- flict begun ? — Perhaps the supreme disposer of events foresaw some inevitable snare of temptation forming, or some di-eadful stonii of adversity impending. And why shoidi you be so dissatisfied with that kind pre- caution, Avhich housed your pleasant plant, and removed into shelter a tender flower, be- fore the thunders roared ; before the liglit- nings flew ; before the tempest poured it;i rage ? — O remember, they are not lost, but taken away from the evil to come.* At the same time let sundvors, doomed to bear the heat and burden of the day, lor their encouragement, reflect — that it is more honourable to have entered the lists, and to have fought the good fight before they couic off conquerors. They who have borne ths; cross, and submitted to afilictive provi dences, with a cheerful resignation, hava girded up the loins of their mind, and per, formed their Master's will, with an honest and persevering fidelity ; — these, having glo- rified their Redeemer on earth, will ])roba- bly be as stars of the first magnitude in heaven. They will shine with bi'ighter beams, be replenished with stronger joys, in their Lord's everlasting kingdom. Here lies the grief of a fond mother, and the blasted expectation of an indidgent far ther — -The youth grew up like a well wa- tered plant : he shot deej), rose high, and bid fair for manhood; but just as the cedar began to tower, and promised ere long to be the pride of the wood, and prince among the neighbouring trees : — behold the axe is laid imto the root ; the fatal blow struck ; and all its brandling honours tumbled to tht dust, — and did he faD alone ? No : the hopes of his father that begat him, and the plea^- sing prospects of her that bare him, fell, and were crushed together with him. Doubtless, it woidd have pierced one's heart to have beheld the tender parents fol- lowing the breathless youth to his long home, perhaps drowned in tears, and all overwhelm- ed with sorrows, they stood like weeping statues, on tliis very spot, — methinks, I see the deeply distressed mourners attending the MEDITATIONS AMONG TiiE TOMBS.' 5*3 Rolerniiity ; liow they wring their hands, afid pour floods from tlieir eyes ! — -Is it fan- cy ? or do I roiiliy hear the passionate mo- ther, in an ac^ony of Rfliiction, takinj:; her li- nal leave of the darling of her sonl i Dumb she remained, M'hile the fiwfnl obsequies Were performing ; dumb with grief, and Iraiiing upon tlie partner of her woes. But now the inward anguish struggles for vent ; it grows too big to be repressed. She ad- vanees to the brink of the grave. All her soul is in her eyes. She fastens one look more upon the dear dolcfid object, before the pit shuts its mouth u])on him, and as she looks she cries ; — in broken accents, in- terrupted by many a rising sob, she cries ; — " Farewell, my son ! my son 1 my only be- loved ! Would to God I had died for thee ! —Farewell my child ! and farewell, all my esirthly happiness — I shall never more see good in the land of the living Attempt not to comfort me I will go mourning all my days, till my gray hairs come down with sorrow to the grave." From this affecting representation, let p-areats be convinced how higldy it concerns them to cultivate the morals, and seciu'e the immortal interests of their children. If you really love the offspring of your own bodies ; if your bowels yearn over those amiable jdedges of conjugal endearment ; spare no }Xiins, give all diligence ; I entreat yoii to " bring them up in the nurture and admoni- tion of the Lord." Then may you have joy in their life, or consolation in their death. If their span is prolonged, their unblama- ble and usefid conduct will be the staff of your age, and a balm for declining nature. Or, if the number of their years be cut off in tJie midst, you may comn'.it their remains to the dust, with much the same comfortable espectations, and with infinitely more exalt- ed views, than you send the survivors to places of genteel education. You may com- mit tliem to the dust with cheering hopes of receiving them again to yom- arms, inexpres- sibly improved in every noble and endearing accomplishment. It is certainly a severe trial, and much more afllictive than I am able to imagine, to resign a lovely blooming creature, sprung from your own loins, to the gloomy recesses of corruption. Thus to resign him after liaving been long dandled upon your knees, united to your affections by a thousand ties of tenderness, and now become both the de- light of your eyes, and the support of your family ! — to have such a one torn from your bosom, and thrown into darkness, doubtless it must be \\kc a dagger in your hearts, — But, O ! how much more cutting to you, and confounding to the child, to have the soul sej)arate(l from (Jod ; and for shameful ignorance or early impiety consigned over to places of eternal torment! ilow would it, aggravate your distress, and add a districting emphasis to all your sighs, if you should fol- low the pale corpse with these bitter reflec- tions ! — " This dear creature, tliough long ago capable of knowing good from evil, is gone out of the world before it had learned the great design of coming into it. A short- lived, momentary existence it received from me : but no good instructions, no holy ad- monitions, nothing to further its well-being in that everlasting state, upon which it is now entered. The poor body is consigned to the coffin, and carried out to consume away in the cold and silent grave. And what reason have I to suppose that the pre- cious soul is in a better condition ? May I not justly fear, that, sentenced by the righte- ous Judge, it is going, or gone away into the pains of endless punishment ! — Perhaps, while I am bewailing its untimely departure, it may be cursing in utter darkness, that ever to be deplored, that most calamitous day, when it was born of such a cai'eless ungodly parent as I have been." Nothing, I think, but the gnawings of that worm which never dies, can equal the anguish of these self-condemning thoughts. The tortm-es of a rack must be an easy suf- fering compared with the stings and horror of such a remorse How earnestly do I wish that as many as are entrusted \vith the management of children, would take timely care to prevent these intolerable scourges of conscience, by endeavouring to conduct their mnids into an early knowledge of Christ, and a cordial love of his tnith ! On this hand is lodged one whose sepid- chral stone tells a most pitiable tale indeed I Well may the little images, reclined over the sleeping ashes, hang down their heads with that pensive air ! None can consider so mournful a story without feeling some touches of sympathizing concern His age twenty-eight ; his death sudden ; himself cut downi in the prime of life, amidst all the vi- vacity and vigour of manhood, while " his breasts were full of milk, and his bones moistened with marrow." — Probably he en- tertained no apprehensions of the evil hour. And indeed, who could have susi)ected that so bright a sun should go down at noon ? To human appearance, his hill stood strong. Length of days seemed written in his san- guine countenance. He solaced himself with the prospect of a long, long series of earthly satisfactions When lo ! an unex- pected stroke descends ! descends from that mighty arm, v,-hich " ovcrturneth the moun- tains by their roots ; and crushes the ima- ginary hero, before the moth ;"* as quick- * Job iv. 19.- -Ad instar, ad modum, tina I retain this interpretation, both as it is mostsuit- able to my purpose, and as it is patronized by nome oniiiient commentators ; especially the celebrated Sch-iiltens. Thoiigli i cannot but give Uie preference MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. ly, and more easily, than our fingers press sHch a feeble fluttering insect to death. Perhaps the nuptial joys were all he thought on. Were not such the breathings of his enamoured soul ? " Yet a very little while, and I shall possess the utmost of my wishes. I shall call my charmer mine ; and in her enjoy whatever my heart can crave." — In the midst of such enchanting views, had some faithful friend but softly reminded him of an opening grave, and the end of all tilings ; how unseasonable would he have reckoned the admonition ! Yet, though all warm wth life, and rich in visionary bliss, be was even tlien tottering upon the brink of both." — Dreadful \'icissitude ! to have the bridal* festivity turned into the funeral so- lemnity. Deplorable misfortune ! to be ship- wrecked in the very haven ! and to perish even in sight of happiness ! — What a me- morable proof is here of the fraility of man, in his best estate ! Look, O, look on this monument, ye gay and careless ? Attend to this date ; and boast no more of to-mor- row ! Who can teU, but the bride-maids, girded with gladness, had prepared the marriage- bed ! had decked it with the richest covers, and dressed it in pillows of do^vn ? When, -^Oh ! trust not in youth or strength, or in sniy thing mortal ! for there is nothing cer- tain, nothing to be depended on, beneath the unchangeable God. — Death, relentless death, is making him another kind of bed in the dust of the earth. Unto this he mv.st be conveyed, not ■with a splendid procession of joyous attendants : but stretched in the gloomy hearse, and followed by a train of mourners. On this he must take up a lone- ly lodging, nor ever be released, till " the heavens are no more." — In vain does the con- senting fair one put on her omaments and expect her spouse. Did she not, like Si- sera's mother, look out of the lattice ; chide the delay of her beloved ; and wonder " M'hy his chariot was so long in coming ?" Dit- to the opinion of a judicious friend, who would rpn- der the passage more literally, " Before the face of a moth," making it to represent a creature so exceed- ingly frail, that even a moth flying against it may dash it to pieces. — Which besides its closer correspon- dence witn the exact import of the Hebrew, presents us with amuch finer image of the most extreme imbe- cility. For it certainly implies a far greater degree of weakness, to be crushed by the feeble flutter of the feeblest creature, than only to be as easily crushed as that creature, by the hand of man. — The French ver- sion is very expressive and beautiful, a la rencontre d'un vennisseau. * A distress of this kind is painted in ver^' affecting colours, by Pliny, in an epistle to Mercellinus: O triste plane acerbumque funus ? O morte ipsa mortis tcmpus indignius ! Jam destinata erat egregio juveni, jam electus nuptiarum dies; jam nos advocati. Quod gaudium quo moerore mutatum est ! Non possum expirmere verbis, quantum animo vulnus acceperim (luum audivi Fundanum ipsum (ut multa luctuosa dolor invenit) praecipientim, quod in vestes, mar- ganitas, gemmas, ftierat erogaturus, hoc in thura, at unituenta, et odores, impenderctus. rtiii. lAb. V. Kpist. 26 tie thinking, that the intended bridegroom . had for ever done wath transitory things : that now everlasting cares employ his mind, . without one single remembrance of his lovely Lucinda ! — Go, disappointed virgin ! go, mourn the uncertainty of aU created bliss ? Teach thy soid to aspire after a siu"e and immutable felicity ! For the once gay and gallant Fidelio sleeps in other embraces, even in the icy arms of death ! forgetful, eternally forgetful, of the world — and thee. Hitherto one is tempted to exclaim against the king of terrors, and call him capricious- ly cruel. He seems, by beginning at the \\Tong end of the register, to have inverted the laws of nature. Passing over the couch of decrepit age, he has nipped infancy in its . bud ; blasted youth in its bloom ; and torn up manhood in its full maturity Terrible in- deed are these providences, yet not unsearch- able the counsels ; For us they sicken, and for us they die.* Such strokes must not only grieve the rela- tives, but surprise the whole neighbourhood. They sound a powerfid alarm to heedlesa dreaming mortals, and are intended as a re- medy for our carnal security. Such pass- ing bells incidcate loudly our Lord's admo- nition : " Take ye heed ; watch, and pray ; for ye know not when the time is." — We nod like intoxicated creatiu'es, upon t!ie very verge of a tremendous precipice. These astonishing dispensations are the kind mes- sengers of heaven, to rouse us from our supineness, and quicken us into timely cir- cumspection. I need not surely accommo- date them with language, nor act as their interpreter. Let every one's conscience be awake, and this will appear their an-ful meaning : — " O ye sons of men, in the midst of life you are in death. No state, no circumstances, can ascertain your preser- vation a single moment. So strong is the tyrant's arm, that nothing can resist its force ; so true his aim, that Tiothing can elude the blow. Sudden as lightning, some- times is his arrow launched : and woimds and kills in the t\\'inkling of an eye. Never promise yourself safety in an expedient but constant preparation. The fatal shafts fly so promiscuously, that none can guess the next victim. Therefore, " be ye always ready ; for in such an hour as ye think not, the final summons cometh." Be ye always ready ; for in such an hour as ye think not. Important admonition ! Methinks it reverberates from sepidchre to sepulchre ; and addresses me wth line upon line, precept upon precept. The reiterated warning, I acknowledge, is too needful ; may co-operating grace render it effectual ! The » Night Thoughts. MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. «itn>rilentous trutli, thoui^h woilliy to be en- tp'fivcd on the tables of a most tenacious me^ tnory, is but slightly sketrlied on tlie tran- sient flow of passion. We sec oxir neigh- l)ours fall, we turn pale at the shock ; and feel, perhaps, a trembling dread. No soon- vr are they removed from our sight, but •driven in the whirl of bnsiness, or kdled in the languors of pleasiu'c, yve forget the pro- vidence, and neglect its errand. Tlie im- pression niade on our unstable minds, is like the trace of an arrow through the penetrat- ed air, or the path of a keel in the furrowed wave. Strange stupidity I To cure it, ano- ther monitor bespeaks me, from a neighbom- ing stone. It contains the narrative of an nnhappy mortal, snatched from his friends, and hmried to the awfid bar ; witliout leisirrc, t'ither to take a last farewell of the one, or to put up so much as a single prayer prejia- ratory for tlie other ; killed, accoi-ding to tlie 4isnal expression, by a sudden stroke of casu- alty. Was it then a random blow ? Doubtless the stroke came from an aiming, though in- visible liiir.d. God prcsideth over the ar- mies of heaven ; God ruleth among the in- liabitants of the eartli ; and God conductcth what men call chance. Nothing, nothing comes to ])ass through a blind and inidis- ceming fiitality. If accidents happen, they happen according to the exact foreknow- ledge, and conformably to the determinate counsels of eternal wisdom. The Lord, with whom arc the issues of death, signs the v/arrant, and gives the high commission. The seemingly fortuitous disaster, is only the agent, or the instrument appointed to ex- - we 8 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. breathe, is our bane ! and the food we eat, the vehicle of death That hist enemy has ■ unnumbered avenues fur his approach : yea, lies entrenched in our verj' bosom, and holds his fortress in the seat of our life. The •crimson fluid, which distributes health, is impregnated with the seeds of death.* Heat may inflame it, or toil oppress it, and make 'it. destroy the parts it was designed to cher- •ish. Some unseen impediment may obstruct its passage, or some unkTlo^\^l violence may divert its course : in either of which case it •acts the part of a poisonous draught, or a deadly stab. Ah ! in what perils is vain life en^n.'^'d ! ^Vhat sliftht neglects, what trivia! faults destro-y The hardiest frame ! of indolence, of toil, We die ; of want, of superfluity. The all surrounding heaven, the vital air, Is big with death. Since then we are so liable to be dispossess- ed of this eartlily tabernacle, let us look upon ourselves only as tenants at ■will ; and hold ourselves in perpetual readiness to depart at a moment's \varnir.g. Without such an ha- bitual readiness, we are like wretches that sleep on the top of a mast, \\'hile a horrid gidf ya^^^ls, or fiu'ious waves rage bclo\^'. And where can be the peace, what the satis- faction of such a state ! Whereas, a prepar- ed condition M'ill inspire a cheerfulness of temper, not to be displayed by any alarming accident, and create a firmness of mind, not to be overthro\^ii by the most threatening dangers. "WTien the city is fortified -with walls, furnished with pronsion, guarded by able and resolute troops ; what have the in- habitants to fear ? what may they not enjoy? So, just so, or rather by a much surer band, are connected the real taste of life, and the constant thought of death. I said, our very comforts may become killing And see the truth inscribed by the hand, sealed with the signet of fate. The ■marble, which graces yonder pillar, informs me, that near it are deposited the remains of Sophronia ; the much lamented Sophro- nia, who died in child-bed -How often docs this calamity happen ? The branch fhocts, but the stem vvithers. The babe springs to light ; but she that bare him breathes her last. She gives life, but gives it (O pitiable consideration !) at the ex- pense of her o%m ; and becomes at once a mother and a corjose Or else, perhaps, she expires in severe pangs, and is herself a tomb for her infant ; while the melancholy complaint of a monarch's woe is the epitapli for them both ; ' The children are come to * As man, perhaps the moment of his breath, Receives the lurking principles of death. The young disease, that must subdue at length, tirows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength. fnpiis El/iics. the birth, and there is not strength to bring forth,'* — Less to be lamented in my opin- ion, this misfortime than the other. Better for the tender stranger, to be stopped in the porch, than to enter only to converse \^'ith affliction. Better to find a grave in the womb than to be exposed on a hazarlous world, without the guarrlian of its infantile years, without the faithfid guide of its youth. Tills monument is distinguished by its finer materials, and more delicate append- ages. It seems to have taken its model from an affluent hand, directed by a gene- rous heart, ■\'\diich thought it coidd never do enough for the deceased. It seems, also, to exhibit an emblematical picture of So- phronia's person and accomplishments. Is her beauty, or, what is more than beauty, her white robed innocence, represented by the snowy colour? The smface smootldy polished, like her amiable temper, and en- gaging manners. The whole elegantly adorn- ed, without either extravagant pomp, or sor- did negligence ; like her undissembled good- ness, remote from the least ostentation, yet in all points exemplaiy. But ah ! how vain were aU these endearing charms ! How vain the lustre of thy sprightly eye ! How vain the bloom of thy bridal youth ! How vain the honours of thy superior birth ! How un- iible to secure the lovely possessor from the savage violence of death J How inefiectua the universal esteem of thy acquaintance ; the fondness of thy transported husband ; or even the spotless integrity of thy character, to prolong thy span, or jirocure thee a short reprieve ! — I'he conciu-rence of all these circumstances reminds me of« those beauti- ful and tender lines, How lov'd how valu'd once, avails thee not : To whom related, or by whom begot. A heap of dust alone remains of thee : 'Tis all thou art ! — ar,d all the proud stall be if Pope's Miacell. * Isaiah xxxvii. 3. t These verses are inscribed on a small, but elegant monument lately erected in tlie great church at Nor- thampton ; which, in the hierogyjihical decorations, corresponds wilh the description introduced above. In tliis circumstance particularly, that it is dedicated to tlie memory of an amiable woman, Mrs. ANNtSTO.VE- noys£, the excellent wife of ray wortliy friend. Dr. Storehouse; who has seen all the power of that healing art, to v.hich I, and so many others, havebeen greatly indebted, failing in their attempts to preserve a life dearer to him than his own. Nee prosunt domino que profunt omnibus, arte*. Ovid, No longer his all-healing art avails ; But every remetfy its Master fails. In the midst of histender distress, he has sought some kind of consolation, even from the sepulchral marble, by te.-.diing it to speak, at once his esteem for her me- mory ; and his veneration for that rehgion, which slie so eminently adorned. Norfould this be more signi- ficantly done, than by summing up her character, in that concise, but ro.iiprehensivc sentence, A sirjcERB cHiusTiAw. Concsi- ei.oi.^h to be the motto for a MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. ■ Yet tboiigli unable to divert the stroke, Cliristianity is sovereign to ])liick out the pXiiig of death. Is not this the silent language frf those hiinps v.'hich hurn ; and of that heart v.'hich llames ; of those palms which f^.u^lrish; and of that crown which glitters, in the Avell imitated and gilded marble? Do they not, to the discerning eye, describe the \'igilaiice of her faith ; the fervency of her devotion ; her \-ictory over the \A'orld ; and the celestial diadem, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give her at that day.* How happy the husband, in such a sharer of his bed, and partner of his fortunes ! their inclinations were nicely tuned unisons, and rtioumin;; ring ; yet, as comprehensive as the most en- l-irjieil sp^iereof porsrmal, social, and religious worth. '.' For whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things r.ve lovely, whatsoever things are of good report ;" are they not' all included in tliat grand and noble aggre- gate— ASin.-?re Christian ! The first lines, connidered in such a connexion, are vonderi'ully plaintive and pathetic; Plow lov'd, how valu'd once, avails thee not ; To whom related, or by whom begot. They sound, at least in my ears, like the voice of sor- row mitigled with admiration. The speaker seems to have been lost, for a while in melancholy contempla- tion ; suddenly breaks out in this abrupt encomium, then melts into tears, and can proceed no farther. Vet in this case, how eloquent is silence ! While it hints the universal esteem which attended, and the superior- ity of birth which distinguished the deceased wife ; it expresses beyond all the pomp of words, the yearning aRection, and heart-felt aftliction, of the surviving husband. Amidst the ^oup of monumental marbles, v/hich are lavish of their panegyric, this, 1 think, re- sembles the incomparable address of the painter ; who Jiaving placed round a beautiful expiring virgin, her friends in all the agonies of grief, represented the un- equalled anguish of the father with far greater liveli- ness and strength, or rather with an inexpressible em- phasis, bv drawing a veil over his face. If the last lines are a wild departure from the beaten tract of our modern epithets, and the very reverse of their high-flown compliments, A heap of dust alone remains of thee ! 'Tis all thou art ! and all i\\e proud shall be,— they are not without a precedent, and one of the mo?t consummate kind. Since they breathe the very sijirit of that sacred elegy, in which all the heart of the iiero and the friend seems to be dissolved ; " How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished !" 2 Sam. i. 27. Tliey remind the reader of that awful lesr.on which was originally dictated by the supreme Wisdom; " Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return." Gen. iii. 19. — They inculcate, with all the force of the most convincing evidence, tliat solemn ad- monition delivered by the prophet; "Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils ; for v/herein is he to be accounted of ?" Isa. ii.22. That no reader, however inattentive, miglit mistake the sense and design of this part of the last line, 'Tis all thou art ! it is guarded above and beneath. — Above is an expand- ed book, that seems to be waved with an air of tri- umph, over the emlilem of death ; wliich we cannot but suppose to be the volume of ins|iiration, as it ex- hibits a sort of abridgment of its whole contents, in those animated words, " lie ye not slothful but follow- ers of them, who through faith and jiatience inherit the promises," Heb vi. 12. — Beneath, that every part mi. 1 .lolm ii. 1, 2. Acts x. 43— of iustification, Rom. v. I). Horn. viii. .■?;), .U, 2 Cor. v. 21 —of victory over tleatli, Psil. xxiii. 4. Psal. Ixxiii. efi. 1 Cot XV. ."in, 57. — ofahappv rrsunecUona John \ i. 40. 2 Tor. v. 1 Uev. vii. IC, I7. ian BO sedulously attentive to the interests of herself, and her children ? See ! how she hangs over the languishing bed ; most tender- ly solicitous to prolong a life, important and valuable, far beyond her own ; or, if that be impracticable, no less tenderly officious to soothe the last agonies of her dearer self. Her hands, trembling under direful appre- hensions, wipe the cold dews from the livid cheeks ; and sometimes stay the sinking head on her gentle arms, sometimes rest it on her compassionate bosom See ! how she gazes, with a speechless ardour on the pale countenance, and meagre features ! Wliile all her soft passions beat unutter- able fondness, and her very soul bleeds with exquisite anguish. The sufferer, all patient and adoring, sub- mits to the divine will ; and, by submission, becomes superior to his affliction. He is sensibly touched with the disconsolate state of his attendants, and pierced with an anxi- ous concern for his ^\^fe and his children ; his wfe, who wiU soon be a destitute wi- dow : his children, who %vill soon be help- less orphans. Yet, " though cast downi, not in despair." He is greatly refreshed by his trust in the everlasting covenant and his hope of approaching glory. Religion gives a dignity to distress. At each interval of ease, he comforts his very comforters ; and suffers with all the majesty of woe. The soul, just going to abandon the totter- ing clay, collects all her force, and exerts her last efforts. The good man raises himself on his pillow ; extends a kind hand to his servants, who are bathed in tears ; takes an affecting farewell of his friends ; clasps his vvife in a feeble embrace ; kisses the dear pledges of their mutual love ; and then pours all that remains of life and strength, in the following words ; — " I die, my dear child- ren : But God, the everlasting God, will be with you Though you lose an earthly pa- rent, you have a P'ather in heaven, who lives for evermore. — Nothing, nothing but an unbelie\'ing heart, and irreligious life, can ever separate you from the regards of his providence — from the endearments of his love." He could proceed no farther. His heart was full ; but utterance failed — After a short pause, prompted by alfectionate zeal, with difliculty, gi'cat dilHculty, he added — " You the dear partner of my soul ; you are now the only protector of our oqihans — I leave you under a weight of cares — But God, who defendcth the cause of the iddow, . — God, whose promise is faithfulness, and truth — God hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.* — This revives my drooping spirits, let this support the wife of Ileb. xiii. & MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. II my bosom. — And now, O Father of com- passions, into tliy hands I commend my spi- rit Encoimised by thy promised goodness, I leave my fatherless " Here he fainted ; fell back upon the bed ; and lay for some minutes, bereft of his sen- ses. As a taper upon the Aery point of ex- tinction, is sometimes suddenly rekindled, and leaps into a quivering flame ; so life, be- fore it totally expired, gave a parting strug- gle, and once more looked abroad from the opening eye-lids. He would fain have spoke ; fain have uttered the sentence he began. More than once he essayed ; but the organs of speech were become like a broken vessel, and nothing but the obstructing phlegm rat- tled in his throat ; his aspect, hov>'ever, spoke affection inexpressible. With all the lather, all the husband, still living in his 1 )oks, he takes one more view of those dear children, whom he had often beheld with a parental triumph. He turns his dying eyes on that beloved woman, whom he had never Ifcheld but with a glow of delight. Fixed in this posture, amidst smiles of love, and under a gleam of heaven, they shine out their last. Upon this, the silent sorrow bm-sts into loud laments. They weep, and refuse to be comforted. Till some length of time had given vent to the excess of passion ; and the consolations of religion had staunched their bleeding woes. Then, the afllictcd family search for the sentence, which fell uiifinisli- ed from those loved, those venerable and pious lips. They find it recorded by the prophet Jeremiah, containing the direction of infinite wisdom, and the promise of un- l)ounded goodness : " Leave thy fatherless children : I will preserve them alive : and let thy vvidows trust in me."* — This now is the comfort of their life, and the joy of their heart. They treasure it up in their memo- ries. It is the best of legacies, and an inex- haustible fund. A fund, which will supply all their wants, by entailing the blessing of heaven on all their honest laboin-s They are rich, they are happy, in this sacred pledge of the divine favour. They fear no evil ; they want no good ; because God is their portion and their guardian God. No sooner turned from one memento of Tny own, and memorial of another's decease, but a second, a third, a long succession of these melancholy monitors crowd upon my sight.f — That which has frxed my observa- tion, is one of a more grave and sable aspect than the former. I suppose it preserves the relics of a more aged person. One would conjecture, that he made somewhat of a figure ill his station among the li\dng, as his monu- Jer xlix. 11. riurima mortis imago. — f'hg. ment does among the funeral marbles. Let me draw near, and inquire of the stone. " Who or what is beneath its surface ?" I am informed, he was once the owner of a considerable estate : which was much im- proved by his own application .and manage- ment : that he left the world in the busy period of life, advanced a little beyond the nieridian. Probably, replied my musing mind, one of those indefatigable drudges, who rise early, late take rest, and eat the bread of careful- ness, not to secure the loving-kindness of the Lord, not to make provision for any reasonable necessity, but only to amass to- gether ten thousand times more than they can possibly use. Did he not lay schemes for enlarging his fortune, and aggrandizing his family ? Did he not puq)ose to join field to field, and add house to house, till his possessions were almost as vast as his de- sires? That, then, he would* sit do\\Ti and enjoy what he had acquired, breathe a while from his toilful pursuit of things temporal, and, perhaps, think g, little of things eter- nal. But see the folly of worldly wisdom ! How silly, how childish is the sagacity of (what is called) manly and masterly pnidence, when it contrives more solicitously for time, than it provides for eternity ! How strangely infatuated are those subtile heads which weary themselves in concerting measures for phantoms of a day, and scarce bestow a thought on everlasting realities ! — when every wheel moves on smoothly ; when all the well-disposed designs are ripening apace for execution ; and the long expected crisis of enjojTnent seems to approach ; behold ! God from on high laughs at the Babel-builder. Death touches the bubble and it breaks ; it drops into nothing. The cob-web, most finely spun indeed, but more easOy dislodg- ed, is swept away in an instant ; and all the abortive projects are buried in the sfime grave with their projector. So true is that verdict which the wsdom from above passes on these succcssfid unfortunates, " They walk in a vain shadow, and disquiet them- selves in vain."f Speak ye that attended such a one in his last minutes ; ye that heard his expirhig sentiments, did he not cry out, in the lan- guage of disappointed sensuality, " O death I how terrible is thy a]iproach to a man im- mersed in secular cares, and void of all con- cern for the never ending licreafter? Where, alas ! is the ]u-ofit, where the comfort of en- tering deep into the knowledge, and of being dexterous in the dispatch of earthly aflairs ; • — Mar mcntelaborem, Scse sevrp, spnee ut in otia tutii reecdant, Aiut, rum sibi fint congcsta citiaiia. — Hor, i I'salix xxxix. C. 12 MEDITATIONS A.MONG THE TOMBS. Eirice I bave alt the while neglected tlie one .thing needful ? Destructive mistake ! I have been attentive to eveiy inferior interest. I have laid myself out on the trifles of a mo- .ment, but have disregarded heaven ; have forgot eternal ages ! Oh ! that my days." — • Here, he was going on to breatlie sotne fruit- less wishes, or to form I know not what in- effectual resokitions. But a sudden convul- ■;sion shook his nerves ; disabled his tongue; and, in less than an lioiu", dissolved his .frame. ]\Iay the children of this world be warned, by the dying words of an nnhappy brother ; .and gather advantage from his misfortune • Why should they pant with such impatient ardour: after white and yellow earth, as if the universe did- not afford sufficient for eveiy one to take a little ! Wliy should they lade .themselves \nth thick clay, when they are to "run for an incorruptible crowni, and ])ress towards the prize of their high calling ?" VVliy should they overload the vessel, in which their everlasting all is embarked ; or .fiU their arms with superfluities, when they are to swim for their lives ? Yet so prepos- - terous is the conduct of those persons, who are all industry, to heap up an abundance of the wealth which ]>erisheth, but scarce so much as ftiintly desirous of being rich to- ■ wards Go sjiirabat amores, yi.!£s me surpuerat mih: ? — Hoi'- MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. I 'J bonis of the toilet, aiifl create a more earn- est solieitiide to polish the jewel, than to varnish the casket. It iiiij,dit then become their highest ambition, tu have the mind decked with divine virtues, and dressed after the amiable pattern of their Redeemer's ho- liness. And would this prejudice their persons, or depreciate their charms ? — Quite the re- verse : it would spread a sort of heavenly glory over the finest set of features, and heighten the loveliness of every other en- gaging accomplishment And what is yet a more inviting consideration, these flowers would not wither with nature, nor be tar- nished by time : but would open continual- ly into richer beauties, and flourish even in the winter of age But the most incom- parable recommendation of these noble qualities is, that from their hallowed relics as from the fragrant ashes of the phoenix, win ere long arise an illustrious form, bright as the -wings of angels, lasting as the light of the new Jerusalem. For my part, the remembrance of this sad revolution shall make me ashamed to pay my devotion to a shrine of perishing flesh, and afraid to exi)ect all my happiness from so brittle a joy. It shall teach me, not to think too highly of well proportion- ed clay, though formed in the most elegant moidd, and animated with the sweetest soul. 'Tis heaven's last, best, and cro\«nng gift, to be received with gratitude, and cherished with love, as a most valuable blessing ; not worshipjied with the incense of flattery, and strains of fulsome adoration, as a goddess. — It will cure, I trust, the dotage of my eyes : and incline me always to prefer the substantial " ornaments of a meek and vir- tuous spirit," before the transient decora- lions of white and red on the skin. Here I called in my roving meditations from their long excursion on this tender subject. Fancy listened a while to the so- liloquy of a lover ; now judgment resumes the reins, and guides my thoughts to more near and self-interesting inquiries. — IIow- e\'er, upon a review of the whole scene, crowded with sitectacles of mortality and trophies of death, I could not forbear smit- ing my breast, and fetching a sigh, and la- menting over the noblest of all visible be- ings, lying in ruins uiuler the feet of " the pale horse, and his rider." (Rev. vi. 8.) I could not forbear- tliat pathetic exclama- tion, " O ! thou Adam, what hast thou done !" (2 Esdr. vii. 41.) What desolation has thy disobedience wrought in the earth ! See the malignity, the ruinous malignity, of sin ! Sin has demolished so many stately structiu'es of flesh; sin has made such havoc among the most excellent ranks of Gud's lower creation ; and sin (that deadly bane of our nation) would have plunged our better part into the execrable horrors of the nether- most hell, had not our mercifLd Mediator in- terposed, and given himself for our ransom. — Therefore, what grateful acknowledg- ments does the whole world of penitent sin- ners owe ; what ardent retiu-ns of lo\e will a whole lieaven of glorified believers pay to such a friend, benefactor and deliverer ! JMusing upon these melancholy objects, afaithfid remembrancer suggests from v/ith- in — " JVIust this sad change succeed in me also ? Am I to draw my last gasp, to be- come a breathless corjjse, and to be what I de- plore ?* Is thei-e a time approacliing, when this body shall be carried out uj:>on the bier, and consigned to its clay-cold bed ? while some kind acquaintance, perhaps, may drop one parting tear ; and cry, alas ! my brother, — Is the time approaching ?" — Nothing is more certain. A degree, much surer than the law of the Medes and Persians, has ir revocably determined the doom. Should one of these ghastly figures burst from his confinement, and start up in fright- ful deformity before me ; — should the hag- gard skeleton lift a clattering hand, and point it full in my \-iew ; — shoidd it open, the stifl!ened jaws, and with a hoarse tre- mendous miu'mm-, break this profound si- lence ; — should it accost me, as Samuel's apparition addressed the trembling king — " The Lord shall deliver thee also into the hands of death ; yet a little wldle, and thou shalt be with me."f — The solemn warning, delivered in so striking a manner : must strongly impress my imagination ; a message in thunder would scarce sink deeper. Yet there is abundantly greater reason to be alarmed by that express declaration of the Lord God Almighty, " Thou shalt surely die." — Well then, since sentence is passed, since I am a condemned man, and know not wheii the dead warrant may arrive let me die to sin, and die to the world, before I die beneath the stroke of a righteous God. Let me employ the little uncertain interval of respite from execution, in preparing for a happier state and a better life ! that, wheii. the ratal moment comes, and I am com- * I pass, with melancholy state. By all these solemn heaps of fate; And think, as soft anil sad 1 tread. Above the venerable dead. " Ti;ne was, like me, they life possess'd , And time will be when I shall rest." Pwnel. t 1 Sam. xxxviii. li). On this place, the Dutch translator of the Meditations has added a note; to correct, very probably, what he supposes a mistake. On tlie same supposition, I presume, the compilers of our rubric, ordered the last verse of Kcclus. xlvi. to be omitted, in the daily service of the church. But that the sentiment hinted above, is strictly true ; that it was Samuel liimself (not an infernal spirit, personat- ing the prophet) who appeared to the female necro- mancer at Kndor : appeared not in compliance with any diabolical incantation, but in pursuance of the di- vine commission ; this, I think, is fully proved in the Historical .vccount of the life of David, Vol. 1. chap. 5a> MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. nianded to shut my eyes upon all things here below, I may open them again, to see my Saviour in the mansions above. Since this body, \vhich is so fearfully and Avonderfiilly made, nuist fall to ])ieces in the grave ; since 1 nnist soon resign all my bodily powers to darkness, inacti\aty and corruption : let it be my constant care to use them well, while I j)ossess them ! — Let my hands be stretched forth to relieve the needy, and always be " more ready to give than to receive." — Let my knees bend in deepest humiliation before the throne of grace ; while my eyes are cast down to the earth in penitential confusion, or devoutly looking u]) to heaven for pardoning mercy ! — In every friendly interview, let the "law of kindness dwell on my li]js ;" or rather if the seriousness of my acquaintance permits, Jet the gospel of peace flow from my tongue. O ! that I might be enabled in every public concourse, to lift up my voice like a trum- pet ; and jjour abroad a more joyful sound tluin its most melodious accents, in ])ro- clainiing the glad tidings of free salvation ! — Be shut, my ears, resolutely shut, against the malevolent whispers of slander and the contagious breath of filthy talking ; but be swift to hear the instructions of wisdom, be all attention when your Redeemer speaks ; imbibe the precious truths, and convey them carefully to the heart Carry me, my feet, to the temple of the Lord ; to the beds of the sick, and houses of the poor. May all my members, devoted entirely to my divine Master, be the willing instruments of pro- moting his glor\-. Then, ye embalmers, you may spare your pains ; these works of faith and labours of love ; these shall be my spices and perfumes. Enwrapped in these, I would lay me gently down, aiid sleep sweetly in the blessed Je- sus ; hoping that God will " give command- ment concerning my bones ;" and ojie day letch them up from the dust, as silver from the fiuiiace piuilied, — " I say not seven times, but seventy times seven." Here my coiiti;inplation took wing ; and, in un iiistant alighted in the garden adjoin- ing to Mount Calvary. Having viewed the abode of my deceased fellow-creatures, me- thoiight I longed to see the place where our Lord lay. And, oh what a marvellous spectacle was once exhibited in this memor- able i^epukhre ! He* " who clothes him- self with light, as with a garment ; and walks upon the wings of the wind ;"•)• He was pleased to wear the habiliments of mor- • Darkness !iis curtain and his bed the dust, Tlio' sun and stars are dust beneath his throne. NiiCht Tlioiiffht.i. i The sacred scriptures, speaking of the supreme Being, say— He walketh upon the waves of the sea, to denote hu uu^'OiiuoLablc power. Job. ix. U.— Me tality, and dwelt among the prostrate dead. — Who can repeat the wondrous truth too often ? Who can dwell upon the transport- ing theme too long? He who sits enthron- ed in glory, and diffuses bliss among idl the heavenly hosts, was once a pale and bloody corpse, and pressed this little spot. O death ! how great was thy triumph ia that hour ! Never did thy gloomy realms contain such a prisoner before Prisoner, did I say ? No ; he was more than conquer- or. He arose far more inightily than Sam- son, from a transient slumber, broke down the gates, and demolished the strongholds of those dark dominions And this, O mortals, this is our only consolation and security. Jesus has trod the dreadful path, and smoothed it for our passage. — Jesus sleeinng in the chambers of the tomb, has brightened the dismal mansion, and left an inviting odour in those beds of dust. The dying Jesus (never let the comfortable truth depart from your minds) is your sure protec- tion, your unquestionable passport through the territories of the grave. Believe in him,, and they shall prove a "highway to Sion ;" shall transmit you safe to paradise. Believe in him ; and you shall be no losers, but un- speakable gainers, by your dissolution. Fot hear what the oracle of heaven says uj)on this important point. Whoso believeth in me, shall never die." (John xi. 26.) — What sublime and emphatical language is this ! Thus much, at least, it must import ; — " The nature of that last change shall be siu'iJiisingly altered for the better. It shall no longer be inflicted, as a punish- ment ; but rather be vouchsafed as a bless- ing. To such persons, it shall come attend- ed with such a train of benetits, as will ren- der it a kind of hajjpy impropriety, to call it dying. Dying ! No ; 'tis then they truly begin to live. Their exit is the end of their frailty, and their entrance uj)on perfection^ Their last groan is the prelude to Life and immortality." O ye timorous soids, that ai'e terrified at the sound of the passLUg-bell ; that turn pale walketh in the circuit of heaven, to expres* the in:- mensiiy of his presence. Job xxii. 14. — He walkc;h upon the winps of the wind, to signify the araaziny swiftness of his ojieration, Psal. civ. 3. — In which last phrase, there is, I think, an elegance and em- phasis, not taken notice of by our commentators, and yet unequalled in anv writer.'— Not he flielh ; he run- neth ; but he walketh ; and that on the very wings of the wind ; one of the most impetuous elements, rous- ed into its utmost rage, and sweeping along with in- conceivable rapidity. A tumult in nature, not to be described, is tne composed and sedate work of the Deity. A speed not to be measured, is (with rever- ence I use the expression, and to comport with our low methods of conception) the solemn and majes.ic foot-pace of Jrhovah.— How fiat are the following lines, even in tli£ great master of lyric song, Ocyor cervis, et agente nimbos Ocyor Furo, when compared with this inimitable stroke of divine poetry I — He walkuth upon the win^-s of the wiud. MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 21 nt the sight of an opened grave ; and can scarce behold a coffin, or a skull, without a shuddering horror ; ye that are in bondage to the grisly tyrant, and tremble at the shak- ing of his iron rod ; ci-y mightily to the Fa- ther of your spirits, fur tailh in his dear Son. Faith will free you from your sla- very.* Faith will embolden you to tread pii (this fiercest of) serpents, (Lukex. 19.) Old Simeon, clasi)ing the child Jesus in the arms of his flesh, and the glorious Mediator ill the arms of his faith, departs with tran- (juillity and peace. That bitter persecutor Saul, having won Christ, being found in Christ, longs to be dismissed from cum- brous clay, and kindles into rapture at the prospect of dissolution, (Phil. i. 23. 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8. ) Methiiiks I see another of Immanuel's followers, trusting in his Sa- viour, leaning on his Beloved, go down to the silent shades with composure and alac- rity, (2 Pet. i. 14.) In this powerful name, an innumerable company of siiifid creatures have set up their banners ; and " overcome through the blood of the Lamb." i\uthor- ized by the Captain of thy salvation, thou also mayest set thy feet upon the neck of tins king of terrors. Furnished with this antidote, thou also mayest play around the hole of the asp, and put thy undaunted hand on this cockatrice den, (Isa. xi. 8.) Thou mavest feel the viper fastening to thy mor- tal j)art, and fear no evil : Thou slialt one day shake it off by a joyful resurrection, and suffer no harm, (Acts xxviii. 35.) KesuiTcction ! that cheering word eases my mind of an anxious thought, and solves a most momentous question. I was going to ask, " Wherefore do all these corjjses lie here, in this abject condition ? Is this their final state ? Has death conquered ? and M ill the tyrant hold captivity caj;tive ? How long wilt thou forget them, O Lord ? For i'\cr ?" — No, saitli the voice from heaven, the word of divine revelation: The riglite- <)us are all " prisoners of hope ;" (Zech. ix 12.) There is an hour (an awful secret that, and known only to all-foreseeing wis- • neatli's terror is the mnuntain faith removes ; 'Tis faith disanns (icstiucLion — Believe, ami looii wilix tiiumph on the tomb. These ami some oilier quotations 1 am proud to bor- row from the Night Thoughts, especially from Night the Fotrth ; in which energy of langu ge, sublimity of stn.imcnt, and the most exquisite beauties of poe- try arc the least perfections to be admired. Almost every line glows with devotion, rises into the most exalted apprehensions of the adorable 'iedecmcr, and is animated with the most lively faith in his all-suffi- cient mediation. The author of this excellent per- formance h.is the peculiar felicity of ennobling all the strength of style, and every delicacy of imagniation, ¥.■1111 the grand and momentous truths of Christiani- ty. These thoughts give the highest entertainment to the fancy, and impart the nobiesl improvement to the mind ; they not only refine our taste, but prepare lis for death, and lipen us for glory. 1 never take up this admirable piece, but 1 am ready to cry out, — Te- cum vivcre amein, tecum obeam lihens. i.e. "Inspire me with sue!) a spii it, and life sliall be delightful, nor dialh itse f unwelcome." dom) an appointed hour there is, when an act of grace will pass the great seal above, and give them an universal discharge, a ge- neral delivery from the abodes of corrup- titjii. Then shall the Lord Jesus descend from heaven, with the sh ut of the archan- gel, and the tnnnp of God. Destruction itself shall hear his call, and the obedient grave give up her dead. In a moment, iu the twinkling of an eye, they shake off the sleep of ten thousand years, and spring forth, like the bounding roe, " to meet their Lord in the air." And, O ! with what cordial congratula- tions, what transjiorting endearments, do the soul and body, those affectionate compan- ions, re-unite ! But with how much greater demonstrations of kindness, are they both received by their compassionate Redeemer ! The Ancient of days, who comes in the clouds of heaven, is their friend, their fa- ther, their bridegroom. He comes with irresistible power, and infinite glory. But they have nothing to fear from his majestic appearance. Those ti'cmendous solemni- ties, which spread desolation and astoni.-h- ment through the universe, serve only to in- flame their love, and heighten their hopes. The Judge, the awful Judge, 'midst all his magnificence and splendour, vouchsafes to confess their names, vouchsafes to comme- morate their fidelity, before all the inhabi- tants of the skies, and the whole assembled world. Hark ! the thunders are hushed. See ! the lightnings cease tlieir rage, the angelic armies stand in silent susjiense ; the whole race of Adam is wrapt in pleasing or an.x- ious expectation. — And now that adorable person, whose favour is better than life, whose acceptance is a crown of glory, lifts up the light of his countenance upon the righteous. He speaks ; and what ravish- ing words proceed from his gi-acious lips ! What ecstasies of delight they enkindle in the breasts of the faithful ! " I accejit you, O my people ! Ye are they that believed in my name. Ye are they that renounced yourselves, and are complete in me. I see no spot or blemish in you : for ye are washed in my blood, and clothed with my righteousness. Renewed by my Spirit, ye have glorified me on earth, and have been faithful inito death. Come, then, ye ser- vants of holiness, enter into the joy of your Lord. Come, ye children of light, ye bless- ed of my Father, receive the kingdom that shall never be removed ; wear the crown which fadcth not away, and enjoy pleasures for evermore !" Then it will be one of the smallest privi- leges of the righteous, that they shall hin- guish no more ; thiit sickness will never again show her pale countenance in their 22 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. dwelliiigs. * Death itself, will be " swallow- ed up in victory." That fatal javelin which has drank the blood of monarchs, and finds its way to the hearts of all the Fons of Adam, shall be utterly broken. That enormous scythe, which has struck empires from their root, and swept ages and generations into oblivion, shall lie by in perpetual useless- ncss. Sin also which filled thy quiver, thou insatiate archer! — sin, which strung thy arm with resistless vigour, which point- ed all thy shafts with inevitable destruc- tion— sin, vrill then be done away. What- ever is frail or depraved, will • be thrown off with our grave-clothes. All to come is perfect holiness, and consummate happi- ness ; the term of whose continuance is eternity. O Eternity ! eternity! how are ournobles, our boldest, our strongest thoughts lost and overwhelmed in thee ! Who can set land- marks to limit thy dimensions, or find plum- mets to fathom thy depths ! Arithmeticians have figures to compute all the progressions of time ; Astronomers have instruments to calculate the distances of the planets ; but what numbers can state, what lines can gauge, the lengths and depths of eternity? " It is higher than heaven ; what canst thou do? deeper than hell ; what canst thoulinow? The measure thereof is long- er than the earth, broader than the sea." (Job xi. 8, 9.) Mysterious, mighty existence ! A sum not be lessened by the largest deductions ; an extent not to be contracted by aU possi- ble diminutions ! None can truly say, after the most prodigious waste of ages, " So much of eternity is gone." For when mil- Uo'ns of centuries are elapsed, it is but just commencing; and when millions more have run their ample round, it wiU be no nearer ending. Yea, when ages, numerous as the bloom of spring increased by the her- bage of summer, both augmented by the leaves of autumn, and all multij)lied by fhe drops of rain, which drown the A^-inter — when these, and ten thousand times ten thousand more — more than can be repre- sented by any similitude, or imagined by any conception ; — when aU these are revolv- ed and finished, eternity, vast, boundless, amazing eternity, will only be beginning. Wliat a pleasing, yet awi'ul thought is this ! full of delight, and full of dread. O may it alarm our fears, quicken oiu- hopes, and animate all our endeavours ! Since we are soon to launch into this endless and in- conceivable state, let us give all diligence • Isaiah, speakin;; of the new Jerusalem, mentions this as one ofits impunities, Tlie inhabitants there- of shall no more say, I am sick. Another clause in its royal charter runs thus, God. shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying; neither shall there bo aity more pain. Isa. xxxiii. 24. Rev. xxi. 1. to secure our entrance into bliss Now let us give all diligence, because there is no alteration in the scenes of futurity. The wheel never turns ; all is steadfast and im- moveable beyond the giavc. Whether we are then seated on the throne, or stretched on the rack, a seal will be set to our con- dition, by the hand of everlasting mercy, or inflexible justice. — The saints always rejoice amid the smiles of heaven : their harps are perpetually tuned ; their triumphs? admit of no interruption. — The ruin of the wicked is irremediable. The fatal sen- tence, once passed, is never to be repealed. No hope of exchanging their dolefid ha- bitations. But all things bear the same dismal a?pect for ever and ever. The wicked — My mind recoils at the apprehension of their misery.* It has studiously waved the fearfid subject, and seems unwilling to pursue it even now But, 'tis better to reflect upon it for a few minutes, than to endure to eternal 8f es. Perhaps, the consideration of their aggra- vated misery may be profitably terrible ; may teach me more highly to prize the Sa- viour, who, " delivers from going down to the bottomless pit ;" may drive me, like the avenger's sword, to this only city of refuge for obno>aoiis sinners. The wicked seem to lie here, like male- factors in a deep and strong dungeon, re- served against the day of trial. — " Their departure was without peace." Clouds of horror sat lo\ATing upon their closing eye- lids, most sadly foreboding " the blackness of darkness for ever." When the last sick- ness seized their frame, and the inevitable change advanced ; M-hen they saw the fatal arrows fitting to their strings ; saw the dead- ly archer aiming at their heart ; and felt the envenomed shaft fastened in their vi- tals.— Good God! \\hat fearfidness came upon them ! what hon'ible dread over- whelmed them. How did they stand shud- dering and aghast upon the tremendous precipice ? excessively afraid to plunge into the abyss of eternity, yet utterly unable to maintain their standing on the verge of life. O ! what pale reviews, what startling prospects conspire to augment their sor- rows ! They look backward, and behold, a most melancholy scene ! Sins imrenented of, mercy slighted, and the day oi grace ending. — They look forward, and nothing presents itself but the righteous Judge, the dreadful tribunal, and a most solemn reck- oning They roll around their affrighted eyes on attending friends. — If accomplices in debaueheiy, it sharpens their anguish, to consider this further aggravation of their guilt, that they have not sinned alone, but • Animus meminisse horret luctuque refufiit. — MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 23 .«lra\'^Ti others into the snare. If religious acquaintances, it strikes a fresh gash into their hearts to think of never seeing them any more, but only at an unapproach- able distance separated by the unpassable gulf. At last, perhaps, they begin to pray. Find- ing no other possible way of relief, they are (Constrained to fii'ply unto the Almighty; with trembling lips and a faltering tongue, tliey cry unto that sovereign Being, " who kills and makes alive." — 13ut why have they deferred, so long deferred, their ad- dresses to God ? Why have they despised all his counsels, and stood incorrigible un- der his incessant reproofs ? How often have they been forewarned of these terrors, and most importunately entreated to seek the Lord, Avhile he might be found ? — I wish they may obtain mercy at the eleventh, at the last hour. I wish that they may be snatched from the jaws, the opened, the gaping, the almost closing jaws of damna- tion. But, alas ! v.-ho can tell, whether af- fronted Majesty will lend an ear to their complaint ? whether the holy One will Mork a miracle of grace in behalf of such transgressors ? He may, for aught any mor- tal knows, " laugh at their calamity, and mock when their fear cometh." Thus they lie, groaning out the poor remains of life ; their limbs bathed in sweat ; their hearts struggling with con- vulsive throes ; pains insupportable throb- bing through every pulse ; and innumer- able darts of agony transfixing their con- science. In that dread moment how the frantic soul Raves round the walls of her clay tenement : Runs to each avenue ; and shriclcs for help ; Rut slirieks in vain ! how wishfully she looks On all she's leaving, now no longer hers ! A little lonf;8r, yet a little longer, O ! might she stay, to wash away her crimes. And fit her for her passage ! Mournful sight ! Her very eyes weep blood ; and every groan ."^he heaves, is hig with horror; but the foe, Like a staunch murd'rer steady to his purpose, Purbues her close through every lane of l.fe, Nor misses once the track, but presses on ; Till forc'd at last to the tremeuaous verge. At once she sinks.* If this be the end of the ungodly, " My soul, come not thou into their secret ! Unto their assembly, mine honour, be thou not iniited !" — How awfuUy accomi)lished is that prediction of inspired wisdom ! " Sin, though seemingly sweet in the commission, yet at last it biteth like a serpent, and sting- eth like an adder." Happy dissolution ; were this the pe- riod of their woes, But, alas I all these tribulations are only the " beginning of sorrows ;" a small drop only from that cup of trembling, which is mingled for their • Ste a va;;i.-'l)lc I'ocm, el. titled Tiii' Grave. future portion No sooner has the last pang dislodged their reluctant souls but they are hurried into the presence of an in- jured angry God ; not under the conduct- ing care of beneiicent angels, but exposed to the nisults of accursed spirits, who lately tempted them, now upbraid them,- and will for ever torment them. — Who can imagine their confusion and distress, Avhen they stand, guilty and inexcusable, before their incensed Creator ? They are- received with frowTis : " The God that made them, has no mercy on them." (Isa. xxvii. 11.) The Prince of peace rejects them with abhorrence. He consigns them over to chains of darkness, and receptacles of despaii-, against the se- verer doom, and more yniblic infamy, of the great day. Then all tlie vials of wrath will be emptied upon these wretched crea*- turcs. The law they have violated, and the gospel they have slighted ; the power they have defied, and the goodness they have abused ; will all get themselves honevr in their exemplary destruction. Then God, the God to whom vengeance belongeth, will draw the arrow to the very head, and set them as the luark of his inexorable dis- pleasure. Resurrection will be no privilege to them ; but immortality itself their everlasting curse. — Would they not bless the grave, " that land where all things are forgotten ;" and wish to lie eternally hid in its deepest gloom ? But the dust refuses to conceal their persons, or to draw a veil over their practices. They must also av.ake ; must arise ; must appear at the bar : and meet the Judge : a judge before whom " the pil- lars of heaven tremble, and the earth melts away ;" a Judge once long-suffering and very compassionate, but now unalterably determined to teach stubborn offenders, — r what it is to provoke the Omnipotent Godr head ; what it is to trample upon the blood of his Son, and offer despite to all the gra- cious overtiu-es of his Spirit. O ! the perplexity ! the distraction ! that must seize the impenitent rebels, when they are summoned to the great trilnmal ! What will they do in this day of severe visitation ! this day of final decision. — Where? how ? whence can they find help ? — To which of the saints vdll they turn ? whither betake themselves for shelter or for succour ? Alas ! it is all in vain ; it is all too late. — Friends and acquaintances know them no more ; men and angels abandon them to their approaching doom ; even the Me- diator, the Mediator himself deserts then? in this dreadfid hour.— ;■ To fiy, it will be impracticable : to justify themselves, still more impossible ; and now to make any su]ij)lications, utterly unavailable. Behold ! the books are opened ! the se- crets of all hearts are disclosed ! the hid- 24 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. den tilings of darkness are brought to light ! How empty, how ineffectual now, are all those retined artifices, vAith which hj'po- crites imposed upon their fellow creatures, and preserved a character in the sight of men ! — the jealous God, who has been about tlw?ir path, and about their bed, and espied out all their ways, "sets before them the things that they have done." They cannot answer him one in a thousand, nor stand in the awful judgment. The heavens reveal their iniquities, and the earth rises up against them. (Job xx. 27.) They are speechless with guilt, and stigmatized with infamy before all the armies of the sky, and all the nations of the redeemed. — What a favour would they esteem it, to hide their ashamed heads in the bottom of the ocean, or even to be buried beneath the ruins of the tottering world ! If the contempt poured upon them be thus insupportable, how will their hearts endure, when the sword of infinite indigna- tion is unsheathed, and fiercely waved around their defenceless heads, or pointed directly at their naked breasts ! How must the wretches scream with wild amazement, and rend the very heavens with their cries, when the right aiming thunderbolts go abrocTd ! go abroad with a dreadful commis- sion, to drive them from the kingdom of glory ; and plunge them — not into the sor- rows of a moment, or the tortures of an hour, but into all the restless agonies of un- quenchable fire, and everlasting despair.* Misery of miseries ! too shocking for re- flection to dwell upon. But if so dismal to foresee, and that at a distance, together with some comfortable expectation of es- caping it — O ! how bitter, inconceivably bitter, to bear without any intermission, or any mitigation, through hopeless and eter- nal ages ! Who has any bowels of pity ? "WTio has any sentiments of compassion ? Who has any tender concern for his fellow creatures ? Who? in God's name, and for Christ's sake, let him show it by warning every man, and beseeching every man, to seek the Lord while he may be found ; to throw down the arms of rebellion, before the act of indem- nity expires ; submissively to adore the Lamb, while he holds out the golden scep- tre.-— Here let us act the friendly part to mankind ; here let the whole force of our benevolence exert itself : in exhorting rela- tions, acquaintance, neighbours, whomso- ever we may probably infiuence, to take the wings of faith imleigned, or repentance un- delayed, and flee away from this VTatb to come. Upon the whole, what stupendous disco- veries are these ! Lay them up in a faithful remembrance, O my soul. Recollect them with the most serious attention, when thou best down, and when thou risest up. When thou walkest ; receive them for thy com- panions ; when thou talkest, listen to them as thy prompters ; and whatever thou dost, consult them as thy directors Influenced by these considerations, thy views will greaten, thy affections be exalted, and thou thyself raised above the tantalizing power of perishing things. Duly mindful of these, it will be the sum of thy desires, and the scope of thy endeavours, to gain the appro- bation of that sovereign Being, who will then fill the throne, and pronounce the de- cisive sentence. Thou wilt see nothing worth a wish, in comparison of having his will for thy rule ; his glory for thy aim ; and his Holy Spiiit for thy ever actuating principal. Wonder, O man ; be lost in admiration, at those prodigious events, which are com- ing upon the universe ; events, the great- ness of which nothing finite can measure ; such as will cause whatever is considerable or momentous in the annals of all genera- tions, to sink into littleness or nothing. Events (Jesus prepare us for their ap- proach ! defend us, when they take place !) big with the everlasting fates of all the liv- ing and all the dead* I must see the graves cleaving, the sea teeming, and swarms un- suspected, crowds unnumbered, yea, multi- tudes of thronging nationa, rising from both. — I must see the world in flames, must stand at the dissolution of all terrestrial things : and be an attendant on the burial of natiu'e. I must see the vast expanse of the sky wrapt up like a scroll ; and the incar- nate God issuing forth from light inacces- sible, with ten thousand times ten thousand angels, to judge both men and devils — I must see the curtain of time drop ; see all eternity disclosed to view, and enter upon a state of being, that will never, never have an end ! And ought I not (let the vainest imagin- ation determine ; ought I not) to try the sincerity of my faith, and take heed to my ways ? Is there an inquiiy, is there a care, of greater, of equal, of comparable impor- tance ? — Is not this an infinitely pressing call, to see that my loins are girded about, my lamp trimmed, and myself dressed for the Bridegroom's appearance : that, wash- ed in the fountain opened in my Saviour's Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace Ana rest can never dwell ; hope never comes, That comes to all ; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge fed With MCT burning sulphur unconsumed. — Miltnn. Great day of dread decision, and despnir' At thought of thee, each sublunary wish Let J go Its eager grasp and quits the hold. Nijfht Tlwrtghtn. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 25 sitlc, and clad with the marriage-garment, \vove by his obedience, I nuiy be found, in ))iMre, unblameable, and unreiiroveable Otherwise, how shall I stand witli boldness, when the stars of heaven fall from their orbs ? how shall I come forth erect and courageons, when the earth itself reels to and fro like a drunkard ? ( Isa. xxiv. '20. ) how shall I look up with joy and see my salvation drawing nigh, when the hearts of millions and millions fail for fear. Now, jNIadam, lest my meditations set in a cloud, and leave any unjjleasing gloom upon your mind ; let me once more turn to the brightening prospects of the righteous. A \'iew of them and their delightful expecta- tions, may serve to exhilarate the thoughts which have been musing upon melancholy subjects, and hovering about the edges of infernal darkness ! just as a spacious tield, arrayed in cheerful green, relie\es and re- inNHgorates the eye which has fatigued it- self by poring upon some minute, or gazing upon some glaring object. The righteous seem to lie by in the bo- som of the earth, as a wary pilot in some well sheltered creek, till all the storms, which infest this lower world, are blown over. Here they enjoy safe anchorage, are in no danger of foundering, amidst the waves of prevailing iniquity, or of being ship- wrecked on the rocks of any powerful temp- tation. But ere long we shall behold thcin hoisting their dag of hope ; riding before a sweet gale of atoning merit, and redeeming love ; till they make ^\^th all the sails of an assured faith, the blessed port of eternal life. Then may the honoured friend to whom I am writing, rich in good works, rich in heavenly tempers, but inexpressibly richei ill her Saviour's righteousness Oh ! may she enter the harbour, like a gallant stately vessel, returned successful and victorious from some grand expedition, with acclama- tions, honour and joy ! while my little bark, attendant on the solemnity, and a partaker of the triumpli, glides humbly after ; and both rest together in the haven, — the wish- ed-for blissful haven, of perfect security, and everlasting repose. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN, IN A LETTER TO A LADY. Madam, SoMK time ago, my meditations took a turn among the Tombs ; they \'isited the awiul and melaiuiioly mansions of the dead ;* and you was pleased to favom" them with your attention May I now beg the honour of your company, in a more inviting and de- lightful excursion, in a beautiful Flower- Garden, where I lately walked, and at once regaled the sense, and indulged the fancy ? * " Discourses on the vanity of the creature which represent the barrenness of every thing in this world, and its incapacity of producinir any solid or substan- tial happiness, are useful. — Those speculations also which show the bright side of things, and lay forth th"se innocent entertainments, which are to be met with among the several objects that encompass us, are no less beneficial," Spect. vol. v. No. 393. Upon the plan of these observation*, the preceding and fol- ' lowing reflections are formed. It was early in a summer-moming, when the air was cool, the earth moist, the whole face of the creation fresh and gay. The noisy world was scarce a\^'ake. Business had not quite shook off his soimd sleep ; and riot had but just reclined his giddy head. All was serene, all was still, ever}' thing tended to inspire tranquillity of mind, and invite to serious thought. Only the wakefid lark had left her nest, and was mounting on high, to salute the opening day. Elevated in the air, she seemed to call the laborious husbandman to his toil, and all her fellow songsters to their notes — Earliest of birds, said I, com- panion of the dawn, may I always rise at thy voice ! rise to offer the matin-song. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. and adore that beneficent Being, "whomak- cih the outgoings of the morning and even- ing to rejoice." How charming to rove abroad at this sweet hour of prime ! to enjoy the calm of nature, to tread the dewy hiwns, and taste the imrifled freshness of the air ! Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.* "What a pleasure do the sons of sloth loose ! Little, ah ! little is the sluggard sen- sible how delicious an entertainment he foregoes, for the poorest of all animal grati- fications.f The greyness of the dawn decays gra- dually. Abundance of ruddy streaks tinges the fleeces of the firmament ; till at length the dappled aspect of the east is lost in one ardent and boundless blush Is it the sur- mise of imagination, or do the skies really redden M-ith shame to see so many supinely stretched on their drowsy pillows ? Shall man be lost in luxurious ease ? Shall man waste these precious hours in idle slumbers ! while the \'igorous sun is up, and going on his Maker's errand ? while all the feathered choir are hymning their Creator, and paying their liomage in harmony ? — No. Let him heighten the melody of the tunefid tribes, by adding the rational strains of de- votion. Let him improve the fragrant ob- lations of nature, by mingling with the ris- ing odours the more refined breath of praise It is natural for man to look upward,): to throw his first glance upon the objects that are above him. Strait toward heav'n my wondering eyes I turned. And gaz'd awhile the ample Skv.§ Prodigious theatre ! where lightnings dart their fire, and thunders utter their voice ; where tempests spend their rage, and worlds unnumbered roll at large ! — O ! the great- ness of that mighty hand, which meteth out this amazing circumference with a span ! Oh ! the immensity of that wonderful Be- ing, before whom this unmeasurable extent is no more than a point ! And, oh ! (thou pleasing thought !) the unsearchable riches of that mercy which is greater than the hea- vens ! ( Psal. cnii. 4. ) is more erdarged and extensive, in its gracious exercise than these » Milt. Par. Lost. Book iv. line 641. ■f See ! how revelation and reason, the scriptures, and the classics, unanimously exhort to this most be- neficial practice. Theyboth'invite us to early rising, by the most engaging motives, and the most alluring representations. Come my beloved, let us go forth into the fields ; let us lodge in the villaires. Let us get up early to the vineyards: let us see if the vine flourish, whether the tender grape appear, and the pomegranates bud forth, Son-; vii. 11, 1:?. Luciferi primocum sidcre, frigida ru'a f;flrp^mus, dum mnnenovum dum gramina canent, Et ros in tenera pecoii gratissimus herba est. * O3 nomini sublime dedit, crrlumque tiieri .I'issit, et erectos ad sidera tollere niltus. — OvitI, •4 T>< lit. Par. Lost, book viii. line 2.>7. illimitable tracts of air, and sea, and firma- ment ! which pardons crimes of the most enormous size, and the most horrid acrgra- vations : pardons them in consideration of the Redeemer's atonement, with perfect freeness and the utmost readiness ! more readily, if it were possible, than this all-sur- rounding expanse admits, within its cir- cuit, a ridge of mountains, or even a grain of sand. Come liither, then, ye awakened trem,, bling sinners. Come* weary and hca\y laden with a sense of your iniquities. Con- demn yourselves. Renounce all reliance on any thing of your own. Let your trust be in the tender mercy of God, for ever and ever. hi them hath he set a tabernacle for the sun, (Psal. xix. 4.) Behold him coming forth from the chambers of the east. See ! the clouds, like floating curtains, are throMTi back at his approach. With what refid- gent majesty does he walk abroad ! How transcendently bright is his countenance, shedding day and inexhaustible light through, the universe ! Is there a scene, though fin- ished by the most elaborate and costly re- finements of art, " comparable to these il- lustrious solemnities of opening sunshine ? Before these all the studied pageantry of the theatre, the glittering economy of an assem- bly, or even the heightened ornaments of a royal palace, hide their diminished heads, and shrink, into nothing." — I have read of a per- son so stnick \'\-ith the splendours of this no- ble luminarj', that he imagined himself made on purpose to contemplate its glories. O ! that Christians would adopt this persuasion, and transfer it to the Sun of Righteousness ! Thus applied, it would cease to be a chi- merical notion, and become a most impor- tant truth. For sure I am, it is the su- preme happiness of theeternjd state. And therefore may well be the ruling concern of this present life, to know the only true God, and Jesus Christ M'hom he hath sent. * The lines which follow are admirably descriptive of the spirit and practice hinted above. In them de- sire pants; prayer ivrestles; and faith, as it were, grasps the prize: — I take leave to transplant them mto this place ; and I could wish them a better, a more conspicuous situation than e\en their own or their native soil. Their native soil is no other than the lamentations of a sinner, written by Mr. Sternhold. Notwithstanding the unpromising genius of the per- formance, I think we may challenge the greatest masters to produce any thing more spirited and im- portunate ; more full of nature, or more flushed with life. Mercy, good Lord, mercy I crave; This is the total sum ; For mercy. Lord, is all my suit; Lohd, let thy mercy come. The short sentences; — not a single copulative; — the frequent repetition of the Divine name; — the almost incessant reiteration of the blessing, so pas- sionately desired, and inexpressilily needed : — Thi.; is the genuine language of ardour : these are boaiUics obvious to every eye, and cannot fail either to please I ilie juvlicious taste, or to edity the gracious heart. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER GARDEN; — Nor do I stand alone in this opinion. The very best judge of whatever is valuable in science, or perfective of our nature ; a judge wlio formed his taste on the maxims of paradise, and received the finishings of his education in the third heavens ; this judge determines to know nothing but Je- sus Christ, and him crucified. He possess- ed, in his own person, the finest, the most admired accomplishments ; yet pronoimces them no better than dung, in comparison of the super-eminent excellency of this saving knowledge. (Phil. iii. 8.) Methinks I discern a thousand admirable properties in the sun. It is certainly the best material emblem of the Creator. There is mere of God in its lustre, energy, and usefulness, than in any other visible be- ing. To woi'ship it as a deity was the least inexcusable of all the heathen idolatries. One scarce can wonder, that fallen reason should mistake so fair a copy for the ador- able original. No comparison in the whole book of sacred wisdom, pleases me more than that which resembles the blessed Jesus, to yonder regent of the day ;* wlio now ad- vances on his azure road, to scatter light and dispense gladness through the nations. What were all the realms of the world, but a dungeon of darkness, without the beams of the sun ? All their fine scenes, hid from oiu" view, lost in obscurity In vain we roll around our eyes in the mid- niglit gloom. In vain we strive to behold the features of amiable nature. Turn whi- ther we will, no form or comeliness appears. All seems a dreary waste, an undistin- guished chaos, till the returning hours have imbarred the gates of light, and let forth the morn. Then what a j)rospect opens ! the heavens are paved with azure, and strew- ed with roses. A variety of the liveliest ver- dures array the plain. The flowers put on a glow of the richest coloiu's. The Mhole creation stands forth, dressed in all the charms of beauty. The ravished eye looks round, and wonders. And what had been the condition of our intellectual nature, without the groat Re- deemer, and his divine revelation? — Alas ! what absurd and unworthy apprehensions did the Pagan sages form of God ! AVhat idle dreams, what childish conjectures, were their doctrines of a future state ! — How did the bulk even of that favOLUed nation, the Jews, weary themselves in very vanity, to obtain peace and reconciliation witli their oHViided Jehovah ! till .Tesus* arose u])on our benighted minds, and brought life and iunnortality to light : till He arose, to en- lighten the wretched (Jentiles, and to be the glory of his people Israel. ' Unto yoil that fear my name, shall the Sun of Iii^,i\leoiisness arise with litaiine in his wint;s. Mnl. p.. 2. 27 Now, we no longer cry out with a rest- less impatience. Where is God my Maker? for we are allowed to contemplate the brightness of liis glory, and the express image of his person, in the face of Jesus Christ. Now, we no longer inquire, with an utisatisfied solicitude, " which is the way to bliss ?" because Jesus has marked the path, by his shining example ; and left us an un- erring clue in his holy word Now, we have no more reason to proceed with misgiving hearts in our journey to eternity, or to ask anxiously as we go, " Who will roll away the stone, and open the everlasting doors? Who will remove the flaming sword, and give us admission into the debghts of para- dise ?" Yvix it is done, all done by the Cap- tain of our salvation. Sin he has expiated, by the unblemished sacrifice of himself. The law he has fidfilled, by his perfect obedience. The siinier he transforms, by his sanctifying spirit.^^-^In a word, he hath both presented us with a clear discovery of good things to come ; and administered to us an abundant entrance into the final en- joyment of them. Whenever, therefore, we bless God for the circling seasons, and revolving day, let us adore — thankfidly adore — him, for the more precious appearatice of the Sun of Righ- teousness, and his glorioirs gospel. With- out whicli, we shoidd have been groping even to this hour, in spiritual darkness, and the shadow of death ; without which we must have wandered in a maze of inextrica- ble uncertainties ; and have " sttunbled up- on the dark mountains" of error, till we fell into the bottomless pit of perdition. Witliout that grand culii'cning principle, what were this earth, but a lifeless mass? a rude lump of inactive matter? The trees could never break forth into leaves, nor the plants spring up into flowers. We should no more behold the meadows mantled over with green, nor the vallies standing thick with corn. Or, to speak in the beautitul language of a pro])het, (Hab. iii. 17.) " No longer would the fig-tree blossom, nor fruit be in the vine : The laboui- of the olive would fail, and the fields could yield no meat : The flocks must be cut off from the fold, and there woidd be no herd in the stalls — The sun darts its beams among all the vegeta- ble tribes, and paints the spring, and enriches the autumn. This pierces to the roots of the vineyard and the orchard ; and sets afloat these fermenting juices, which, at length, bmst into floods of wine, or bend the boughs with a mellow load. — Nor are its favours confined to the upper regions, but distributed into the deepest recesses of creation. It penetrates the beds of metal, and fnuls its way to the place of sapphires. It tinctures tlie seeds of gold that are ripen- ing into ore ; and throws a brilliancy into 28 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. the water of the diamond, that is hardening on its rocks. In short, the beneficial agen- cy of this magnificent luminary is inexpres- sible. It beautifies and impregnates univer- sal nature. " There is nothing hid from the heat thereof." Just in the same manner were the ra- tional world dead in trespasses and sins, without the reviving energy of Jesus Christ. He is " the resurrection and the life : " the overflowing fountain of the one, and the all-powerful cause of the other. The se- cond Adam is a quickening spirit, and all his saints live through him. He shines up- on their affections, and they shoot forth in- to heavenly graces, and abound in the fi-uits of righteousness. Faith unfeigned, and love iindissembled, those noblest productions of the renewed nature, are the eifect of his operation on the mind. Not so much as one divine disposition could spread itself, not one Christian habit unfold and flourish, without the kindly influences of his grace. As tlicre is no fruitfulness, so likewise 110 cheerfulness, without the sun.* — When that auspicious sovereign of the day diffuses the mildness of his morning-splendour, he creates an universal festival. Millions of glittering insects awake into existence and bask in his rays. The birds start from their slumbers, and pour their delighted souls in harmony. The flocks, with blcet- ing accents hail the welcome blessing. The herds, in lowing murmurs, express their hoarser acclamations. The valleys ring with rural music ; the hills echo back the artless strains. All that is vocal, joins in the general choir ; all that has breath, exults in the cheering influence : — Whereas, was that radiant orb extinguished, a tremendous gloom would ensue, and hon'or insupporta- ble. Nay, let it only be eclipsed for a few minutes, and all nature assumes an air of sadness. The heavens put on a kind of mourning. The most sprightly animals hang down their dejected heads. The song- sters of the grove are struck dumb. Howl- ing beasts roam abroad for prey ; ominous birds come forth and screech ; the heart of man fails, or a sudden pang seizes the fore- boding mind. — So, when Christ hides away his face, when faith loses sight of that con- solation of Israel ! how gloomy are the pros- pects of the soul ! Our God seems to be a consuming fire, and our sins cry loudly for vengeance. The thoughts bleed inwardly, the Christian walks heavily ; all without is irksome, all within is disconsolate, l^ift up then, most gracious Jesus, thou nobler day-spring from on high ; O lift up the light of thy countenance upon thy people ! Reveal the fulness of thy mediatorial suffi- ciency ; make clear our title to this great salvation : and thereby impart What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy. The soul's cahn sun-shine, and the heart-felt joy. Pope's Eth. E'p. In one instance more, let me pursue the si- militude. The sun, I obser\'e, pours his lus- tre all around, to every distance, and in every direction. Profusely liberal of his gifts, he il- luminates and cheers all the ends of the earth, and the whole compass of the skies. The east reddens with his rising radiance, and the west- em hills are gilded with his streaming splen- dours. The chilly regions of the north are cherished by his genial warmth, while the southern tracts glow with his fire Thus are the influences of the Sun of Righteous- ness, diffusive and unconfined. The gener- ations of old felt them, and generations yet unborn will rejoice in them. The merits of his precious death extended to the first, and udll be propagated to the last ages of mankind. ]\Iay they, ere long, visit the re- motest climates, and darkest comers of the earth ! Command thy gospel, blessed Jesus, thy everlasting gospel, to take the wings of the morning, and travel with yonder sun. Let it fly ujion strong pinions among every ])eople, nation, and language ; that where the heat scorches, and the cold freezes, thou mayest be known, confessed, and adored ; that strangers to thy name, and enemies to thy doctrine, may be enlightened with the knowledge, and won to the love of thy truth ! O ! may that best of eras come ; that M'ished-for period advance, when all the ends of the world shall remember them- selves, and be turned unto the Lord ; and all the kindreds of the nations worship before him! (Psal. xxii. 27.) From the heavens we retire to the earth. — Here the drops of dew like so many li- quid crystals sparkle upon the eye. * How brilliant, and unsullied, is their lustre ! How little inferior to the proud stone, which irradiates a monarch's crown ? They want nothing but solidity and permanency to equal them with the finest treasures of the jewel- ler's casket But here, indeed, they are greatly deficient ; short-lived ornaments, possessed of little more than a momentary radiance. The sun that lishts them up, will soon exhale them. Within another hour, we may " look for their place, and they shall be away." O ! may every good resolution of mine, and of my flocks ; may our united breathings after God, not be like these transient decorations of the morniiis'. * " The sun, which is as the great soul of the uni- verse, and (iroduces all the necessaries of life, has a ^'articular influence in clictring the mind of man, nnd making the heart glad."- &f er^. f'ot. v. Su. 3Si'. • Now morn, her rosy steps in eastern climf Advancing, sow'd tlie earth with orient )i"arl. — Mil Inn. REFLECTIONS OxN A FLO W'ER-O.A RDEN. 29 but like the substantial glory of the grow- ing day ! The one shines more and more with augmented splendours : while the other, having glittered gaily for a few mo- ments, disappear, and are lost. How sensibly has this dew refreshed the vegetable kingdoms ! The fervent heat of yesterday's sun had almost parched the face, and exhausted the sweets of nature. But what a sovereign restorative are these cool- ing distillations of the night ! How they gladden and invigorate the languishing herbs ! Sprinkled with these reviving drops, their verdure deepens ; their bloom is new-flush- ed : their fragrance, faint or intermitted, be- comes potent and copious. — Thus does the ever blessed Spirit revive the drooping trou- bled conscience of a sinner. When that al- mighty Comforter sheds his sweet influence on the soul, disi)lays the all-sufficient sacri- fice of a divine Redeemer, and " witnesses with our si)irit," that we are interested in the Saviour, and, by this means are children of God ; then what a pleasing change en- S'ues ! Former anxieties are remembered no more. Every uneasy apprehension vanishes. Soothing hopes and delightful expectations succeed. The countenance drops its deject- ed mien ; the eyes brighten with a lively cheerfulness, while the lips express the heartfelt satisfaction in the language of thanksgiving and the voice of melody. — In this sense, merciful God, be as the dew un- to Israel ! " Pour upon them the continual dew of thy blessing." And, O ! let not my fleece be dry, while heavenly benedic- tion descends upon all around. Who can number these pearly drops ? They hang on every hedge ; they twinkle from every spniv, and adorn the whole her- bage of the field. Kot a blade of grass, not a single leaf, but wears the watery pendants. So vast is the profusion, that it baffles the arithmetician's art Here let the benevo- lent mind contemplate and admire that em- phatical scripture, Avliich from this elegant similitude describes the increase of the ]\Iessiah's kingdom. The royal j)rophet, speaking of Christ, and foretelling the suc- cess of his religion, has this remarkable ex- pression,* " The dew of thy birth is of the • Psalm ex. 3. The most exact translation of this difficult passage, is I apprehend as follows ^ Prae rore mere aurorae, tibi (st res juventutis vel prolis tua?. i.H. The dew oftliy birth is larf;er, more copious, than thedew which pr'nrteds from the womb of the morning. — I cannot ac(iuiesce in the new version, be- cause that disjoins tlie womb of tlie morning from the dew of thy birth : whereas they seem to nave a clear alHnity, and a close connexion. The womb of tne morning is, with the utmost pertinency applied to the conception and production of dews; agreeably to a delicate line, in that great master of just de- scription and lively painting, Mr. Thomson. The meek ey'd morn ajipears, mother of dews. SiiiiiJiin: We meet with a fine expression in the hook of Job, whuli may ser\e to confimithis rvnuark, and may il- womb of the morning ;" that is, As tlr.? morning is the mother of dews ; jirodiices them, as it were, from a prolific womb ; and scatters them with the most lavish abun- dance, over all the surface of the earth, so shall thy seed be. O thou everlasting Fa- ther ! by the preaching of thy word, shall such an iiituimcrable race of regenerate chil- dren be born imto thee, and prove an orna- ment and a blessing to all ages. IMillions, millions of willing converts from every na- tion luider heaven, shall crowd into thy fa- lustrate the propriety of the phrase used in this con- nexion ; " Hath the rain a tather, or who hath be- gotten the drops of dew ?" It seems the oriental wri- ters delighted to represent the dew as a kind of birth, as the otispring of the morning. And if so, surely there could be no image in the whole compass of the universe better adapted to the Psabnist's purpose, or more strongly significant of those niultiludes of jn'o- selvtes, which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the tiesh, nor of the will of man, but of God, by the powerful energy of his word and spirit. Upon this supjiosition the whole verse describes The willing subjection, ") Thegracious accomplishments, >of Christ's converts. And the vast number, ) 14. d. In the day of thy power, when thy glorious gospel shall be published in the world, and accompa- nied with marvellous ethcacy,— in that memorable penod, thy peoplediscontinuingtheforraer oblations, commancltd under the Mosaic law, shal devote them- selves as so many living sacrifices to thy honour, not constrained by i'orce, but charmed with thy excel- lency, they shall come in volunteers to thy service, and be free-will-oflerings in thy church. — Neither shall they be "empty vines," or bare professors; but shall walk in all the beauties of holiness, and bring forth such amiable fruit, as will adorn the doctrine they embrace.— \\ hat is still more desirable, they shall be as numerous as they are willing and holy. Born to thee in numbers, immense and inconceivable, ex- ceeding even the countless myriads of dew-drops, which .are l}egotten by the night, and issue from the womb of the recent morning. By this intcrprttation, the text, I think, is cleared of its obscurJty, and appears both truly sublime, and perfectly just. May I be pardoned the digression, and acquitted from presumjition, if on this occasion, I take leave to animadvert upon what seems harsh and unnatural in the common exiiosition of the last verse of this psalm < All the commentators (as many at least as I have consulted) inform their readers, that todrinkof the brook in the way, signifies to undergo sufferings and death; which, in my opinion, is a construction extremely forced, and hardly supportable; altogether remote from the import of such poetical forms of diction usual among the eastern nations. In those sultry climes, nothii-g could be more welcome to the traveller than a brook streaming near his paths. To quench his thirst and lave his feet in the cooling current, was one of the greatest refreshments imagin- able and re-animated hiin to pursue his journey. For which reason, among others, brooks are a very favourite image with the inspired penman ; used to denote a situation fertile and dtlightfu', or a state of pleasure and satisfaction ; but never, that I can recol- lect, to picture out the contrary condition of tribu- lation and distress. The water-floods, indeed, in the sacred writings, of- ten represent some imminent danger or grievous af- fliction. But then thev are not— s reams so calm, that they keep within tficir banks, and glide quietly by the traveller's footsteps; so clear that they are fit for the wav-faring man's use, and invite his lips to a draught ; I'joth which notions are plainly implied in the text. They are rather boisterous billows, burstinj; over a ship, or dashing themselves with dreadful im- petuosity upon the shore; or, sweeping inundations, which bear down all before them , and drown the neigh- bouring country. Besides, in these instances of hor- ror, we never tiiid the words— Heshall drink; which coiivevs a pleasing idea (unless when it relates to a cup, tilled with bitter, intoxicating, or impoisoncd liciuors ; a case (\\x\\e ditferent from that under coi»» 30 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. mi]y, and replenish thy church ; till they become like the stars of the sky, or the sands of the sea, for multitude ; or even as numberless as these line spangles, which now cover the face of natm-e Behold then, ye obstinately wicked, though you " are not ga- thered, yet wiU the Sanour be glorious." His design shall not miscarry, nor his labour prove abortive, though you render it of none effect with regard to yourselves. Think not that Immanuel will want believers, or heaven inhabitants, because you continue incorrigible. No ; the Lamb that was slain, will " see of the travail of his soul, and be satisfied," in a never-failing series of faith- ful people below, and an immense choir of glorified saints above ; who shall form his retinue, and surround his throne, in shining and triumphant armies, such as no man can number- Here I was reminded of the various ex- pedients which Providence, unsearchably wise, uses to fructify both the material and intellectual world. — Sometimes you shall have impetuous and heavy showers, burst- ing from the angry clouds. They lash the plains, and make the rivers foam. A storm brings them, and a deluge follows them. — At other times these gentle dews are form- ed in the serene evening air ; they steal down by slow degrees, and wth insensible stillness ; so subtile that they deceive the nicest eye ; so silent that they escape the most delicate ear ; and when fallen, so very light, that they neither bruise the tenderest, nor oppress the weakest flower, — very dif- ferent operations ! yet each concurs in the same beneficial end ; and both impart fer- tility to the lap of nature. So, some persons have I known reclaim- ed from the unfruitful works of darkness, by violent and severe means. The Abnighty sideration,) but either, such words as import terror and astonishment, or else to rush upon, to overwhehn, and even to bury under the waves. Upon the whole, may not the passage more pro- perly allude to the influences of the Holy Ghost? which were communicated in unmeasurable degrees to our great High Priest, and were in fact the cause of his surmounting all difficulties. — These are frequently represented by waters : " Whoso believeth on me, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living waters." The enjoyment of them is described by drinking; «' He that drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst."— Then the sense may run in this well-connected and perspicuous manner. It is asked, How shall the Redeemer be able to execute the va- rious and important offices foretold in the preceding parts of the psalm; the Prophet replies, He shall drink of the brook in the way. He shall not be left barely to his liuman nature, which must unavoidably sink under the tremendous work of recovering a lost world, but, through the whole course of his incarnate state, through the whole administration of his medi- atorial kindgom, shall be supported with omnipotent succours. He shall drink at the brook of Almighty power, and travel on in the greatness of an imcreated strength. — Therefore shall he lift up his head. Ry this means shall he be equal to the prodigious tnsl;, and superior to all opposition. By this means, sh:'.ll he be thoroughly successful in whatever he under- takes, and greatly triumphant over ail liisenemiLS. addressed their stubborn hearts, as he ad-' dressed the Israelites at Sinai, with light- ning in his eyes, and thunder in his voice. The conscience, smit with a sense of guQt, and apprehensive of eternal vengeance, trem- bled through all her powers ; just as that strong mountain tottered to its centre. Pangs of remorse, and agonies of fear, pre- ceded their new birth. They were reduc- ed to the last extremities, almost ovenvhelm- ed with despair, before they foimd rest in Jesus Christ. — Others have been recovered from a vain conversation, by methods more mild and attractive. The Father of spirits applied himself to their teachable minds, in " a stiU and small voice." His grace came down, as the rain into a fleece of wool ; or, as these softening drops, which now water the earth. The kingdom of God took place in their souls, wthout noise or obser- vation. They passed from death unto Ufe, from a canial to a regenerate state, by almost imperceptible advances. The tran- sition resembled the growth of com ; was very visible when affected ; though scarce sensible, while accomplishing. — O thou Au- thor and Finisher of our faith, recal us from our wanderings, and re-iniite us to thyself ! ' Whether thou alarm us with thy terrors, or allure us with thy smiles ; whether thou drive us with the scourge of conviction, or draw us with the cords of love ; let us, in any wdse, return to thee ; for thou art our supreme good ; thou art our only happi- ness. Before I proceed further, let me ascend the terrace, and take one siu'vey of the neighbouring country What a prospect rushes upon my sight ! How vast ! how various ! how " fuU and plenteous with aU manner of store !" Nature's whole wealth ! — What a ricE and inexhaustible magazine is here, furnishing subsistence for every creature ! Methinks I read in these spacious volumes, a most lively comment upon that noble celebration of the di\dne beneficence , He openeth his hand, and filleth all things living with plenteousness. These are thv glorious works. Parent of good ! Almighty ! Thine this universal frame. Thus wondrous fair ! Thyself how wondrous then . Milton. The fields are covered deep, and stand thick with corn. They expand the milky grain to the sun, in order to receive from his beams a more firm consistence, and a golden hue ; that they may be qualified to fill the barns of the husbandman wath plen- ty, and his heart with gladness. Yonder lie the meadows, smoothed into a perfect level ; decorated with an embroid- ery of the gayest flovvers, and loaded with* -Injussa virescunt Graniiiul. Vi'S- REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 31 spontaneous crops of herbage ; which, foii- verted into hay, will prove a most commo- dious provision for the barrenness of win- ter ; will supply with fodder our serviceable animals, wlien all the verdure of the plain is killed by frosts or biu-ied in snows. — A ^\^nding stream glides along the flowery margin, and receives the image of the bend- ing skies, and waters the root of many a branching willow. It is stocked, no doubt, with variety of tish, which afford a solitary diversion to the angler, and nourish for his table a delicious treat. Nor is it the only merit of this liquid element, to maintain the finny nations : it also carries cleanliness, and tlispenses friiitfiilncss, wherever it rolls the crystal current. The pastures with their verdant mounds, cliequer the prospect, and prepare a stand- ing repast for oiu- cattle. There " om' oxen are made strong to labour, and oiu- sheep bring forth thousands and ten thou- sands." There the horse acquires vigour, for the dispatch of our business ; and speed, to e.Yjiedite our journeys. From tiience the kine bring home their udders distended with one of the richest and heiJthiest liquors in the world. On several spots a grove of trees, like some griuid colonnade, erects its towering head. Even' one projects a friendly shade for the beasts, and creates an hospitable lodging for the birds. Every one stands ready, to furnish timber for a palace, masts for a navy ; or with a more condescending courtesy, fuel for our hearths One of them seems skirted with a udld uncidtivat- ed heath ; wliich, like well-disposed shades in painting, thi'ows an adchtional lustre on the more ornamented paits of the landscape. Nor is its usefidness, like that of a foil, re- lative only, but real. There several vidua- ble creatiu'es are ju'oduced. aiW accommoda- dated vnthout any expense or care of ours. There likewise spring abiuidance of those herbs, wliich assuage the smart of oiu- wounds, and allay the fiery tumidts of the fever ; ^vhich im])art fluridity to our circu- lating fliuds, add a more vigorous tone to om- active solids, and thereby repair the de- cays of our enfeebled constitutions. Nearer the houses we perceive an ample spread of branches ! not so stately as the oaks, but more luniable for their annuiil ser- vices. A little while ago, I beheld them ; and all was one beauteous, boundless waste of blossoms. The eye m;u-velled at the lovely sight, and the heart rejoiced in the prospect of autmnniJ plenty. But now the blooming maid is resigned for the usefid matron ; the fiower is fidlen, and the fruit swells out ou ever)- twig Breathe soft, ye winds ! O, spare the tender fruitage, ye surly bliist ! Let the pear-tree suckle her juicy progeny, till they drop uito our bands and dissolve in our mouths. Let the plumb hang unmolested ujion her boughs, tiU she fatten her delicious tlesh, and cloud her po- lished skin Avith blue. And as for the apples, that stapple commodity of our or- chards, let no injiu-ious shocks precipitate them immatiu-ely to the groinid ; till re- volving suns have tinged them witli a ruddy complexion, and concocted them into an ex- quisite flavour. Then, what cojjious hoards, of what biu-nished rinds, and what delight- ful relishes, will replenish the store-room ! Some, to present us with an early enter- tainment, and refresh our ])alates amidst the sultry heats ; some, to borrow rii)eness from the falling snows, and cany autumn into the de])ths of winter ; some, to adorn the salver, make a part of the dessert, and give an agreeable close to our feasts:* others, to fill oiu-vats with a foaming flood, which, mellowed by age, may sparkle in the glass, with a liveliness and delicacy little inferior to the blood of the grape. I observe several small inclosures, which seem to be apprehensive of some hostile v-isit from the north ; and therefore, are de- fended, on that quarter, by a thick wood or a lofty wall. At the same time, they cid- tivate an uninterrujjted correspondence with the south, and throw open their whole di- mensions to its friendly wiu-mth. One, in particular, Ues within the reach of a distin- guishing view, and proves to be a kitcheu- gcU'den. It looks, methinks, like a plain and frugvd republic. Wliatever may resemble the pomp of courts, or the ensigns of royal- ty, is banished from this humble communi- ty. None of the productions of the oli- toiy affect finery, but all are habited with perfect decency. Here those celebrated qualities are eminently united, the utmost simplicity with the exactest neatness.f A skilful hand has parcelled out the whole ground into narrow beds, and interven- ing alleys. The same discreet management has assigned to each verdant family a pecu- liar and distinct abode. So that there is no confusion amidst the greatest midtij)licity ; because every individual is associated with propriety, and all the tribes are ranged wdtb regulaiity. If it be jdeasing to behold their orderly situation, and their modest beauties ; how much more delightfid, to consider the advantages they yield! What a -fund of choice accommodations is here ! what a source of wholesome dainties ! and all for the enjoyment of man. Why does the pars- ley, with her frizzled locks, shiig the bor- der ; or, why the celery, witli her whiten- ing arms, perforate the mold, but to render liis soups savoury ? The asparagus shoots Abovo Usque ad mala Hor, t StiTipIex niunditiib.— Hur. «2 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. bis tapering stems to offer him the first fruits of the season ; and the artichoke spreads its tiirgid top, to give him a treat of vegetable marrow. The tendrils of the cucumber* creep into the sun ; and, though basking in its hottest niys, they secrete for their master, and barrel up for his use the most cooling juices of the soil. The beans stand firm, like files of embattled troops ; the peas rest upon their props, like so many companies of invlilids ; while both re- plenish their pods with the fatness of the earth, on purpose to pour it on their owner's tiible — Not one species among all this va- riety of herbs is a cumberer of the groimd. Not a single plant but it is good for food, or some way salutary. With so benefi- cent an economy are the several periods of their ministrations settled, that no portion of the year is left destitute of nourishing esculents. What is still more obliging, every portion of the year affords such escu- lents as are best suited to the temperature of the air, and the state of onr bodies. Why then should the possessor of so valu- able a spot envy the condition of kings,f since he may daily walk amidst rows of peaceable and obsequious, though mute subjects. Every one of which tenders him some agreeable present, and pays him a willing tribute, such as is most happily adapted both to supply his wants, and to regide his taste ; to furnish him at once with plenty and \nth pleasure. At a distance, one descries the mighty hills. They have their huge ridges among the clouds ; and look like the barriers of kingdoms or the boundaries of nature. Bare and deformed as their surface may ap- pear, their bowels are fraught with inward treasures ! treasures lodged fast in the quar- ries, or sunk deep in the mines. From thence industry may draw her implements, to plough the soil, to reap the grain, and pro- cure every necessary convenience, f^rom thence, art may fetch her materials to rear the dome, to swell the organ, and form the noblest ornaments of politer life. On another side, the gi'eat deep termi- nates the view. There go the ships ; there is that kn'iathan ; and there, in that world of waters, an inconceivable number of ani- mals have their habitation. This is the capacious cistern of the universe, which ad- • Virgil, with great conciseness, and equal proprie- ty, describes the cucumber — — Tortuscjue per herbain Crcsc -ret in ventrem ciicumis Genrcr. TV. Milton has (if we admit Dr. Bently's alteration, which is, I think, in this place, unquestionably just) ahnost translated the Latin poet, Forth crept The swellinr; gourd.— Par. Lo«^ B. 7. 1. 320. ♦ Hir rarum tamen in rtumis olus, albaque circum Lilia verbenasque premens, vcscumque papaver. Regnum a?quehat opes aniinis ; seracpie revertens Nocte dotnum, dapibiismensiisnnerabat inempfis. Vir. Geiirg.ir. mits as into a deep receptacle, and distri- butes as from a reservoir, whatever waters the whole globe. There is not a fountain that gushes in the unfrequented desert, nor a rividet that flows in the remotest con- tinent, nor a cloud that swims in the highest regions of the firmament, but is fed by this all-replenishing source. The ocean is the grand vehicle of trade, and the uniter of distant nations. To us it is peculiarly kind, not only as it wafts into our ports the harvest of every climate, and renders our island the centre of traffic, but also as it se- cures us from foreign invasion, by a sort of impregnable entrenchment. * Methinks the view of this profuse mu- nificence inspires a secret delight, and kin- dles a disinterested good-will. While the " little hills clap their hands," and the luxu- riant " vallies laugh and sing," who can forbear catching the general joy ? who is not touched with lively sensations of plea- sure ? While the everlasting Father is scat- tering blessings through his whole family, and crowning the year A\dth his goodness, who does not feel his breast overflowing with a diffusive benevolence ? My heart, I must confess, beats high with satisfaction, and breathes out congratulatory wishes up- on all the tenants of these rural abodes : ■" Peace be within yoiu- walls, as well as plenteousness around your dwellings." Live ye highly favoured ; live sensible of your benefits, and thankful to your benefactor. Look round upon these prodigiously large incomes of the fruitfid soil, and call them (for you have free leave) aU your own. — Only let me remind you of one very im- portant truth, let me suggest, and may you never forget that you are obliged to Christ Jesus for every one of these accommoda- tions, which spring from the teeming earth, and the smiling skies. For, 1. Christf made them, when they were » Whose rampart was the sea. Nab. iii. 8. I hope this little excursion into the country will not be looked upon as a departure from my subject ; because a rural view, though no essential part of a garden, is yet a desirable appendage, and necessary to complete its beauty. — As usefulness is the most valua- ble property which can attend any production, this is the circumstance chiefly touched upon in the survey of the landscape. Though every piece of this exten- sive and diversified scene is cast in the most elegant mould, yet nothing is calculated merely for show and parade. You see nothing formed in the taste of the ostentatious obelisk, or insignificant pomp of the py- ramid. No such idle expenses were admitted into that consummate plan, which regulated the structure of the universe. All the decorations of nature are no less advantageous than ornamental; such as speak the Maker infinitely beneficent, as well as incompar- ably magnificent. t When I ascribe the work of creation to the Son, I wouH by no means be supposed to with-hold the same honour from the eternal Father, and ever-bless- ed Spirit. The acts of those inconceivably glorious persons are, like their essence, undivided and one. But 1 choose to state the important point in this man- ner, because this is the manifest doctrine of the new Testament, is the express belief of our church, and a most noble peculiarity of the gospel revelation,—! REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. na not He fetched them up from utter dark- ness, and gave them both their being and their beauty. He created the materials of which they are composed, and moulded them into this endless niultij)licity of amiable forms, and useful substances. He arrayed the heavens with a vesture of the mildest blue, and clothed the earth in a livery of the gay- est green ; his pencil streaked, and his breath perfumed whatever is beautifid or fragrant in the universe. His strength set fast the mountains ; his goodness garnished the vales ; and the same touch which heal- ed the leper wrought the Avhole visible sys- tem into this complete perfection. 2. Christ recovered them when they were forfeited By Adam's sin, we lost our right to the comforts of life, and fruits of the ground : his disobedience was the most impious and horrid treason against the King of kings. Consequently his whole patrimony became confiscated; as well the portion of temporal good things, settled upon the human race during their minority ; as. that everlasting heritage reserved for their enjoyment when they should come to full aije. But the " seed of the woman," instantly interposing, took off the attainder, and redeemed the alienated inheritance. The fii-st Adam being disinherited, the se- cond Adam was ajipointed heir of all things,* visible as well as invisible ; and we hold our i)Ossession of the former, we ex- pect an instatement in the latter, purely by choose, it also, because I would take evcy opportuni- tv of inculcating and celebrating the divinity of the Redeemer : a trutli which imparts an unutterable dignity to Christianity ; a truth, which lays an im- moveable foundation for all the comfortable hopes of a Christian ; a truth which will render the mystery of our redemption, the wonder and delight of eter- nity; and with this truth every one will observe, my assertion is inseparably connected. If any one questions, whether this be the doctrine of our church, let the creed, which we repeat in our most solemn devotions, determine his doubt ; " 1 be- lieve," savs that form of sound words, " in one Lord Jesus Christ, very God of very God, by whom all things were made." — If it be farther inquired, from whence the Nicene fathers derived this article of their faith? I answer, from the writings of the }ye- loved disciple, who lav on the Saviour's bosom ; and of that great apostle who had been caught up into the third heaven. John i. X Col. i. 16. * Heb. i. 2. — In this sense, at least, Christ is the Saviour of all men. The former and latter rain ; the precious fruits of the earth, food to eat, and raiment to put on ; — all these he purchased, even for his irre- claimable enemies. They eat of his bread, who lift up their heel against him. We learn from hence, in what a peculiar and en- dearing light the Christian has to contemplate the things that are seen. Heathens might discover an eternal power and infinite wisdom, in the structure of the universe; heathens might acknowledge a most stupendous liberality, in the unreserved grant of the whole fabric, with all its furniture, to the service of man ; but the Christian should ever keep in mind his forfeiture of them, and the price paid to redeem them. He should receive the gifts of indulgent providence, as the Israelites received their law from the hand of a mediator ; or rather, to him they should come, not only issuing from the stores of an unboundeil bounty ; but swimming (as it were) in that crimsoa tide, which streamed from Immanuel's veins. virtue of our alliance to him, and our union with him. 3. Christ upholds them, which would otherwise tumble into ruin. — By him says the oracle of inspiration, all things consist. • His finger rolls the seasons round, and pre- sides over all the celestial revolutions. His finger winds up the wheels, and impels every spring of vegetative nature. In a word, the whole weight of the creation rests upon his mighty arm, and receives the whole harmony of its motion from his unerring eye — This habitable globe, with all its rich appendages, and fine machinery, could no more continue, than they could create them- selves. Start they would into instant con- fusion, or drop into their primitive nothing, did not his power support, and his wisdom regulate them every moment. In coiitonn- ity to his will, they subsist steadfast and in- variable in their orders ; and wait only for his sovereign nod, to " fall away like water that runneth apace." 4. Christ actuates them.f which woidd otherwise be lifeless and insignificant — Pensioners they are, constant pensioners on his bounty ; and borrow their all from his fulness. He only has life ; and Mhat- ever operates, operates by an emanation from his all sufficiency. Does the grape refresh you with its enlivening juices? It is by a warrant received, aiid virtue derived, from the Redeemer. Does bread strengthen yotu- heart, and prove the staff of yom- life? Remember, that it is by the Saviour's ap- pointment, and through the efficacy of his oi)eration. You are charmed with his me- lody, when the " time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the night- ingale is heard in our land." You taste his goodness in the luscious fig, the melting peach, and the musky tlavourof the apricot. You smell his sweetness in the opening honey-suckle, and every odoriferous shrub. Could these creatures speak for themselves they would, doubtless, disclaim all sufficien- cy of their owii, and ascribe the whole hon- our to their Maker " We are servants," would they say, " of him who died for you. Cisterns only, diy cisterns in ourselves, wc transmit to mortals no more than the un- created fountain transfuses unto us. Think not, that from any ability of our own, we • Col. i. 17. I beg leave to recommend St. Chrysos- tom's pertinent and beautiful note upon the passage; by which it will appear, that the sentiment of these sections is not merely a i)rivate opinion, but the avow- ed belief of the primitive church. T John v. 17. "My Father worketh hitherto and I work;" or, I fxert that unremitting and unwearied energy, which is the life of the creation. — Thus the words are paraphrased by a masterly expositor, who has illustrated the life of our blessed Lord, in the most elegant taste of criticism, with the most amiable spirit of devotion, .and without any mixture of the malignant leaven or low singularities of a party. Sea the Family Expositor, Vol. I. sect. 47. 34 Rli:FLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. furnish you wnth assistance, or administer to your comfort. It is the divnne energy, the divine energy alone, that works in us, and does you good We serve you, O ye sons of men, that you may love him who placed you in these stations. O ! love the Lord, therefore, all ye who are supported by our ministry ; or we shall groan with in- dignation and regret at your abuse of our services. (Rom. vm. 22.) — Use us, and welcome ; for we are yours, if ye are Christ's. Crop our choicest beauties ; rifle all our treasures, accommodate yourselves with our most valuable qualities ; only let us be in- centives to gratitude, and motives to obe- dience." Hanng sun'cyed the spacious sky, and sent a glance round the inferior creation, it is time to descend from this eminence, and confine my attention to the beautiful spot below Here nature, always pleasing, every-where lovely, appears with peculiar attractions. Yonder she seems dressed in her dishabile ; grand, but irregular. Here she calls in her hand-maid, art ; and shines in all the delicate ornaments which the nicest cultivation is able to convey. Those are her common apartments, where she lodges her ordinary guests ; this is her cabinet of curiosities, where she entertains her inti- mate acquaintance My eye shall often ex- patiate over those scenes of universal fertili- ty ; my feet shall sometimes bnish through the thicket', or traverse the la^\Ti, or stroll along the forest-glade ; but to this delight- ful retreat shall be my chief resort. Thi- ther wdll I make excursions ; but here will I dwell. If, from my low procedure, I may form an allusion to the most exalted practices, I would observe, upon this occasion, that the celebrated Erasmus, and our judicious Jvocke, having trod the circle of the sciences, and ranged through the whole extent of hu- man literature, at length betook themselves solely to the Bible. Leaving the sages of antiquity, they sat incessantly at the feet of Jesus. Wisely they withdrew from that immense midtiplicity of learning, from those endless tracts of amusing erudition, where noxious weeds are mixed with wholesome herbs : where is generally a much larger growth of prickly shnibs, than of fruitful boughs. They spent their most mature hours in those hallowed gardens, v.hich God's own wisdom planted, ^hich God's own Spirit watereth, and in \^-hich God's ovm Son is continually walking ; ^^•hcre he meeteth those that seek him, and revealeth to them the glories of his person, and the riches of his goodness. Thus would I iinish the remainder of my days ! Having just tasted what they call the politer studies, I would now devote my whole application to tlie lively oracles. From other pursuits, I might glean, peri- haps, a few scattered ears of low, of lean, of unsatisfactory instruction. From this, I trust to reap a hai-vest of the sublimest truthsr the noblest improvements, and the purest joys.* Waft me then, O ! waft my mind to Sion's consecrated bowers. Let my thoughts- perpetually rove through the awfully-pleas-. ing walks of inspiration. Here grow those heaven-born plants, the trees of life and' knowledge, whose ambrosial fruits we now may " take, and eat, and live for ever." Here floAV those precious streams of grace, and righteousness, whose living waters- " whosoever drinks, shall thirst no more." And what can the fables of Grecian song, or the finest jiages of Roman eloquence, — Vi'hat can they exhibit, in any degree com- parable to these matchless prerogatives of revelation ! — Tlierefore, though I should, not dislike to pay a visit now and then to my heathen masters, I would live with the prophets and apostles. With those I would cany on some occasional correspondence : but these should be my bosom-friends, my inseparable compiuiions, " my delight, and my counsellors." "What sweets are these, which so agreea- bly salute my nostrils ! They are the breath, of the flowers, the incense of the garden. — How liberally does the jessamine dispense her odoriferous riches ! How deliciously has the woodbine embalmed this morning walk ' The air is all perfume And is not this another most engaging argument to forsake the bed of sloth? Who would lie dissolved in senseless slumbers, while so many breathing sweets invite him to a feast of fragrancy ! Especially considering that the advancing day will exhale the volatile dainties. A fugitive treat they are, prepar- ed only for the wakeful and industrious ; whereas, when the sluggard lifts his heavy eyes, the flowers will di'oop, their fine scents be dissipated, and instead of this refreshing humidity, the air will become a kind of li- quid fire. With this very motive, heightened by a representation of the most charming pieces of morning scenery, the parent of mankind' awakes his lovely consort. There is such a delicacy in the choice, and so much life in the description of these rural images, that I cannot excuse myself, without repeating the whole passage Whisper it some friendly genius, in the ear of every one, who is now sunk in sleep, and lost to all those refined gratifications ! Awake — The morning shines, and the fresh field Calls you — Ve lose the prime, to mark how spring The tender plants, how blows the citron grove: V/liat drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed ; 1 ow nature paints her colours ; how the hie Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweets t * Oi'icquid docetur, Veritas; quicquid prrecipiturt bonitas; quicquid promittitur felicitas. t Milt. Par. Lost. Book V. line 2!/.. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 35 I low delightful is this fragrance ! It is distributed in the nicest proportion ; neither so strong as to oppress the organs ; nor so faint as to elude them We are soon cloy- ed at a sumptuous banquet ; but this plea- sure never loses its poignancy, never palls the appetite Here luxiuy itself is inno- cent ! or rather in this case, indulgence is incapable of excess. — This balmy entertain- ment, not only regales the sense, but cheers the very soul?* and instead of clogging elates its powers. It puts me in mind of that ever memorable sacrifice, which was once made in behalf of offending mortals. I mean the sacrifice of the blessed Jesus, when he ofl^er- ed up himself imto God " for a sweet smelling savour." Such the Holy Spirit styles that wonderful oblation ; as if no image in the whole sensible creation was so proper to give us an idea of the ineffable sa- tisfaction, which the Father of mercies con- ceived from that unparalleled atonement, as the pleasing sensations which such rich per- fumes are capable of raising. " Thousands of rams, and ten thousand of rivers of oil," from an apostate world ; the most submis- sive acknowledgments, added to the most costly offerings, from men of defiled hands, and unclean lips ; what could they have ef- fected ? A prophet represents the " high and lofty one that inhabiteth eternity," turning himself away from such filthy rags ; turn- ing himself away with disdainful abhorrence as from the noisome steam of a dunghill. (Amos v. 21, 22.) — But in Christ's imma- culate holiness, in Christ's consummate obe- dience, in Christ's most precious blood-shed- ding, with what an unimaginable complacen- cy does justice rest satisfied, and vengeance acquiesce ! — All thy works, O thou surety for ruined sinners ! all thy sufferings, O thou slaughtered Lamb of God ! as well as all thy garments, O thou Bridegroom of thy church ! smell of myrrh, aloes, and cassia ! ( Psal. xlv. 9. ) They are infinitely more grate- ful to the eternal Godhead, than the choic- est exhalations of the garden, than all the odours of the spicy east can be to the hu- man nostrils. As the altar of old sanctified the gift ; so this is the great propitiation, which re- commends the obnoxious persons, and un- profitable services of the believing world. In this may my soul be interested ! By this it may be reconciled to the Father ! — There is such a leprous depravity cleaving to my nature, as pollutes whatever I perform. IMy most profound adorations, and sincere acts of religion, must not presume to challenge a reward, but humbly implore forgiveness. f Renouncing therefore, myself in every in- stance of duty ; disclaiming all shadow of confidence in any deeds of my own,* may I now and evermore be accejJted througli the Beloved ! What colours, what charming colours are here ? These so nobly bold ; and those so delicately languid. What a glow is enkin- dled in some ! what a gloss shines upon others ! In one, methinks I see the ruby, with her bleeding radiance ; in another, the sap))hire, with her sky-tinctured blue ; in all, such an exquisite richness of dyes, as no other set of paintings in the universe can boast. f — With what a masterly skill is every one of the varying tints disposed ! Here they seem to be thrown on with an easy dash of security and freedom ; there tlv^y are adjusted by the nicest touches of art and accuracy. Those which form the ground, are always so judiciously chosen, as to heigh- ten the lustre of the superadded figures ; while the s'erdure of the impalement, or the shadings of the foliage, impart new liveli- ness to the whole. Indeed, whether they are blended or arranged, softened or con- trasted, they are manifestly under the con- duct of a taste that never mistakes, a felici- ty that never falls short of the veiy perfec- tion of elegance Fine, inimitably fine, is the texture of the web, on which these shin- ing treasiucs are displayed. Wliat are the labours of the Persian looms, or the boast- ed commodities of Brussels, compared with these curious manufactures of nature ? Compared with these, the most admired chintzes would lose their reputation ; even superfine cambrics appear coarse as can- vass in their presence. What a cheering argument does our Sa- viour derive from hence, to strengthen our affiance in God ! He directs us to learn a lesson ofheaven depending faith, from every • ointment and perfume rejoice the heart. Prov. xx\'ii. 0. t A writer of distinpiished superiority, thus ad- dicsses the great olMcrvtr of actions, and seanlier of hearts, and vindicates my sentiments, while he so justly and beautifully utters his own. Look down, great God, with pity's softest eye. On a poor breathing particle in dust. His crimes forgive; forgive his virtues too, Those smaller faults, half converts to the right. Nif'ht-Tlwiiffhf, No. ix. * See pages 44 and 45, in the second edition of a most candid aiid evangelical little treatise, called Christianity tlietire.il Oman nut of Human Life. — "If Christians fiapiiily .ncid the dangerous extreme, and too often fatal roik of a dead fruitless faith on tile one hand, he {/. e. Satan) will endeavour, by all kinds of plausible insinuations, to split them on the oppo- site, viz. spiritual pride, and ostentation, and depend- ence on their works, as if these were the meritorious or procuring causes of all true peace, hope, consola- tion, and divine acceptance ; — Now, this self-depend- ence may he ranked among the most dangerous of th.e infernal politics, because the fatal potion lies deep and too ofleii undiscerned." t \\ ho can ii.nint Like Nature! Can imagination boast, Amid his gay creation, nues like these ? And can he mix them with that matchless skill. And lay them on so delicately fine. And lose them in each other, as appears In ev'ry bud that blows ? — Thorn. Spring. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. ST,- f-ril tliMt wings the air, and from every flower that blossoms in the field. If Pro- vidence, with unremitted care, supports those inferior creatures, and arrays these in sensible beings with so much splendour ; surely he will in 710 wise withhold from his elect children, " bread to eat, and raiment to put on." — Ye faithful followers of the Lamb, dismiss every low anxiety, relating to the needful sustenance of life. He that feeds the ravens from an inexhaustible ma- gazine, he that paints the plants with such surpassing' elegance ; in short, he that pro- vides so liberally, both for the animid and vegetable parts of his creation, will not, cannot, neglect his own people. P^ear not little flock, ye peculiar objects of Almighty love ; it is your Father's good pleasure to give you a kingdom. (Lukexii. 32.) And if he freely gives you an everlasting king- dom hereafter, is it possible to suppose that he will deny you any necessary convenien- cies here ? One cannot forbear reflecting in tliis place, on the too prevailing humour of being fond and ostentatious of dress. * What an abject and mistaken ambition is this. How unworthy the dignity of immortal, and the wisdom of rational beings ! Especially since these little productions of the earth have in- • Mr. Addison has a fine remark on a female war- rior celebrated by Virgil. He observes, that with all lier other great qualities, this little foible mingled it- self. Because, as the poet relates, an intemperate fondness for a rich and splendid suit of armour be- trayed her into ruin. In this circumstance our critic discovers a moral concealed ; this he admires as a neat, though oblique satire, on that trifling passion.— Spci: vol. r, AV,. 1 j. I would refer it to the judicious reader, whether there is not a beauty of the same kind, but touched with a more masterly hand, in the song of Deborah — Speaking of .Sisera's mother, the sacred eucharistic ode represents her as anticipating, in her fond fancy the victory of her son ; and indulging the following soliloquy.— Have they not sped ? have they not divid- ed the prey ? to .Sisera a prey of divers colours ; a prey of divers colours of needle-work ; of divers colours of ntedlc-work on both sides ; meet for the necks of t.hom that take the spoil ? — She takes no notice of the signal service which her hero would do to his coun- try, by quelling so dangerous an insurrection. She never reflects on the present acclamations, the future advancement, and the eternal renown, which are the tyibute usually paid to a conqueror's merit. She can conceive, it seems, nothing greater than to be clad in an embroidered vesture ; and to trail along the ground a robe of the richest dyes. This is, in her imagination, the most lordly spoil he can win ; the most stately trophv he can erect. — It is also observa- ble, how she dwells upon the trivial circumstance ; reiterating it again and again. It has so charmed her ignoble heart, so entirely engrossed her little views, that she can think of nothing else, speak of nothing else, andean hardly ever desist from the dar- ling topic. — Is not this a" keen, though delicately couched censure, on that poor, contemptible, grovel- ling taste, which isenamoured with silken finery, and makes the attributes of a butterfly the idol of its af- fections ' How conspicuous is the elevated and magnificent spirit of that venerable mother in Israel, when view- ed in comparison with the low, the despicable turn of this Canaanitish lady !— Such strong and beautiful contrasts, are, I think, some of the most striking ex- cellencies of poetic painting ; and in no book are they more frequently used, or expressed with greater life, than in the sacred volumes of inspiration. dispiitably the pre-eminence in such oi»*-- ward embellishments — Go, clothe thyseff with purple and fine linen ; trick thyself up in all tlie gay attire which the shuttle or the needle can furnish ; yet know, to the mortification of thy vanity, that the native elegance of a common daisy* eclipses all this elaborate finery Nay, wert thou deck- ed like some illustrious princess, on her coronation day, in all the splendour of roysil apparel ; couldst thou equal even Solomon, in tlie height of his magnificence and glo- ry ; yet would the meanest among the flowery populace outshine thee ; every dis- cciliing eye would give the preference to these beauties of the groundf — Scom then to borrow thy recommendations from a neat disposition of threads and a citrious arrange- ment of colours. Assume a becoming greatness of temper ; let thy endowments be of the immortal Idnd ; study to be aU- glorious within ; be clothed with humility ; wear the ornament of a meek and quiet spi- lt, j: To say all in a word, put on the Lord Jesus Christ ; (Rom. xiii. 14.) let his blood be sprinklied Upon thy conscience, and it shall be whiter than the virgin-snow ; let his righteousness, like a spotless robe, adorn thy iiuier man, and thou shalt be amiaWe even in the most distinguishing eye of God. Let his blessed Spirit dwell in thy heart, and under his sanctifying operations thou shalt be made partaker of a divine nature. These are real excellencies ; truly noble accomplishments these. In this manner be arrayed, be beautified ; and thou wilt not find a rival in the feathers of a peacock, or the foliation of a tulip. Tiiese will exalt thee far above the low pretensions of lace and embroidery. These will prepare thee to stand in the beatific presence, and to take thy seat among the angels of light. What an enchanting situation is this ! One can scarce be melancholy within the atmosj)here of flowers. Such lively hueS, and delicious odours, not only address them- selves agreeably to the senses ; but touch, with a surprising delicacy, the sweetest movements of the mind ; • to the heart inspiring Vemal delight and joy.§ — Milton, book W. * Peaceful and lowly in their native soil, They neither know to spin, nor care to toil ; Yet with confcss'd magnificence deride Our mean attire and impudence of pride, — Prior. t Mr. Cowley, with his usual brilliancy of imagina- tion, styles thcin stars of earth. t How beautifully does the prophet describe the furniture of a renewed and heavenly mind, undcrthe :5imilitude of a rich and complete suit ot apparel : " I will greatly rejoice in the Lord ; my soul shall be joyful in my Ood; for he hath clothed me with the- garments of salvation; he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh him- self with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels." Isa. Ixi. ll^ Ij " I would have my reader endeavour to moralize 'his natural pleasure of the sou', and to improve this. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. ..'How often have I felt thoin dissipate tlie ■gloom of thought, and trMisi'use a sudden gaiety through the dejected spirit ! I win- not wonder, that kings descend from their thrones, to walk amidst blooming ivory and go4d ; or retire from the most sum])tuous feast, to be recreated with the more refined sweets of the garden. I cannot wonder that queens forego, for a while, the compliments of a na- tion, to receive the tribute of the parterre ; or withdraw from all the glitter of a coiu-t, to be attended with the more splendid equi- page of a bed of flowers. — But, if this be so pleasing, what transporting pleasure must arise from the fruition of uncreated excel- lency ! O ! what unknown delight to en- ter into thy immediate presence, most bless- ed Lord God! to see thee,* thou King of Heaven and Lord of glory, no longer «' through a glass darkly, but face to face !" to have all thy goodness, all thy greatness, shine before us ; and be made glad for ever with the brightest discovery of thy perfec- tions, with the ineffable joy of thy counte- nance. This we cannot bear, in our present im- perfect state. The effulgence of unveiled divinity woidd dazzle a mortal sight. Our feeble faculties would be overwhelmed with such a fulness of superabundant bliss ; and must lie oppressed under such " an exceed- ing great, eternal weight of glory." But, " when this corruptible hath put on incor- ruption," the powers of the soul will be greatly invigorated; and these earthly ta- bernacles will be " transformed into the likeness of Christ's glorious body." Then, though (Isa. xxiv. 23.) "the moon shall be confounded, and the sun ashamed," when the Lord of hosts is revealed from heaven ; yet shall his faithful people be en- abled to see him as he is (1 John iii. 2.) Here then, my wishes, here be fixed : be this your determined and invariable aim ; liere, my affections, here give a loose to your whole ardour ; cry OTit in the lan- guage of inspiration, This one thing have I desired of the Lord, which with incessant earnestness, I will require, that I iniiy dwell in the celestial house of the Lord all the days of my future life, to behold the be uity of the Lord, (Psal. xxvii. 4.) and to contemplate with \vonder and adoration, — with imspeak- able and everlasting rapture, — all the attri- butes of the incomprehensible Godhead. Solomon, a most penetrating judge of human nature, knowing how highly man- kind is charmed with the fine qualities of flowers, has figured out the blessed Jesus, that " fairest among ten thousand," by these lovely representatives. He styles Him* the rose of Sharon and the lilly of the ral- lies :f like the first, full of delights and communicable graces ; like the last, exalted in majesty, and complete in beauty. In that sacred pastoral, he ranges the creation ; borrows its most finished forms, and dips his pencil in its choicest dyes, to present us with a sketch of the amiableness of his person ! his amiableness, who is the light of the world ; the glory of his church ; the only hope, the sovereign consolation of sin- ners ; and exalted, infinitely exalted, not only above the noblest comparison, but even above all blessing and praise." May I also make the same heavenly use of all sub- limary enjoyments ! Whatever is pleasur- able or charming below, let it raise my de- sire to those sublime delights which are above ; which will yield, not jiartial, but perfect felicity ; not transient, but never- ending satisfiiction and joy Yes, my soul, let these beauties in miniature always remind thee of that glorious person in whom " dwells all the fulness of the Godhead bodily." I^et these little emanations teach thee to thirst af- ter the eternal fountain. O! may the crea- tures be the constant clue to the Creator ! For this is a certain truth, and deserves thy frequent recollection, thy most attentive consideration, that the whole compass of finite perfection is only a faint ray,f shot from that immense source, is only a small drop, derived from that inexhaustil)le ocean of all good. vernal delight, as Milton calls it, into a Christi-in virtun. When we find ourselves inspired with this •pleasing instinct, this secret satisfaction and compla- cency, arising from the lx?aiitics of the creation, let us consider to whom we stand indebted for all these entertainments of sense, and who it is that thus opens his hand, and fills the world with good. — Such an habitual disposition of mind consecrate.s every field and wood; turns an ordinary walk into a morning or evening sacrifice; and will appro\e those transifiit gleams, which naturally brighten up and refresh the Roul on such occasions, into an inviolable and perpe- tual state of bliss and hajipiness." Spectn'nr, vol. v. No. 3fi4. * Isaiah reiiresents the felicity of the righteous, in ■the everlasting world, by this elegant aiid amiable image : Thine eyes shall see the King in his hcauly. Milton touches the same subject with wonderful ele- vation and majesty of thought. They walk with God, High in salvation and the climes of bliss. Words which, like the fiery car, almost transport our afliittions to.lhose glorious abodes. Isa. xxxiii. 17- Mi'tiin, xix. v. 7"7. * .Song ii 1, Mains ut arboribus decori est, lit vitibus uvae Utque rosa? campis, ut lilia vallibus alba, .Sic Christus decus omne suis t Hy the lilly of the vallies, I apprehend, is meant, not the flower which commonly passes under that de- nomination, and is comparatively me.an; bi't the grand, majestic garden lilly ; growing in a rich irri- guous soil, where it fiourishesin the most ample man- ner and arrives at the higlu^st iierfection. The cir- cumstance of the vallies, added by the sacred writer, is sigrdficant, not of the species, but of the place — This is hy far the gnindcst interpretation, and most exactly suitable to the spiritual sense; which inti- mates'that the blessei-l Jesus delights to dwell, by the communications of the Spirit, in humble hearts.— I.illium vallibus guadens. + Thou sittest above all heavens. To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest worlds ; vet these declare Thy goodness bejoiid thought, and power d'vine. SB REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. What a surprising variety is observable among the fioweiy tribes ! How has the bountiful hand of Providence diversified these nicest pieces of his workmanship ! and added the charms of an endless novelty to all their other perfections ? — Because a constant uniformity would soon render the entertainment tiresome or insipid ; there- fore, every species exhibits something new. The fashion spreads not from family to fa- mily ; but every one has a mode of its own, which is truly original. The most cursoiy glance perceives an apparent difference, as well as a peculiar delicacy, in the airs and habits, the attitude and lineaments of every distinct class. Some rear their heads with a majestic mien ; and oveilook, like sovereigns or no- bles, the whole parterre. Others seem more moderate in their aims, and advance oidy to the middle stations ; a genius turn- ed for heraldry might term them the gentry of the border. While others, free from all aspiring views, creep unambitiously on the ground, and look like the commonalty of the kind Some are intersected \vith elegant stripes, or studded with radiant spots. Some affect to be genteelly powdered, or neatly fringed ; while others are plain in their as- spect, unaffected in their dress, and content to please with a naked simplicity. Some assume a monarch's purple ; some look most becom- ing in the virgin's white ; but black, dole- ful black, has no admittance into the ward- robe of spring. The weeds of mourning would be a manifest indecorum, when na ture holds an universal festival. She would now inspire none but delightful ideas, and therefore always makes her appearance in some amiable suit.* Here stands a war- i-ior clad with crimson ; there sits a ma- gistrate, robed in scarlet ; and yonder struts a pretty fellow, that seems to have dipped his plums in the rainbow, and glitters in all the gay colours of that resplendent arch. Some rise into a curious cup, or fall into a set of beautiful bells ; some spread them- selves in a swelling tuft, or crowd into a delicious cluster. — In some, the predomi- nant stain softens by the gentlest diminu- tions, till it has even stole away from itself. The eye is amused at the agreeable delu- sion : and we wonder to find oiuselves insen- sibly decoyed into quite a different lustre, lii others, you would think, the fine tinges were emulous of pre-eminence : disdaining to mingle, they confront one another with the resolution of rivals, determbied to dis- pute the prize of beauty ; while each is im- proved, by the opposition, into the highest vivacity of complexion. How manifold are thy works, O Lord ! (Psal. civ. 24.) Midtiplied, even to prodi- gy. Yet in wisdom, consummate wisddm, hast thou made them all. — How I admire the vastness of the contrivance, and the exactness of the execution ! Man, feeble man, with difficulty accomplishes a single work ; hardly, and after many efforts, does he arrive at a tolerable imitation of some one production of nature. But the Al- mighty Artist spoke millions of substances into instantaneous being, the whole collec- tion wonderfully various, and each indivi- dual perfectly complete, — Repeated experi- ments generally, I might say always, disco- ver errors or defects in our happiest inven- tions : nay, what wins our approbation at the present hoiur or in this particular place, is very probably, in some remote period, or some distant clime, treated \vith contempt. Whereas these fine structures have pleased every taste, in every country, for almost six thousand years. Nor has any fault* been detected in the original plan, nor any room left for the least improvement upon the first model. All our performances, the more minutely they are scanned, the more imper- fect they appear. "With rcgai-d to these de- licate objects, the more we search into their properties, the more we are ravished with their graces ; they are sure to disclose fresh strokes of the most masterly skill, in proportion to the attention with which they are examined. Nor is the simplicity of the operation less astonishing than the accuracy of the work- manship, or the infinitude of the effects. Should you ask, " Where, and what are the materials that beautify the blooming world ? What rich tints ; what splendid dyes ; what stores of shining crayons, stand by the heavenly limner, when he paints the robe of nature ?" It is answered, his powerfid pencil needs no such costly appar- atus. A single principle, under his con- ducting hand, branches out into an immen- sity of the most viu'ied and most finished forms. The moisture of the earth, and of the circumanbient air, passed through pro- per strainers, and disposed in a range of pel- lucid tubes ; this performs all the wonders, and produces all the beauties of vegetation. This creeps along the fibres of the low spread moss, and climbs to the very tops of the lofty waving cedars. This, atti'acted by the root, and circidating through invisible canals, this bursts into gems, expands itself into leaves, and clothes the forest with all its verdant honours — This onef plain and simple cause, gives birth to all the charms • Nune formosissi muannus — f^o * Eccl. iii. 14. I know that whatsoever God doth, it shall be for ever ; nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken from it. t " When every several effect has a particular se- parate cause, this gives no pleasure to the speciaLor, REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 39 wliicb deck the youth and miitiirity of the year. This blushes in the early hepatica, and flames in the late advancing poppy. This reddens into blood in the veins of the mulberry ; and attenuates itself into leafen gold, to create a covering for the quince. This breathes in all the fragrant gales of our garden, and weeps odorous guin in the groves of Arabia — So wonderful is our Creator in counsel, and so excellent in working. (Isa. xxviii. "29.) In a grove of tulips, or a knot of pinks, one perceives a difference in almost every individual. Scarce any two are turned and tinctured exactly alike ; each allows him- self a little peculiarity in his di'ess, though all belong to one family ; so that they are various, and yet the same A pretty em- blem this of the smaller differences between protcstajit Christians. There are modes in religion, which admit of variation, without prejudice to sound faith, or real holiness : just as tlie drapery, on these pictures of the spring, may be formed after a variety of patterns without blemishing their beauty, or altering their nature. Be it so then, that in some points of inconsiderable conse- quence, several of our brethren dissent ; )'et let us all live amicably and sociably to- gether, for we harmonize in principles, though we vary in punctilios. Let us join in conversation, and intermijigle interests ; discover no estrangement of behaviour, and cherish no alienation of aiTection. If any strife subsist, let it be to follow our di'/ine IVIaster most closely, in humility of heart, and unblajneableness of life ; let it be to serve one another, most readily, in all the kind offices of a cordial friendship. Thus shaM we be united, though distinguished ; uziited in the same grand fundamentals, though distingiushed by some small circum- stantials ; united in one important bond of brotherly love, though distinguished by some slighter peculiarities of sentiment. Between Christians, whose judgments dis- agree oidy about a form of prayer, or man- ner of worship, I apprehend there is no more essential difference than between liowers which bloom from the same kind of seed, but happen to be somewhat diversified ill the mixture of their colours Whereas, if one denies the divinity of our Lord Je- sus (jhrist, and degrades the incarnate God to ihe meanness of a mere creature ; if another cries up the worthiness of human works, and depreciates the alone meritor- ious righteousness of the glorious Media- tiji ; if a third addresses the incomnumica- as not discovering contrivance. But that work is be- held with admiration and deliglit, as the result of deep counsel, which is complicated in its parts, and yet simple ia its operations, where a firent variety of eiieits are seen to arise iroin one principle opeialing uwiib;inly. '—Alieiitetliy uu the Atti ibtites. ble honours to a finite being, and bows to the image, or prays to the saint ; these are errors extremely derogatory to the Redeem- er's dignity, and not a little prejudicial to the comfort of his people ; against these to remonstrate, against these to urge every argument, and use every dissuasive, be- speaks not the censorious bigot, but the friend of truth, and the lover of man- kind.— Whereas to stand neuter and silent, while such principles fire proj)agated, would be an instance of criminal remissness, ra- ther than of Christian moderation. — For the persons, we will not fail to maintain a tender compassion ; we will not cease to put up eai-nest intercessions : we will also acknowledge and love whatever is excellent and amiable in their character. Yet we dare not subscribe their creed ; we must not secrete our strong reasons ; we cannot remit our assiduous but kind endeavoiu-s, if by any means we may reconcile them to a more scriptural belief, and a pm"er wor- shii). * Another remarkable circumstance, re- commending the Ifowery creation is their re- gular succession. They make not their appearance all at once, but in aii orderly ro- tation. While a proper number of these obliging retainers are in waiting, the others abscond, but hold themselves in a posture of service, ready to take their turn, and fill each his respective station, the instant it becomes vacant — The snow-drop, foremost of the lovely train, breaks her way through the frozen soil, in oider to present her early comjjliments to her Lord ; dressed in the robe of innocency she steps forth, fearless of danger ; long before the trees have ven- tured to unfold their leaves, even while the icicles are pendant on our houses Next, peeps out the crocus, but cautiously, and with an air of timidity. She hears the howling blasts, and skulks close to her low situation. Afnud she seems to make large excursions from her root, while so many ruffian winds are abroad and scouring along the ether — Nor is the violent blast, in this shining embassy of the yeiir ; which, with all the embellishments that would grace a royal garden, condescends to line our hedges, and grow at the feet of briers. Freely and without any solicitation, she distributes the bounty of her emissive sweeta; while herself, with an exemplary humility, » In sonv? former editions, I expressed myself, on this i)oint unwarily and harshly. Hut my meaning, and real sentiments, were no other than those repre- senteil above.— The reader, from such unguarded in- timations, mi!,'ht too naturally be led to conclude, that the author avows, and would stir up, a spirit of persecution. Hut this is a method of dealinir with opi)o:ients in religious doctrines, wiiich he disclaims as absurd, and abhors as iniquitous. He is for no force, but that of rational conviction, for no con- straint but that of afTtctionate persuasion. Thus, if you plca*e, compel them to come ia. Luke xiv. 23. 40 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. retires from sight, seeking rather to admin- ister pleasure than to win admiration.* Emblem, expressive emblem, of those mo- dest virtues which delight to bloom in ob- scurity, which extend a cheering influence to multitudes, who are scarce acquainted with the source of their comforts ! Motive, engaging motive, to that ever-active bene- ficence, which stays not for the importunity of the distressed, but anticipates their suit, and prevents them with the blessings of its goodness ! — The poor polyanthus, that late- ly adorned the border -with her sparkling beauties, and transplanted into our windows, gave us a fiesh entertainment, is now no more. I saw her complexion fade ; I per- ceived her breath decay, till at length she expired, and dropt into her grave. Scarce have we sustained this loss, but in comes the auricula, and more than retrieves it ; array- ed she comes in a splendid variety of amia- ble forms ! with an eye of crystal, and garments of the most glossy satin; exhal- ing perfume, and powdered ^^^th silver. A very distinguished procession this ! the favourite care of the florist ! Scarce one among them but is dignified with a charac- ter of renown, or has the honour to repre- sent some celebrated toast. But these also, notwithstanding their illustrious titles, have exhausted their whole stock of fragrance, and are mingled with the meanest dust. — Who could forbear grieving at their de- parture, did not the tulips begin to raise themselves on their fine wands, or stately stalks ? They flush the parterre with one of the gayest dresses that blooming nature wears. Did ever beau or belle make so gaudy an appearance, in a birth-night suit. Here one may behold the innocent wanton- ness of beauty ! here she indulges a thou- sand freaks, and sports herself in the most charming diversity of colours ; yet I should wrong her, were I to call her a coquet, be- cause she plays her lovely changes, not to fnkindle dissolute affections, but to display her Creator's glory. Soon arises the ane- mone, encircled at the bottom Math a spread- ing robe, and rounded at the top into a beautiful dome. In its loosely-flowing mantle, you may observe a noble negligence ; in its gently bending tufts, the nicest sym- metry. I woxdd term it the fine gentleman of the garden; because it seems to have learned the singular address of uniting sim- plicity with refinement, of reconciling art with ease. The same month has the me- rit of producing the ranunculus : AU bold and graceful, it expands the riches of its foliage ; and acquires by degrees the loveli- est enamel in the world. As persons of in- trinsic worth disdain the superficial arts of recommendation practised by fops ; so this Prodesse quam conspici. lordly flower scorns to borrow any of its excellence from powders and essences. It needs no such attractives to render it the darling of the curious, being sufficiently en- gaging, from the elegarice of its figure, the radiant variety of its tinges, and a certain superior dignity of aspect. Methinks na- ture improves in her operations : her latest strokes are most masterly. To crown the collection, she introduces the carnation, which captivates every eye with a noble spread of graces, and charms another sense with a profusion of exquisite odours. This single flower has centered in itself the per- fections of all the preceding ; the moment it appears, it so commands our attention, that we scarce regret the absence of the rest. The gilly-flower, like a real friend, attends you through all the vicissitudes and alterations of the season. While others make a transient visit only, this is rather an inhabitant than a guest in our gardens ; adds fidelity to complaisance. It is in vain to attempt a catalogue of these amiable gifts : there is an endless multiplicity in th.eir characters, yet an inva- riable order in their approaches. Every month, almost every week, has its peculiar ornaments ; not servilely copying the works of its predecessor, but forming, still form- ing, and still executing some new design. So lavish is the fancy, yet so exact is the process of nature. Here let me stand a while, to contem- plate this distribution of flowers, through the several periods of the year Were they all to blossom together, there would be at once a promiscuous throng, and at once a total privation ; we should scarce have an opportunity of adverting to the dainty qua- lities of half, and must soon lose the agree- able company of them all. But now, since every species has a separate post to occupy, and a distinct interval for appearing, we can take a leisurely and minute survey of each succeeding set. We can view and re- view their forms ; enter into a more inti- mate acquaintance with their charming accomplishments, and receive all those pleas- ing services which they are commissioned to yield This remarkable piece of eco- nomy is productive of another very valuable effect. It not only places in the most ad- vantageous light every particular communi- ty, but is also a sure provisionary resource against the frailty of the whole nation ; or, to speak more truly, it renders the flowery tribes a sort of immortal corps,* whose suc- cessionary attendance never fails. For, » !n allusion to the celebrated practice of the Per- sian kings, "who maintained for their life-guard a body of troops called Immortal ; because it perpetu- ally subsisted; for as soon as any of the men died, another was immediately put into his place." linllin's Atic-ieiit Hist, vol.il.. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 41 though some are continually dropping, yet by this expedient, others are as continually j'ising, to beautify our borders, and prolong the entertainment. What goodness is this, to provide such a series of gratifications for mankind ! both to diversify, and perpetuate the fine collation ; to take care, that our paths should be in a manner incessantly strewed with flowers And what wisdom to bid every one of these insensible beings know the precise junctiu-e of their coming forth ! insomuch that no actor on a stage can be more exact in per- forming his part ; can make a more regidar entry, or a more punctual exit. Who emboldens the dafl^odil to venture abroad in P'ebruary, and to trust her flow- ery gold with inclement and treacherous skies ? Who informs the various tribes of fruit-bearing blossoms, that vernal suns and a more genial warmth, are fittest for their delicate texture ? Who teaches the clove to stay, till hotter beams are prepared, to in- fuse a spicy richness into her odours, and tincture her complexion with the deepest crimson ? — Who disposes these beautifid troops into such orderly bodies, retarding some and accelerating others ? Who has in- structed them to file off, with such perfect regularity, as soon as the duty of their re- spective station is over ? And when one detachment retires, who gives the signal for another immediately to advance ? Who but that unerring Providence, wliich from the highest thrones of angels, to the veiy lowest degrees of existence, orders all things in " number, weight, and measure !" These, O my soul, are the regulations of that most adorable, that most beneficent Being, who bowed the heavens, came down to dwell on earth, and imited the frailty of thy mortal nature, to all the glories of his Godhead. All the honour of this admira- ble establishment belongs to thy Ransom, thy Surety, thy Saviour. To Him it be- longs, who sustained the vengeance which thou hadst deserved, and wast doomed to sufltr : who fulfilled the obedience, which thou wast obliged, but unable to perform, and ivho humbled himself (stupendous, in- efl^able, loving-kindness !) humbled himself to death, even the death of the cross He formed this vast machine, and adjusted its nice dependencies. The pillars, that sup- port it, the embellishments tlwt adorn it, and the laws that govern it, are the i-esult of his unsearchable counsels. Oh ! the heights of his majesty, and the depths of his abasement ! Which shall we admire most, his essen- tial greatness, or his free grace ? He creat- ed the exalted seraph, that sings in glory ; and every the minutest insect, that flutters in air, or crawls in dust. He marks out a path for all those globes of light, which tra- vel the circuit of the skies ; and disdains not to rear the violet from its lowly bed, or to plait the daisy which dresses our plains. So grand are his operations, yet so condes- cending his regards ! — If summer, like a sparkling bride, is brilliant and glorious in her ajjparel (what is this but a feeble reflec- tion of his uncreated efl^ulgence ? If autumn, like a munificent host, opens her stores, and gives us all things richly to enjoy ; what is this, but a little taste of his inexhaustible liberality ? If thunders roar, you hear the sound of his trumpet ; if lightnings glare, you see the launching of his glittering spear ; if " the perpetual hiUs be scattered and the everlasthig mountains bowed," you behold a display — No says the prophet, you have rather the hiding of his power. • So immense is his power, so uncontrolla- ble, and inconceivable, that all these mighty works ai'e but a sketch, in which more is concealed than discovered. Thus, I think, we should always view the visible system with an evangelical telescope, (if I may be allowed the expression) and with an evangelical microscope ; regarding Chi'ist Jesus as the great projector and ar- chitect, who planned, and executed the amazing scheme. Whatever is magnificent or valuable, tremendous or amiable, should ever be ascribed to the Redeemer. This is the C'hristian's natund philosophy. With regard to this method of considering the things that are seen, we have an inspired apostle for our preceptor and precedent. Speaking of t'hrist, he says, " Thou Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of * Hab. iii. 4. Nothing can be more magnificently conceived, than the imagery of this whole chapter : and upon the foot of oiir interpretation, nothing was evc-r more delicately and nobly turned, than the sen- timent of this clause. Other senses of the passage, I acknowledge, may be assigned with equal propriety : But none, 1 think, can be imagined so majestic and sublime. As the original will fairly admit of it ; as it can its no disagreement with the cxmtext ; and ex- presses a most important, as well as undoubted truth ; 1 hope I may be permitted to use it at least by way of accommodation. — Especially, as it suggests one of the finest mottos imaginable, wherewith to inscribe all the visible i)roductions of the Creator's hand.— When struck with astonishment we consider their grandeur, beauty, and consmmnate perfections ; let us, in justice to their Author, apply the exalted re- flection of this sacred ode ; " In all these is the hiding lather than an adequate display of his matchless power. Though they challenge our praise, and sur- pass our comprehension ; yet are they by no means the utmost exertions, but rather some slighter essays of omnipotent skill." — Milton, relating the overthrow of the fallen angels, introduces a grand circumstance, not nmch unlike the preceding. Messiah, unaided and alone, had utterly routed an innumerable host of apostate spirits. This was great and marvellous. But to create ajuster idea of the illustrious conquer- or, our poet beautifully adds, Yet half his strength he put not forth ! If we forget to make the same remark, when we con- template God in his works, we must necessarily form very scanty conceptions of that .Supreme Being before whom all nations areas a " drop of a bucket, and are accounted as the small dust of the balauce." 42 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. the eartli ; and the heavens are the A\oik of thy hands." — Did we carefully attend to this leading principle, in all our examina- tions of nature, it would doubtless be a most powerful means of enkindling our love and strengthening our faith.* For when I look round upon millions of noble sub- stances, and carry with me this transport- ing reflection, " The Maker of them all expired on a cross for me ;" how can I re- main any longer indifferent ? Must not the coldest hciU't begin to glow with gratitude ? When I survey an immensity of the fin- est productions imagi:iable ; and remember that the Author of them all is " my right- eousness, and my redemption ;" how can I choose but repose the most cheerful confi- dence in such a Mediator? Let me add one more remark upon the admirable adjustment of every particular, relating to these fine colonies planted in the parterre. — With such accuracy and correct- ness is their structure finished, that any the least conceivable alteration would very much impair their perfection. Should you see, for instance, the nice disposition of the tu- lip's attire fly abroad, disorderly and irregu- lar, like the flaunting woodbine ; should the jessamine rear her diminutive head, on those gi-and columns which support the hollyhock ; should the erect and manly as- pect of the piony hang down with a pensive air like the flexile bells of the hyacinth ; should that noble plainness which distin- guishes the lily, be exchanged for the glit- tering fringes which edge the pink, or the gaudy stains which bedrop the iris ; should * The apostles, I observe, delight to use this me- thod of displaving the honours of the Redeemer, and establishing the faith of his people.— The beloved disciple, teaching that most precious doctrine, " of a Lamb slam to take away the sins of ihe world," in order to evince the sufficiency of Christ's sacrifice for this blessed purpose, affirms, that all things were made by him, and without him was not any thing, no, not so much as one single being made, John i. 3. — St. Pa\il, preaching the same glad tidings to the Colos- sians, and expressly maintaining that we have Re- demption through his blood ; seems to foresee an ob- jection of this kind ; " To expiate transgressions against an infinite Majesty, is a most prodigious act ; it must cost vastly more than any common surety can pay, to redeem a sinful Vorld. What reason have we to believe that Jesus is equal to this mighty under- taking ?" All possible reason, replies the apostle, from tlie dignity of his person, for he is the image of theinvisible God, and from thegreatnessof his works, for by him all things were made. Consider the oper- ations of his hands, and you cannot doubt the atoning efficacy of his death. Col. i. 15, IC— The author of the epistle to the Hebrews falls exactly into the same train of arguing ; declaring that Christ Jesus has purged our sins by the sacrifice of himself ; he proves nis ample ability for this tremendous office from his essential excellence, because he is the brightness of his P'ather's glory) and from his admirable works, be- cause he made the worlds, and upholdeth all things by the word of Iiis power, Heb. i. 2, X — Which truth, as it is so important in itself, of such signal comfort to Christians, and so jKUticularly insisted on by the inspired writers, I liope I shall need no a)iol<)gy for an attempt to illustrate and enforce it, in a kind of evangelical descant upon Creation, annexed to these Reflections. those tapering pillars which arise in the middle of its vase, and tipt with golden pendants, give such a lustre to the sur- rounding pannels of alabaster, — should those sink and disappear, like the chives which cover the heart of the anemone : — In many of these cases, would not the transposition be fantastical and awkward, in all to the ap- parent prejudice of every individual. Again, with regard to the time of their appearing, this circumstance is settled by a remarkable foresight and precaution. What would become of the sailor, if, in very stormy v>-eather, he should raise a lofty mast, and crowd it with all his canvas ? Such would be the ill effect, if the most stately species of flowers should presume to come abroad in the blustenng months. Ah ! hovv' would they rue the inij)rudent bold- ness ! Therefore, those only that shoot the shortest stems, and display the smallest spread of leaves, or, if you please, carry the least sail, al'e launched amidst the blowing seasons. How injudiciously would the perfumer act, if he shoifld unseal his finest essences, and expose them to the northern winds, oi- wintery rains ! Our blooming artists of the aromatic profession, at least the most delicate among them, seem perfect- ly aware of the consequences of such a pro- cediu'e. Accordingly, they postpone the opening of their odoriferous treasures till a serener air, and more unclouded skies,* grant a protection to their amiable traffic, till they are under no more apprehensions of having their spicy cells rifled by rude blasts, or drowned in incessant showers. What a striking argument is here for resignation, unfeigned resignation, to all the disposals of Providence ! Too often are our dissatisfied thoughts apt to find fault with divine dispensations. We ta- citly arraign our Maker's conduct, or ques- tion his kindness with regard to ourselves ; we fancy our lot not so commodiously situ- ated, or our condition not so happily cir- * Casimir, in a very poetical manner, addresses himself to the dormant rose, and most prettily invites her to venture abroad, by the mention of these two circumstances. Siderum sacros imitata vultus. Quid latos dudum, Rosa ? Delicatum Effere tersis caput, O tepentis Filia coeli. Jam tibi nubes fugiunt aquosse, Quas fugant albis Zephyri, quadrigis; Jam tibi mulcet Boream jocantis. Aura Favoiii. Child of the summer ! charming rose ! No longer in confinement lie ; Arise to light, thy form disclose. Rival the spangles of the sky. The rains are gone, the storms are o'er ; Winter retires to make thee way ; Come then, thou sweetly blushing Uow'r; Come, lovely stranger, come away. The sun is dress'd in beaming smiles, To give thy beauties to the day ; Voung zephyrs wait with gentlest galet, To fan thy bosom as they play. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 43 cumstanced as if we had been placed in some other station of life. — But let us be- hold this exquisitely nice regulation of the minutest plants, and be ashamed of our re- pining folly. Could any fibre in their com- position be altered, or one line in their fea- tures be transposed, without clouding some of their beauties ? Coidd any fold in their Vestments be varied, or any link in their or- derly succession, be broken without injuring some delicate property ? And does not that all-seeing eye, which preserves so exact a har- mony among these pretty toys, maintain as watchfid a care over his rational creatures ? Does he choose the properest season for the cowslip to arise, and drink the dews ? And can he neglect the concerns, or misjudge the conveniencies of his sons and daugh- ters ? He, who has so completely disposed whatever pertains to the vegetable econo- my, that the least diminution or addition would certainly hurt the finished scheme, does, without all peradventure, preside, with equal attention, over the interests of his onii pco])le. Be still then, thou uneasy mortal,* know that God is unerringly wise ; and be assur- ed, that amidst the great multiplicity of be- ings, he does not overlook thee. Thy Sa- viour has given me authority to assert, that thou art of far superior value in the es- timation of omnipocence than all the her- bage of the field. If his sacred will or- dains sickness for thy portion, never dare to imagine, that uninterrupted health would be more advantageous. If he pleases to withhold, or take away children, never pre- sume to conclude, that thy happiness is blasted, because thy hopes of an increasing family are disappointed. He that marshals all the starry host, and so accurately arranges every the meanest species of herbs ; He or- ders all the peculiarities, all the clianges of thy state, with a vigilance that nothing can elude, with a goodness that endureth for ever. Bow thy head, therefore, in humble acquiescence : rest satisfied that whatever is, by the appointment of I|eaven,f is right, is best. * Permittasipsis expandere niiminibus, quid Conveniat nobis, rebusque sit utile nostris. Nam pro juciin lisaptissiniLi puscquedabuntdii ; Carior est illis humo, qiiam sibi. — Juvcn. Since all the downward tracts of time God's watchful eye surveys ; O ! whoso wise to choose our lot, And regulate our ways ? Since none can doubt his equal love, Unmeasurably kind ; To his unerring gracious will Be ev'ry wish resign'd. Good when he gives, supremely good. Nor less, when he denies ; Ev'n crosses, from his sov'reign hand. Are blessings in disguise. - Whatever is, is right.— I' Mr. Pope understands the maxim accordin;^ to the limitation expressed «bove, he speaks a most umlcaiable and glorious Among all the productions of the third creating day, this of flowers seems to be pecidiarly designed for man. Man has the monopoly of this favour ; it is conferred upon him by a sort of exclusive charter. See the imperial crown, splendid and beau- tifully grand ! See the tube rose, delicate and languishingly fair ! See all the pomp and glory of the parterre, where paint and perfume do wonders. Yet the inferior ani- mals are neither smit with their beauties, nor regaled with their odours : The horse never stands still to gaze upon their charms ; nor does the ox turn aside to browse upon their sweets. Senses they have to discern these curious objects in the gross, but no taste to distinguish or relish their fine ac- complishments Just so, carnal and imen- lightened men may understiind the literal meaning of Scripture, may comprehend the evidences of its divine inspiration, yet have no relish of the heavenly truths it teaches, no ardent longing for the spiritual blessings it offers, and see " no form or comeliness" in the Saviour it describes, so as to render him the supreme desire of their souls. The chief end of these beautiful appear- ances, philosophers say, is to enfold and cherish the embryo seed ; or to swathe the tender body during its infant state. But, whatever is the chief end of nature, it is certain she never departs from the design of administering delight to mankind.* This is inseparably coimected with her other views Were it only to secure a reproductive principle, what need of such elegant compli- cations? Why so much art employed, and so many decorations added ? Why should vestments be prepared richer than brocades, more delicate than lawns, and of a finer glow truth. But if that great poet includes whatever comes to pass through the wild and extravagant pas- sions of men, surely no thinking person, at least no Christian, can accede to his opinion. What God or- ders is wise, beyond all possibility of correction, and good, above all that we can ask or think. His decrees are the result of infinite discernment, and his dispen- sations the issues of unbounded benevolence. But man, fallen man, is hurried away by his lusts, into a thousand irregularities which are deplorably evil in themselves, and attended with consequences mani- festly pernicious to society. — Let the sentiment, there- fore, be restrained to the disposals of Heaven, and I must readily subscribe it. But if it be extended to the conduct of men, and the etTects of their folly, I think myself obliged to enter my protest against it. For whatever kindles the divine indignation — iscause of final ruin to the author — is strictly forbidden by God's holy word, is contrary to the whole design of his revealed will, and the very reverse of his essential attributes. This cannot possibly be right. This is most undoubtedly wrong. Omnipotence, indeed, can overrule it, and deduce good from it; but the very notion of overruling, supposes it to be absolutely wrom» in it.self. • " We find that the most important parts in the vegetable world, are those which are the most beau- tiful. These are the seeds by which thesevcral race* of plants are propagated and continued, and which are always lodged in flowers or blossoms. Nature seems to hide her iirincipal design, and to be indus- trious in makmg the earth gay and delightful, while she is carrying on her great work, and intent upon her own preservation."— Specfafor, vol. v. No. Say. 44 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. than the most admired velvets ? If the great mother had no other aim than barely to accommodate her little offspring, warm flannel, or homely fustian, would have serv- ed her turn ; served it full as well as the most sumptuous tissue, or all the furniture of the mercer's shop. Evident then it is, that flowers were en- dued with such enchanting graces for the pleasure of man. In pursuance of this ori- ginal intention, they have always paid their court to the human race ; they still seem particularly solicitous of recommending themselves to our regard. The finest of each species crowd about our habitations, and are rarely to be seen at a distance from our abodes. They thrive under our culti- vating hand and obsernng eye ; but degen- erate and pine away, if unregarded by their lord To wn his attention, and deck his retreats, they hide their deformities under ground, and display nothing but the most graceful forms and engaging colours, to his sight. To merit a farther degree of his es- teem, the generality of them dispense a de- lightful perfume. What is still more ob- liging, they* reserve their richest exhala- tions to embalm his morning and evening walks. f Because he usually chooses those cool hours to recreate himself among their blooming ranks ; therefore, at these hours, they are most lavish of their fragrance, and breathe out their choicest spirits. O man, greatly beloved by the Creator ! the darling of Providence ! thou art distin- guished by his goodness ; distinguish thy- self also by thy gratitude. Beit thy one undi°vided aim to glorify him, who has been at so much expense to gratify thee ! — While all these inferior creatures in si- lent eloquence, declare the glory of God, do thou lend them thy tongue. Be thou the high-priest of the mute creation ; let their praises become vocal in thy songs. — Adore the supreme Benefactor, for the blessmgs he showers down upon every or- der of beings ; adore him for numberless mercies, which are appropriated to thyself; but above all, adore him, for that noble gift of a rational and immortal soul This con- stitutes us masters of the globe, and gives ■us the real enjoyment of its riches. Thi« discovers ten thousand beauties, which otherwise had been lost ; and renders them both a source of delights, and a nursery of devotion By virtue of this exalted princi- ple, we are qualified to admire our Maker's works, and capable of bearing his illustrious, image ; bearing his illustrious image, not only when these ornaments of the ground have resigned their honours, but when the great origin of day is extinguished in the skies, and all the flaming orbs on high are put out in obscure darkness Then to sur- vive, to survive the nuns of one world, and to enjoy God — to resemble God — to be " filled with all the fulness of God," in another: — what a happiness, what an ines- timable happiness is this ! Yet this is thy privilege, (barter it not for trifles of an hour I) this is thy glorious prerogative, O man ! O ! the goodness, the exuberant good- ness, of our God ! I cannot forbear celebrat- ing it once more, before I pass to another consideration How much should we think ourselves obliged to a generous friend, who should build a stately edifice, purely for our abode* ! but how greatly would the • The flow'rs, That open now their choicfet bisom'd smells, Reserv'd from night, and kept for thee in store. Milton. t The twining jessamine, and theb'ushing rose. With lavish grare their morning-scents disclose : The smelling lub'rose and jomjuil declare The stronger impulse of an evening air. Prior's Sol. * I cannot persuade myself that the comparison is stretched beyond proper bounds, when carried to this pitch. It is my steadfast opinion, that the world, at least this lower world, with its various appurtenances, was iTitended purely for man : that it is appropriated to him ; and that he (in subordination to God's glo- ry) is the end of it? creation. Other animals, it is true, partake of the Creator's benefits, but then they partake, under the notion of man's domestics, or on the foot of retainers to; as creatures wliich bear some relation to his service, and some way or other contri- bute to his good, so that still he is the centre of the whole; or, as our incomparable Milton, equally mas- ter of poetry and divinity, expresses himself. All things live for man. — Pnr. Lost, book xi. ver. Kil. Mr. Pope, in his Ethic Epistles, is pleased to ex- plode this tenet, as the height of pride and a gross absurdity. For my part, I see no reason for such a charge. With all submission to sosuperiora genius, it seems very remote from pride, to be duly sensible of favours vouchsafed, to contemplate them in all the extent of their munificence, and acknowledge them accordingly. I should rather imagine, that to contract their size, when they are immensely lar^e; to stint their number, when they are altogether in- numerable, that such a procedure savours more of insensibility, than our hypothesis of presumption, and has more in it of ingratitude than that of arro- gance. And how can it be deemed an absurdity, to main- tain that God gave us a world for our possession, when it is our duty to believe that he gave us his on- ly Son for our propitiation ? Sure, it can be neither difficult nor extravagant to suppose, that he designed the habitable globe, with its whole furniture, for our present use, since he withheld not his only child Je- sus, but freely delivered hira up for our final salva- tion. Upon the whole, I cannot but conclude, that the attempt of our famous poet, is neither kind with re- gard to his fellow creatures, nor grateful with regard to his Creator ; neither is his scheme, in fact, true. The attempt not kind, with regard to man, because it robs him of one of the most delightful and ravish- ing contemplations imaginable. To consider thegi eat Author of existence as having me in his eye when he formed universal nature, ascontriving all things with an immediate view to the exigences of my particular state ; and making them all in such a manner as might be most conducive to mv particular advantage ; tiiis must occasion the strongest satisfaction, wnenever I cast a glance on the objects that surround me. Not grateful with regard to God, because it has the most direct tendency to diminish our sense of his kindness, and, by that means, to throw a damp upon our gra- titude. It teaches us to look upon ourselves as al- most lost among a crowd of other beings, or regard- ed only witli an occasional and incidental lieneficence, which must certainly weaken the disposition, and indeed slacken the ties, to the most adoring thankful- REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. obligation be increased, if the hand that built should also furnish it ! and not only furnish it with all that is commodious and comfortaVjle, but ornamfut it also with whatever is splendid and delightful ! This has our most indulgent Creator done in a manner infinitely surjjassing all we could wish or imagine. The earth is assigned us for a dwelling — The skies are stretched over us, like a mag- nificent canopy dyed in the piU'est azure ; and beautified, now with pictures of float- ing silver, now with colouriitgs of reflected crimson The grass is spread und^r us as a spacious carpet, wove with silken threads of green, and damasked with flowers. of every hue. — The sun, like a golden lamp, IS hung out in the etherial vault ; and pours efTulgenee all the day, to enlighten our paths When night approaches, the moon takes up the friendly office ; and the stars are kindled in twinkling myriads, to cheer the darkness with their milder lustre, not to disturb our repose by too intense a glare — The clouds, besides the rich paintings they hang around the heavens, act the part of a shifting screen ; and defend us, by their seasonable interposition, from the scorching beams of summer. May we not also regard them as the great watering pots of the globe, which, wafted on the \\'ings of the wind, dispense their moisture* evenly ness. To which I apprehend we may justly add, nei- ther is the scheme, in fact, true. For, not to men- tion what might be urged from the sure word of reve- lation, this one argument appears sufficiently conclu- sive. The world began with man, the world must cease with man ; consequently, the grand use, the principal end of the world is, to subserve the interests of man. It is, on all sides, agreed, tJiat the edifice was erected when man was to be furnished with an habitation, and that it will be demolished, when man has no further need of its accommodations. When he enters into the " house not made with hands, eter- nal in the heavens, the earth, and all the works that are therein, shall be burnt up." From which it seems a very obvious and fair deduction, that man is the fi- nal cause of this inferior creation. So that I think my readers and myself, privileged (not to say, on the principles of gratitude, obliged) to use those lovely lines of our author, with a pro- priety and truth, equal to their elegance and beau- ty: Forme kind nature wakes her genial pow'r, Suckles each herb, and spreads out every flow'r! Annu >1, for me, the grape, the rose, renew The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew; For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings ; For me, health gushes fiom a thousand springs. Eth. Ep. i. ver. Id!). • This circumstance, amidst abundance of other delicate and edifying remarks upon the wonders of nature, is finely touched in the philosophical tran- sactions recorded in the book of Job, chap, xxxviii. 18. — Who hath divided the %vater-course for the over- flowing of waters ? The Hebrew is so pregnant and rich with sense, that no translation can do it justice. The following paraphrase, perhaps, may represent the princijjal ideas comprehended in the expressive original: Who hath branched out. and with admir- able judgment, disposed a variety of aqueducts for that immense collection of waters which float in the gky ? Who distributes those pendulous floods through all' the bo ders of the earth ? distributes them not in dreadful cataracts, or promiscuous gluts of rain, but in kindly drops of refreshing showers, with !is much '45 through the universal garden ; and fructify with their showers, whatever our hand plants? — The fields are our exhaustless granary The ocean is our vast reservoir. —The animals spend their strength to dis- patch oiu- biisiness ; resign their clothing to replenish our wardrobe ; and surrender their very lives to provide for our tables. — In short, every element is a store-house of conveniences, every season brings us to choicest productions ; all nature is our ca- terer And which is a most endearing re- commendation of these favours, they are as lovely as they are useful. You observe nothing mean or inelegant. All is clad in beauty's fairest robe,* and regulated by pro- portion's nicest rule. The whole scene exhibits a fund of pleasures to the imagina- tion, at the same time that it more than su])plies all our wants.f Therefore thou art inexcusable, O man, whosoever thou art, that rebellcst against thy ]\Iaker. He sxurounds thee with un- numbered benefits, and follows thee with an effusion of the richest, noblest gifts. He courts thy affections, he solicits thy grati- tude, by liberalities which are never inter- mitted, by a boimty wltich knows no limits. — Most blessed Lord, let this thy goodness, thy unwearied goodness, lead us to repent- ance. Win us to thyself, thou fountain of felicity, by these sweet inducements. Draw us to our duty, thou God of our salvation, by these "cords of love." What a livang picture is here of the be- neficial effects of industrj' ! By industry and cultivation, this neat spot is an image of Eden. Here is all that can entertain the eye, or regale the smell. J Whereas with- out cidtivation, this sweet garden had been a desolate wilderness ; vile thistles had made it loathsome, and tangling briers inaccessi- ble. Without cultivation, it might have been a nest for serpents, and the horrid haimt of venomous creatures. But the spade and priming knife, in the hand of in- dustry, have improved it into a sort of ter- restrial paradise. regularity and economy, as if they were conveyed by pipes from a conduit ? — To whom shall we ascribe that niceness of contrivance, which now emits, now restrains them ; sometimes drives their humid train to one pJace, and sometimes to another! dispenses them to this soil in larger, to that in smaller conr- munications : and, in a word, so mR,nages the mighty fluid, that every spot is supplied in exact proportion to its wants, none destroyed by an undistinguished deluge. * I'erhaps it was from such an observation that the Greeks, those critical and refined judges of thin^, expressed the mundane system, by a word which sigv nines beauty. t " Thi^e several living creatures, which are made for our service, or sustenance, at the same time either fill the woods with music, furnish its with game, or raise pleasing ideas in us by the delightfulness of their appearance. Fountains, lakes, and rivers, areas re- freshing to the imagination as to the soil througH which they ftasf,,"— Spectator, vol. v. No. 3iJ7- -^ Omnis copia narium, — Horat-e 46 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOV/ER-GARDEN. How naturally does this lead our con- templation, to the advantages which flow from a nrtuous education, and the miseries which ensue from the neglect* of it ! — The mind, without early instruction, will, in all probability, become like the " vineyard of the sluggard." If left to the propensities of its own depraved will, what can we ex- pect, but the most luxuriant growth of un- ruly appetites, which, in time may break forth in all manner of scandalous irregular- ities ? 'W^hat ! — but that anger, like a prick- ly thorn, arm the temper with an untracta- ble moroseness ; peevishness, like a sting- ing nettle, render the conversation u'ksome and forbidding ; avarice, like some choak- ing weed, teach tlie fingers to gripe, and the hands to oppress ; revenge, like some poi- sonous plant, replete with baneful juices, rankle in the breasts, and meditate mischief to its neighbour ; while unbridled lusts, like swarms of noisome insects, taint each rising thought, and render " every imagination of the heart only evil continually." — Such are the usual products of savage nature ! such the furniture of the uncultivated soul ! "Whereas, let the mind be put under the " nurtiu-e and admonition of the Lord ;" let holy discipline clear the soil ; let sacred in- Btruction sow it with the best seed ; let skill and vigilance dress the rising shoots, direct the young ideas how to spread, the wayward passions how to move — then, what a different state of the inner-man will quick- ly take place ; charity will breathe her sweets, and hope expand hci' blossoms ; the personal virtues display their graces, and the social ones their fruits :f the sentiments be- come generous ; the cariiage endearing, the life honourable and useful. | O ! that governors of families and mas- ters of schools would watch, with a consci- entious solicitude, over the morals of their tender charge ! What pity is it that the ad- vancing generations should lose these inva- luable endowments through any supineness in their instructors ! — See ! with what assi- duity the curious florist attends his little nursery ; he visits them early and late, fur- nishes them with the properest mould, sup- » Neglectis urenda filix iiiascitur agris. — Horace. •t This transformation of the heart, and renewal of the hfe, are represented in scripture, by similitudes very nearly allied to the image used al)ove — God, by his sanctifying Spirit, will make the soul as a watered garden. Under theoperationof thisdivineprinciple, the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. W'he everit exerts the refining and ennobling energy, •' instead of the thoni, shall come up the fir-tree; find, instead of the brier, the myrtle-tree," Jer xxxi. 12. Isa. XXXV. 1, and Iv. 13. $ A teneris assuescere tanti esti — Virtr. The principles we imbibe, and the habits we con- tract, in our early years, are not matters of small mo- ment, but of the utmost consequence imaginable. They not only give a transient or superficial tincture to our first appearance in life, but most commonly Stamp the form of our whole future conduct, and «ven of our eternal state. plies them wath seasonable moisture, guards them from the ravages of insects, screens them from the injuries of the weather, marks their springing buds, obser%'es them atten- tively through their whole progress, and never intermits his anxiety, till he beholds them blowTi into full perfecrion And shall a range of painted leaves, which flourish to- day, and to-morrow fall to the groimd, — shall these be tended with more zealous ap- plication than the exalted faculties of an im- mortal soul ! Yet trust not in cultivation alone. It is the blessing of the almighty Husbandman which imparts success to such labours of love. If God " seal up the bottles of hea- ven," and command the clouds to withhold their fatness, the best manured plot be- comes a barren desert. And if He restain the dew of his heavenly benediction, all hu- man endeavours miscari-y ; the rational plan- tation languishes ; our most pregnant hopes from youths of the most promising genius prove abortive. Their root will be as rot- tenness, and their blossoms will go up as dust. (Isa. v. 24.) Therefore, let parents plant, let tutors water, but let both look up to the Father of spirits for the desired increase. On every side, I espy several budding flowers. As yet they are like bales of su- perfine cloth from the packer's warehouse. Each is wrapt within a strong inclosure, and its contents are tied together by the firmest bandages. So that all their beauties lie concealed, and all their sweets are lock- ed up. — Just such is the niggardly wretch, whose aims are all turned inward, and meanly terminated upon himself, who makes his own private interest or personal plea- sure, the sole centre of his designs, and the scanty circinnference of his actions. Ere long, the searching beams will open these silken folds, and draw them into grace- ful expansion. Then what a lovely blush will glow in their cheeks ; and what a balmy odour exhale from their bosoms ! So, when divine grace shines upon the mind, even the churl becomes bountiful ; the heart of stone is taken away, and a heart of flesh, a heart susceptible of the softest, most compassion- ate emotions, is introduced in its stead. O ! liow sweetly do the social affections dilate themselves, under so benign an influence ! Just like those disclosing gems, imder tlie powerful eye of day. The tender regards are no longer confined to a single object, but extend themselves into a generous concern for mankind, and shed liberal refreshments on all within their reach.* • The prophet, describing the charitable tempi'T, verv beautifully says, " If thou draw out thy soul to thehungry !"— This, 1 think may not improperly be illustrated by the circumstances observed above. The REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 47 Arise then, thou Sun of Righteousness ; arise with healing under thy wings ; and transfuse thy gentle, but ])enetrating ray through all our intellectual ])owers. En- large every narrow disposition, and fill us M'iih a diffusive benevolence. IVIake room in our breasts for the whole human race, and teach us to love all our fellow-creatures for their amiable Creator's sake. May we be pleased with their excellencies, and re- joice in their happiness, but feel their mis- eries as our own, and with a brother's sym- pathy, hasten to I'elieve them. Disposed at proper distances, I observe a range of strong and stately stalks. They stand like towers along the waUs of a forti- fied city, or rise like lofty spires amidst the grou}) of houses. They part at the top into several pensile spiky pods, from each of which we shall see a fine figure displacing itself; rounded into a form which consti- tutes a perfect circle ; spread wide open, into the most frank and communicative air; and tinged with the colour, which is so pe- culiarly captivating to the miser's eye. But the property I chiefly admire, is its passionate fondness for the sun. When the evening shades take place, the poor flower droops, and folds up its leaves. It mourns iill the long night, and pines amidst the gloom, like some forlorn lover, banished from the object of his affections. No soon- er does providence open " the eye-lids of the morning," but it meets and welcomes the returning light ;• courts and caresses it all the day ; nor ever loses sight of the re- fulgent charmer, so long as he continues above the horizon. In the morning, you may perceive it presenting a golden bosom to the east ; at noon, it points upward to the middle sky ; in the evening, follows the same attractive influence to the west. Surely nature is a book, and every page rich with secret hints. To an attentive mind, the garden turns preacher, and its blooming tenants are so many lively ser- mons. What an engaging pattern, and what an excellent lesson have we here ! So, let the redeemed of the Lord look unto Je- sus, ( Heb. xii. 2. ) and be conformed to their beloved. Let us all be heliotropes (if I may use the expression) to the Sun of Righteousness. Let our passions rise and ojiening of those buds into a large and extensive spread, is a pretty portrait of the amphtude of a gen- erous heart, which cannot shut up its compassion, or remain unconcerned at any human calamity. The freeness and coj)iousness with which the expanded flowers are continually pouring out their cnoicest essences, may represent the various acts of an un- wearied liberality', toother with those endearing words, and that cordial affection, which embalm, as it were, a gift, double its value ; and constitute, wliat the sacred penman styles, drawing out the soul, De- prorapseris animam tuam, Isa. Iviii. 10. • Ilia suum, quamvis rndice tenetur, Vtrtitur ad Soleui. Ovid. ' fall, take this course or that, as his word determines, as his holy examjile guides. Let us be so accommodated, both to his commanding and providential will, as the wax is turned to the imj)rinted seal ; or, as the aspect of this enamoured flower, to the spIendLid star which creates oiu' day. In every enjoyment, O thou watchfiJ Christian, look unto Jesus ; receive it as proceeding from his love, and purchased by his agonies. * In every tribulation look unto Jesus ; mark his gracious hand, managing the scourge, or mingling the bitter cup ; at- tempering it to a proper degree of severity ; adjusting the time of its continuance ; and ready to make these seeming disasters pro- ductive of real good. In every infirmity and failing, look unto Jesus, thy merciful high priest, pleading his atoning blood, and making intercession for transgressors. In every prayer look unto Jesus, thy prevail- ing advocate, recommending thy devotions, and " bearing the iniquity of thy holy things." (Exod. xxviii. 38. ) In every temp- tation, look imto Jesus, the author of thy strength, and captain of thy salvation, who alone is able to lift up the hands which hang down, to invigorate the enfeebled knees, and make thee more than conqueror over all thy enemies ; but especially when the hour of thy departure approaches ; when " thy flesh and thy heart fail ;" when all the springs of life are irreparably breaking, then look unto Jesus with a believing eye.f Like expiring Stephen, behold him stand- ing at the right hand of God, on purpose to succour his people in this their last extremi- ty. Yes, my Christian friend, when thy journey through life is finished, and thou art arrived on the very verge of immor- tality ; when thou art just launched out in- to the invisible world, and all before thee is \'ast eternity; then, O then, be sure to look steadfastly unto Jesus ! " See by faith the Lord's Christ." View him as the on- ly way (John xiv. 6.) to the everlasting mansions, as the only door (Johnx. 9.) to the abodes of bliss. Yonder tree, which faces the south, has something too remarkable to pass without observation. Like the fruitful though fee- ble vine, she brings forth a large family of branches, but, unable to support them her- self, commits them to the tuition of a simny wall. As yet the tender twigs have scarce gemmed their future blossoms. However, I may anticipate the well knowTi produc- tions, and picture to myself the passion- flower, which will, in due time, with a long and copious succession, adorn the boughs. * He sunk beneath our heavy woes. To raise us to his throne ; There's not a gift his hand bestows But cost his Iieart a groan. — tValt.'!. f " Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the eniJ* of the earth," Isa. xiv. 22. * ' 48 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. I have read, in a Latin author, of flowers inscribed with the names of kings ;* but here is one emblozened with the marks of the bleeding Prince of Life. I read in the inspired writings, of apostolic men, who bore about in their bodies the dying of the Lord Jesus; (2 Cor. iv. 10.) but here is a blooming religioso, that carries apparent memorials of the same tremendous and fa- tal catastrophe. Who would have expect- ed to find such a tragedy of woe exhibited in a collection of the most delicate delights ? or to see Calvary's horrid scene pourtrayed on the softest ornaments of the garden? Is nature then actuated by the noble ambi- tion of paying commemorative honours to her agonizing Sovereign ? Is she kindly offi- cious to remind forgetful mortals of that miracle of mercy, which it is their duty to contemplate, and their happiness to believe ? Or, is a sportive imagination my interpre- ter ; and all the supposed resemblance, no more than the precarious gloss of fancy ? Be it so ; yet even fancy has her merit, when she sets forth, in such pleasing im- agery, the crucified Jesus. Nor shall I refuse a willing regard to imagination her- self, when she employs her creative powers to re\ave the sense of such unparalleled love, and prompt my gratitude to so divine a friend. That spiral tendril, arising from the bot- tom of the stalk, is it a representation of the scourge which lashed the Redeemer's unspotted flesh, and inflicted those stripes by which our souls are healed ! Or, is it tivisted for the cord which bound his hands in painful and ignominious confinement ; those beneficent hands, which were inces- santly stretched out to unloose the heavy burdens, and to impart blessings of every choice kind? — Behold the nails which were drenched in his sacred veins, and rivetted his feet to the accursed tree ; those beauti- ful feet,f which always went about doing good ; and travelled far and near, to spread the glad tidings of everlasting salvation. See the hammer, ponderous and massy, which drove the rugged iron through shiv- ering nerves, and forced a passage for those dreadful wedges, between the dislocated bones. View the thorns, which encircled our royal Master's brow, and shoot their keen aftiictive points into his blessed head. O the smart ! the racking smart ! when, instead of the triumphal laurel, or the odo- riferous garland, that pungent and ragged wreath was planted on the meek Messiah's forehead ! when violent and barbarous blows of the strong Eastern cane,* struck the ]>rickly crown, and fixed every thorn deep in his throbbing temples. f There stand the disciples, ranged in the green empale- ment ; and forming a circle round the instru- ments of their great Commander's death. They appear like so many faithful adherents, who breathe agallant resolution, either of de- fending their Lord to the last extremity, or of dropping honourably by his side. But did they give such proofs of zeal and fideli- ty in their conduct, as their steady posture, and determined aspect, seem to promise ? Alas ! what is all human firmness, when destitute of succours from above, but an expiring vapour ? What is every saint, if un- supported by powerful grace, but an aban- doned traitor ! Observe the glory delineat- ed in double rays, grand with imperial pur- ple, and rich with aetherial blue. But, ah ! how incapable are threads, though spun by summer's finest hand, though dyed in snows, or dipped in heaven, to display the imma- culate excellency of his human, or the inef- fable majesty of his divine nature ! Com- pared with these sublime perfections, the most nvid assemblage of colours fades in- to an unmeaning flatness ; the most charm- ing eflfects of light and shade are not only mere daubings, but an absolute blank. Among all the beauties which shine in sunny robes, and sip the silver dews, this, I thhik, has the noblest import, if not the finest presence. Were they all to pass in review, and expect the award of superiority from my decision, I should not hesitate a moment. Be the prize assigned to this amiable candidate, which has so eminently distinguished, and so bighly dignified her- self, by bearing such a remarkable resem- blance to the " righteous Branch, the Plant of reno^\Tl."| While others appoint it a place in the parterre, I would transplant the passion flower, or rather transfer its sacred significancy to my heart. There let it bloom, both in summer and in winter ; • Die, quibus in terris inscripti nomina regum Nascantur flores ? ''»•«■. f " How beautiful are the feet of him that bring- eth good tidings, that pubhsheth peace, that bring- eth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation !" Isa. lii. 7- * They took the reed, siys the sacred historian, and smote him on the head; "and so, as it were, nailed down the thorns into his forehead and temples, and occasioned thereby exquisite pain, as well as a great effusion of blood." — Ffimil;/ Krpositor, vol. ii. sect. 188. — "It is most probable," adds the same ju- dicious critic, " this was a walking-staff, which they put into his hand as a sceptre; for a blow with a slight reed would scarce have been felt, or have deserved a mention in a detail of such dreadful sufferings." } The smart attending this unparalleled piece of contempt and barbarity, must be inexpressibly severe; not only on account of the many painful pimctures made in the flesh, but principally, because of the periosteum, an exquisitely sensible tegument of the bones, lying in those parts very near the external skin, must receive a multitude of terrible wounds, the anguish of which could not fail of being inflamed to an excess of r»ge, by the continuance of so many thorny lancets, in that extremely tender membrane; which, in such a case, Trembling alive all o'er. Must smart and agonize at every pore. i So the blessed Jesus is described. Jer. xxiii. & Enek. xxxiv. 29. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 49 bloom in the most impressive c-har.ictcrs, and with ail iindccaying lustre. Tliat I also may wear, — wear on my very soul, the traces of Immamiel, pierced for my sins, and bruised for my transgressions. That I al- so may he crucified with Christ, ( Gal. ii. 20.) at least in penitential remorse, and af- fectionate sympathy. That I may know the fellowship of his sufferings, (Phil. iii. 10.) and feel all my evil affections wounded by his agonies, mortified by his death. There is another subject of the verdant kingdom, wmch, on account of its very un- common qualities, demands my particular notice. One so extremely difHdent in her disposition, and delicate in her constitution, that she dares not venture herself abroad in the open air, but is nursed up in the warmth of a hot-bed, and lives cloistered in the cells of a green-house. But the most cu- rious peculiarity is, that of all her kindred species, she alone partakes of perceptive life ; at least, advances nearest to this more ex- alted state of being, and may be looked up- on as the link which connects the animal and the vegetable world. A stranger ob- serving her motions, would almost be in- duced to suspect that she is endued with some inferior degrees of consciousness and caution : For, if you offer to handle this sensitive plant, she immediately takes the alarm, hastily contracts her fibres, and, like a person under apprehensions of violence, withdraws from your finger in a khid of precipitate disorder. Perhaps the beauty of her aspect might be sullied, or the nice- ness of her texture discomposed, by the human touch. Therefore, like a coy virgin, she recedes fi-om all unbecoming familiari- ties, and will admit no such improper, if not pernicious freedoms. Whatever be the cause of this unusual effect, it suggests an instructive admonition to the Christian. Such should be our ap- prehensive timorous care with regard to sin, and all, even the most distant approaches of vice. So should we avoid the very ap- peai'ance of evil, and stand aloof from every occasion of falling. If sinners entice, if forbidden pleasures tempt, or if opportuni- ty beckon, with the gain of injustice in her liand, O ! turn from the gilded snare ; touch not the beauteous bane ; but fly, fly with haste, fly without any delay, from the be- witching niin. Does anger draw near with her lighted torch, to kindle the flame of re- sentment in our breasts ''. Does flattery ply our ears with her enchanting and intoxicat- ing whispers? would discontent lay her leaden hand upon our temi)er, and mould into our minds her sour leaven, in order to make us a burden to ourselves, and unami- nble to others ? Instantly let us divert our attention from the dangerous objects ; and not so much endeavour to antidote as to shun the moral contagion. Let us revolve in our meditations that wonderful meekness of our distressed IMaster, which, amidst the most abusive and provoking insults, main- tained an uniform tenor of unshaken sereni- ty. Let us contemplate that ])rodigious humiliation, which brought him, from an in- finite height above all worlds, to make his bed in the dust of death. Let us sootlie our jarring, our uneasy passions, with the remembrance of that cheeriidness and re- signation, which rendered him in the deep- est poverty, unfeignedly thankful, and un- der the heaviest tribulations, most submis- sively patient. Harbour not, on any consideration, the betrayer of your virtue. Always mainta'r a holy sensibility of soul. Be deaf, inflex ibly deaf, to every beguiling solicitation. ] . it obtrude into the unguarded heart, give it no entertainment, no, not for a moment. Tt^ parley with the enemy, is to open a door for destruction. Our safety consists in flight ; and, in this case, suspicion is the truest prudence ; fear, the greatest bra- very. Play not on the brink of the pre- cipice ; flutter not around the edges of the flame. Dally not with the stings of death. But reject, with a becoming mixture of so- licitude and abhorrence, the very first insin- uations of iniquity as cautiously as tlie smart- ing sore shrinks even from the softest hand, as constantly as this jealous plant recoils the approaching touch.* Not long ago, these curious productions of the spring were coarse and misshapen roots. Had we opened the earth, and be- held them in their seed, how uncouth and contemptible had their appearance been ! But now they are the boast of nature, the delights of the sons of men, finished pat- terns for enamelling and embroidery, out- shining even the happiest strokes of the pencil. They are taught to bloom, but • The prophet Isaiah, in an elegant and lively de- scription of the upright man, says, " He shaketh his hands from holding of bribes ;" and, I may add, from practising any kind of iniquity. The image, exceed- ingly beautiful and equally expressive, both illus- trates and enforces the doctrine of this whole section. — Shaketh his hands, just as a person would do, who happens to have burning coals fall into his lap, or some venomous creature fastening upon his tlcsh. In such a case, none would stand a moment to con- sider, or to debate with himself the expediency of the thing, he would instantly (ling otf the pernicious in- cumbrance, instantly endeavour to disengage him- self from the clinging mischief. Isa, xxxiii.'lS. I have represented the danger of not extinguishing immediately the very first sparks of temptation, in a variety of views, lecause a proper behaviour in this conjuncture, is of such vast importance to the puri- ty, the safety, and the comfort of our minds. Be- cause I had the royal moralist in my eye, who, deter- ring his pupils from the path of the wicked, cries with an air ot deep concern, and in the language of vehe- ment im])ortunity, cries. Avoid it; pass "not by it; turn from it, and pass away. How strongly is the counsel urged, by being so frequently rejieated, in such a remarkable diversity of concise and abrupt, consequently of forcible and pressing admonitions I'rov. iv. 15. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 50 with a very inferior lustre,* in the richest tapestries and most magnificent silks. Art never attempts to equal their incomparable elegancies ; but places all her merit in copy- ing after these delicate originals. Even those who glitter in silver, or whose cloth- ing is wrought of gold, are desirous to bor- row additional ornaments from a sprig of jessamine, or a little assemblage of pinks. What a fine idea may we form from hence, of the resurrection of the just, and the state of their re-animated bodies ! As the roots even of our choicest flowers, when deposited in the ground, are rude and un- graceful ; but when they spring up into blooming life, are most elegant and splen- did ; so the flesh of a saint, when commit- ted to the dust, alas! what is it? A heap of corruption ; a mass of putrefying clay. But when it obeys the great arch-angel's call, and starts into a new existence, what an astonishing change ensues ! what a most ennobling improvement takes place ! That which was sown in weakness is raised in all the vivacity of power. That which was sown in deformity, is raised in the bloom of celestial beauty. Exalted, refined, and glorified, it wUl shine " as the brightness of the firmament," when it darts the inimi- table blue, through the fleeces, — the snowy fleeces, of some cleaving cloud. Fear not, then, thou faithfid Christian ; fear not, at the appointed time, to descend into the tomb. Thy soul thooi mayest trust with thy omnipotent Redeemer, who is Lord of the unseen world ; " who has the keys of hell and of death." Most safely thou mayest trust thy better part, in those bene- ficent hands, which were pierced with nails, and fastened to the ignominious tree, for thy salvation. With regard to thy earthly tabernacle be not dismayed : it is taken down only to be rebuilt upon a diviner plan, and in a more heavenly form. If it retires into the shadow of death, and lies immured in the gloom of the grave, it is only to re- turn from a short confinement to endless liberty. If it falls into dissolution, it is in order to rise more illustrious from its ruins ; and wear an infinitely brighter face of per- fection and of glory.f Having now made my panegyric, let me next take up a lamentation for these love- liest productions of the vegetable world. For I foresee their approaching doom : Yet a little while, and all these pleasing scenes * The cowslip smiles in brighter yellow drest, Than that which veils the nubil virgin's breast I A fairer red stands blushing in the rose, Than that which on the bridegroom's vestment flows. Pyio7\ t The wise, the just, the pious, and the brave, Live in their deaths, and flourish from tlie grave, Grain hid in earth, repays the peasant's care, And ev'ning suns set but' to rise more fair vanish ; yet a little while, and all the sweets ofthe breathing, all thebeauties of the bloom- ing spring are no more. Every one of these amiable forms must be shrivelled to deformity, and trodden to the earth. — Sig- nificant resemblance this of all-created beauty. All flesh is grass ; like the green herbage liable and prone to fade. Nay, all the goodliness thereof, its fine accomplish- ments, and what the world universally ad- mires, is as the floM'er ofthe field, (Isa. xl- 6.) which looses its gloss, decays, and per- ishes morespeedilythanthe grass itself. Be- hold, then, ye brightest among the daugh- ters of Eve; behold yotu'selves in this glass. See the charms of your Persian eclipsed, by the lustre of these little flow- ers, and the frailty of your state represent- ed by their transient glories.* A fever may scorch those polished veins ; a con- sumption may emaciate the dimpling cheeks ; and a load of unexpected sorrows depress those lively spirits. Or, should these dis- asters, in pity, spare the tender frame ; ye£ age, inexorable age, and wrinkles will assiu- edly come at last ; -will wither all the fine features, and blast every sprightly grace. Then, ye fair, when those sparkling eyes are darkened, and sink in their orbs, when they are rolling m agonies, and swimming in death, — how wiU you sustain the afiiic- tion ? how will you repair the loss ? Ap- ply your thoughts to religion ; attend to the one thing needfid. Believe in, and imitate the blessed Jesus ; then shall your soifls mount up to the realms of happiness, when the well-proportioned clay is mingled with its mean original. The light of God's countenance will irradiate, with matchless and consummate perfection, all their exalt- ed faculties. Cleansed entirely from every dreg of corruption, like some unsullied * The reader will excuse me, if I imitate rather than translate the following lines from Theocritus ; if I vary one image, add another, and give a new turn to the whole. When snows descend, and robe the fields In winter's bright array ; Touch'd by the sun the lustre fades. And weeps itself away. When spring appears ; when violets blow. And shed a rich perfume. How soon the fragrance breathes its last. How short-liv'd is the bloom ! Fresh in the morn the summer rose Hangs with'ring ere 'tis noon. We scarce enjoy the balmy gift, But mourn the pleasure gone. With gliding fire, an ev'ning star Streaks the autumnal skies, Shook from the sphere, it darts away. And in an instant dies. Such are the charms that flush the cl'.eeii. And sparkle in the eye; So, from that lovely finish'd form The transient graces fly. To this the seasons, as they roll. Their attestations bring ; They warn the fair ; their ev'ry rouud, (.'oafirras the truth 1 sing. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. mirror, they will reflect the complete image of their Creator's holiness. O ! that you would thus dress your minds, and prepare for the immortal state ! Then from shining among your fellow-creatures on earth, you shall be translated, to shine around the throne of God. Then from the sweetness of oiu" life, and the delight of our eyes here below, you shall pass, by an easy transition, into angels of light ; and become " an ever- lasting excellency, the joy of all genera- tions." Yes; ye flowery nations ye must all decay. Yonder lily that looks like the queen of the gay creation ; see, how grace- fully it erects its majestic head ! What an air of dignity and grandeur ennobles its aspect ! For elevated mien, as well as for incom- parable lustre, justly may it be preferred to the magnificent monarch of the cast. ( Mat. vi. 29. ) But all stately, and charming as it is, it will hardly survive a few more days ; that unspotted whiteness must quickly be tarnished, and the snowy form defiled in the dust. As the lily pleases with the noble simpli- city of its appearance, the tulip is admired for the gaiety and multiplicity of its colours. What a profusion of dyes adorn its painted cup ! Its tinges are so glowing, its contrasts so strong, and the arrangement of them both so elegant and artful ! — It was lately the pride of the border, and the reigning beauty of the delightful season. As exquisitely fine as the rainbow, and almost as extreme ly transient ; it spread for a little moment its glittering plumage, but has now laid all its variegated and superior honours down. Those radiant stripes arc blended, alas ! rudely blended, with common mould. To a gracefid shape and blooming com- plexion, the rose adds the most agreeable perfume. Our nostrils make it repeated visits, and are never weary of drinking in its sweets. A fragrance so peculiarly rich and reviving transpires from its opening tufts, that every one covets its acquaintance. How have I seen even the accomplished Clarissa, for whom so many votaries lan- guish, fondly caressing this little flower. That lovely bosom, wliich is the seat of in- nocence and virtue ; whose least excellency it is to rival the delicacy of the purest snows, among a thousand charms of its own, tliinks it possible to adopt another from the da- mask rose-bud — Yet even this universal favourite must fail. Its native balm can- not preserve it from putrefaction. Soon, soon must it resign all those endearing qua- lities, and hang neglected on its stem, or drop despised to the ground. One coidd wish, metliinks, these most amiable of the inanimate race, a longer ex- istence, but in vain, they fade almost as soon as they flourish ; within less than a month their glories are extinct. Let the sun take .51 a few more journeys through the sky ; then visit this enchanting walk, and you will find nothing but a wretched wilderness of ragged or naked stalks But (my soul exidts in the thought) the garment of celestial glory which shall ere long array the re-animated body, will never wax old, the illustrious robes of a Saviour's consummate righteous- ness, which are appointed to deck the justi- fied spirit, are incorruptible and immortal. No moth can corrode their textui'e, no num- ber of ages sully their brightness. The light of day may be quenched, and all the stars sink in obscurity ; but the honours of "just men made perfect" are subject to no diminution, inextinguishing and unfading is the lustre of their croNvni. Yes, ye flowery nations, ye must all de- cay.— Winter, like some enraged and irre- sistible conqueror, that carries fire and sword wherever he advances, that demolish- es towns, depopulates countries, spreads slaughter and desolation on every side ; so, just so, will Winter with his savage and un- relenting blasts invade this beautiful pros- pect. The storms are gathering, and the tempest mustering their rage to fall upon the vegetable kingdoms. They will ravage through the dominions of nature, and plun- der her riches and lay waste her charms Then ye trees, must ye stand stript of your verdant apparel ; and ye fields be spoiled of your waving treasures. Then the earth, disrobed of all her gay attire, must sit in sa- bles, like a disconsolate widow. The sun too, who now rides in triumph round the world, and scatters gaiety from his radiant eye, will then look faintly from the windows of the South ; and, casting a short glance on our dejected world, will leave us to the un- comfortable gloom of tedious nights Then these pretty choristers of the air will chant no more to the gentle gales ; the lark, the linnet, and all the feathered songsters aban- don their notes, and indulge theii- woes. The harmony of the woods is at an end ; and silence, (unless it be interrupted by howling winds) sullen silence sits brooding upon the boughs which are now made vocal by a thousand Warbling throats. But (sweet recollection ! ra\ashLng ex- pectation ! ) the songs of saints in light ne- ver admit a pause for sadness. All heaven will resoiuid with the melody of their grati- tude ; and all eternity echo to their trium- phal acclamations. The hallelujahs of that world, and the harmonious joy of its inhabi- tants, will be as lasting as the divine per- fections they celebrate Come then, holy love, and tune my heart, descend, celestial fire, and touch my tongue, that I may stand ready to strike up and bear my part, in that great hosaima, that everlasting hymn. Yes, yes, ye flowery nations, ye must all decay. And, indeed, could you add the .52 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. strength of an oak, or the stability of a pyra- mid,* to all the delicacy of your texture ; yet short, exceeding short, even then, would your duration be. For I see that all things come to an end. The pillars of nature are tottering ; the foundations of the round world are falling away ; the " heavens themselves wax old like a garment." But, amidst these views of general ruin, here is our refuge ; this is our consolation ; we know that our Redeemer liveth. Thy years, blessed Jesus, shall not fail. From everlasting to everlasting, thou art still the same ; the same most excellent and adora- ble person ; the same omnipotent and faith- ful friend, the same aU-sufficient and in- estimable portion. O ! may we but partake of thy merits, be sanctiiied by thy grace, and received into thy glory ! Then, perish if ye will, all inferior delights. Let all that is splendid in the skies expire, and all that is amiable in nature be expunged. Let the whole extent of creation be turned again into one indistinguishable void, one universal blank. Yet, if God be ours, we shall have enough ; if God be ours, we shall have all and abound ;f all that our circumstances can want, or our wishes crave, to make us inconceivably blessed and happy : blessed and happy not only through this little inter- val of time, but through the unmeasiu-ahle revolutions of eternity. The sun is now come forth in his strength, and beats fiercely upon my throbbing pulse. Let me retire to yonder inviting arbour. There the woodbine retains the lucid drop ; tbere the jessamines, which hue the ver- dant alcove, are still impearled, and deli- ciously wet with dews. Welcome, ye re- freshing shades ! I feel, I feel your cheering influence. My languid spirits revive ; the slackened sinews are new strung ; and life bounds brisker through all her crimson channels. Reclined on this mossy couch, and sur- rounded by this fragrant coolness, let me renew my aspirations to the ever-present * I know not any performance, in w)iich the tran- sitory nature of these most durable monuments of human grandeur, is hinted with such a modest air of instruction, or their liideous ruin described in siidi a pomp of pleasing horror, as in a small but solemn picturesque and majestic poem, entitled. The Ruins of Rome, written by the Rev. Mr. Dyer, whom the reader (if he has the pleasure of perusing that beau- tiful piece) will easily perceive to have taken his draughts from the originals themselves, as nothing but the si^ht of thosemagnificent remains could have inspired his lines with such vivacity. As a specimen of the work, and a confirmation of the remark sug- gested above, I take leave to transcribe the following passage : — The pilgrim oft, At dead of night, 'mid his orison hears Aghast the voice of time-disparting tow'rs. Tumbling all precipitate down dash'd. Rattling around, loud thundering to the moon. I His and the good man fastens on the skies, And bids earth roll, nor feels the idle whirl. A'l'i'/ie Thoughts, No. iv . Deity. Here let me remember, and imi- tate, the pious Augustine, and his mother ]\Ionica ; who, being engaged in discourse on the beauties of the visible creation, rose by these ladders to the glories of the invisible state, till they were inspired with the most affecting sense of their supereminent excel- lency, and actuated with the most ardent breathings after their full enjoyment. In- somuch that they were almost wrapt up into the bliss they contemplated ; and scarce " knew whether they were in the body or out of the body." When tempests toss the ocean, when plaintive signals of distress are heard, from the bellowing deep, and melancholy tokens of shipwreck come floating on the foaming surge ; then how delightfid to stand safe on shore, and hug one's self in conscious secu- rity !* WTien a glut of waters burst from some mighty torrent, rushes headlong over all the neighbouring plains, sweeps away the helpless cattle, and drives the afl^righted shepherd from his hut ; then, from the top of a distant eminence, to descry the danger we need not fear : how pleasing ! Such, methinks, is my present situation. For now, the sun blazes from on high ; the air glows A\ith his fire, the fields are rent with chinks ; the roads are scorched to dust ; the woods seem to contract a sickly aspect, and a russet hue j the traveller, broil- ed as he rides, hastens to his inn, and in- termits his joiu'ney ; the labourer, bathed in sweat, drops the scythe, and desists from his work ; the cattle fly to some shady co- vert, or else pant and toss under the burn- ing noon. Even the stubborn rock, smit with the piercing beams, is ready to cleave. All things languish beneath the dazzling deluge. While I shall enjoy a cool hour^ and calm reflection amidst the gloom of tills bowery recess which scarce admits one speck of simshine. Thus may both the flock and their shep- herd, dwell beneath thedefenceof the Most High, and abide under the shadow of the Almighty. (Psal. xci. 1.) Then, though the pestilencef walketh in darkness, and the sickness destroyeth at noon-day ; though thousands fall beside us, and ten thousands at our right hand, we need fear no evil ; either the destroying angel shall pass over our houses, or else he shall dispense the corrections of a friend, not the scourges of an enemy, which, instead of hmting us. • As Lucretius gave the hint for these observa- tions, so he assigns the reason of the pleasure speci- fied. It arises, not from the consideration of another's misery ; this would argue the rankest malevolencei but frum the agreeable contemplation of our own personal safety, which while we view the circum- stances that are pernicious to others, but harmless to ourselves, is not a little heightened by the contrast. — Suavs mari magno, &c. t This was written when a very infectious and mor* tal distemper raged in the neiglibourhood. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEX. ^3 fTnall work for our good Then, though profaueness and infidelity, far more malig- nant evils, breathe deadly contagion, and taints the morals of multitudes around us ; yet if the great Father of spirits hide us in llie hollow of his hand, we shall hold fast our integrity and be faithful unto death. Let then, dearest Lord, O let thy servant, and the people committed to his care, be re- ceived into thy protection. Let us take sanctuary under that tree of life, erected in thy ignominious cross ; let us fly for safety to that City of Refuge, opened in thy bleeding wounds. These shall be a sacred hiding-place, not to be pierced by the flames of divine wrath, or the fiery darts of temp- tation. Thy dying merits and perfect obe- dience, shall be to onr souls as rivers of wa- ter in a diy place, or as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. (Isa. xxxii. 2.) But most of all, in that last tremendous day, when the heavens are rent asimder and ^\Tapt up like a scroll ; when thy almighty arm shall arrest the sini in his career, and dash to pieces the structure of the uni- verse ; when the dead, both small and great, shall be gathered before the throne of thy glory; and the fates of all mankind hang on the very point of a final irreversible de- cision— then, blessed Jesus, let us be own- «d by thee, and we shall not be ashamed : defended by thee, and we shall not be afraid. O may we, at that awful and tmutterable important junctiu-e, be covered with the wings of tby redeeming love ; and we shall behold all the horrible convulsions of ex- piring nature with composure, with com- fort ! ^Ve sliall even welcome the dissolu- tion of all things, as the times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord. (Acts iii. 19.) There are, I perceive, who still attend the flowers ; and in defiance of the sun, ply their work on every expanded blossom. The bees I mesm, that nation of chemists ! to whom nature has communicated the rai'e smd valuable secret, of enriching themselves without impoverishing others ; who extract the most delicious synip from every fragrant herb, without wounding its substance, or di- minishing its odours 1 take the more no- tice of these ingenious operators, because I would willingly make them my pattern.* While the gay butterfly flutters her painted wings, and sips a little fantastic delight on- ly for the present moment ; while the gloomy spider, worse than idly busied, is preparing his insidious nets for destruction, iir sucking venom even from tlie most wholesome plants ; this frugal conununity • Ego apis fnatine More modociue (Jrata carjicntis rhyina. — Hor. are wisely employed in providing for futur- ity, and collecting a copious stock of the most balmy treasures — And oh ! might these meditations sink into my soul ! would the God who suggested each heaven- ly thought, vouchsafe to convert it into an established principle to determine all my in- clinations and regulate my whole conduct ! I should then gather advantages from the same blooming objects, more precious than your golden stores, ye industrious artists, I also should go home laden with the richest sweets and the noblest spoil, though I crop not a leaf nor call a single flower my own. Here I behold assembled in one view, al- most all the various beauties, which have been severally entertaining my imagination . The vistas struck through an ancient wood, or formed by rows of venerable elms, con- ducting the spectator's observation to some remarkable object, or leading t-lie traveller's footsteps to this delightful seat The walls enriched with fruit trees, and faced with a covering of their leafy extensions, I should rather have said, hung with different pieces of nature's noblest tapestry : — The walks neatly shorn, and lined with verdure, or finely smoothed and coated with gravel : — The alleys arched with shades to embower our noon-tide repose, or thrown open for the free accession of air, to invite us to our evening recreation : — The decent edgings of box, which inclose Uke a plain selvage each beautiful compartment, and its splen- did figures : — The shapely evergreens and flowery shrubs which strike the eye, and ap- pear with peculiar dignity in this distant si- tuation : — The bason with its crystal foimt, floating in the centre, and diffusing an agree- able freshness through the whole : — The waters falling from a remote cascade, and gently murmuring as they flow along the pebbles : — These added to the rest, and all so disposed that eacb recommends and en- dears each, renders the whole a most sweet ravishing scene, of order and variety, of ele- gance and magnificence. From so many lovely prospects cluster- ing upon the sight, it is impossible not to be reminded of heaven, that world of bliss, those regions of light, where the Lamb that was slain, manifests his beatific presence, ' and his saints live for evermore. Rut, O ! what pencil can sketch out a draught of that goodly land ! what colours or what style can express the splendours of Innnanuel's king- dom ? Would some celestial hand draw aside tlie veil but for a moment, and permit us to throw a single glance on those divine abodes, liow would all sublunary possessions become tarnished in our eyes, and grow flat upon our taste ? A glimpse, a transient glimpse of those uiuitterable beatitudes, would cap- tivate our souls, and ingross all their facul- ties. Eden itself, after such a vision, would 34 A DESCANT UPON CREATION. appear a cheerless desert, and all earthly charms, intolerable deformity. Very excellent things are spoken of thee, thou city of God. ( Psalm lxxx\ai. 2. ) Vol- umes have been written, and those by in- spired men, to display the wonders of thy perfections. All that is rich and splendid in the visible creation, has been called in to aid our conceptions and elevate our ideas. But indeed no tongue can utter, no pen can describe, no fancy can imagine, what God of his unbounded munificence, has prepar- ed for them that love him. — Seeing then, that all teiTestrial things must come to a speedy end, and there remaineth a rest, such a blissful and everlasting rest for the people of God, let me never be too fondly attached to my jiresent satisfactions. Weaned from whatever is temporal, may I maintain a superior indifference for such transitory enjoyments, but long, long ear- nestly for the mansions that are above ; tbe paradise " which the Lord hath planted and not man." Thither may I transmit the chief of my conversation, and from thence expect the whole of my happiness. Be that the sacred powerful magnet, which ever influences my heart, ever attracts my affections. There are such transcendent glories, as eye has not seen ; there are suck transporting pleasures, as ear has not heard ; there is such a fulness of joys, as the thought of man cannot conceive. Into tliat consummate felicity, those eter- nal fruitions, permit me. Madam, to wish you in due time, an abundant entrance ; and to assure you that this wish is breathed with the same sincerity and ardour, for my hon- oured correspondent, as it is Madam, for Your most obedient, &c. J. HERVEY. DESCANT rpoN CREATION. If tte reader please to look back on page 42, he will find me engaged by a promis- sory note, to subjoin a Descant upon Crea- tion. To know the love of Christ, to have such a deep apprehension of his unspeakable kindness as may produce in our hearts an adoring gratitude and an unfeigned faith ; tins, according to St. Paid's estimate, is the highest and happiest attainment in the sa- cred science of Christianity. (Eph. iii. 19.) What follows is an attempt to assist the attentive mind, in learning a line or two of that best and greatest lesson. It introduces the most conspicuous parts of the visible sys- tem, as so many prom'pters to our dull af- j'ections ; each suggesting a hint adapted to the important occasion, and suited to its re- spective character. Csn there be a more powerful incentive to devout gratitude, than to consider the magnificent and delicate scenes of the imi- ^'erse, with a particular reference to Christ iis the Creator? — Every object \-iewed in this light, win surely administer incessant recruits to the languishing lamp of divine love. Every production in nature will strike a spark into the soul, and the whole creation concur to raise the smoking flax into a flame. Can any thing impart a stronger joy to the believer, or more effectually confirm his faith in the crucified Jesus, than to behold the heavens declaring his glory, and the fir- mament showing his handy-work ? Surely, it must be matter of inexpressible consola- tion to the poor sinner to observe the hon- ours of his Redeemer, written with sun- beams over all the face of the world. We delight to read an account of oiu: in- carnate Jehovah, as he is revealed in the book of JVIoses and the prophets, as he is displayed in the writings of the evangelists and apostles. Let us also endeavour to see a sketch of his perfections as they stand de- lineated in that stately volume, where every leaf is a spacious plain, — every line, a flow- ing brook, — every period, a lofty mountain. A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 5h Should any of my readers be unexercised in such speculations, I beg leave (in pur- suance of my promise) to present them Nnth a specimen ; or to offer a clue, which may possibly lead their minds into tliis mostim- pronng and delightftd train of thinking. Should any be inclined to suspect the so- lidity of the following observations, or to condemn them, as the voice of rant, and the lawless flight of fancy ; I must entreat such persons to recollect that the grand doctrine, the hinge on which they aU turn, is war- ranted and established by the unanimous testimony of the inspired penmen, who fre- quently celebrate Immanucl, or Christ Je- sus as the great almighty cause of all, as- suring us, that all things were created by him and for him, and that in him all things consist.* On such a subject, what is wonderful, is far from being extravagant. To be won- derfid is the inseparable characteristic of God and his works ; especially of that most distinguished and glorious event of the di- vine works. Redemption ; so glorious, that " all the miracles in Egyyt, and the mar- vellous acts in the field of Zoan," all that the Je\\ash annals have recorded, or the hu- man ear has heard ; idl dwindle into trivial events, are scarce x^'orthy to be remembered in comparison of this infinitely grand and infinitely gracious transaction. (Isa. xliii. 18.) Kindled therefore into pleasing aston- ishment by such a survey, let me give full scope to tny meditations, let me pour out my whole soul on the boundless subject ; iiot much regarding tlie Ihnits, which cold criticism, or colder unbelief might pre- scribe. O ye angels that siuTound the throne ; ye princes of heaven, " that excel in strength," and are clothed with transcendent brightness ; he, who placed you in those stations of exalted honour, and dignified yoiu" nature with such illustrious endow- ments ; he, whom you all obey, and all adore ; he took not on him the angelic form, but was made flesh, and found in fashion as a man ; like us wretched mortals, he par- took of weariness, of pain, and of all our infirmities, sin only excepted ; that we iniglit one day be raised to yoiu- sublime abodes, be adopted into your blissful socie- ty : and join Mith your transported choir in giving glory to Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever. (Rev. V. 13.) O ye hea\'ens ! «hose aziu-e arches rise mmensely high, and stretcli immeasurably ivide ; stupendous amphitheatre ! amidst * <.'o\ i. 1(5, 17- Before my reader enter upon the fdllowiiig Descant lie u dcsirtd to imruse tlie iio'.e, r. 11. whose vast expansive ciicuit, orbs of the most dreadfiU grandeur are perpetually run- ning their amazing races ; unfathomable depths of ether ! where worlds unnumber- ed float, and lo om- limited sight, worlds uinumibered are lost ; — he who adjusted your dimensions with his span, and formed the magnificent structure with his word ; he was once \\rapt up in swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger ; — that the benefits accnung to his people through his most meritorious himiiliation, might have no other measiu-e of their value than immensi- ty, might nm parallel in theii- diu-ation with eternity. Ye stars ! that beam with inextinguishable brilliancy through the midnight-sky; oceans of flames and centres of worlds, through seemingly little points of light ! — he who shone with essential efTidgence, innumera- ble ages before your twinkling tapers were kindled ; and will shine with everlasting ma- jesty and beauty, when your places in the firmament shall be known no more ; He was involved for many years in the deepest ob- scoi-ity, lay concealed in the contemptible city IVazareth, lay disguised under the mean habit of a carpenter's son ;— that he might plant the heavens, (Isa. li. 16.) as it were, with new constellations, and array these clods of earth, these houses of clay, with a radiancy far superior to yoiu-s, a radiancy wliich will adoni the very heaven of heavens, when you shall vanish away like smoke,* or expire as momentary sparks from the smiD- ten steel. Comets ! that sometimas shoot into the illimitable tracts of ether, farther than the diseenmient of our eye is able to follovr, sometimes return from the long, long ex- cursion, and sweep om- affrighted hemis- phere with yoiu- enormous fieiy train ; that sometimes make near approaches (o the sun, and bum almost in liis immediate beams ; sometimes retire to the remotest distiuice, and freeze for ages in the exces- sive rigours of winter ; — he, who at his so- vereign pleasure withdraws the blazing won- der, or leads forth the portentous stranger, to shake terror over gtiilty kingdoms ; — he was overwhelmed \vitli the most shocking amazement, and ]ilunged into the deei»Ci>t anxiety ; was chilled with apprehensions of fear, and scorched by the flames of avenging * Alluding to a passage in Isaiah, which is I think grand and elevated beyond all comparison, — " Lift up your eyes to the hcaveiis, and look upon the earth Ijeneath ; for the hcavciis shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment ; and they that dwell the ein shall die like the feeble insect; but my righteousness shall be for ever, and my salvation shall not be alwlished." Isa. li. (i.— With the great Vitringa, I translate the words not in like )naniier, but like the feelile insect, which renilers tie lieriod more complete, the sense more emphatical, and is more agreeable to the genius of the sacred ori- ginal. 56 A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 'wrath ; — that I, and other depraved rebel- lious creatures, might not be eternally agi- tated with the extremes of jarring passions, opposite, yet on either side tormenting, far more tormenting to the soul than the sever- est degrees of your heat and cold to the hu- man sense. Ye planets ! that, winged with unimagina^ ble speed, traverse the regions of the sky, sometimes climbing millions and millions of miles above, sometimes descending as far below the great axle of your motions ; ye, that are so miiuitely faithful to the vicissi- tudes of day and night, so exactly punctual in bringing on the changes of your respective seasons ; — he, who launched you at first from his mighty arm ; who continually impels you with such wonderful rapidity, and guides you with such perfect regularity ; who fixes " the habitation of his holiness and his glo- ry," infinite heights above your scanty rounds ; he once became a helpless infant, sojourned in our inferior world, fled from the persecutor's sword, and wandered as a vagabond in a foreign land ; that he might lead our feet into the way of peace : that he might bring us aliens near to God ; bring us exiles home to heaven. Thou sun ! inexhaustible source of light, and heat, and comfort ; without whose pre- sence an universal gloom would ensue, and horror insupportable ; who, without the as- sistance of any other fire, sheddest day through a thousand realms ; and not con- fining thy munificence to realms only, ex- tendest thy enlightening influences to sur- rounding worlds ; prime cheerer of the ani- mal, and great enlivener of the vegetable tribes ; so beautiful in thyself, so beneficial in thy eflfects, that erring heathens address- ed thee wth adorations, and mistook thee for thy Maker ; — he, who iilled thy orb with a profusion of lustre, lustre in its di- rect emanations, insufltrably bright, but re- bated by reflection, delightfully mild ; he before whom thy meridian splendours are but a shade ; whose love transfused into the heart, is infinitely more exhilarating, than even thy sweet and clear shining after the rain ; — he divested himself of his all-tran- scending distinctions, and drew a veil over the effulgence of his divinity ; that by speaking to us face to face, as a man speak- eth unto his friend, he might dispel our in- tellectual darkness ; " his visage was mar- red," (Isa. liii. 14.) and he became the scorn of men, the outcast of the people, that by this manifestation of his unuttera- bly tender regard for our welfare, he might difi^use many a gleam of joy through our de- jected minds ; that in another state of things, he might clothe even our fallen na- ture with the honours of that magnificent luminary ; and give all the righteous to shine forth as the sun, in the kingdom of tiioir Fathtf. Thou moon ! that walkest among the host of stars, and in thy lucid appearance, art superior to them all : fair ruler of the night ! sometimes half restoring the day with thy waxing brightness ; sometimes waning into dimness, and scarcely scattering the nocturnal gloom ; sometimes covered with sackcloth, and alarming the gazing nations ; — he, who dresses thy opaque globe in beaming, but borrowed silver ; he whose dignity is unchangeable, underived, and all his owm, he vouchsafed to wear a body of clay ; he was content to appear as in a bloody eclipse, shorn of his resplendent beams, and surrounded with a night of hor- ror, which knew not one reviving ray. — Thus has he empowered his church, and a^ believers, to tread the moon under their feet ; (Rev. xii. 1.) hence inspired with the hope of brighter glory, and of more enduring bliss, are they enabled to triumph over all the vain anxieties and vainer amusements, of this sublunary, precarious, mutable world. Ye thunders ! that, awfully grumbling in the distant clouds, seem to meditate indig- nation, and form the first essays of a far more frightful peal ; or, suddenly bursting over our heads, rend the vault above, and shake the ground below, wth the hi- deous horrid crash ; ye that send your tre- mendous voUies from pole to pole, startling the savage herds, (Psalm xxix. 8.) and as- tonishing the humaft race ; — he, who per- mits terror to soimd her trumpet, in your deep, prolonged, enlarging, aggravated roar ; he uttered a feeble infantile cry in the stable, and strong expiring groans on the accursed tree, — that he might, in the gen- tlest accent, whisper peace to our souls, and at length tune our voices to the melody of heaven. O ye lightnings ! that brood and lie couchant in the sulphurous vapours, that glance with forked fury from the angry gloom, swifter and fiercer than the lion rushes from his den, or open into vast ex- pansive sheets of flame, sublimely waved over the prostrate world, and fearfully lin- gering in the frighted skies ; ye that for- merly laid in ashes the licentious abodes of lust and violence, that will ere long set on fire the elements, and co-operate in the con- flagration of the globe ; he who kindles your flash, and directs you when to sally, and where to strike ; he who commissions your whirling bolts, whom to kill and v\hom to spare ; he resigned his sacred person to the most barbarous indignities ; submitted his beneficent hands to the pon- derous hammer, and the piercing nail ; yea, withheld not his heart, his very heart, from the stab of the executioner's spear ; and in- stead of flashing confusion on his outrageous tormentors ; instead of striking them dead to the earth, or plunging them into tlie depths of hell with his fro\^•n ; he cried — in A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 57 his last moments, and with his agonizinpf lips, he cried — " Father forgive them, for they know not what they do !" O ! what a pattern of patience for his saints ! What an object of admiration for angels ! What a constellation of every mild, amiable, and benign virtue, shining in this hour of dark- ness, with ineffable splendour and beauty !* Hence, hence it is, that we are not trem- bling under the lightnings of mount Sinai ; that we are not blasted by the flames of di- vine vengeance, or doomed to dwell with everlasting burnings. Ye frowning wintry clouds ! oceans pen- dant in the air, and burdening the ^vinds ; he in whose hand you are an overflowing scourge ; or, by whose appointment, an ar- senalf of warlike stores ; he who opens your sluices, and a flood gushes forth to de- stroy the fruits of the earth, and dro^'im the husbandman's hopes ; who mould you in- to frozen balls, and you are shot, linked with death,| on the troops of his enemies ; * One can hsrdly forbear animadverting upon the disingenuous temper, and perverse taste of Celsus, who attempts to turn this most distinguishing and ornamental part of our Lord's hfe, into ridicule and reproach.— Having spoken of Christ as despitefully ustd, and arrayed in a purple robe, crowned with thorns, and holding, by way of mock majesty, a reed instead of a sceptre {for he enters into all these cir- cumstances, which is a testimony to the truth even from the mDuth of an enemy;) tie adds, "Why in the name of wonder, does he not, on this occasion at least, act theGod ? Why does he not deliver himself from this shocking ignominy, or execute some signal vengeance on the authors of such injurious and abu- sive insults, bothof himself and his Father ?" — Why, Celsus, because he was meekness and gentleness it- self; whereas your deities were slaves to their own turbulent and resentful passions; because they were little better than savages in human shape, who too often made a merit ot slaughter, and took a horrid pride in spilling blood : while Christ was tlie Prince of Peace, and came not to destroy men's lives, but to save: because any madman on earth, or fury from hell, is capable of venting his rage; but who amidst such unsutferable provocations and barbarities; who, having in his own hand the power to rescue himself, the power to avenge himself, could submit to all with an unruffled serenity of patience, and not only not be exasperated, but overcome in so triumphant a manner, evil with g(X)d ? None but Christ ! None but Christ ! This was compassion worthy of a God, clcmoncy and cliarily truly divine 1 Therefore the calumny raised by the same virulent objector, in another place, carries its own confutation, or rather falls with a weight of infamy on his dung- hill deities, v.hileit bears a most honourable testimo- ny to the majestic and invincible meekness of our Saviour. Says he to the Christian, ibid. p. 404. " Y'ou indeed take upon you to deride the images of our deities, but if Bacchus himself, or Hercules, had been present, you would not Iiave dared to offer such an affront ; or if you had been so presumptuous, would have severely smarted for your insolence; whereas, they who tormented the very person of your God, and even extended him with mortal agony on the cross, .sufi'eied no etfccts of his disple.asiue." + Juvenal seems to consider the clouds under the same character, in that beautiful line : Quicquid hylient telorum armamentaria coeli. — Sat. 13. t Job has informed us for what purpose the maga- zines of the firmament are stocked with hail. — That they may be ready ajiainst the day of battle and war, Jobxxxviii.23. Joshua has recorded what terrible slaughter has been made by th.cfe missile weapons of the Almighty, Josh. x. 11. — Hut the most dreadful description of this grcl ordnance of the heavens, is He, instead of discharging the ftn-iousness of his wrath upon his guilty head, poured out his prayers, poured out his sighs, pour- ed out his very soul, for me and my fellow transgressors, that by virtue of his inesti- mable propitiation, the overflowings of di- vine good will might be extended to sinful men : that the skies might pour down righ- teousness, and peace on her dowmy wings, peace with her balmy blessings, descend to dwell on earth. Ye vernal clouds ! furls of finer air, folds of softer moisture, he who draws you in co- pious exhalations from the briny deep, or- ders you to leave every distasteful quality behind, and become floating fountains of sweetest waters ; he who dissolves you in- to gentle rain, and dismisses you in fruit- ful showers, who kindly commissions you to drop dowTi fatness as you fall, and to scatter flowers over the field : He, in the unutterable bitterness of his spirit, was with- out any comforting sense of his almighty Father's presence ; he, when his bones were burnt up like a fire-brand, had not one drop of that sacred consolation, which on many of his afflicted servants, has been distilled as the evening dews, and has " given songs in the night" of distress: — that, from this unallayed and inconsolable anguish of our all-gracious master, we, as from a well of salvation, might derive large draughts of spiritual refreshment. Thou grand etherial bow ! whose beau- ties flush the firmament, and charm every spectator ; he, who paints thee on the fluid skirts of the sky, who decks thee with all the pride of colours, and bends thee into that graceful and majestic figiu-e, at whose command thy vivid streaks sweetly rise, or swiftly fade : — He, through all his life, was arrayed in the humble garb of poverty ; and, at his exit, wore the gorgeous garment of con- tempt, insomuch, that even his own familiar friends, ashamed or afraid to own him, " hid, as it were, their faces from him "* to teach us a becoming disdain for the unsubstantial and transitory glitter of all worldly vani- ties ; to introduce us, in robes brighter than the tinges of thy resplendent arch, even in the robes of his own innnaciilate righteous- ness, to introduce us before that august and venerable throne, which the peaceful rain- bow surrounds, surrounds as a pledge of in- violable fidelity and infinite mercy. Ye storms and tempests ! which vex the continent, and toss the seas, which dash given us in Rev. xvi. 21. There fell upon men a great hail out of heaven, every stone about the weight of a talent. • Isa. liii. X " Fuit tanquam aliquis, a quo quisque faciem occultaret." He was as some flagitious and abandoned wretch, from whom every one, disdaining .such a character, and disclaiming siich an acquaint- ance, studiously hid his face. 58 A DESCANT UPON CREATION. navies on the rocks, and drive forests from their roots ; he whose breath rouses you into such resistless fury, and whose nod controls you in your voidest career ; he, who holds the rapid and raging hurricane in straitened reins, and walks, dreadfully serene, on the very wings of the wind : He went, all meek and gentle. Like a lamb to the slaughter for us ; and, as a sheep be- fore her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth Thus are we instructed to bear, with decent magnanimity, the various assaults of adversity, and to pass with a becoming tranquillity of temper, through all the rude blasts of injurious treatment. Thus are we delivered from the unutter- able fiercer storms of incensed and inexor- able justice ; from the " fire, the brimstone, and the horrible tempest, which Avill be the final portion of the ungodly." Thou pestilence ! that scatterest ten thousand poisons from thy baleful \vings ; tainting the air, and infecting the nations ; imder whose malignant influence, joy is blasted, and nature sickens ; mighty regions are depopulated, and once crowded cities are left without inhabitants — He, who arms thee with ine\'itable destruction, and bids thee march before his angry counte- nance,* to spread desolation among the tents of the wicked, and be the forerunner of fiir vnore fearful indignation : He, in his holy humanity, was arraigned as a criminal ; and thotigh innocence itself, yea, the very pat- tern of perfection, was condemned to die, like the most execrable miscreant ; as a nuisance to society, and the very bane of the public happiness, he was hurried away to execution, and hammered to the gibbet ; ^that, by his blood, he might prepare a sovereign medicine to cure us of a more fa- tal distemper, than the pestilence which walketh in darkness, or the sickness which destroyeth at noon-day ; that he might himself say to our last enemy, " O death, I wiU be thy plague ; O grave, I wQl be thy destruction." (Hos. xiii. 14.) Heat ! \\'hose buriiijig influence parches the Lybian wilds ; tans into soot the Ethi- opian's complexion, and makes every species of life pant, and di'oop, and languish ; cold, whose icy breath glazes yearly the Russian seas, often glues the frozen sailor to the cordage, and stiflTens the traveller into a statue of rigid flesh : He who sometimes blends you both, and produces the most agreeable temperature, sometimes suffers you to act separately, and rage with intol- erable severity ; that King of heaven, and controller of imivcrsal nature, when dwell- ing in a tabernacle of clay, was exposed to chilling damps, and smitten by si J try • Before him went the pestilence, Hab. iii. beams ; the stars, in their midnight watch- es, heard him pray ; and the sun in his meridian fervours saw him toil. Hence are our frozen hearts dissolved into a min- gled flow of wonder, love, and joy ; being conscious of a deliverance from those in- sufferable flames, which, kindled by divine indignation, burn to the lowest hell. Thou ocean, vast world of waters ! He, who sunk that capacious bed for thy recep- tion, and poured the liquid element into im- fathomable channels ; before whom, all thy foaming billows, and floating mountains, are as the small drop of a bucket ; who, by the least intimation of his will swells thy fluid kingdoms in wild confusion, to mingle with the clouds ; or reduces them in calm com* posure to slumber on the shore ; be, who once gave thee a warrant to overwhelm the whole earth, and bury all its degenerate in- habitants in a watery grave ; but has now laid an everlasting embargo on thy boister- ous waves, and bound thee, all fierce and madding as thou art, in chains stronger than adamant, yet formed of despicable sand : and all the waves of vengeance and wrath, of tribulation and anguish, passed over his crucified body, and his agonizing soul ; that we might emerge from those depths of mis- ery, from that abyss of guilt, into which we were plunged by Adam's fall, and more irretrievably sunk by our own transgressions ; that at the last, we might be restored to that happy world, which is represented, in the vision of God, as having " no sea," ( Rev. xxi, 1.) to denote its perpetual stability, and undisturbed serenity. Ye mountains ! that overlook the clouds, and project a shade into distant provinces ; everlasting pyramids of nature, not to be shaken by conflicting elements ; not to be shattered by the bolts of thunder, nor im- paired even by the ravages of time ; he, who bid your ridges rise high, and your founda- tion stand so fast ; he, in whose scale you are lighter than dust ; in whose eyes you are less than nothing; — He sunk beneath a load of woes — woes unsupportable, but not his o\\Ti ; when he took our iniquities upon himself, and heaved the more than mountainous burden from a guilty \^'orld. Ye verdant woods ! that crowii our hills, and are crowned yourselves with leafy hon- ours ; ye humble shrubs, adorned in spring with opening blossoms ; and fanned in summer by gentle gales ; ye that in distant climes, or in cultivated gardens, breathe out spicy odours, and embalm the air with de- lightful perfumes. He — yoiu- all-glorious and ever-blessed Creator's head, was encir- cled with the thorny wreath, his face was defiled with contumelious spitting, and his body bathed in a bloody sweat, that we might wear the crown — the crowni of glory which fiadeth not away, and live for ever- A DESCANT UPON CREATION. Bd more Blirrounded with delights as much sur- jmssiiig yoiirs, as yours exceed the rugged ilesolatious of winter. Thou mantling vine ! He, who hangs on thy slender shoots, the rich, transparent, weighty cluster ; who, under thy unorna- mented fuliage, and amidst the pores of thy Otherwise worthless boughs, prepares the liquor, — the refined and exalted liquor, which cheers the nations, and fills the cup of joy; trees, whose branches are elevated and waving in air ; or diffused, in easy con- finement, along a sunny wall : He, who bends you with a lovely burden of delicious fruits, whose genial warmth beautifies their rind, and mellows their taste ; — He, when voluntarily subject to our wants, instead of being refreshed with your generous juices, or regaled with your luscious pulp, had a loathsome potion of vinegar, mingled with gall, addressed to his lips : — that we might sit under the shadow of his merits with great tranquillity and the utmost complacen- cy ; that, ere long, being admitted into the paradise of God, we might eat of the tree of life, (Rev. ii. 7.) and drink new mne wdth him in his Father's kingdom. Ye luxuriant meadows ! He, who without the seedman's industry, replenishes your ir- riguous lap with never-failing crops of herb- age, and enamels their cheerful green with flowers of eveiy hue ; ye fertile fields ! — He, who blesses the labours of the husband- man, enriches your well-tiUed plains with waving harvests, and calls forth the staff of life from your furrows ; he, who causes both meadows and fields to laugh and sing, for the abundance of plenty; — He was no stranger to coiToding hunger, and parching thirst; he alas ! ate the bitter bread of woe, and had " plenteousness of tears to drink ;" — that we might partake of richer dainties than tliose which are produced by tlie dew of heaven, and proceed from the fatness of the earth ; that we might feed on " the hidden manna," and eat the bread wliich giveth life — eternal life — imto the world. Ye mines ! rich in golden ore, or bright with veins of silver ; that distribute your sliining treasures as far as winds can waft the vessel of commerce, which bestow your alms on monarchs,, and have princes for your pensioners: — Ye beds of gems, toy-shops of nature ! which form, in dark retirement, the glittering stone ; diamonds, that sparkle with a brilliant water ; rubies, that glow with a crimson flame ; emeralds, dipped in the freshest verdure of spring; sajjphires, decked with the fairest drapery of the sky; topaz, emblazed with dazzling yellow ; ame- thyst, empui'i)led with the blushes of tlie morning : — He, who tinctures the metallic dust, and consolidates the lucid droj) ; he, when sojourning on earth, had no riches but the riches of disinterested benevolence, had no ornament, but the ornament of unspotted purity. Poor he was in his circumstances, and mean in all his accommodations, that we might be rich in grace, and " obtain salvation with eternal glory ;" that we might inhabit the new Jerusalem, that splendid city, whose streets are paved with gold, w'hose gates are formed of pearl, and the walls garnished wuth all manner of precious stones. (Rev. xxi. 19, 21.) Ye gushing fountains ! that trickle potable silver through the matted grass ; ye fine transparent streams ! that glide in crj'stal waves, along your fringed banks ; ye deep and stately rivers ! that wind and wander in your course, to spread your favours wider, that gladden kingdoms in your progress, and augment the sea with your tribute : — He who supplies all your currents from his . owni overflowingand inexhaustible liberality ; he, when his nerves were racked with ex- quisite pain, and his blood inflamed by a raging fever, cried, I thirst, and was de- nied (unparalleled hardship !) in this his great extremity, was denied the poor refresh- ment of a single drop of water ; — that we, ha\'ing all-sufficiency in all things, might abound to every good work ; might be filled with the fulness of spiritual blessings here, and hereafter be satisfied with that fidness of joy which is at God's right hand for ever- more. Ye birds ! cheerful tenants of the boughs, gaily dressed in glossy plumage, who wake the morn, and solac£ the groves, with yoiu: artless lays : inimitable architects, who, without rule or line, build your pensile structure with all the nicety of proportion ; you have each his commodious nest, roofed with shades, and lined with warmth, to pro- tect and cherish the callow-brood: — but he, who tuned your throats to harmony, and taught you that curious skill ; he was a man of sorrows and had not where to lay his head, — had not where to lay his head, till he felt the pangs of dissolution, and was laid in the silent grave ; — that we, dwelling under the wings of Omnipotence, and rest- ing in the bosom of infinite love, might spend an harmonious eternity in " singing the song of Moses and of the Lamb." Bees ! industrious workmen, that sweep with busy wing, the flowery garden, and search the blooming heath, and sip the mel- lifluous dews, — strangers to idleness ! — that ply, with incessant assiduity, your pleasing task, and suffer no opening blossom to pass unexplored, no sunny gleam to slip away unimproved : most ingenious artificers ; that cling to the fragrant buds, drain them of their treasured sweet, and extract, (if I may so speak,) even the odoriferous souls of herbs, and plants, and flowers ; — you, when you have completed your work, have collected, refined, and seairely lodged the 60 A DESCANT L'PON CREATION. ambrosial stores ; when you might reason- ably expect the peaceful fruition of your acquisitions, you, alas 1 are barbarously de- stroyed, and leave yoiu" hoarded delicacies to others, leave them to be enjoyed by your very murderers. I cannot but pity your hard destiny ! — How then should my bow- els melt with sympathy, and my eyes flow with tears,* when I remember, that thus, thus it fared with your and our incarnate Maker ! After a life of the most exempla- ry and exalted piety, a life filled with offi- ces of beneficence, and labours of love : He was, by wicked hands, crucilied and slain : he left the honey of his toil, the balm of his blood, and the riches of his obedience, to be shared among others ; to be shared even among those who too often •crucify him afresh, and put him to open shame. Shall I mention the animal,f which spins ber soft, her shining, her exquisitely tine silken thread ! whose matchless manufac- tures lend an ornament to grandeur, and make royalty itself more magnificent. Shall I take notice of the cell, in which, when the gaiety and business of life are over, the little recluse immures herself, and spends the remainder of her days in retirement ? Shall I rather observe the sepulchre, which, when cloyed with pleasure, and weaiy of the world, she prepares for her own interment ; or how, Mhen a stat- ed period is elapsed, she wakes from a death-like inactivity; breaks the inclosure of her tomb ; throws off the dusky shroud ; as- sumes a new form ; puts on a more sump- tuous array ; and from an insect creeping on the ground, becomes a winged inhabitant of the air ? — No, this is a poor reptile, and therefore unworthy to serve as an illustra- tion, when any character of the Son of God comes under consideration. Eut let me cor- rect myself. Was not Christ (to use the language of his ov.n blessed Spirit) a worm, and no man ? ( Psalm xxii. 6. ) In appear- • Canst thou, vmgrateful man, his torments see, Nor drop a tear for him who poured his blood for thee ? Pitt's Poet}is. + No one, I hope, will be offended at my introduc- ing, on such an occasion, creatures of so low a rank, sinc6 even thevolumesof inspiration seem to lend me the sanction oftheir sacred authority. As they disdain not to compare the blessed Jesus to a door, a high- way, &LC. And perhaps, all comparisons whicli re- spect a being or infinite divinity, are not only mean, but ecumUy mean and imworthy. I am sensible, likewise, that in this para.^raph, and Bome otheis, all the circumstances are not "completely correspond' nt. lUit if.in some grand parti', iilars the redition answers to the description, th:-; I trust will be sufficient for my purpose, and satisfactory to my readers. — Perhrpsit would be no mistaken caution, to apply tlir same oV-servation to manv of the beauti- ful similitudes, parables, and allegories used bv our Lord: such as the brazen serpent, the unjust steward, thethi-f ill thenight.&c. which, ifscrupulouslvaifted, or rigorously strains d, for an entire coincidence in every circumstance, must appear to great disadvan- tage, and lead into i>alpable jnconvenicncies. ance such, and treated as such—Did not he also bequeath the fine linen of his own most perfect righteousness, to compose the marriage-garment* for our disarrayed and defiled souls ? Did he not, before his flesh saw corruption, emerge triumphant from the grave ; and not only mount the lower firmament, but ascend the heaven of heavens ; taking possession of those sublime abodes in our name, and as our forerunner. Ye cattle ! that rest in your inclosed pas- tures ; ye beasts ! that range the unlimited for- ests ; ye fish ! that rove through trackless paths of the sea ; sheep ! clad in garments, which when left by you, are wore by kings ; kine ! who feed on verdure, which, transmuted in your bodies, and strained from your udders, furnishes a repast for queens; lions ! roaring after your prey ; leviathan ! taking your pas- time in the great deep : with all that wing • This, and several other hints, interspersed through- out this work, refer to the active and passive righte- ousness of Christ, imputed to believers for their jus- tification. Which in the opinion of many great ex- positors, is the mystical and the most sublime mean- ing of the wedding-garment, so emphatically and for- cibly recommendea by the teacher sent from God, ( Mai th. xxii. 11.) A doctrine, which some of those who honour my Meditations with a perusal, probably may not receive with much, if any approbatioi^. I hope the v/hole performance may not be cashiered for one difference of sentiment; and I beg that the senti- ment itself m.ay not hastily be rejected without a se- rious hearing. For I have the pleasure of being inti- mately acquainted with a {jf'ntlemanof good lea. ning and distinguished sense, u o had once as strong pre- possessions against this tenet, as can well be ima- gined. Yet now he not only admits it as a truth, but embraces it, as the joy of his heart, and cleaves to it as the rock of his hopes. A clear and cogent. Treatise, entitled. Submission to the righteousness of God, was the instrument of re- moving his p ejudices, and reducing him to a better judgment, — in which he has been happily confirmed by the authority of the most illustrious names, and the works of the most eminent pens, that ever adorn- ed our church and nation, — in this number, are Bi- shop Jewel, one of our great reformers ; and the other venerable compilers of our homilies ; Archbishop Ush- er, that oracle of universal learning; Bishop Hall, the devout and spnghtly orato ■ of his age ; the co- pious and fervent Bishop Hopkins; the singularly good and unaffected Bishop Beveridge; that everlast- ing honour of the bench of judicature. Lord Chief Justice Hales; the nervous, florid, and persuasive Dean Stanhope; the practical and persjiicuous Mr. Burkitt; and to summon no other evidence, that matchless genius Milton, who in various parts of his divine poem, inculcates this comfortable truth ; and in one passage, represents it under the very same image, which is made use of ab ive. Book X. 1. 2-22. 1 had almost forgot to mention that the Treatise, entitled Submission, &c. was written by Mr. Benja- min Jenks; whose book of devotions has deservedly passed through eleven editions , is truly admirable for the sublimity, spirituality, and propriety of the sentiments, as well as for the concise form, arid pathe- tic turn of the expression. — Whose book of medita- tions, though no less worthy of general accejitance, has, for a considerable time, been almost unknown and extinct. But it is now revived, and is lately le- published in two octavo volumes, l)y Mr. James Ri- vington. For which service he hasmy thanks, and I flatter myself he will have the thanks' of the public : as I am persuaded, could religion and virtue speak, he would have their acknowledgments also. Since few Treatises are more happily calculated torepresent re- ligion in its native beauty, and to promote the in;e - ests of genuine virtue. — On which account, I trust, the candid will excuse me. and the judicious will not condemn me, even though the recomm ni'.afion of those devotions and of these mediations may ajrpear to be a dig! essioii from my subject. A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 61 the firmament, or tread the soil, or swim the wave : — He, who spreads his ever-hos- pitable board ; who admits you all to be his continual guests ; and suffers you to want no manner of thing that is good ; — He was destitute, afflicted, tormented ; He endured all that was miserable and reproachfid, in order to exalt a degenerate race, who had debased themselves to a level Vvith the beasts that perish, unto seats of distinguished and immortal honour, in order to introduce the slaves of sin, and heirs of hell, into mansions of consummate and everlasting bliss. Surely, the conteniplatioa of such a sub- ject, and the distant anticipation of such a hope, may almost turn earth into heaven, and make even inanimate nature vocal with praise. Let it then break forth from every creature. Let the meanest feel the inspir- ing impulse ; let the greatest acknowledge themselves unable, worthily to express the stupendous goodness. Praise him, ye insects that crawl on the ground ! who though high above all height, humbled himself to dwell in dust. Birds of the ail-, waft on your wings and warble in your notes, his praise, who though Lord of the celestial abodes, while sojourning on earth, wanted a shelter, commodious as yoiu- nests — Ye rougher world of brutes, join with the gentle songsters of the shade, and howl to him your hoarse applause ; who breaks the jaw-bones of the infernal lion ; who softeDS into mildness the savage dis- position ; and bids the wolf lie dov/n, in a- micable agreement with the lamb. Bleat out, ye hills ; let broader lows be respon- sive from the vales : ye forests catch, and ye rocks retain the inarticulate hymn ; be- cause Messiah the prince feeds his flock like a shepherd. He gathers the lambs vvith his arm ; he carries them in his bosom ; and gently leads those that are with young. ( Isa. xl. II.) Wave, ye stately cedars, in sign of worship, wave your branching heads to him, who meekly bowed his own, on the accursed tree Pleasing prospects, scenes of beauty, where nicest art conspires with lavish nature, to form a paradise below, lay forth all your charms, and in all your charms confess yourselves a mere blank compared vvith his amiableness, who is the " fairest among ten thousand and altogether lovely." — Drop down, ye showers, and testify as you fall; testify of his grace, which descends more copiously than the rain, distils more sweetly than the dew Let sighing gales breathe, and murmuring rivulets flow ; breathe and flow in harmonious consonance to him, whose spirit is far more reviving than the cooling breeze, who is himself the fountain of living waters. Ye lightnings ! blaze to his honour, ye thunders sound his praise, while reverberat- ing clouds return the roar, and bellowing oceans propagate the tremendoiLS anthem. — Mutest of creatures, add your silent ora- tory, and display the triumphs of his meek- ness ; who though he maketh the clouds his chariot, and treadeth upon the waves of the sea J though the thunder is his voice, and the lightning his sword of justice ; yet amidst the most abusive and cruel injuries, ^vas submissive and lifted not his hand, was "dumb and opened not his mouth." — Great source of day, address thy radiant homage to a far sublimer sun ; write in all thy am- ple round, with every lucid beam, O write a testimony to him, who is the brightness of his Father's glory, who is th,^ Sun of right- eousness to a sinful world, and is risen ne- ver to go dolvn ; is risen to be our everlast- ing light Shine clear, ye skies; look gay, thou earth ; let the floods clap their hands, and let every creature wear a smile ; for he Cometh, the Creator himself cometh to be manifested in the flesh ; and with him comes pardon, peace, and joy ; every virtue and all felicity comes in his train — Angels and archangels, let your songs be of Jesus, and teach the very heavens to echo with his adored and majestic name. Ye beheld him, with greater transports of admiration, when you attended his agony in the garden, and saw him prostrate on the ground, than when you beheld universal nature rising at his call, and saw the wonders of his creating might. Tune to loftiest notes your golden harps, and waken raptmes unknown before even in heavenly breasts, while all that has breath, swells the concert of harmony ; and all that has being unites in the tribute of praise. Chiefly let man exalt his voice ; let man, with distinguished hosannas, hail the Re- deemer. For man he was stretched on the racking cross ; for man, he was consigned to the gloomy sepulchre ; for man, he pro- cured grace unmeasurable, and bliss incon- ceivable However different, therefore, in yourage, ormore different in your circumstan- ces, be unanimous, O men ! in magnifying a Saviour, who is no respecter of persons, who gave himself a ransom for all — Bend, ye kings, from your thrones of ivoiy and gold, in your robes of imperial purple, fall pros- trate at his feet ; who forsook a nobler throne, and hiid aside more illustrious en- signs of majesty, that you might reign with God for ever and ever Children of pover- ty, meanest of mortals, (if any can be call- ed poor who are thus enriched ; if any can be accounted mean who are thus ennobled,) rejoice, greatly rejoice in God your Saviour ; who chose to be Indigent, was willing to be contemned ; that you might be entitled to the treasures, and be numbered with the princes of heaven. Sons of affliction, though harassed with pain, and innured to anguish, O ! change your groans into songs of grati- A DESCANT UPON CREATION. tilde : let no complaining voice, no jarring string be heard, in the iniiversal symphony, but glorify the Lamb even in the fii'es ; (Isa. xxiv. 15.) who himself bore greater tor- ment than you feel ; and has promised you a share in the joy which he inherits ; who has made your sufferings short, and will make your rest eternal. — Men of hoary locks, bending beneath a weight of years, and tottering on the brink of the grave ; let Christ be your support under all infirmities ; lean upon Christ, as the rock of your salva- tion ; let his name, his precious name, form the last accents which quiver on your pale expiring lips ;— and let this be the first that lisps on your tongues, ye tender infants, re- member your Redeemer in your earliest mo- ments ; devote the choice of your hours to the learning of his will, and the chief of your strength to the glorifying of his name ; who in the perfection of health, and the very prime of manhood, was content to be- come a motionless and ghastly corpse, that you might be girt with the vigour, and clothed \vith the bloom of eternal youth. Ye spirits of just men made perfect ! who are released from the burden of the flesh ; and freed from all the vexatious solicitations of corruption in yourselves ; delivered from all the injurious effects of iniquity in others ; who sojourn no longer in the tents of strife, or the territories of disorder ; but are re- ceived into that pure, harmonious, holy so- ciety, where every one acts up to his amia- ble and exalted character ; where God him- self is pleased graciously and immediately to preside You find, not without pleasing astonishment, your hopes improved into ac- tual enjoyment, and your faith superseded by the beatific vision ; you feel all your for- mer shyness of beha\dour, happily lost in the overflowings of unbounded love ; and all your little differences of opinion entirely bore down by tides of invariable truth. Bless, therefore, with all your enlarged powers, bless his infinitely larger goodness ; who, when he had overcome the sharpness of death, opened the gates of paradise, open- ed the kingdom of heaven to all genera- tions, and to every denomination of the faithful. Ye men of holy conversation and humble tempers, think of him who loved you, and washed you from your sins in his own blood ; think of him on your silent couch ; talk of him in every social interview ; glory in his excellencies, make your boast of his obedience, and add, still continue to add, the incense of a dutiful life, to all the obla- tions of a grateful tongue Weakest of be- lievers, who go mourning imder a sense of guilt, and conflicting \vith the ceaseless as- saults of temptation, put off your sackcloth and be girded with gladness. Because .Je- sus is as merciful to hear, as he is mighty to help. Because he is touched with the tenderest sympathizing concern, for all your distresses ; and he lives, ever lives, to be your advocate with the Father. — Why then should uneasy doubts sadden your counten- ances ? Why should desponding fears op- press your soul ? Turn, turn, those discon- solate sighs into cheerfid hymns, since you have his powerful intercession, and his in- estimable merits, to be your anchor in all tribulations, to be yoiu- passport into eter- nal blessedness. Most of all, ye ministers of the sanctu- ary, heralds commissioned from above ; lift every one his voice like a trumpet, and loudly proclaim the Redeemer. Get ye up, ye ambassadors of peace, get ye up into the high mountains ; and spread far and wide the honoiu-s of the Lamb " that was slain, but is alive for evermore." Teach every sacred roof to resound with his fame, and every human heart to glow with his love. Declare as far as the force of words will go, declare the inexhausible fulness of that great atonement, whose merits are commen- surate with the glories of the Divinity.* Tell the sinful wretch, what pity yearns in Immanuel's bowels ; what blood he has spilt, what agonies he has endured, what wonders he has wrought, for the salvation of his enemies. Invite the indigent to be- come rich ; entreat the guilty to accept of pardon, because with the crucified Jesus is plenteous redemption, and all sufficiency to save While you, placed in conspicuous stations, pour the joyful sound, may I, as I steal through the vale of humble life, catch the pleasing accents ! For me the author of all blessings became a curse : for me, his- bones were dislocated, and his flesh was torn ; he hung with streaming veins, and agonizing soul on the cross for me. O ! may I in my little sphere, and amidst the scanty circle of my acquaintance, at least whisper these glad transporting tidings ? whisper them from my own heart, that they * If in this place and others, I have spoken magni- ficently of the blood of Christ, and its insuperable efficacy to expiate guilt, I think it is no more than is expressed in a very celebrated hymn, written by one of the greatest wits, who had also been one of the greatest libertines, and afterwards commenced one of the most remarkable penitents in France ; a hymn, which even Mr. Bayle confesses to be a vei-y fine one, which another critic calls an admirable one, and which a genius superior to them both, recommends as a noble one. (See Spect. Vol. vii. No. 513.) The author having acknowledged his crimes to be beyond measure heinous, and almost beyond forgive- ness provoking — so provoking, as to render teai s from such eyes offensive, and prayers from such lipsabomi- nable; composes himself to submit, without the least repining sentiment ; to submit even with p.aiseand adoration, to the most dreadful doom. Accordingly, he stands in resigned expectation of being instantly struck by the bolts of vengeance ; but with a turn of thought equally surprising and sprightly, with afeith properly founded and happily firm, he adds. Yet where ! O where ! can even thy thunders fall ? Christ's blood o'erspreadsai.d shields mefromihem all. A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 63 may surely reacli, and sweetly penetrate theirs. But wlien men and angels raise the grand hymn, when all worlds and all beings add their collective acclamations ; this full, fer- vent, and universal chorus will be so infe- rior to the riches of the Redeemer's grace, so disproportionate to the magnificence of his glojy, that it will seem but to debase the unutterable subject it attempts to exalt, the loud hallelujah will die away, in the so- lemn mental eloquence of prostrate, raptur- ous, silent adoration. O Goodness infinite ! goodness immense ! And love that passeth knowledge !— words are rain , Language is lost in wonders so divine " Come then expressive silence muse his praise," CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE NIGHT, AND THE STARRY HEAVENS, A WINTER-PIECE. •*;,Ji' JIEDITATIONS OF III51 SHALL EE SWEET." PSALM CIV. 34, TO PAUL OIICHARD, ESQ. of STOKE-ABBEY, DEVONSHIRE. Dear Sir, As your honoured father Avas pleas- ed to make choice of me to answer in your name at the font, and to ex- ercise a sort of guardianship over your spiritual interests, permit me, by putting these little treatises into your hand, to fulfil some part of that so- lemn obligation. Gratitude for many signal favours, and a conscientious regard to my sacred engagement, have long ago inspired my breast with the warmest wishes, both for your true dignity, and real happiness. Nor can 1 think of a more endearing, or a more ef- fectual way of advancing either the one or the other, than to set before you a sketch of your excellent father's charactei'. Illustrious examples are the most winning incitements to vir- tue ; and none can come attended with such particular recommenda- tions to you, sir, as the pattern of that worthy person from whom you derive yoiu- rery being. A most cordial and reverential esteem for the divine word, was one of his remarkable qualities. Those oracles of Heaven were his principal delight, and his inseparable compa- nions. Your gardens, your solitary walks, and the hedges of your fields, can witness (Joshua xxiv. 27.) with what an unwearied assiduity he ex- ercised himself in the law of tlie Lord. From hence he fetched his maxims of wisdom, and formed his judgment of things; the saci'ed pre- cepts were the model of his tein[)or, and the guide of his life ; while the precious promises were the joy of his heart, and his portion for ever. Improving company was another of his most relishing pleasures. Few gentlemen were better furnished, ei- ther with richness of fancy, or copious- ness of expression, to bear a shining part in conversation. With these talents he always endeavoured to give some useful, generally some re- ligious, turn to the discourse. Nor did he ever reflect with greater com- placency on his social hours, than when they tended to glorify the eter- nal majesty, and to waken in himself and otliers a more lively spirit of devotion. To project for the good of others, was his frequent study ; and to car- ry those benevolent contrivances in- to execution, his favourite employ. When visited by the young pers<)ns of the neighbourhood, far from tak- ing an ungraceful pride t(» initiate them in debauchery, or confirm them in a riotous habit, it was his inces- sant aim, by finely-adapteeyarecommencingpreach- ers, Matth. iv. 19, he exhorts them, con- formably to the nature of their late occupa- tion, to use the same assiduity and address in winning souls, as they were wont to ex- ercise in catching the finny prey — For the farther illustration of this no less useful, than curious subject, I would refer my read- er to a valuable note in Sir Isaac Newton's Observations on the I'ropheiies, p I 18. ,llo. edition- 70 PREFACE. of long-deduced arguments, or close connected reasonings. The contem- plation of the heavens and the earth, of their admirable properties and beneficial changes, has always afford- ed the most exalted gratification to the human mind. In compliance with this prevailing taste, I have drawn my serious admonitions from the stupendous theatre, and varie- gated scenery of rhe universe ; that the reader may learn his duty from his very pleasures ; may gather wis- dom mingled with virtue, from the most refined entei'tainments, and no- blest delights. The evening drawing her sables over the Avorld, and gently darken- ing into Night, is a season peculiarly proper for sedate consideration. All circumstances concur to hush our passions, and soothe our cares, to tempt our steps abroad, and prompt our thoughts to serious reflection. Then is the time For those whom wisdom, and whom nature charm, To steal themselves from the degen'rate crowd, And soar above this little scene of things ; To tread low thoughted vice beneath their feet; To soothe the throbbing passions into peace, And woo lone quiet in her silent walks.* The favour I would solicit for the first of the following compositions is, that it may be permitted to attend in such i-etired and contemplated ex- cursions, to attend, if not imder the character of a friend, at least in the humble capacity of a servant or a page ; as a servant to open the door * Thomson's Autumn, 1, 973. last edit. 12mo. of meditation, and i-emove every im- pediment to those better exercises of the mind, which blend advantage with amusement, and improve while they delight ; as a page, to gather up the unstable fluctuating train of fan- cy, and collect her fickle powers into a consistent, regular and useful ha- bit of thinking. The other conversant among the starry regions, would lead the ima- gination through those beautiful tracts of unclouded azure, and point out to the judgment some of those astonishing particulars which so eminently signalize the celestial worlds. A prospect this to which curiosity attracts our eyes, and to which scripture itself often directs our study, a prospect beyond all others most excellently calculated to enlarge the soul, and ennoble its con- ceptions ; to give the grandest ap- prehensions of the everlasting God, and create sentiments of becoming superiority, with relation to all tran- sitory interests; in a word, to furnish faith with the surest foundation for a holy afiiance and true magnani- mity of spirit, to aff"ord piety the strongest motives, both for a lively gratitude, and profound veneration. While Galileo lifts his tube, and discovers the prodigious magnitude of those radiant orbs ; while Newton measiu'es their amazing distances, and unites the whole system in har- monious order by the subtile influ- ences of attraction ; I would only, like the herald before that illustrious Hebrew, (Gen. xli. 43.) proclaim at every turn, " Bow the knee, and adore the Almighty Maker, magnify his eternal name, and make his praise like all his works, to be glorious. CONTEMPLATIONS ON I'HE NIGHT. The business of the day dispatched, and the sultry heats abated, invited me to the re- creation of a walk, a walk in one of the fin- est recesses of the country, and in one of the most pleasant evenings which the sum- mer season produced. The limes and elms, uniting their branches over my head, formed a verdant canopy, and cast a most refreshing shade. Under my feet lay a carpet of nature's velvet ; grass intermingled with moss, and embroidered with flowers. Jessamines, in conjunction with woodbines, twined around the trees ; displaying their artless beauties to the eye, and diffusing their delicious sweets through the air. On either side, the boughs, round- ed into a set of regular arches, opened a view into the distant fields, and presented me with a prospect of the bending skies. The little birds, all joyous and grateful for the favours of the light, were paying their acknowledgments in a tribute of harmony, and soothing themselves to rest with songs, while a French horn from a neighbouring seat, sent its melodious accents, softened by •the length of their passage, to complete the concert of the grove. Roving in this agreeable manner, my thoughts were exercised on a subject still more agreeable than the season, or the scene, I mean our late signal victory over the imited forces of intestine treason, and foreign invasion, a victory which pours joy through the present age, and will transmit its intiuence to generations yet unborn Are not all the blessings which can endear society, or render life itself desirable, cen- tered in our present happy constitntion, and auspicious government ? Wore they not all ■struck at by that inijiious and horrid blow, meditated at Rome, levelled by France, and seconded by factious spirits at home ? Who then can be sufficiently thankful for the gra- cious interposition of Providence, which has not only averted the impending ruin, but tinrned it, with aggravated confusion, on the authors of our troubles. Methinks, every thing valuable which I possess ; every thing charming which I be- hold, conspire to enhance this ever-memor- able event. To this it is owing that I caa ramble unmolested along the vale of private life, and taste all the innocent satisfactions of a contemplative retirement. — Had rebel- lion* succeeded in her detestable designs ; instead of walking with security and com- placence in these flowery paths, I might have met the assassin with his dagger, or have been obliged to abandon my habita- tion, and " embrace the rock for a shelter." — Farewell then, ye fragrant shades ; seats of meditation and calm repose ! I should have been driven from your loved retreats, to make way for some barbarous, some in- sulting victor. Farewell then, ye pleasing toils, and wholesome amusements of my ru- ral hours ! I should no more have reared the tender flower to the sun ; no more have taught the espalier to expand her boughs ; nor have fetched any longer from my kit- chen-garden the purest supplies of health. Hiid rebellion succeeded in her detesta- ble designs, instead of being regaled with the music of the woods, I might have been • Referring to the rebellion set on foot in the year 1745, which for several months made a very alarming progress in the North ;— but was happily cxiinfjuished by the gloiioiis anil decisive viclur^ at fulluLlen. 72 CONTEMPLATIONS alarmed with the sound of the trumpet, and all the thunder of war. Instead of being entertained with this beautiful landscape, I might have beheld our houses ransacked, and our villages plundered : I might have beheld our fenced cities encompassed with armies, and oar fruitful fields " clothed with desolation : " or have been shocked with the more frightful images of garments rolled in blood," and of a ruffian's blade reeking from a brother's heart. Instead of peace, with lier cheering olives, sheltering our abodes ; instead of justice, with her impartial scale, securing our goods ; persecution had brand- ished her sword, and slavery clanked her chains. Nor are these miseries imaginary only, or the creatures of a groundless panic. There are in a neighbouring kingdom, who very lately experienced them in all their ri- gour.* And if the malignant spirit of l*o- pery had forced itself into oiu: church ; if an abjured pretender had cut his way to our throne, we could have no reason to expect a mitigation of their severity on our be- half. But supposing the tender mercies of a bigoted usurper to have been somewhat less cruel ; where, alas ! would have been the encouragement to cultivate our little portion ; or what pleasure could arise from an improved spot ; if both the one and the other lay every moment at the mercy of lawless power ? This imbittering circum- stance would spoil their relish ; and by ren- dering them a precarious, would render them a joyless acquisition. In vain might the vine spread lier purple clusters, in vain •be lavish of her generous juices, if tyranny, ■like a ravenous harpy, should be always ho- vering over the bowl, and ready to snatch it from the lip of industry, or wrest it from the hand of liberty. Liberty ! that dearest of names ; and pro- perty ! that best of charters ; give an addi- tional, an inexpressible charm to every de- lightful object. See how the declining sun ■ has beautified the western clouds ; has ar- rayed them in crimson, and skirted them -with gold. Such a refinement of our do- mestic bliss is property, such an improve- ment of our public privileges is liberty — When the lamp of day shall entirely with- draw his beams, there will still remain the same collection of floating vapours j but O ! ■ how changed, how gloomy ! The carnation- streaks are faded ; the golden edges are worn away ; and all the lovely tinges are lost in a leaden-coloured louring sad)iess. • See a Pamphlet entitled Popery always the same, whi -h contains a narrative of the persecutions arA severe hard hips lately suffered by the protestants in the southern p?.rts of Fnuice ; and r!oses with a most seasonable, slarmiiis;, ar.d spirited address to the in- habitanU of Gi«at Britiia. Printed 174t>. Such woidd be the aspect of all these scenes of beauty, and all these abodes of pleasure, if exposed continually to the caprice of ar- bitrary sway, or held in a state of abject and cringing dependence. The sun has almost finished his daily race, and hastens to the goal. He des- cends lower and lower, till his chanot- wheek seem to hover on the utmost verge of the sky. What is somewhat remarkable, the orb of light upon the point of setting, grows considerably broader. The shadows of objects, just before they become blended in undistinguishable darkness, are exceed- ingly lengthened* — Like blessings little prized while possessed ; but highly esteem- ed, the very instant they are preparing for their flight ; bitterly regretted when once they are gone, and to be seen no more. The radiant globe is now half immersed beneath the dusky earth, or as the ancient poet speaks, is shooting into the ocean, and sinks in the western sea And could I view the sea at this juncture, it woidd yield a most amusing and curious spectacle. The rays, striking horizontally on the liquid element, give it the appearance of floating glass ; or reflected in many a different di- rection, form a beautiful multiplicity of colours. A stranger, as he walks along the sandy beach, and lost in pensive attention, listens to the miirmurings of the restless flood, is agreeably alarmed by the gay decor- ations of the surface. With entertainment and with wonder, he sees the curling waves, here glistering with white, there glowing with purple; in one place wearing an azure tincture, in another glancing a cast of un- dulating green ; in the whole, exhibiting a piece of fluid scenery, that may vie with yon- der pensile tapestries, tliough wrought in the loom, and tinged with the dyes of heaven. While I am transported by fancy to the shores of the ocean, the great luminary is sunk beneath the horizon, and totally liis- appears. The whole face of the ground is overspread with shades ; or, with what one of the finest painters of nature ciills a duu obscurity. Only a few very superior emin- ences are tipt with streaming silver. The tops of groves and lofty towers catch the last smiles of day ;f are still irradiated by the departing beams But O ! how tran- sient is the distinction ! how momentary the gift : Like all the blessings which mor- tals enjoy below, it is gone almost as soon as granted. See how languishingly it trem- • Majoresque Ciidunt altis de montibus umbrae. — Virfr. i See this remarkable appearance delicately des- cribed ; and wrought into a ccmparison, whicli in my opinion is one of the most jiiat, beautiful, and no- ble pie-crs of imagery to be found in modem poetr)-; Night Thoughts, No. II. p. •!:>. 4to. editioa. ON THE NIGHT. 73 bles on tlie leafy spire, and glimmers with e dying faintness, on the mountain's brow. The little vivacity that remains, decays every moment. It can no longer hold its station. While I sj)eak, it expires, and re- signs the world to the gradual approaches of night. Now twilight gray Ha3 in her sober iivery all things clad.» Every object a little while ago glared with light, but now all appears under a more qualified lustre. The animals har- monize with the insensible creation ; and what was gay in those, as well as glittering in this, gives place to an universal gravity. In the meadows all was jocund and sportive ; but now the gamesome lambs are grown weary of their frolics, and the tired shep- herd has imposed silence on his pipe. In the branches, all was sprightliness and song, but now the lively green is wrapt in the descending glooms ; and no tunefid airs are heard, only the plaintive stock-dove cooing mournfully through the grove. Should I i!ow be vain and trifling, the heavens and the earth would rebuke my unseasonable le- vity. Therefore, be these moments devot- ed to thoughts sedate as the closing day, solemn as the face of things. And indeed, however my social hours are enlivened with innocent pleasantry, let every evening, in her sable habit, toll the bell to serious consider- ation. Nothing can be more proper for a person who walks on the borders of eterni- ty, and is hasting continually to his final audit ; nothing more proper, than daily to slip away from the circle of amusements, and frequently to relinquisli the Inury of business, in crder to consider and adjust " the things that belong to his peace." Since the sun is departed, from whence can it jiroceed that I am not involved in pitchy darkness ? Whence these remainders of diminished brightness, which, though scarcely forming a refulgence, soften and soothe the horrors of night ? I see not the shining ruler, yet am cheered with a real though faint communication of his splen- dour. Does he remember us in his pro- gress through other climes ? does he send a detachment of his rays to escort us, during his personal absence ? or to cover (if I may use the military term) cur retreat from the scene of action ? Has he bequeathed us a dividend of his beams, suflicient to render our circumstances easy, and our situation agreeable, till sleep pours its soft impres- •sion on the organs of sense ; till sleep sus- pends all the operations of om' hands, and entirely supersedes any further occasion for the light. No ; it is ill judged and unreasonable to ascribe this beneficent conduct to the sun. Not unto him, not unto him ; but imto his Almighty Maker, we are obliged for this pleasant attendant, this valuable legacy. The gracioirs Author of our being has so disposed the collection of circumambient air, as to make it productive of this fine and wonderful effect. The sun-beams, falling on the higher parts of the aereal fluid, in- stead of passing on in straight lines, are bent inwards, and conducted to our sight. Their natiu'al course is over-rule'd, and they are bidden to wheel about, on purpose to fa- vour us with a welcome and salutary visit. — By which means the blessing of light, and the season of business, are considerably prolonged ; and what is a very endearing circumstance, prolonged most considerably when the vehement h,eats of summer in- cline the student to postpone his walk till the temperate evening prevails ; when the important laboiu-s of the hiu-vest c;ill the husbandman abroad before the day is fully risen. After all the ardonrs of the sultry day, how reviving is this coolness ! This gives new verdure to the fading plants, new viva- city to the withering flowers, and a more ex- quisite fragrance to their mingled scents. By tliis, the idr also receives a new force, and is (jualified to exert itself with greater activity ; qualified to brace our limbs, to heave our lungs, and to co-operate with a brisker impulse irr pei^petuating the circu- lation of our blood. This I might call the grand idembic of nature, which distils her most sovereign cordial, the refreshing dews. Incessant heat Avould rob us of their benefi- cial agency, and oblige them to evaporate in imperceptible exhalations. Turbulent winds, or even the gentler motions of Au- rora's fan, would dissipate the rising vapours, and not sufi^er them to form a coalition. But favoured by the stillness, and condens- ed by the coolness of the night, they imite in pearly drops, and create that finely tem- pered humidity, which cheers the vegetable world, as sleep exhilarates the animal. Not unlike to these are the advantages of solitude. The world is a troubled ocean ; and who can erect stable purposes on its fluctuating waves ? The world is a school of wrong; and who does not feel himself warping to its pernicious influence ? * On this sea of glass (Rev. xv. 2.) how insen- sibly we slide from our own steadfastness ! Some sacred truth, which was struck in live- ly characters on our soids, is obscured, if not obliterated. Some worthy resolution, which heaven had wrought in our breasts, is shak- Milt. Pax-. Lost, Goo's, iv. I. J03. * Nunquam a turba mores, quos extuli, refera A'.»- quidex CO quod composiii, turbatiir: aliquid, ex hrs quaefugavi retlit. luimica est niuitoium conversa- iio.—Henec. 74 CONTEiirLATIONS en, if not overthrown. Some enti(nn<^ va- nity, which we had solemnly renounced, again practises its wiles, and again capti- vates our affections. How often lias an unwary glance kindled a fever of irregular desire in our hearts ? How often has a word of applause dropt luscious poison into our ears ? or some disrespectful expression raised a gust of passion in our bosoms ? Our innocence is of so tender a constitution, that it suffers in the promiscuous crowd. Our purity is of so delicate a complexion, that it scarce touches on the world without con- tracting a stain. We see, we hear, mth pe- ril. But here safety dwells. E veiy meddling and intrusive avocation is secluded. Si- lence holds the door against the strife of tongues, and all the impertinencies of idle conversation. The busy swarm of vain images, and cajoling temptations, which be- set us, with a buzzing importunity, amidst the gaieties of life, are chased by these thickening shades. Plere I may M'ithout distm-bance commune with my own heart, and learn that best of sciences, to know my- self. Here the soul may rally her dissipat- ed powers, and grace recover its native ener- gy. This is the opportunity to rectify eve- ry evil impression, to expel the poison, and guard against the contagion of corrupting examples. This is the place where I may with advantage apply myself to subdue the rebel within, and be master, not of a scep- tre, but of mj'self. Throng, then, ye am- bitious, the levees of the powerful : I will be punctual in my assignations with soli- tude. To a mind intent u])on its own im- provement, solitude has charms incompara- bly more engaging than the entertainments presented in the theatre, or the honours conferred in the drawing-room. I Siiid bolitude Am I then alone ? — It is true, my acquaintance are at a distance. I have stolen away from company, and am remote from all human observation. But that is an alarming thought, Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Uuseen, both when we wake and when we sleep.* Perhaps there may be numbers of those invisible beings patrolling this same retreat, and joining with me in contemplating the ■Creator's works. Perhaps those minister- ing spirits who rejoice at the conversion of a sinner, and hold up the goings of the righteous, may follow us to the lonely re- cess ; and even in our most solitary mo- ments, be constant attendants. What a pleasing awe is awakened by such a reflec- tion ! How venerable it renders my retired •walks ! I am struck with reverence, as un- der the roof of some sacred edifice, or in the presence-chamber of some mighty mon- arch. O ! may I never bring any pride of imagination, nor indulge the least dissolute affection, where such refined and exalted in- telligences exercise their watch ! It is possible that I am encompassed with such a cloud of witnesses ; but it is certain that God, the urfijiite eternal God, is now and ever with me. The gi'eat Jehovah, before whom all the angelic armies bow their heads and veil their faces, surrounds me, supports me, pervades me. " In him I live, move, and have my being." The whole world is his august temple, and in the most sequestered corner I appear be- fore his adorable Majesty, no less than when I worship in his house, or kneel at his al- tar. In eveiy place, therefore, let me pay him the homage of a heart cleansed from idols and devoted to his service. In every circumstance, let me feel no ambition, but to please him, nor covet any happiness, but to enjoy him. How sublime is the description, and how striking the sentiment, in that noble pas- sage of the Psalms : Whither shall I go from thy spirit, or whither shall I flee from thy presence ? If I climb up into the heights of heaven thou art there enthroned in light. If I go down to the depths of the grave, thou art there also in thy pavilion of darkness. If I retire to the remotest eas- tern climes, where the moniing fii-st takes wings ; if, swifter than the darting ray, I pass to the opposite regions of the west, and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea ;* shall I in that distant situation be beyond thy reach, or by this sudden transi- tion escape thy notice ? So far from it, that coidd I, with one glance of thought, trans- poit myself beyond all the boimds of crea- tion, I shoidd still be encircled with the immensity of thy essence, or rather still be enclosed in the hollow of thy hand. A\v- fid, yet delightful truth ! let it be interwo- ven wth every thought, and become one with the veiy consciousness of my exis- tence ; that I may continually walk with God, and conduct myself in every step of my behavioiu-, " as seeing Him that is in- visible." They are the happy persons ; felicity, true felicity, is all their own, who live under an habitual sense of God's omnipresence, and a sweet persuasion of his special love. If dangers threaten, thvir impregnable defence is at hand. Nothing can be so near to ter- rify, as their almighty Guardian to secure Milt. Tar. Lost, nook iv. ). * Psalm cxxxix. 7—!). There is, I think an addi- tional strength and beauty in the thought, if , with the learned Mr. Mudge, we suppose an antithesis be- tween the two clauses of the last verse, as there evi- dently is between those of the preceding, and that they c-xprcss, in a pofftical style, the extiUTiitici of the I cast and the west. ON THE NIGHT. 13 rtiem. To these, the hours can never be tedious ; and it is impossible for them to be alone. Do they step aside from the occu- pations of animal life ? A more exalted set of employments engage their attention. They address themselves in all their various acts of devotion, to their heavenly Father ; who now sees in secret, and will hereafter reward them openly. They spread all their Wants before his indulgent eye, and disbur- den all their sorrows into his compassionate bosom. Do they withdraw from human so- ciety ? They lind themselves under the more immediate regards of their Maker. If they resign the satisfactions of social intercourse, it is to cultivate a correspondence with the condescending Deity, and taste the plea- sures of divine friendship. What is such a state but the very suburbs of heaven ! What is such a conduct, but an antepast of eter- nal blessedness ! Now, my soul, the day is ended. The hours are all fled. They are fled to the supreme Judge, and have given in their evidence ; an evidence registered in heaven, and to be pro- duced at the great audit. Happy they whose improvement has kept pace with the fleeting minutes, who have seized the important fu- gitives, and engaged them in the pursuit of wisdom, or devoted them to the service of virtue. Fugitives indeed they are. Our moments slip away silently and insensibly. The thief steals notmore unperceived from the pillaged house ; so that the day seems to be closed almost as soon as it dawned — And will the runagates never stop ? No ; wherever we are, however employed, time pursues his incessant course. Though we are listless and dilatory, the great measurer of our days presses on ; still presses on in his unwear- ied career,* and whirls our weeks, and months, and years away. Is it not then surprisingly strange, to hear people complain of the tediousness of their time, and how hea\'y it hangs upon their hands ? to see them contrive a variety of amusing artifices, to accelerate its flight, and get rid of its burden ! Ah ! thoughtless mortals ! Why need you urge the headlong torrent ? Your days are swifter than a post, which, carry- ing dispatches of the last importance, with unremitted speed scours the road. They pass away like the nimble ships, which have the wind ia their wings, and skim along the watery plain. They hasten to their destined period with the rapidity of an eagle ; which leaves the stormy blasts behind her, while she cleaves the air, and darts upon her prey f Now the day is gone, how short it ap- pears ! When my fond eye beheld it in per- spective, it seemed a very considerable space. Minutes crowded upon minutes, and hours ranged behind hoiu-s, exhibited an extensive draught, and flattered me with a long progression of pleasures. But, upon a retrospective view, how wonderfully is the scene altered! the landscape, large and spacious, which a warm fancy drew, brought to the test of cool experience, shrinks into a span. Just as the shores vanish, and mountains dwindle to a spot, when the sail- or, surrounded by skies and ocean, throws his last look on his native land. How clearly do I now discover the cheat ! May it never impose upon my unwary imagina- tion again ! I find there is nothing abiding on this side eternity. A long duration in a state of finite existence is mere illusion. Perhaps the healthy and the gay may not readily credit the serious truth ; espe- cially from a young pen, and new to its employ. Let us then refer ourselves to the decision of the ancient. Ask some venerable old person, who is just marching off" the mortal stage, how many have been the days of the years of thy life ? ( Gen. xlvii. 8. Heb. Bib.) It was a monarch's question, and therefore can want no recom- mendation to the fashionable world. Ob- serve how he shakes his hoary locks, and from a deep-felt conviction replies, " Four- score years have finished their rounds, to furrow these cheeks, and clothe this head in snow." Such a term may seem long and large to inconsiderate youth ; but, oh ! how short, how scanty, to one that has made the experiment ! Short as a gleam of transient sun-shine ; scanty " as the sha- dow that departeth." RIethinks, it was but yesterday that I exchanged my childish sports for manly exercises ; and now I am resigning them both for the sleep of death. As soon as we are bom, we begin to draw to our end ; and how small is the interval between the cradle and the tomb ! Oh, may we believe this testimony of mature age ! May every evening bring it with clearer evidence to our minds. And may we form such an estimate of the little pittance while it is upon the advancing hand, as we shall certainly make when the sands are all run down. Let me add one reflection on the work to be done, while this shuttle is flying through the loom ;* a work of no small « Sed fugit inteien, fufjit irrcparabile tempus.— riV^'. t Job ix. '2.'), £(). By these tlirc-e very ex|)iessive images, the insnircd poet represents the uninicnriit- ted and rapid tliRht of time. The passage it illvis- irated with great jiulgnieiit and equal delicacy, in Dr. Gray's most ingenious abridgment of Schultens. Quae tribus in dementis velocissima, hie admirabili cum emphasi congeruntur. In terris, nil pernicius ciirsorc, et quidem laeti quid ferente. K?.pidius ta- nien adhuc undas, non secant sed sujiervolant, navia- lo papyro contexta. Omnium rapidissime aereni grandilius alias permetitur a(iuila, pvaecii)ili li'psu luens in pr. * My (lays are swifter than a weaver's shultl?, Jab vii. (j. ■^6 CONTEMPLATIONS difficulty, yet of the utmost con«cquencc. Hast thou not seen, hast thou not known the excellent of the earth, who were living images of (heir Maker ? His divme likeness Was transfused into their heai'ts, and beamed forth in all their conduct ; beamed forth in meekness of wisdom and purity of affection ; in all the tender offices of love, and all the boble efforts of zeal. To be stamped with the same beautiful signature, and to be followers of them as they were of Christ ; this, this is thy business : On the accom- plishment of this, thy eternal all depends. And will an affair of such unspeakable weight admit of a moment's delay, or con- sist with the least remissness ; especially since much of thy appointed time is already elapsed, and. the remainder is all uncertain- ty, save only that it is in the very act to Hy ? Or, sup])ose thou hast made a covenant with the grave, and wast assured of reaching the age of Methuselah, how soon would even such a lease expire ! Extend it if you please still further, and let it be co-exis- tent with nature itself. How inconsidera- ble is the addition ; for, yet a very little while, and the commissioned archangel lifts up his hand to heaven, and swears by the almighty name, that time shall be no lon- ger.* Then, abused opportunities will never return, and new opportunities will iiever more be offered. Then should negli- * This alludes to the bei^inning of Revelations, cliap. 10 ; which abstracted from its spiritual meaning, and considered only as a stalely piece o.' machinery, well deserves our attention ; and I will venture to say has not its superior, perhaps not its equal in any of the most celebrated masters of Greece and Rome. — All that is gloomy or beautiful in the atmosphere, all that is striking or magnificent in every element, is taken to heighten the idea. Yet nothing is dispro- portionate, but an uniform air of inetfable majesty, greatens, exalts, and ennoble* the whole. Be pleased to rbserye the aspect of this august personage; all the brightness of the sun shines in his countenance, and all the rage of the fire burns in his feet. See his ap- parel; the clouds compose his robe, and the drapery of the sky floats upon his shoulders ; the rainbow forms his'diadem, and that which "compasseth the heaven with a <;lorious circle," is the ornament of his head. Behold his attitude; one foot stands on the ocean, the other rests on the land. The wide ex- tended earth and the world of waters, serve as pedes- tals for those mighty columns. Consider the action ; his hand is lifted up to the height of the stars. He speaks, and the regions of the firmament echo with the mighty accents, as the midnight desert resounds ■with the lion's roar. The artillery of the skies is dis- charged at the signal ; a peal of sevenfold thunders spreads the alarm, and prepares the univ erse to receive •his orders. To finish all, and give the highest gran- deur, as well as the utmost solemnity to the represen- tation, hear the decree that issues from his mouth. He swears by Him that liveth for ever and ever. In whatever manner so majestic a person had expressed himself, he could not fail of commanding universal attention. But when he confirms his speech by a most sacred an 1 inviolable oath, we are not only wrapt up in silciit suspense, but overwhelmed with the profoundest awe. He swears that time shall be no longer ! Was ever voice so full of terror ; so big with wonder! It pr.iclaims not the fallof empires, but the final period of things. It strikes off the wheels of •nature; bids ai;es ail generations cease to roll ; and, with one potent word consigns a whole world over to ■ dissolution. This is trae among a multitude of very sublime an-.l masterly strokes to be found in that too •much nsglected book, the Bible. gent mortals wish, wish ever so passionate- ly for a few hours, a few moments only, to be thrown back from the opening eternity, thousands of worlds would not be able to procure the grant. Shall I now be industrious to shorten what is no longer than a span, or to quick- en the pace of what is ever on the wing ? Shall I squander away what is unutterably i4nportant while it lasts, and when once de- parted, is altogether irrevocable ? O ! my soul forbear the folly, forbear the desperate extravagance. Wilt thou chide as a loiter- er the arrow that boundeth from the string, or sweep away diamonds, as the refuse of thy house ? Throw time away ! astonishing, ruinous, irreparable profuseness ! Throw empires alvay, and be blameless ; but, O ! be parsimonious of thy days ; husband thy pre- cious hours. They go connected, indissolu- bly connected, with heaven or hell.* Im- proved, they are a sure pledge of everlasting glory ; wasted, they are a sad jireface to never ending confusion and anguish. What a profound silence has composed the world ! So profoimd is the silence, that my very breath seems a noise ; the ticking of my watch is distinctly heard ; if I do but stir, it creates a disturbance. There is now none of that confused din from the tumul- tuous city; no voice of jovial rustics from the neighbouring meadow ; no chirping me- lody from the shady thicket. Every lip is sealed ; not the least whisper invades the air ; nor the least motion rustles among the boughs. Echo herself sleeps unmolested. The expanded ear, though all attention, catches no sound but the liquid lapse of a distant murmuring stream. All things are hush'd, as nature's self lay dead. If, in the midst of this deep and universal composure, ten thousand bellowing thunders should burst over my head, and rend the .skies with their united voUies, how shoidd I bear so unexpected a shock ? It would stun my senses, and confound my thoughts, I should shudder in every limb, perhaps sink to the earth with tenor. Consider then, O mortals ! consider the much more prodigious and amazing call which will ero long alarm your sleeping bones. When the tenants of the tomb have slumbered in the most undisturbed repose, for a multitude of • I remember to have seen upon a sun-dial in a physician's garden at Northampton, the following in- scription, wliich, I think, is the most proper motto I for the instrument that measures our time, and the I most striking admonition which can possibly be pre- I sented to every eye that glances upon it ; ff'' '""• "")- ' inento pendi-t eternitas. The weighty sen^e of which I I know not how to express in English more happily than in those words of Dr. Watts : Good (Jod ! on what a slender thread \ (Or, on what a moment of time) I Hang everlasting. things ! ON TiiK night; IT flf^ps ; what an' inconceivable consternation must the shout of the archangel, and the trump of God occasion ! will it not wound the ear of the ungodly, and affright even to dis- traction, the impenitent sinner? The stupen- dous peal will sound through the vast expanse of heaven, will shake the foimdations of na- ture, and pierce even the deepest recesses of the grave. And how, O ! how will the pri- soners of divine justice be able to endure that tremendous summons to a far more tremendous tribunal ? Do thou, my soul, listen to the still voice of the gospel. At- tend in this thy day, to the gracious invita- tions of thy Saviour. Then shall that great midnight cry lose its horror, and be music in thy ears. It shall be welcome to thy reviving clay, as the tidings of liberty to the dungeon captive, as the year of Jubilee to tlie harassed slave. This, this shall be its charming import, " Awake and sing, ye that dwell in the dust." (Isa. xxvi. 19.) What a general cessation of affairs has this dusky hour introduced ! A little while ago, all was hurry, hurry ; life and activity exerted themselves in a thousand busy forms ; the city swarmed with passing and rejjassing multitudes ; all the country was sweat and dust ; the air floated in peqietual agitation, by the flitting birds, and hunnning bees. Art sat prying with her jjiercing eyes, while industry plied her restless hands. But see how all this fervent and impetuous bustle is fled with the setting sun. The beasts are sunk to their grassy couch ; and the winged people are retired to their downy nests. The hammer has resigned its sound- ing task, and the file ceases to repeat its fly- ii;g touches. Shut is the well frequented shop, and its threshold no longer worn by the feet of numerous customers. The vil- lage swain lies drowned in slumbers ; and even his trusty dog, who for a considerable time stood sentry at the door, is extended at his ease, and snores with his master. In every place, toil reclines her head, and ap- plication folds her arms. All interests seem to be forgot ; all pursuits are suspend- ed ; all employment is sunk away — sunk away with those fluttering myriads which lately sported in the sun's departing rays. It is like the Sabbath of universal nature, or as though the pulse of life stood still. Thus will it be with our infinitely mo- mentous concerns, when once the shadows of the evening (that long evening which follows the footsteps of death) are stretch- ed over us. The dead cannot seek unto God ; the living, the living alone, are pos- sessed of this inestimable opportunity. * * Behold ! now is the accepted time. Behold ! now is the day of salvation. 2 (!or. vi. 2. Haste, haste, he lies in wait, he'satthe door. Insidious death ! Should his strong hand arrest, No composition sets the prisoner tree. " There is no work or device, no repentance or amendment, in the grave,* whither wc- arc all hasting." "When once that closing scene is iidvanced, we shall have no other part to act on this earthly theatre. Then' the .sluggard, who has slumbered awny life in a criminal inactivity, must lie down in liopeless distress and everlasting sorrow. Then that awful doom will tuke jilace ; " He that is holy, let him be holy still ; and he that is filthy, let him be filthy for ever. Is it so, my soul ? Is this the only, only time allotted for obtaining the great reward, and making thy salvation sure ? and art thou lulled in a vain security, or dreaming in a supine inadvertency? Start, O ! start from thy trance. Gird up the loins of thy mind, and work while it is day. Improve the present seed-time, that eternity may yield a joyful harvest We especially, who are watchmen in Israel, and ministers of the glorious gospel ; may we be awakened, by this consideration, to all assiduity in our holy office ! Some or other of our people are ever and anon departing into the invisi- ble state ; all our friends are making inces- sant approaches to their long home ; and we ourselves shall very shortly be transmit- ted to the confinement of the tomb. Tlii? is the favourable juncture wherein alone we can contribute to their endless welfare. This is the crisis, the all-important crisis of their final felicity. Instantly, therefore, let us pour in our wholesome instructions \ instantly let us ply them with our earnest exhortations. A moment's delay may be an irreparable loss ; may be irretrievable ruin. While we procrastinate a fatal stroke may intervene, and place us beyond the power of administering, or place them beyond all possibility of receiviiig, any spi- ritUcil good.f * They who are gone down to the grave are repre- sented, Isa. xxxviii. II, by the phrase, rendered by Vitringa, those that inhabit the land ofititermis.i'nin or cessation ; which prevents all appearance of tau- tology in the sentence ; and is, I think, a valuable im- provement ofthe translation, as it conveys an idea not only distinct from the preceding, but of a very poe- tical and very afflicting nature; such as was perfectly natural for the royal singer and royal sufferer to dwell upon in his desponding moments. Thus interpreted, the sense will run; "I shall see man no more; I shall be cut off from the cheerful ways of men, and all the sweets of human society ; and, what is a fur- ther aggravation ofthe threatened stroke, I shall, by its takmg place, be numbered with those that inherit the land of cessation and inactivity ; where there will be no more possibility of contributing to the happi- ness of my kingdom; no more opportunity of ad- vancing my Creator's glory, or of making my owrt final salvation sure." A sentiment like this is grand, important, and full of Ix-nevolence ; removes all sus- picion of unbecoming pusillanimity, and does the highest honour to the monarch's character. \ The case represented by the prophet (1 Kings XX. 40.) seems perfectly applicable on this occasion. As thy servant was busy here and there, he was gone. So, whili- we are either remiss in our function, or laying ourselves out upon inferior cares, the people of our charge may be gone; — gone beyond the inllu- ence of our counsels; Deyond the reach of our pray- ers ; gone into the unchangeable afid eternal state. 78 CONTEMPLATIONS How fi-eqtieiitly is the face of nature changed ; and by changing made more agreeable ! The long continued glitter of the day renders the soothing shades of the evening doubly welcome. Nor does the morn ever purple the east with so engaging a lustre, as after the gloom of a dark and dismal night. At present a calm of tran- quillity is spread through the imiverse. The weary winds have forgot to blow. The gentle gales have fanned themselves asleep. Not so much as a single leaf nods. Even the quivering aspen rests. And not one breath curls over the stream. Some- times, on the contrary, the tempest sum- mons all the forces of the air, and pours it- self with resistless fury from the angry north. The whole atmosphere is tossed into tumultuous confusion, and the wateiy world is heaved to the clouds. The as- tonished mariner, and his straining vessel, now scale the rolling mountain, and hang dreadfully visible on the broken siu-ge ; now shoot with headlong impetuosity into the yawning gulf, and neither hulk nor mast is seen. The storm sweeps over the continent ; raves along the city streets ; struggles through the forest boughs ; and terrifies the savage nations with a howl more wildly horrid than their own. The knotty oaks bend before the blast ; their ii'on trunks groan, and their stubborn limbs are dashed to the ground. The lofty dome rocks ; and even the solid tower totters on its basis. Such variations are kindly contrived, and vnth an evident condescension to the fickleness of our taste. Because a perpe- tual repetition of the same objects would create satiety and disgust ; therefore the indulgent Father of our race has diversified the universal scene, and bid every appear- ance bring with it the charm of novelty. This circumstance is beneficial, as well as entertaining. Providence, ever gracious to mortals, ever intent upon promoting our felicity, has taken care to mingle, in the constitution of things, what is pleasing to our imagination with what is serviceable to our interests. The piercing winds, and rugged aspect of winter, render the balmy gales and flowery scenes of spring peculiar- ly delightful. At the same time, the keen frosts mellow the soil, and prepare it for the hand of industry. "The rushing rains impregnate the glebe, and fit it to become the magazine of plenty. The earth is a great laboratoiy ; and December's cold col- lects the gross materials, which are subli- mated by the refining warmth of May. The air is a pure elastic fluid ; and were it always to remain in this motionless seren- ity, it would lose much of its active spring : were it never agitated by those wholesome concussions, it would contract a noisome, perhaps a pestilential taint. In whicS cases, our respiration, instead of purifying, would corrupt the vital juices ; instead of supplying us with refreshment, woidd be a source of diseases ; or every gasp we drew might be unavoidable death.* How then should we admire, how should we adore, that happy imion of benignity and wisdom, wh-ich, from a variety of dispensations, pro- duces an xmiformity of good ! produces a perpet\ial succession of delights, and an uninterrupted series of advantages. The darkness is now at its height ; and I cannot but admire the obliging manner of its taking place. It comes, not with a blunt and abnipt incivility, but makes gen- tle and respectful advances. A precipitate transition from the splendours of day to all the horrors of midnight woidd be inconve- nient and frightful. It would bewilder the traveller in his joiu-ney ; it would strike the creation with amazement ; and perhaps be pernicious to the organs of sight. There- fore the gloom rushes not upon us instan- taneously, but increases by slow degrees; and sending twilight before as its harbinger, decently advertises us of its approach. By this means we are neither alarmed nor in- commoded by the change ; but are able to take all suitable and timely measures for its reception. Thus graciously has Provi- dence regulated, not only the grand vicissi- tudes of the seasons, but also the common interchanges of light and darkness, with an apparent reference to our comfort. Now, the fierce inhabitants of the forest forsake their dens. A thousand grim forms, a thousand growling monsters pace the de- sert. Death is in their jaws, while, stung with hunger and athirst for blood, they roam {heir nightly rounds. Unfortunate the traveller who is overtaken by the night in those dismal vn\ds ! how must he stand aghast at the mingled yell of ravenous throats, and lions roaring after their prey ! Defend him, propitious heaven ! or else he must see his endearing spouse, and hail his native home no more ! — Now the prowling » Considering the immense quantity of coals, and other combustible materials which are daily consum- ed, and evaporate into the air ; considering the numberless streams, and clouds of smoke, which al- most continually overwhelm populous cities; the noisome exhalations which arise from thronged in- firmaries and loathsome jails, from stagnating lakes and putrid fens; the variety of offensive and un- wholesome effluvia, which proceed from other causes : it is a very remarkable instance of a Provi- dence at once tenderly kind and infinitely powerful, that mankind is not suffocated with stench, that the air is not choked with filth. The air is the common sewer into which ten thousand times ten thousanrt nuisances are incessantly discharged; yet it is pre- served so thoroughly clear, as to afford the most transparent medium for vision; so delicately undu- latory, as to transmit, with all imaginable distinct- ness, every diversity of sound ; so perfectly pure, aS to be the constant refiner of the fluids in every ani- mal that breathes. ON THE NIGHT. 70 wolf, like a murderous rullian, dogs the shepherd's footsteps, and besets liis bleat- ing eliaige. The fox, like a crafty felon, steals to the thatched cottage, and carries off the feathered booty. Happy for the world, were these the only destroyers that walk in darkness. But, alas ! there are sas'ages in human sha])e, who, muffled in shades, infest the abodes of civilized life. The sons of violence make choice of this season* to perpetivite the most outrageous acts of wrong and robbery. The adulterer waiteth for the twilight ; and, baser than the villain on the highway, betrays the honour of his bosom friend. Now faction forms her close cabals, and whispers her traiterous insinuations. Now rebellion plans her accursed plots, and pre- pares the train to blow a nation into ruin. Now crimes, which hide their odious heads in the day, haunt the seats of societ)-, and stalk through the gloom with audacious front. Now the vermin of the stews crawl from their lurking- holes to wallow in sin, and spread contagion through the night. Each soothing himself with the fond no- tion, that all is safe, that no eye sees. Are they then concealed? Preposterous madmen ! to draw the curtain between their infamous practices and a little set of mortals, but lay them open to all these chaste and wakeful eyes of heaven !f as though the moon and stars were made to light men to their revels, and not to God. Are they then concealed ? No, truly. Was every one of these vigilant luminaries clos- ed, an eye keener than the lightning's flash, an eye brighter than ten thousand suns, beholds their every motion. Their thick- es?t shades are beaming day| to the jealous Inspector and supreme Judge of human actions. Deluded creatures ! have ye not heard, have ye not read, " That clouds and darkness are his majestic residence?" (Psa. xcvii. 2. In that very gloom to which you fly for covert, he erects his throne. What you reckon your screen is the bar of his tribunal. Oh, remember this ! stand in awe and sin not. Remember that the great and terrible God is about your path§ * — — — — When night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. — Milt. t Sed luna videt, sed sidera teste.s intendent occnlus. i. This is finely, and very forcibly expressed by the Psalmist : " If I say, peradventure the darkness shall rover me, then shall my night be turned to day ;" or as it may be rendered somewhat more emphatically. Even the night shall be broad day-light all around me. Psalm cxxxix. 11. § The original words are much stronger than the translation; .signifying. Thou siftcst my path ; and art familiarly or intimately acquainted with .all my ways. The former, I apprehend, denoting the exact cognizance which the Almighty taketh, the latter im- plying the constant inspection which he exerciseth, over all the circumstances of our conduct. Psalm cxxxix. 2. when you take your midnight range ; is about your bed, when you indulge tiie loose desire ; and spies out all jour ways, be they ever so secretly conducted, or art- fully disguised. Some minutes ago, a passenger crossed along the road. His horse's foot struck the ground, and fetched fire from a flint. My eye, though at a distance, catched the view ; and saw with great clearness the transient sparkles, of which, had I been ever so near, I should not have discerned the least glimpse under the blaze of day.* So, whei> sickness has drawn a veil over the gaiety of out hearts ; when misfortunes have eclips- ed the splendour of our outward circum- stances ; how many important convictions present themselves with the brightest evi- dence ! Under the sunshine of prosperity they lay undiscovered ; but, when some in- tervening cloud has darkened the scene, they emerge from their obscurity, and even glit- ter u])on our minds. Then the world, that: delusive cheat, confesses her emptiness ; but Jesus, the bri:;ht and moniing star, beams forth with inimitable lustre. Then vice loses all her fallacious allurements ; that painted strum])ct is horrible as the hags of hell; but virtue, despised virtue, gains love- liness from a louring providence, aJid treads the shades with more than mortal charms. May this reconcile me, and all the sons of sorrow to our a])pointed share of suffering? If tribulation tend to dissipate the inward darkness, and pour heavenly day upon our minds ; welcome distress, welcome disap- ])ointment, welcome whatever our froward flesh, or peevi.sh passions, would miscall ca- lamities. These light afflictions which are but for a moment, shall sit easy upon our spi- rits ; since they befriend our knowledge, promote our faith, and so work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, f * I beg leave to inform tlie young gentleman, whose name dignifies my Dedication, that this was a remark of his honoured father, when we rode toge- ther, and conversed in a dusky evening. I mention this circumstance, partly to secure tlie paragraph from contem])! ; partly to give him and the world an idc.i of that eminently serious taste which distinguished my deceased friend. '] he less obvious the reflection, the more clearly it discovers a turn of mind remarka- bly spiritual, which would suffer nothing to escape, without yielding some religious improvement. The meaner the incident, the more admirable wa.s that fertility of imagination, which could deduce the su- blimest truthstrom the most trivial occurrences. t 2 Cor. iv. 17. The great Stephens, that oracle of Grecian learning, translates our apostle's phrase — xa^' i/m^SoXnv, Quo nihil magisdici aut fingi po- test. But how docs the sense rise! how is the idea enlarged, under two such forcible expressions ! The whole verse is a master-piece of the beautiful antithe- sis, the lively description, and the nervous diction. It is one of those exquisite passages in the inspirei? writings, which, like some rich aromatic plants, can- not be transferred from their own generous and na- tive soil, without being impaired in their vivacity, and losing much of their delicacy. Perhaps, the fol- lov.'ing version may be somewhat less injurious to the 80 CONTEMPLATIONS How has this darkness snatched every spleiided and graceful object from my sight; It ha? dashed the sponge over the pictures of spring, and destroyed all the delicate dis- tinctions of things. WTiere ai-e now the fine tinges, which so lately charmed me from the glowing parterre ? The blush is struck out from the cheeks of the rose ; and the snowy hue is dropt from the lily. I cast my eyes toward a magnificent seat : but the aspiring columns, and fair expanded front, are mingled in rude confusion. Without the sun, all the elegance of the blooming world, is a mere blank ; all the symmetry of arcliitecture is a shapeless heap. Js not this an expressive emblem of the loveliness which the Sim of Righteousness transfuses into all that is amiable ! Was it not for Jesus and his merits, I should sigh wth anguish of spirit, even while I rove through ranks of the most beautiful flowers or breathe amidst a wilderness of sweets. Was it not for Jesus and his merits, Ishouldroam like some disconsolate spectre, even through the smiles of creation, and the caresses of fortune. My conversation in this world, though dressed in the most engaging forms of external pleasure, would be like the pas- sage of a condemned malefactor, through enamelled meadows and bowers of bliss, to be broke upon the wheel, or to expire on the rack. But a daUy reflection on the Lamb's atoning blood ; a comfortable trust that my soul is reconciled through this di- vine expiation ; this is the ray, the golden ray, which irradiates the face of the universe. This is the oil of beauty, which makes all things wear a cheerful aspect ; and the oil of gladness, which disposes the spectator to behoH them with delight.* This, this is the sacred charm, which teacheth natiu-e in all her prospects, in all her productions, so exquisitely to please. " Man goeth forth to his work, and to his labour, tUl the evening ;" but then his strength fails, his spirits flag, and he stands in need, not only of some respite from toU, but of some kindly and sovereign refresh- sacred original than the common translation :— Our very light affliction, which is but just for the present moment, worketh out a far more exceeding, and in- comparably great, and eternal weight of glory. * 1 hus applied, that fine piece of flattery, addressed to the Heathen emperor, is strictly and literally true. Vultus ubi tuus Affalsit populo, gratior et dies, Et soles melius nitent. — Horat. Which I would cast in a Christian mould, »nd thus translate : When faith presents the Saviour's death, And whispers" This is thine," Sweetly my rising hours advance, .\vA peacefully decline. y hile such my views, the radiant sun Sheds a more sprightly ray : Each object smiles; all nature charms ; I sing my cares away. ments. What an admirable provision for this purpose is sleep ! Sleep introduces a most welcome vacation, both for the soid and l)ody. The exercises of the brain, and the labours of the hands, are at once discon- tinued. So that the weary limbs repair their exhausted vigour ; whUe the pensive thoughts drop their load of sorrows, and the busy ones rest from the fatigue of ap- plication. Most re\'iving cordial ! equally beneficial to our animal and intellectual' powers. It supplies the lleslily machine, and keeps all its nice movements in a pro- per posture for easy play. It animates the thinking faculties with fresh alacrity, and' rekindles their ardour for the studies of the dawn. Without these enlivening recruits, how soon woidd the most robust constitu- tion be wasted into a walking skeleton ; and the most learned sage degenerate into a hoary idiot ! Some time ago I beheld with SLU'prise poor Florio. His air was wild ; his countenance meagre, his thoughts rov- ing, and speech disconcerted. Inquiring the cause of this strange alteration, I was informed, that for several nights he had not closed his eyes in sleep. For want of which noble restorative, that sprightly youth (who was once the life of the discoiu^e, and the darling of the company) is become a spec- tacle of misery and horror. How many of my fellow-creatures are at this very instant confined to the bed of languisliing, and complaining with that illustrious sufferer of old, wearisome nights are appointed to me ! (Job vii. 3.) Instead of indulging soft re- pose, they are counting the tedious hours, telling every striking clock, or measuring the very moments by their throbbing pulse. How many, harassed with pain, most pas- sionately long to make some little truce with their agonies in peaceful slumbers ! How many, sick with disquietude, and rest- less even on their downy pillows, woidd purchase this transient oblivion of their woes almost at any rate ! That which wealth cannot procure, which midtitudes sigh for in vain, thy God has bestowed on thee times out of nimiber. The welcome visitant, punctual at the needed hour, has entered thy chamber, and poured his pop- pies round thy couch ; has gently closed thine eye-hds, and shed his slumberous dews over all thy senses. Since sleep is so absolutely necessary, so inestimably valuable, observe vvhat a fine apparatus almighty goodness has made to accommodate us with the balmy blessing ! With how kind a precaution, he removes whatever might obstruct its access, or im- pede its influence ! He draws around us the curtain of darkness ; which inclines us to a drowsy iiidolence, and conceals every object that miglit too strongly agitate the sciL^ie. He conveys peace into our apart- ON THE NIGHT. 81 itleiits, aiiJ imposes sileiioe on the whole creation. Ijvery animal is bid to tread softly, or rather to cease Irom its motion, when man is retiring to his repose. May we not discern, in this gracious disposition of things, the tender cares of a nursing-mo- ther, who hushes every noise, and secludes eveiy disturbance, when she has laid the child of her love to rest. So, by such soothing circumstances, and gently working opiates, he giveth to his beloved sleep. (Psalm cxxvii. 2.) Another signal instance of a providence ntent upon our welfare is, that we are pre- served safe in the hours of sluml)er. How are we then lost to all apprehension of danger ; even though tlie murderer be at our bed side, or his naked sword at our breast ! Destitute of all concern for our- selves, we are unable to think of, much more to provide for, our own secuiity. At these moments, therefore, we lie ojien to in- numerable perils : perils from the resistless rage of llames ; perils from the iii>idious artifices of thieves, or the outrageous vio- lence of robbers ; perils from the irregular workings* of our own thoughts, and es^)e- cially from the incursions of our spiritual enemy. What dreadful mischief might that rest- less, that implacable adversary of mankind work, was there not an invisible hand to control his rage, and protect poor mortals ! What scenes of horror might he represent to our imaginations, and " scare lis with dreams, or terrify us with visions !"f But • I think it is referable only to a superintending and watchful providence, that we are not hurried in- to the most pernicious actions, when our imagination is heated, and our reason stupitied by dreams. We have sometimes heard of unfortunate persons, who, walking in their sleep, have thrown themselves head- long from a window, and been dashed to death on the pebbles. And whence is it that such disastrous acci- dents are only related as pieces of news, notexpei- ienced by ourselves or our families ? Were our minds more sober in their operations, or more circumspect in their regards ? No verily, nothing could be more wild than their excursions, and none could be more inattentive to their own welfare. Therefore, if we have laid us down, and slept in peace, it was because the Lord vouchsafed us the sweet refreshment ; it we rose again in safety, it was because the Lord sustain- e- prehend not the meaning. The senses, and their exquisitely fine feelings, are over- whelmed with an unaccountable stupefac- tion. You call him a social creature : but where are his social affections ? He knows not the father that begat him, and takes no notice of the friend that is as his own soul. The wife of his bosom may expire by his side, and he lie more unconcerned than a barbarian. The children of his body may be tortured with the severest pangs, and he, even in the same chamber, remain mitouch- ed with the least commiseration. Behold the most ingenious scholar, whose judgment is piercing, and able to trace the most in- tricate difficulties of science ; his taste re- fined, and quick to relish all the beauties of sentiment and composition : yet, at this juncture, the thinking facidties are unhing- ed, and the intellectual economy quite dis- concerted. Instead of close connected rea- sonings, nothing but a disjointed huddle of absurd ideas ; instead of well-digested prin- ciples, nothing but a disorderly jumble of crude conceptions : the most palpable de- lusions impose upon his imagination. The whole night passes, and he frequently mis- takes it for a single minute ; is not sensible of the transition, hardly sensible of any du- ration. Yet, no sooner does the morning draw back bis curtains, and day-light fill the room, but he awakes, and finds himself possessed of all the valuable endowments, which, for several hours were suspended or lost. His sinews are braced, and fit for action; his senses are alert and keen. The romantic visionary brightens into the mas- ter of reason. The frozen or benumbed affections melt with tenderness, and glow with benevolence ; and, what is beyond mea- sure sui-prising, the intoxicated mind works itself sober, not by slow degrees, but in the twinkling of an eye recovers from its per- turbation. Why does not the stupor which deadens all the nice operations of the ani- mal powers hold fast its possession ? When the thoughts are once disadjusted, why are they not always in confusion ? How is it that they are rallied in a moment ; and, from the wildest irregularity, reduced to the most orderly ai'ray ? From an inactivity re- sembling death, how is the body so sud- ON THE NIGHT. 83 denly restored to vigour and agility ? From extravagancies bordering upon madness, how is tiie understanding instantaneously re-established in sedateness and harmony ? Surely, " this is the Lord's doing, and it should be marvellous in our eyes ;" should awaken our gratitude, and inspirit our praise. This is the time in which ghosts are sup- posed to make their appearance. Now the timorous imagination teems with phantoms, and creates immberless terrors to itself. Now dreary forms, in sullen state, stalk along the gloom ; or, swifter than lightning, glide across the shades. Now voices more than mortal* are heard from the echoing vaults, and groans issue from the hollow tombs. Now melancholy spectres visit the ruins of ancient monasteries, and frequent the solitary dwellings of the dead. They pass and repass, in unsubstantial images, along the forsaken galleries ; or take their determined stand over some lamented grave. How often has the school-boy fetched a long circuit, and trudged many a needless step, in order to avoid the haunted church- yard ! Or if necessity, sad necessity, has obliged him to cross the spot, where human gkuUs are lodged below, and the baleful yews shed supernumerary hoiTors above : a thousand hideous stories rush into his memory ; fear adds wings to his feet ; he Bcarce touches the ground ; dares not once look behind him ; and blesses his good for- tune, if no frightful sound purred at his heels, if no ghastly shape bolted upon his sight. It is strange to observe the excessive timidity which possesses many people's minds on this fancifid occasion, while they are void of all concern on others of the most tremendous import. Those who are startled, in any dark and lonely walk, at the very apprehenson of a single spectre, are nevertheless unimpressed at the sure pi"o- spect of entering into a whole world of disembodied beings ; nay, are without any emotions of awe, though they know them- selves to be hastening into the presence of the great, infinite, and eternal Spirit. Should some pale messenger from the re- gions of the dead draw back our curtains at the hour of midnight, and, appointing some particular place, say, as the horrid appari- tion to Brutus, /'// meet tlice there .'f , I believe the boldest heart would feel some- thing like a panic ; would seriously think upon the adventure, and be in pain for the event. But when a voice from hea- ven cries, in the awakening language of the prophet. Prepare to meet thy God, O Israel; (Amos iv. 12.) how little is the warning regarded ! how soon is it for- got ! Preposterous stupidity ! to be utterly unconcerned, where it is the truest wisdom to take the alarm ; and to be all trepidation, where there is nothing really terrible. Do thou, my soid, remember thy Saviour's ad- monition ; " I will forewarn you whom you shall fear : Fear not these imaginary hor- rors of the night ; but fear that awful being, whose revelation of himself, though with expressions of peculiar mercy, made Moses, his favourite servant, tremble exceedingly ; whose manifestation, when he appears with purposes of inexorable vengeance, will make mighty conquerors, who were familiar with dangers and estranged to dismay, call upon the mountains to fall on them, and the rocks to cover them ! the menace of whose ma- jestic eye, when he comes attended with thousand thousands of his immortal hosts, will make the very heavens cleave asunder, and the earth flee away. O ! dread his displeasure ; secure his favour ; and then thou mayest commit all thy other anxieties to the wind ; thou mayest laugh at every other fear." This brings to my mind a memorable and amazing occurrence, recorded in the book of Job ; (Job iv. 12, 14, &c.) which is, I think, no inconsiderable proof of the real existence of apparitions* on some very extraordinary emergencies, while it discoun- tenances those legions of idle tales, which superstiiion has raised and credulity receiv- ed ; since it teaches us, that if at asy time those visitants from the unknown world render themselves perceivable by mortals, it is not upon any errand of frivolous con- sequence, but to convey intelligence of the j utmost moment, or to work impressions of the highest advantage. • Vox qiioque per !ucos vulgo ex audita silentes Ingens, et simulacra monis pallentia miris. Visa s\ib obscurum noctis. — Vir/^. t The story of Brutus and his evil genius, is well known. Nor must it be deemed, that the precise words of the spectre to the hero were, I'll meet thee at Phillippi. But as this would not answer my pur- pose, I was obliged to make an alteration in the cir- cumstance of place. * Is a proof of the rent existence of apparitions, if the sense in which 1 have always understood this pas- sage be true. — Elipliaz, I apprehend, was neither in a trance nor in a dream, but perfectly awake. — Though he speaiis of sleep, he speaks of it as fallen not upon himself, but upon other men He does not mention dreams, though som»in would have suited the verse (if the book be in metre) altogether as well as visions. It could not surely be a wind, as some translate the word ; because the circumstance of standing still is not so compatible with the nature of a wind ; and a wind would have passed above him, all around him, as well as before him : not to add, how low a remark it is, and how unworthy of a place in so august a description, that he could not discern the form of a wind. — It seems, therefore, to have I)een a real spirit; either angelical, as were those which presented themselves to Abraham resting at the door of his tent, and to Lot sitting in the gate of Sodom; or else the spirit of some departed saint, as in the case of Samuel's apparition, or the famous ap- pearance of Moses and Elijah on the mount of trans- figuration ; a spirit assuming some vehicle, in order to become visible to the human eye ; which, accord- ingly, Eliphaz saw, exhibiting itself as an object of sight, hut saw so obscurely and indistinctly, that he was not able to describe its aspect, or to diicern whom it resembled. 84 CONTEMPLATIONS It was in the dead of night : all nature lay shrouded in darkness : Every creature was buried in sleep : The most profound silence reigned through the universe. In these solemn moments, Eliphaz alone, all wakeful and solitary, was musing upon sub- lime and heavenly subjects ; when, lo ! an awful being from the invisible realms burst into his apartment.* A spirit passed be- fore his face. Astonishment seized the be- holder ; his bones shivered within him ; his flesh trembled all over him ; and the hair of his head stood erect with horror. Sudden and unexpected was the appearance of the phantom ; not such its departure. It stood still, to present itself more fully to his view: It made a solemn pause, to prepare his mind for some momentous message. After which a voice was heard ; a voice, for the importance of its meaning, worthy to be had in everlasting remembrance ; for the so- lemnity of its delivery, enough to alarm a heart of stone. It spoke, and this was the purport of its words : " Shall man, frail man, be just before the mighty God ? Shall even the most accomj)lished of mortals be pure in the sight of his Maker ?f Behold, and consider it attentively : He put no such trust in his most exalted servants as should bespeak them incapable of defect ! and his very angels he charged with folly, as sinking, even in the highest perfection of their holi- ness, infinitely beneath his transcendent glories ; as falling, even in all the fidelity of their obedience, inexpressibly short of the homage due to his adorable majesty. If angelic natures must not presume to jus- tify either themselves or their services be- fore uncreated purity, how much more ab- surd is such a notion, how much more impious such an attempt, in them that dwell in houses of clay, whose original is from the dust, and whose state is all imper- fection." • I have given this solemn picture a modem dress, rather for the sake of variety and illustration, than from any apprehension of irnproving the admirable original. Such an attempt, I am sensible, would be more absurdly va n, than to lacquer gold, or to paint the diamond. The des ription in Eliphaz's own lan- guage is awful and affecting to the last degree — a night-piece, dressed in all the circumstances of the deepest horror. I question whether Shakespeare himself, though so peculiarly happy for his great command of terrifying images, has any thing supe- rior or comparable to this. The judges of tine com- position see the masterly strokes; and I believe the most ordinary reader feels them chilling his blood, and awakening emotions of dread in his mind. t There seems to be a significant and beautiful gradation in the Hebrew, which I have endeavoured to preserve by a sort of paraphrastic version. The reader will observe anew turn given to the sentiment, preferable, I think, to that which our English trans- lation exhibits. Not, " Shall man be more just than God?" but, " Shall man be just before, or in the sight of God ?" The passage thus rendered, speaks a truth mcomparably more weighty, and needful to be inculcated; a truth exactly parallel to that humbling confession of the projihet, " we are all as an unclean thing;" and to that solemn declaration of the Psal- mist : " In thy sight shall no man living be justified." I would observe from hence, the ver/ singular necessity of that poverty of spirit which entirely renoimces it own attain- ments, and most thankfully submits to the righteousness of the incarnate God. To inculcate this lesson, the Son of the Bless- ed came down from heaven, and pressed no other principle with so repeated an impor- tunity on his hearers. * To instil the same doctrine, the Holy Ghost touched the lips of the apostles with sacred eloquence, and made it an eminent part of their commission " to demolish every high imagination." That no expedient might be wanting to give it a deep and lasting efficacy on the human mind, a phantom arises from the valley of the shadow of death, or a teacher descends from the habitation of spirits. AVhatever then we neglect, let us not neglect to culti- vate this grace, which has been so variously taught, so powerfully enforced. Hark ! a doleful voice. With sudden starts, and hideous screams, it disturbs the silence of the peacefid night. It is the screech-owl, sometimes in frantic, some- times in disconsolate accents, uttering her woes.f She flies the vocal grove, and shuns the society of all the feathered choir. The blooming gardens, and flowery meads, have no charms for her. Obscure shades, rag- ged ruins, and walls overgrown with ivy, are her favourite haunts. Above, the mouldering precipice nods, and threatens a fall ; below, the toad crawls, or the poison- ous adder hisses. The sprightly morning which awakens other animals into joy, ad- ministers no jileasure to this gloomy re- cluse. Even tlio smiling face of day is her aversion, and all its lovely scenes create nothing but uneasiness. So, just so, would it fare with the ungod- ly, were it possible to suppose their admis- sion into; the chaste and hriffht abodes of endless felicity. They would iiiid nothing but disappointment and shame, even at the fountain-head of hiii»i)iness and honour. For how could the tongue habituated to profaneness, taste any delight in the har- monious adorations of heaven ? How could the lips cankered with slander, relish the raptures of everlasting praise ? "Where woidd » It is well wortliy of our ob:',ervation, says an ex- cellent commentator, that no one sentence uttered by our Lord, is so f equentlv re])eated as this; " Who- soever shall exait himself, shall be abased; and he that shall humble himseU'shall be exalted," which oc- curs at least ten times in the Evangelists ; but is ne- ver duly accompli bed in us. till we disclaim all pre- tensions to merit and righteousness of our own, and seek them only in the atonement and obedience of Je- sus Christ. t Solaque ciilniinibus serali carmine bubo Sepequeri, longas. ON THE NIGHT. 87 beloved son . in vain she attempts, with her tender offices, to prolong a lite dearer than her own. He faints in her arms : he bows his head : he sinks in death. Fatal, doubly fatal, that last expiring pang! While it dislodges the unwilling soul, it rends an only child from the yearning embraces of a parent, and tears away the support of her age from a disconsolate widow. While these long for a re])rieve, others invite the stroke. Quite weary of the world, with a restless impatience, tlicy sigh for dissolution ; some jjining away under tlie tedious decays of an incurable consump- tion, or gasping for breath and almost suf- focated by an inundation of dropsical waters. On some a relentless cancer has fastened its envenomed teeth, and is gnawing them, though in the midst of bodily vigour, in the midst of pitying friends, gradually to death. Others are on a rack of agonies, by con- vulsive fits of the stone. O ! how the pain writhes their limbs ! How the sweat be- dews their flesh, and their eye-balls wildly roll ! IMethinks the night condoles with these her distressed children, and sheds dewy tears over their sorrowful abodes. But, of all mortals, they are the most ex- quisitely miserable, who groan beneath the pressure of a melancholy mind, or smart under the lashes of a resentful conscience. Though robed in ermine, or covered ivith jewels, the state of a slave chained to the gallies, or of an exile condemned to the mines, is a perfect paradise compared with theirs. O that the votaries of mirth, whose life is a continued round of merriment and whim, would bestow one serious reflection on thi.s variety of human \voes ! It might teach them to be less enamoured with the few languid sweets, that ai'e thinly scatter- ed tlirough this vale of tears, and environed with such a multitude of ragged thorns. It might teach them no longer to dance away their years, with a giddy rambling impulse ; but to aspire with a determined aim, after those happy regions, where delights abun- dant and unimbittered flow. Can there be circumstances which a man of wisdom would more earnestly deprecate than these several instances of grievous tri- bulation ? There arc ; and what is veiy as- tonishing, they are frequently the desire and the choice of those, who fancy them- selves the sole heirs of happiness : Those, I mean, who arc launching out into the dejjths of extravagance, and running exces- sive lengths of riot ; who are prostituting tlieir reputation, and sacriflcing their peace, to the gratification of their lusts ; sapjiinj the foundation of their health in debauch eries, or shipwrecking the interests of thci lamilies in their bowls, and what is worse, are forfeiting the joys of ;in eternal heaven, for the sordid satisfactions of the beast, for the tran- sitory sensations of an hour. Ye slaves of appetite, how far am I from envying your gross sensualities and voluptuous revels ! Little, ah ! little are you sensible, that while indidgence showers her roses, and luxury diffuses her odours, they scatter poi- sons also, and shed unheeded bane. • — Evils incomparably more malignant than the wormwood and gall of the sharpest afflic- tion. Since death is in the drunkard's cup, and worse than poinards in the harlot's em- brace, may it ever be the privilege of the man whom I love, to go without his share of these pestilent sweets !f Abundance of living sparks glitter in the lanes, and twinkle under the hedges. I suppose they are the glow-worms, M'hich have lighted their little lamps, and obtained leave, through the absence of the sun, to play a feeble beam. A faint glimmer just serves to render them perceivable, without tending at all to dissipate the shades, or making any amends for the departed day. Should some weather-beaten traveller, drop- ping with wet, and shivering with cold, ho- ver round this mimicry of fire, in order to dry his garments and warm his benumbed limbs ; should some bewildered traveller, groping for his way, in a starless night, and trackless desert, tiike one of these languid tapers, as a light to his feet, and a lantern to his path ; how certainly would both the one and the other be frustrated of their ex- pectation ! And are they more likely to succeed, who, neglecting that sovereign balm which distilled from the cross, apply any carnal diversion to heal the anxiety of the mind ? who, deaf to the infallible deci- sions of revelation, resign themselves over to the erroneous conjectures of reason, in order to find the way that leadeth unto life ? or, lastly, who have recourse to the froth of this vain world, for a satisfactory portion and a substantial happiness ? Their conduct is in no degree wiser; their disappointment equally sure ; and their miscarriage infin- itely more disastrous. To speak in the delicate lang\iage of a sacred writer, " they sow the wind, and ^vill reap the \\liirlwind." Hos. viii. 7. Tq speak moie plainly, the pleasures of the world, wliich we are all so prone to dote upon ; and the powers of fallen reason, wliicb some are so apt to idolize ;); are not • Ves in the flow'rs that wreathe the sparkling bowl. Fell adders hiss, and pois'nons serpents roll. I'rior's Sol. t " IJuam snava est suavitatibus istis carere '." — was St. Augustine's pious exclamation. The sub- stance of which Mr. Pope has expressed with more simplicity, and with no less dignity. Count all the advantage prosperous Vice attains. 'Tis but what Virtue ilics from and disdains. if. I hope it will be observed, that 1 .am far from de- crying that noble faculty of rcison when exerted in her proper sphere, when aoiiiig in a dirttrentinlsii'x)rdin- ation to ilic revealed will of heaven. While she fx- 88 CONTEMPLATIONS only vain, but treacherous ; not only a paint- ed flame, like the sparkling animals, but much like those unctuous exhalations, which arise from the marshy ground, and often dance before the eye of the benighted way-faring man. Kindled into a sort of fire, they per- sonate a guide, and seem to offer their ser- vice ; but blazing with delusive light, mis- lead their follower into hidden pits, head- long precipices, and unfathomable gulfs ; where, far from his beloved friends, far from all hopes of succour, the unhappy wanderer is swallowed up and lost. Not long ago we observed a very surpris- ing appearance in the western sky. A pro- digious star took its flaming route through those coasts ; and trailed as it passed, a tre- mendous length of fire, almost over half the heavens. Some, I imagine, viewed the por- tentous stranger, with much the same anx- ious amazement as Belshazzar beheld the hand-writing upon the wall. Some looked upon it as a bloody* flag, hung out by di- vine resentment over a guilty world. Some read in its glaring visage the fate of nations, and the fall of kingdoms.f To others it shook, or seemed to shake, pestilence and war from its horrid hair. For my part, I am not so superstitious as to regard what every astrologer has to prognosticate upon the accession of a comet, or the projection of its huge vapoury train. Nothing can be more precarious and unjustifiable, than to draw such conclusions from such events ; since they neither are preternatural effects, nor do they throw the frame of things into any disorder. I would rather adore that omnipotent Being, who rolled those stupen- dous orbs from his creating hand, and leads tliem by his providential eye, through un- ineasurable tracts of ether ; who bids them now approach the sun, and glow with un- suffenible ardours ;f now retreat to the ut- ercises lier powers within these appointed limits, she is unspeakably serviceable, and cannot be too indus- ti iously cultivated ; but, when she sets up herself in proud contradiction to the sacred oracles; when, all qrrogant and self-suiKcient, she says to the word of sc-ripture, I have no need of thee ; she is then, I must be bold to maintain, not only a glow-worm, but an U':?iisfatuiis, not only a bubble, but a snare. " May not this remark, with the strictest propriety, and without the least limitation, be applied to thege- nerality of our modern romances, novels, and theatri- cal entertainments > These are commonly calculated to inflame a wanton fancv ; or, if conducted with so much modesty as not to debauch the affections, they l.ervcrt the judgment, and bewilder the taste. By tlieir incredible adventures, their extravagant parade of gallantry, and their characters widely different from truth 'and nature, they inspire foolish conceits, beget idle expectations, introduce a disgust of genume history, and indispose their admirers to acquiesce in the decent civilities, or to relish the sober satisfactions of connnon life. • Liquida si quando nocte cometa Sanguinei lugubre rubenl.— Virg. + Crinemquetimendi Sideris. et terris, mutantem regna cometum. t "The comet in the year of 1680, according to !-ir Isaac Newton's computation, was, in its nearest approach, above 166 times nearer the sun than the I arth is. Consequently, its heat was then 98.0(XI times prr.atrrthan that of summer. So that a ball nf iron as most bounds of our planetary system, an^ make their entry among other worlds. They are harmless visitants. I acquit them from the charge of causing, or being accessory to desolating plagues. Would to God there were no other more formidable indications of approaching judgments, or impending ruin ! But, alas ! when vice be- comes predominant, and irreligion almost epidemical ; when the sabbaths of a jealous God are notoriously profaned, and that name which is great, wonderful, and holy, is prostituted to the meanest, or abused to the most execrable purposes ; when the worship of our great Creator and Preserver is banished from many of the most conspi- cuous families, and it is deemed a piece of rude impertinence so much as to mention the gracious Redeemer in our genteel inter- views ; when it passes for an elegant freedom of behaviour to ridicule the mysteries of Christianity, and a species of refined conver- sation to taint the air with lascivious hints ; when those who sit in the scorner's chair sin with a high hand, and many of those who wear the professor's garb, are destitute of the power, and content themselves with the mere form of godliness ; when such is the state of a community, there is reason, too apparent reason, to be horribly afraid. Such phenomena aboimding in the moral world, are not fanciful, but real omens. Will not an injured God be avenged on such a nation as this ? Will he not be provoked to " sweep it with the besom of destruction?"* O that the inhabitants of Great Britain would lay these alarming considerations to heart ! The Lord of hosts has commanded the sword of civil discord to retiuTi into its sheath ; but have we returned every one from his evil ways ? Are we become a re- newed people, devoted to a dying Saviour, and zealous of good works? What mean those peals of sobs which burst from the ex- piring cattle ? What mean those melancholy moans, where the lusty droves were wont to low ?f What mean those arrows of un- timely deaths, discharged on our innocent and useful animals ? No wantonness or sloth has vitiated the blood of these laborious, temperate crea- tures. They have contracted no disease big as the earth heated by it, would hardly beccnne cool in 50,000 years." Der. Astr. Theo. p. 237. » Isa. xiv- 23. The eternal sovereign, speaking of Babylon, denounces this threatening, " I will sweep it with the besom of destruction." — W hat a noble, but dreadful image is here I How strongly and awfully pourtrayed I How pregnant also is its signification : intimating the vile nature, and expressing the total extirpation of this wicked people ; at the same time, suggesting the perfect ease with which the righteous GoQ would execute his intencted vengeance. f If these papers should be so happy as to outlive their author, perhaps it may be needful to inform pos- terity, that the above mentioned hints allude to a most terrible cont.igious and mortal distemper, raging among the hornrd cattle in v»»ious partsof the king- dom ON TlIK XIGIIT. 89 from unseasonable iin.;u?„''ei::-es and inordi- riate revelliiigs. The pure stream is their di-hik ; the simple herb their rej)ast. Nei- ther care disturbs their sleej), nor passion in- flames their breast. Whence, then, are they visited with such terrible disorders, as no prudence can jirevent, nor any medicines heal ? Siuely these calamities are the wea- )ions of divine displeasure, and manifest chastisements of an evil generation !* Sure- ly God, the God to whom vengeance be- longeth, has still a controversy with our sin- ful land ! And who can tell where the visi- tation will end ? AVhat a storm may follow these delusive drops ? O that we u)ay " hear the rod, and who hath appointed it I" Taught by these penal effects of our disobe- dience, may we remove the accursed thing from our tents, our practices, our hearts ; (Joshua vi. 18.) May we turn from all un- godliness, before wrath come upon us to the uttermost ; before iniquity prove our ruin ! Sometimes at this hour, another most re- markable sight amuses the curious, and alarms the vulgar. A blaze of lambent meteors is kindled, or some very extraor- dinary lights are refracted, in the quarters of the north. The streams of radiance, like legions rushing to the engagement, meet and mingle, insomuch that the air seems to be all conflicting fire. Within a while they start from one another, and, like legions in precipitate flight, sweep each a sepai'ate way through the tirmament. Now they are quiescent, anon they are throwii into a qui- vering motion ; presently the whole horizon is illuminated with the glancing flames. Sometimes, with an aspect awfully ludi- iTous, they represent extravagant and antic vagaries : at other times, you would suspect that some invisible hand was playing off the dumb artillery of the skies, and, by a strange expedient, giving us the flash without the n)rtr. The villagers gaze at the spectacle : first with wonder, then with horror. A gener- ;)1 T)anic seizes the country. Every heart throbs, and every face is pale. The crowds that flock together, instead of diminishing, increase the dread. They catch contagion from each other's looks and words : while tear is ni every eye, and every tongue speaks the language of terror. Some see hideous sliajjes, armies mixing in fierce encounter, or fields swimming with blood. Some fore- see direfid events, states overthrown, or mighty monarchs tottering on their thrones. Others, scared witii still more frightful ap- prehensions, think of nothing hut the day of lenished it with marrow and fatness : while temper- ance sweetened the bowl, appetite seasoned the dish, contentment and gratitude crown- ed the repast? Has not thy kindness, O God of the family of Israel, preserved my affectionate relations, who study by their tender offices to soften every care, and heighten every joy ? Has not thy kindness given me valuable friends, whose presence is a cordial to cheer me in a dejected hour, and whose conversation mingles im])rove- ment with delight ? " When sin lay disguised amidst flowery .scenes of pleasure ; enlightened by thy wis- dom, I discerned the latent mischief ; made resolute by thy grace, I shunned the lusci- ous bjne. If, tliioiigh the impulse of sen- suality, or the violence of passion, I have been hurried into the snare, and stung by the serpent ; thy faithful admonitions have recalled the foolish wanderer, while the blood of thy Son has healed his deadly wounds. Some, no doubt, have been cut off in the midst of their iniquities, and transmitted from the thrillings of polluted joy to the agonies of eternal despair ; whereas I have been distinguished by long- suffering mercy ; and, instead of lifting up my eyes in torments, to behold a heaven ir- recoverably lost, I may lift them up under the pleasing views of being admitted, ere long, into those abodes of endless felicity. In the mean time, thou hast vouchsafed me the revelation of thy will, the influences of thy Spirit, and abundance of the most ef- fectual aids, for advancing in knowledge, and growing in godliness ; for becoming more conformable to thy image, and more meet for thy presence ; for tasting the plea- sures of religion, and securing the riches of eternity. " How various is thy beneficence, O thou lover of souls ! It has unsealed a thousand sources of good ; opened a thousand ave- nues of delight ; and heaped blessings upon me with a ceaseless liberality. If 1 should attempt to declare them, they would be more than the starry host which glitter m this unclouded sky ; more than the dewy gems, which will adorn the face of the morning. " And, shall I forget the God of my sal- vation, the author of all my mercies ! Haiher let my pulse forget to beat. Shall I render him no expressions of thankfulness ? Then might all nature reproach my ingratitude. Shall I rest satisfied with the bare acknow- ledgment of my lips ? No ; let my life be vocal, and speak his praise, in that only ge- nuine, that most emjjhatical language, the language of devout obedience. Let the bill be diawn upon my very heart; let all my affections acknowledge the drauglit , and let the whole tenor of my actions, in time iu\d through eternity, be continually paying the debt, the ever- pleasing, ever-growing debt of duty, veneration, and love. " And can I, O thou guide of my goings, and guardian of all my interests, can I dis- trust such signal, such experienced good- ness ? 'Jliou hast been my helper through all the busy scenes of d;iy ; therefore under the shadow of thy wings will I rejjose my- self, during the darkness, the danger, and death-like inactivity of the night-. \Vi)ut- ever defilement I liave contracted, wash it thoroughly away in redeeming blood ; and let neither tlie sinful stain, nor tlie sinful inclination, ac-comi)any mc to my couch. Then shall I liiy me down in peace, and take my rest ; chcert'ully referring it to thy all-wise determination, wlieihcr I shall open my eyes in this world, or awake in the im- , known regions of another. CONTKMPLATIONS THE STARRY HEAVENS. This evening, I exchange the nice retreats of art, for the noble theatre of nature. In- stead of measuring my steps, under the ro- vert of an arbour, let me range along the summit of this gently rising hill. There is no need of the leafy shade, since the sun has quitted the horizon, and withdrawn bis scorching beams. But see how advanta- ges and inconveniences are usually linked, and chequer our affairs below ! If the an- noying heat ceases, the landscape and its pleasing scenes are also removed. The ma- jestic castle and the lowly cottage are van- ished together. I have lost the aspiring mountain, and its russet brow ; I look round but to no purpose, for the humble vale, and its flowery lap. The plains whitened with flocks, and the heath yellow \vith furze, dis- appear. The advancing night has wrapt in darkness the long extended forest, and drawn her mantle over the windings of the silver stream. I no longer behold that lux- uriant fertility in the fields, that wild magni- ficence of prospect, and endless variety of images, wliich have so often touched me with delight, and struck me with awe, from this commanding eminence. The loss, however, is scarcely to be re- gretted ; since it is amply compensated by the opening beauties of the sky. Here I enjoy a free view of the whole hemisphere, without any obstacle from below to confine the exploring eye, or any cloud from above, to overcast the spacious concave. It true, the lively vermillion, which so lately streaked the chambers of the west, is all faded ? But the planets, one after another, light up their lamps ; the stars advance in the', glittering train ; a thousand and a thou- ^jid luminaries shine forth in successive splendours ; and the whole firmament is kindling into the most beautifid glow. The blueness of the ether, heightened by the sea- son of the year, and still more enlivened by the absence of the moon, gives those gems of heaven the strongest lustre. One pleasure more the invading gloom has not been able to snatch from my sense. The night rather improves than destroys the fragrance which exales from the bloom- beans With these the sides of this slopping declivity are lined ; and with these the balmy zephyrs perfume their wings. Does Arabia, from all her spicy groves, breathe a more liberal, or a more charming gale of sweets ? And, what is a peculiar re- commendation of the rural entertainments presented in our hajjpy land, they are alloy- ed by no apprehensions of danger. No poisonous serpent links under the blossom ; nor any ravenous beast lies ready to start from the thicket. But I wander from a far more exalted subject. My thoughts, like my aflfections, are too easily diverted from the heavens, and detained by inferior objects. Away, my attention ! from these little blandishments of the earth ; since all the glories of the sky invite thy regard. We have tiiken a turn among the tombs, and viewed the solemn memorials of the dead, in order to learn the vanity of moital things, and to break their soft enchantment. We have surveyed the ornaments of the garden ; not that the heart might be planted in the parterre, or take root among the flowery race ; but that these delicacies of a day might teach us to aspire after a better paradise, where beauty never fades, and de- light is ever in the bloom. A third time we lighted the candle of meditation ; and sought for msdom, not in the crowded city or wrangling schools, but in the silent and lonely walks of ancient Night. • Let us once more indulge the contemplative vein, and raise oiu* speculations to those sublimei I • RefeiTi ng to the several subjecU of the three pr* 'ceiling essays. ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 9? works of the great Creator which the re- gions of the sky contain, and the dusky hour unveils.* If we have discenied the touches of his pencil glowing in the colours of spring, if we have seen a sample of his beneficence exhibited in the stores of natiu-e, and a ray of his brightness beaming in the blaze of day ; what an infinitely richer field for the display of his perfections are the heavens ! The heavens, in the most emphatical man- ner, declare the glory of God. The hea- vens are nobly eloquent of the Deity, and the most magnificent heralds of their Ma- ker's praise. They speak to the whole uni- verse ; for there is neither speech so bar- barous, but their language is understood ; nor nation so distant, but their voices are heard among them. (Psalm xix. 2.) Let me, then, in this solemn season, formed for thought, and a calm intercourse with hea- ven, let me listen to their silent lectures. Perhaps I may receive such impressive manifestations of " the eternal power and Godhead," as may shed religion on my soul while I walk the solitary shades, and may be a tutelary friend to my virtue, when the call of business and the return of light ex- pose me again to the inroads of temptation. The Israelites, instigated by frenzy rather than devotion, worshipped the host of hea- ven. And the pretenders to judicial astro- logy talk of I know not what mysterious efficacy in the diiFerent aspect of the stjus, or the various conjunction and opposition of the planets. Let those who are un- acquainted with the sure word of revelation, give ear to these sons of delusion, and dealers in deceit. For my part, it is a question of indiflerence to me, whether the constellations shone with smiles, or lowered in frowns, on the hour of my nativity. Let Christ be my guard ; and, secure in such a protection, I would laugh at their impotent menaces. Let Christ be my guide ; and I shall scorn to ask as well as despair of re- ceiving, any predictory information from such senseless masses. What ! shall " the living seek to the dead ?" (Isaiah viii. 19.) Can these bodies advertise me of future events, which are unconscious of their own existence? Shall I have recourse to dull unintelligent matter, when I may apply to that all-wise being, who with one compre- hensive glance distinctly views whatever is lodged in the bosom of immensity, or forming in the womb of futurity ? Never, never will I search for any intimations of my fate, but often trace my Creator's fbot- • Night opes the noblest scenes, and sheth hu awe, Whirli give those venerable scenes fuil weight, And deep reception in th' tnteiider'd heart. A'/i'/ir TfwusMs, No. IX. steps* in yonder starry plains. In the for- mer case, they would be teachers of lies ; in the latter, they are oracles of truth. In this, therefore, this sense only, I profess myself the pupil of the stars. The vulgar are apprehensive of nothing more than a multitude of bright spangles dropt over the etherial blue. They have no higher notion of these fine appearances, than that they are so many golden studs with which the empyrean arch is decorated. But studious minds, that carry a more accurate and strict inquiry among the celestial bo- dies, bring back advices of a most astonish- ing import. Let me just recollect the most material of those stupendous discoveries, in order to furnish out proper subjects for con- templation. And let the unlearned remem- ber, that the scene I am going to display, is the workmanship of that incomprehensible God, who is " perfect in knowledge and mighty in power ;" whose name, whose na- ture, and all whose operations arc " great and marvellous ;'' who smnmons into being v.'ith equal ea»e, a single grain, or ten thou- sand worlds. To this if we continually ad- vert, the assertions, though they will cer- tainly excite our admiration, need not tran- scend our belief. The earth is, in fact, a round body, how- ever it may seem in some parts to be sunk into vales, and raised into hills ;f in other parts, to be spread into a spacious plain, ex- tending to the confines of the heavens, or terminated by the waters of the ocean. * " It is most becoming" (says a great author) " such imperfect creatures as we are, to contemplate the works of God with this design, that we may dis- cern the manifestations of wisdom in tliem ; and thereby excite in ourselves those devout affections, and that superlaliverespect, which is the very essence of praise, as it is a reasonable and moral service." Abernetliy o>i the Attributes. And, indeed, if we are sincerely disposed to employ ourselves in this excel- lent, this delightful duty of praising the infinite Cre- ator; the means and the motives are both at hand. His works, in a wonderful and instructive variety, present themselves with pregnant manifestations of the most transcendent excellencies of their Maker. They pour their evidence from all quarters, and into all the avenues-of the mind. They invite us, especi- ally in the magnificent .system of the universe, to contemplate counsel consummately wise, and execu- tion inimitably perfect ; power, to which nothing is impossible; and goodness, which extendeth to all, which endureth for ever. To give, not a full display, but only some slight strictures of these glorious truths, is the principal scope of the following re- marks. t A learned writer, I think Dr. Derham, has some- where an observation to this purpose : That the loft- iest summits of hills, and the most enormous ridges of mountains, are no real objections to (he globular or round form of the earth. Bscause, however they may render it, to our limited sight, vastly uneven ancl protuberant, yet they bear no more proportion to the entire surface of the ter. aqueous ball, than a particle of dust, casually dropt on the mathemati- cian's globe, bears to its whole circumference. Con- sequently, the rotund figure is no more destroyed in the r.jrmei case than in the latter. On thesame prin- ciple, I have not thought it necessary to take any no- tice of the comparatively small ditl'erence between the polar and equatorial diameter of the earth. 98 CONTEMPLATIONS We may fancy iliat it has deep foundations, and rests upon some prodigiously solid basis : But it is pendent in the wide transpicuous ether, without any visible cause to uphold it from above, or support it from beneath. It may seem to be sedentary in its attitude, and motionless in its situation : But it is continually sailing* through the depths of the sky ; and in the space of twelve months finishes the mighty voyage. Which perio- dical rotation produces the seasons and com- pletes the year. As it proceeds in the an- nual circuit, it spins upon its own centre, and turns its sides alternately to the foun- tain of light. By which means the day dawns in one hemisphere, while the night succeeds in the other. Without this expe- dient, one part of its regions would, during half the great revolution, be scorched with excessive heat, or langiush under an uninter- mitted glare ; while the other, exposed to the contrary extremes, would be frozen to ice, and buried under a long oppression of dismal and destructive darknels. I cannot forbear taking notice, that in this compound motion of the earth, the one never interferes with the other, but both are perfectly compatible. Is it not thus with the precepts of religion, and the need- ful affairs of the present life ; not excepting even the innocent gratifications of our appe- tites ? Some, I believe, are apt to imagine, that they must renounce society, if they de- vote themselves to Christ ; and abandon all the satisfactions of this world, if they once become zealous candidates for the felicity of another. But this is a very mistaken notion, or else a very injurious representa- tion of the doctrine which is according to godliness. It was never intended to drive men into deserts, but to lead them, through the peaceful and pleasant paths of \visdom, into the blissfid regions of life eternal. It was never intended to strike off the wheels of business, or cut in sunder the sinews of industry ; but rather to make men indus- trious, from a principle of conscience, not from the instigations of avarice ; that so they may promote their immortal happiness even while they provide for their temporal maintenance. It has no design to extirpate our passions, but only to restrain their kre- gularities ; neither would it extinguish the delights of sense, but prevent them from evaporating into vanity, and subsiding into gall. A person may be cheerful among his friends, and yet joyful in God. He may taste the sweets of his earthly estate, and, at the same time cherish his hopes of a no- bler inheritance in heaven. The trader may * With what amazing speed this vessel, (If I may carrj on the allusion,) filled with a multitude of na- tions, and freighted with all their possessions, makes her way through the ethejial si>Me. prosecute the demands of commerce, with- out neglecting to negotiate the affairs of his salvation. Tlie warrior may wear his sword, may draw in a just cause that nmr- derous weapon, yet be a good soldier of Je- sus Christ, and obtain the cro\^^l that fa- deth not away. The parent may lay up a competent portion for his children, and not forfeit his title to the treasures either of grace or of glory. So far is Christianity from obstnicting any valuable interest, or withholding any real pleasure, that it im- proves the one, and advances the other : Just as the diurnal and annual motions are so far from clashing, that they entirely ac- cord ; and instead of being destructive of each other, by mutuaDy blending their ef- fects, they give proportion and harmony to time, fertility and innumerable benefits to natm-e. To us who dwell on its surface, the earth is by far the most extensive orb that our eyes can any where behold. It is also clothed with verdure, distinguished by trees, and adorned with a variety of beautiful de- corations. Wliereas, to a spectator placed on one of the planets, it wears an uniform aspect ; looks all luminous, and no larger than a spot. To beings who dwell at still greater distances, it entirely disappears. That which we call, alternately, the morn- ing and the evening star, (as in one part of her orbit she rides foremost in the proces- sion of night, in the other ushers in and an- ticipates the dawn,) is a planetary world ; which, with the four others, that so won- derfully var)' their mystic dance, are in themselves dark bodies, and shine only by reflection ; have fields, and seas, and skies of their own ; are furnished with all accom- modations for animal subsistence, and are supposed to be the abodes of intellectual life. All which, together with this our earthly habitation, are dependant on that grand dispenser of divine munificence — the sun ! receive their light from the distribu- tion of his rays, and derive their comforts from his benign agency. The sun, which seems to perform its daily stages through the sky, is in this re- spect,* fixed and immoveable. It is the great axle of heaven, about which the globe we inhabit, and other more spacious orbs, wheel their stated courses. The sun, though seemingly smaller than the dial it illuminates, is abundantly largerf than this whole earth, on which so many lofty mountains rise, and such vast oceans roll. * I say, in this tespect, that 1 may not seem to forget or exclude the revolution of the sun round its own axis. t lOO.OOK times, according to the lowest reckon- ing. Sir Isaac Newton computes the sun to be nn(i,noO times bigger than the e»rth.—RW!|j-70H»- P;n7o- topher, p. 740 ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 99 A line, extending from side to side, through the centre of tliat resplendent orb, would measure more than eight hundred thousand miles : a girdle, formed to go round its cir- cumference, would require a length of mil- lions : were its solid contents to be estima- ted, the account would overwhelm our un- derstanding, and be almost beyond the power of language to express. * Are we startled at these reports of philosophy ? Are we ready to cry out in a transport of surprise, How mighty is the being, who kindled such a prodigious fire, and keeps alive, from age to age, such an enormous mass of flame ? Let us attend to our pliilosophic guides, and we shall be brought acquainted with speculations more enlarged and more amaz- ing. The sun, with all its attendant planets, is but a very little part of the grand ma- chine of the universe. Every star, though in appearance no bigger than the diamond that glitters upon a lady's ring, is really a vast globe, like the sun in size, and in glory ; no less spacious, no less luminous, than the radiant source of our day. So that every star is not barely a world, but the centre of a magnificent system : has a retinue of worlds, irradiated by its beams, and revolving round its attractive influence ; all which are lost to our sight in unmea- surable wilds of ether. That the stars ap- pear like so many diminutive, and scarce distinguishable points, is o\\dng to their im- mense, and inconcei\'able distance. Im- mense and inconceivable indeed it is ; since a ball, shot from a loaded cannon, and flying with unabated rapidity, must tra\'e], at this impetuous rate, almost seven hundred thou- sand years,f before it could reach the near- est of those twinkling luminaiies. Can any thing be more wonderful than these observations ? Yes ; there are truths far more stupendous ; there are scenes far more extensive. As there is no end of the almighty Maker's greatness, so no imagi- nation can set limits to his creating hand. Could you soar beyond the moon, and pass through all the planetary choir ; could you wing your way to the highest apparent star, and take your stand on one of the loftiest pinnacles of heaven — you would there see other skies expanded ; another sun distri- buting his inexhaustible beams by day ; other stars that gild the horrors of the al- ternate night ; and other,f perhaps nobler. • Dr. Derham, after having calculated the dimensions of theplanets, adds/'AinazinKasthesemassesare, they are all far outdone by that stupendous globe of light, thesun ; which, as it is the fountain of light and heat to all the planets alxjut it, so doth it far surpass them all in its bulk ; its apparent diameter being computed at 822,148 English miles, its ambit at 2,.')82,873 miles, and its solicf contents at, 21)0,971, U(X»,0(K),OUU,0(iU." Astro-Theology, Book I. ch. ii. t See Religious Philosopher, p.. 818. t See Astro-Theology, Hook IT. chap. ii. where the author, )iaving assigned various reasons to support systems established — established in unknown profusion, through the boundless dimensions of space. Nor does the dominion of the universal Sovereign terminate there. Even at the end of this vast tour, you would find yourself advanced no farther than the sub- urbs of creation, arrived only at the frontiers of the great Jehovah's kingdom." And do they tell me that the sun, the moon, and all the planets, are but a little part of his works? How great, then, are his signs ! and how mighty are his wonders. (Dan. iv. 3.) And if so, what is the Cre- ator himself? How far exalted above all praise ! who is so high, that he looks down on the highest of these dazzling spheres, and sees, even the summit of creation, in a vale ! so great, that this prodigious extent of space in but a point in his presence ; and all this confluence of worlds, as the lightest atom, that fluctuates in air, and sports in the meridian ray.f Thou most sublime and incomprehen- sibly glorious God, how I am overwhelmed with awe ! how sunk into the lowest pro- stration of mind ! when I consider thy " ex- cellent greatness," and my own utter insig- nificancy ? And have I, excessively mean as I am, have I entertained any conceited apprehensions of myself; have I felt the least elatement of thought, in the presence this theory of our modern astronomers, adds, " re- sides the fore-meutioned strong probabilities, we have this farther recommendation of such an account of the universe, that it is far more magnificent, and worthy of the infinite Creator, than any other of the narrower schemes." * Job, after a most beautiful dissertation on the mighty works of God, as they are distributed through universal nature, from the heights of heaven to the very depths of hell, closes the magnificent account with this acknowledgment; Lo ! these are parts of his ways. Or, as the original word more literally sig- nifies, and may, I think, be more elegantly rendered. These are only the skirts, the very uttermost borders of his works. No mote than a small preface to the immense volume of the creation. From the Hebrew (extremities,) I cannot forbear thinking on the ex- treme and very attenuated fibres of the root, when compared with the whole substance of the trunk ; or on the exquisitely small size of the capillary vessels, when compared with the whole structure of the body. Job xxvi. 14. t This puts me in mind of a very fine remark on a scriptural beauty and a solid correction of the com- mon translation, made by that learned, sagacious, and devout expositor Vitringa. Isa. xl. 15. We find it written of the Supreme Being, that he taketh up tlie isles (Ii a vent little thiii^. Which, our critic observes, is neither answerable to the import of the original, nor consonant to the structure of the discourse. The prophet liad no intention to inform mankind what the Almighty could do with regard to the islands, if he pleased to exert uncontrollable power. His design was to show how insignificant, or rather what mere nothings they ar,-, in his esteem, and before his Ma- jesty. The islands, says he, though so spacious as to afford room for the erection of kingdoms, and the abode of nations ; though so strong as to withstand, for many thousands of years, the raging and reiterat- ed assaults of the whole watery world, are yet, before the adored Jehovah, small as trie minutest grain which the eye can scarce discern, light as the feathered mote which the least breath hurries away like a tempest. Jnsulte sunt iit leve qiiiii, qund avelat. The deep- rooted islands are as the volatile atom, which by the gentlest undulations of the air, is wafted to and fro in perpetual agitation. 100 CONTEMPLi^TIONS of so majestic and adorable a being? How should this wound me with sorrow, and co- ver me with confusion ! O my God, was I possessed of all the high perfections, which accomplish and adorn the angels of light ; amidst all these noble endowments I would fall down in the deepest abasement at thy feet. Lost in the infinitely superior blaze of thy uncreated glories, I would confess myself to be nothing, to be less than no- thing and vanity. How much more ought I to maintain the most unfeigned liumilia- tion before thy divine majesty, who am not ordy dust and ashes, but a compound of ig- norance, imperfection, and depravity ! While, beholding this vast expanse, I learn my own extreme meanness, I woidd also discover the abject littleness of all terrestrial things. What is the earth with all her ostentatious scenes, compared with this astonishing grand furniture of the skies ? What, but a dim speck hardly perceivable in the map of the universe ? It is observed by a very judicious writer,* that if the sun himself, which enlightens this part of the creation, was extinguished, and all the host of plan- etary worlds which move about him, were annihilated ; they would not be missed by an eye that can take in the whole compass of nature, any more than a grain of sand upon the sea-shore. The bulk of which they consist, and the space which they oc- cupy, is so exceedingly little in comparison of the whole, that their loss would scarce leave a blank in the immensity of God's works. If then, not our globe only, but this whole system, be so very diminutive, what is a kingdom or a country ? what are a few lordships, or the so much admired pa- trimonies of those who are styled wealthy ? When I measure them with my own little pittance, they swell into proud and bloated dimensions. But when I take the universe for my standard, how scanty is their size, how contemptible their figure ! They shrink into pompous nothings. When the keen-eyed eagle soars above all the feathered race, and leaves their very sight below -. when she wings her way with direct ascent up the steep of heaven, and, steadily gazing on the meridian sun, ac- counts its beaming splendours all her o\\-n : does she then regard with any solicitude, the mote that is flying in the air, or the dust which she shook from her feet ? And shall this eternal mind, which is capable of con- templating its Creator's glory, which is in- tended to enjoy the visions of his counten- ance ; shall this eternal mind, endued with such great cajiacities, and made for such ex- alted ends, be so ignobly ambitious as to sigh for the tinsel of state ; or so poorly covetous as to grasp after ample territories Spect. Vol. viii. No. odH on a needle's point? No; under -the influ- ence of such considerations, I feel my sen- timents expand, and my wishes acquire a tone of sublimity. My throbbing desires after worldly grandeur die away ; and I find myself, if not possessed of power, yet su- perior to its charms. Too long, must I own, have my afl^ections been pinioned by vanity, and immured in this earthly clod. But these thoughts break the shackles ;• these objects open the door of liberty. My soul, fired by such noble prospects, weighs anchor from this little nook, and coasts no longer about its contracted shores ; dotes !io longer on its painted shells. The im- mensity of things is her range, and an infin- ity of bliss is her aim. Behold this immense expanse, and ad- mire the condescension of thy God. In this manner, an inspired and princely as- tronomer improved his survey of the noc- turnal heavens. " When I consider thy heavens, even the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordain- ed : I am smitten with wonder at thy glo- ry, and cry out in a transport of gratitude. Lord, \A'hat is man, that thou ait niindful of him ! or the son of man, that thou visitest him !" (Psalm viii. 3, 4.) How amazing, how charming, is that divine benignity, which is pleased to bow down its sacred re- gards to so foolish and worthless a creature I yea, disdains not, from the height of infinite exaltation, to extend its kind providential care to our most minute concerns ! this is amazing. But that the everlasting Sover- eign should give his Son to be made flesh, and become our Saviour ! shall I call it a miracle of condescending goodness ? Rather what are all miracles, what are all myster- ies, to this ineffable gift ! Had the brightest archangel been com- missioned to come down, with the olive branch of peace in his hand, signifying his eternal Maker's readiness to be recon- ciled ; on our bended knees, with teai's of joy, and a torrent of thankfulness, we ought to have received the transporting news. But when, instead of such an an- gelic envoy, he sends l\is only begotten Son, his Son beyond all thought illustrious, to make us the gracious overture — sends him from the " habitation of his holiness and glory," to put on the infirmities of mortali- ty, and dwell in a tabernacle of clay ; sends him, not barely to make us a transient vi- sit, but to abide many years in our inferior and miserable world ; sends him, not to ex- * The soul of man was made to walk the skies, Fe'ightfu! cutlet ofhei pri'-ou here ! Tuefe, disincumbei-'cl from l.cr ihams, the ties Of to>s terrestrial, shs can i. o r.t large ; There freely cnn respire, dila . "x^eml. In full proportion let loose a., i' r ;ir,wers. tiigM-lhousMn. No. IX. ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 101 etcise dominion over monarchs, but to wear out his life in the ignoble form of a ser- vant ; and at last, to make his exit under tne infamous character of a malefactor ! Was ever love like this ? Did ever grace stoop so low ?* Should the sun be shorn of all his radiant honours, and degraded into a clod of the valleys ; should ail the dignitar- ies of heaven be deposed from their thrones, and degenerate ir ~o insects of a day ; great, great would be the abasement ; but nothing to thine, most blessed Jesus ! nothing to thine, thou prince of peace ! when for us men, and for our salvation, thou didst not ab- hor the coarse accommodations of the man- ger ; thou didst not decline even the gloomy Lorroi-s of the grave. It is well the sacred oracles have given this doctrine the most explicit confirmation, and evidence quite incontestible ; other- wise a favour so undeserved, so unexpected, and rich beyond all imagination, might stag- ger our belief. Could He who launclies all these planetary globes through the illi- mitable void, and leads them on, from age to age, in their extensive career : could he resign his hands to be confined by the gird- ing cord, and his back to be ploughed by the bloody scourge ! Could he who crowns all the stars with inextinguishable bright- ness, be himself defiled with spitting, and disfigured with the thorny scar ! It is the greatest of wonders, and yet the surest of truths. O ! ye mighty orbs, that roU along the spaces of the sky ; I wondered a little while ago at your vast dimensions and ample circuits ; but now my amazement ceases, or rather is entirely swallowed up by a much more stupendous subject. Methinks your enormous bulk is shrivelled to an atom, your prodigious revolutions are contracted • This reminds me of a very noble piece of sacrert oratory, where, in a fine series of the most beautiful gradations, the apostle displays the admirably conde- scending kindness of our Saviour. He tliotipht it no robbery, it was his indisputable right, to be equal with the infinite, self-existent, immortal God. Yet, in mercy to sinners, he emptied himself of the incom- municable honours, and laid aside the robes of incom- prehensible glory. W hen he entered upon his medi- atorial state, instead of acting in the grand capacity of universal Sovereign, he took uponhim the formofa servant; and not theformof those ministering spirits, whose duty is dignity itself, who are throned, though adoring. He tnnjc not on him the nature of a>ic;els, but stooped incomparably lower; assumed a body of animsf^d dust, and was inniie in the likeness of men, those inferior and depraved creatures. Astonishing condescension ! but not sullicient for the overflowing richness of the Redeemer's love. For, being found in fashion a.t a man, he huinh'.rd himself farther still ; occupied the lowest place, where all was low and ig- noble. He not only submitted to the yoke of the law, but also bare the infiimities, and ministered to tli .' necessities of mort.-'.ls. He even washed the feet of others, and had not where to lay his own head. Yea, he carried his meritorious humiliation to the very deepest degrees of possible abasement. He became obedient unto dent h : and not to a common or natur- al death, but a death more infamous than the gibbet, more torturcms than the rack, even the aceuntd dentil of the eross, Phil ii 6 — 8. to a span, while I muse upon the far more elevated heights, and unfathomable depths, the infinitely more extended lengths, and tmlimited breadths, of the love of God in Christ Jesus ; (Eph. iii. 18, 19.) Contemplating this stately expanse, I see a mirror which represents in the most awful colours the heinousness of human guilt. Ten thousand volumes wrote on purpose to display the aggravations of my various acts of disobedience, could not so effectually convince me of their inconceiv- able enormity, as the consideration of that aU-glorious person, who, to make an atone- ment for them, spilt the last drop of his blood. I have sinned, may every child of Adam say ; and what sliall I do unto thee, O thou observer of men ?* Shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? vain com- mutation ! and such as would be rejected by the blessed God with the utmost abhor- rence. Will all the potentates that sway the sceptre in a thousand kingdoms, devote their royal and honoured lives to rescue an obnoxious creature from the stroke of ven- geance ? Alas ! it must cost more, incom- parably more, to expiate the malignity of sin, and save a guilty wretch from hell. Will all the principalities of heaven be con- tent to assume my natiu'e, and resign them- selves to death for my pardon ?f Even this would be too mean a satisfaction for inex- orable justice ; too scanty a reparation of * Job vii. 21. Not preserver, as it stands in our version, but observer of men. Which phrase, as it de- notes the exact and incessant inspection of the divine eye, as it intimates theabsoluteimpossibilitythatany transgression should escape the divine notice, is evi- dently most proper, both to assign the reason, and heighten the emphasis of the context. t Milton sets this thought in a very poetical and striking light. — All the sanctities of heaven stand round the ihroneof the supreme Majesty. God fore- sees and fortels the fall of man ; the ruin which will unavoidably ensue on his transgression ; and the ut- ter impossibility of his being able to extricate him- self from the abyss of misery. He, with his whole posterity must die ; Die he, e'er justice must ; unless for him .Some other able, and as willing, pay The rigid satisfaction, death for death. After which affecting representation, intending to raise the most tender emotions of pity, the following inquiry is addressed to all the surrounding angels. Say, heav'nly powers, where shall we find such love ? Which of you wil! be mortal to redeem Man's mortal crime ? and die the dead to save ? He ask'd ; but all the heavenly choir stood mute. And silence was in heav'n. There is, to me at least, an inimitable spirit and beauty in the last circumstance. That such an in- numerable multitude of generous and compassionate beings should be struck dumb with surprise and ter- ror at the very mention of the deadly forfeiture and ransom set ! no language is so eloquent as this silence. Words could not possibly have expresseii, in so em- phatical a manni.r, the dreadful nature of the task ; the absolute inability of any or all creatures to exe- cute it; IIk" siipereiriinint and matchless love of the eternal .■ . in undertaking the tremendous work, not only will:. )Ut reluctance, but unsought, and un- implored, with readiness, alacrity and delight. Par. Lost, Book HI. line 'iwj. Edit. lieni. 102 CONTEMPLATIONS God's injured honour. So flagrant is hu- man guilt, that nothing but a victim of in- finite dignity could constitute an adequate propitiation. He who said, " Let there be light, and there was light ;" let there be a firmament, and immediately the blue cur- tains floated in the sky ; he must take flesh ; he must feel the fierce torments of crucifix- ion ; and pour out his soul in agonies if ever such ti'ansgressors are pardoned. How vast is that debt, which all the wealth of both the Indies cannot discharge ! How vitiated that habit of body, which all the drugs produced by nature herself cannot rectify ! But how much more ruined was thy condition, O my soul ! how much more heinous were thy crimes ! since nothing less than the suflferijtgs and death of Messiah, the Son of God, and radiant image of his glon,', could effect thy recovery, or cancel thy iniquity. Though, perhaps, thou art not sunk so very deep in pollution as some of the most abandoned profligates, yet re- member the inestimable ransom paid to re- deem thee from everlasting destruction. Remember tliis, and " never open thy mouth any more," (Ezek. xvi. 63,) either to murmur at the divine chastisements, or to glory in thy own attainments. Remem- ber this, and even " loathe thyself for the multitude of thy provocations," (Ezek. xxxvi. 31,) and thy great baseness. Once more let me view this beautiful, this magnificent expanse, and conceive some juster apprehensions of the unknown rich- ness of my Saviour's atonement. I am in- formed, by a writer who cannot mistake, that the High Priest of my profession, who was also the sacrifice for my sins, is higher than the heavens; (Heb. vii. 26,) more exalted in dignity, more bright with glory, than all the heavenly mansions, and all their illustrious inhabitants. If my heart was humbled at the consideration of its ex- cessive guilt, how do all my drooping pow- ers revive at this delightful thought ! The poor criminal, that seemed to be tottering on the very brink of the infernal pit, is raised by such a belief, even to the portals of paradise. My self-abasement, I trust will always continue, but my fears, under the influence of such a conviction, ai'e quite gone.* I do not, I cannot doubt the effi- cacy of this proj)itiation. While I see a glimpse of its matchless exceUency, and * I am sorry to find, that some of my readers were a little disgusted at this expression, " my fears are quite gone;" as thinking it discovered a tincture of arrogance in the writer, and tended to discourage the weak Christian. But I hope a more mature consider- ation will acquit me from both these charges. For, what has the author said ? Only that at some pecu- liarly happy moments, when the Holy Ghost bears witness of Christ in his heart, and he is favoured with a glimpse of the Redeemer's matchless excel- lency— that in these brighter intervals of life, his trenibling fears with regard to the decisive sentence verily believe myself interested m its me- rits, I know not what it is to feel any mis- giving suspicions, but am steadfast in faitb, and joyful through hope. Be my iniquities like debts of millions of talents, here is more than full payment for all that prodigious sum. Let the enemy of mankind, and accuser of the brethren, load me with invectives ; this one plea, A Divine Redeemer died ! most thoroughly quashes every indictment. For though there be much turpitude, and manifold transgres- sions, " there is no condemnation to those that are in Christ Jesus." Nay, were I chargeable with all the vilest deeds which have been committed in every age of the world, by every nation of men ; even in this most deplorable case I need not sink into despair. Even such guUt, though grie- vous beyond all expression, is not to be compared with that abundance of grace and righteousness which dwell in the incarnate Divinity. How great, how transcendently glorious, are the perfections of the adored Jehovah ! So great, so superlatively pre- cious, is the expiation of the dying Jesus. It is impossible for the human mind to ex- alt this atonement too highly ;* it is impos- sible for the humble penitent to confide in it too steadily. The scriptures of eternal truth have said it, (exult my soul, in the belief of it ! ) that the blood on which we rely, is God's own blood; (Acts xx. 28,) and therefore all-sufficient to expiate, omni- potent to save. David, that egregious sinner, but more exemplary saint, seems to have been well acquainted with this comfortable truth. What else can be the import of that very remarkable, but most devout declaration ! " Thou shalt purge mef with hyssop, and I shall be clean -. thou shalt wash me, and I shalt be whiter than snow." I have been of the great tribunal, are turned into pleasing expect- ations. And what is there in such a declaration of- fensive to the strictest modesty, or dispiriting to the weakest believer ? Instead of creating discourage- ment, it points out the way to obtain a settled tran- quillity. Its natural tendency is, to engage the seri- ous mind in a more constant and attentivemeditation on the unknown merits of the divine Mediator. And were we more thoroughly acquainted, more deei>!y aft'ectcd, with his unutterable dignity, I am persuad- ed our uneasy apprehensions would proportionally vanish ; our faith be established, our hopes brighten- ed, and our joys enlarged. * This doctrine, though rich with consolation to the ruined sinner, yet, is it not likely to open a door for licentiousness, and embolden transgressors to pro- secute tlieir vices ? No ; it is the most powerful mo- tive to that genuine repentance which flows from an unfeigned love of God, and operates in a hearty de- testation of a'l sin. One who knew the unmeasur- able goodness of the Lord, and was no stran^r to the sinful perverseness of our nature, says, "There is mercy with thee; therefore shalt thou be feared," Psalm cxxx. 4. Words full to my purpose ; which at once add the highest authority to this sentiment, and direct our minds to its proper influence, and due improvement. t Psalm li. 7- " Thou shalt purge." I prefer this translation before the new one; becjiuse this speaks ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. io:< guilty, I must confess, of the most compli- cated and shocking crimes ; crimes, inflam- ed by every aggravating circumstance, with regard to myself, my neighbour, and my God. Myself, who have been blessed above men, and the distinguished favourite of Providence ; my neighbour, who, in the most dear and tender interests, has been ir- reparably injured ; my God, who might just- ly expect the most grateful returns of duty, instead of such enormous violations of his law. Yet, all horrid and execrable as my offence is, it is nothing to the superabund- ant merit of that great Redeemer who was promised from the foundations of the world ; in whom all my fathers trusted ; who is the hope of all the ends of the earth. Though my conscience be more loathsome, with adidterous impurity, than the dunghill ; though treachery and murder have rendered it even black as the gloom of hell ; yet, washed in the fountain open for sin and for uncleanness, (Zech. xiii. 1,) I shall be, I say not pure only, this were a disparage- ment to the efficacy of my Saviour's death ; but I shall be fair as the lily, and white as the snow. Nay, let me not derogate from the glorious obj ect of my confidence ; cleansed by this sovereign sanctifying stream, f shall be fairer than the full-blown lily, whiter than the new-fallen snows." Power, saith the Scripture, belongeth unto God; (Psalmlxii.il.) And in what majestic lines is this attribute of Jehovah written throughout the whole volume of the creation ! especially through those magnifi- cent pages unfolded in yonder starry re- gions ; which are therefore styled, by the sweet and seraphic singer of Israel, " The firmament of his power." (Psalm cl. 1,) because the grand exploits of Omnipotence are there displayed with the utmost pomp, and recorded in the most legible characters. Who that looks upward to the midnight sky, and with an eye of reason beholds its rolling wonders, who can forbear inquiring of what were those mighty orbs formed ? Amazing to relate : They were produced ^vithout materials ! They sprung from emp- tiness itself. The stately fabric of universal nature emerged out of nothing. What in- struments were used by the supreme Archi- tect, to fashion the piU'ts with such exqui- site niceness, and give so beautiful a polish to the whole ? How was all connected into one finely proportioned, and nobly finished structure ? A bare fiat accomplished all ! Let them be, saith God. He added no more ; and immediately the marvellous edi- the language of a more steadfast belief, and gives the highest honour to the divine goodness. Were the words intended to bear no more than the common petitionary sense, and not to he expressive of a noble Vlerophory of faitli, they would latlier have been im- peratives and not futures. fice arose, adorned with evei7 beauty, dis- playing innumerable perfections, and declar- ing, amidst enraptured seraphs, its great Creator's praise. " By the word of the Lord were the heavens made, and all the host of them by the breath of his mouth."* ^Yhat forceful machinery fixed some of those ponderous globes on an immoveable basis ? What irresistible impulse bowled others through the circuit of the heavens V What coercive energy confined their impetuous courses within limits astonishingly large, yet most minutely true ? Nothing but his sovereign will. For all things were at first constituted, and all to this day abide accord- ing to his ordinance. Without any toilsome assiduity, or labori- ous process, to raise, to touch, to speak such a multitude of immense bodies into being ; to launch them through the spaces of the sky, as an arrow from the hand of a giant ; to impress on such unwieldy masses a motion far outstripping the swiftness of the winged creation ;f and to continue them in the saine rapid whirl for thousands and thousands of years; what an amazing instance of infinite might is this ! Can any thing be impossible to the Lord, the Lord God, the Creator and Controller of all the ends of the earth, all the regions of the universe ? Rather, is not all that we count difficult, per- fect ease to that glorious Being, who only spake, and the world was made ? ( Psalm xxxiii. 9,) who only gave command, and the stupendous axle was lodged fast, the lofty wheels moved complete ? What a sure de- fence, O my soul, is this everlasting strength of thy God ! Be this thy continual refuge in the article of danger ; this thy * If this thought is admitted a second time, and suffered to ennoDle the next paragraph, it is partly because of its unequalled subhmity; partly, because it awakens the most grand idea of creating power; and partly, because the practice of the Psalmist, an authority too great to be controverted, is my preced- ent. The beautiful stanza quoted from Psalm xxxiii. 6, is a proof how thoroughly the royal poet enter- ed into the majesty of the Mosaic narration. The repetition of the .sentiment, verse 9, intimates how peculiarly he was charmed with that noble manner of describing the divine operations, while the turn of his own composition shows how perfectly he possessed the same elevated way of thinking : And tnis, long before Longinus wrote the celebrated treatise, which has taught the Heathen, as well as the Christian world, to admire the dignity of the Jewish legislator*! style. — I'id. Longin. de Siibliiii. -Sect ix. t To give one instance of this remark : The earth, in the diurnal revolution which it performs on it« own axis, whirls about at the rate of above a thou- sand miles an hour. And, as the great orbit, which it describes annually round the sun, is reckoned at 540 millions of miles, it must travel near a million and a half each day. What a force nuist be requisite to protrude so vast a globe, and wheel it on, loaded as It is with huge mountains and ponderous rocks, at such a prodigious degree of rapidity ! It surpasses hu- man conception. How natural, how pertinent, how almost necessary after such an observation, is the ac- knowledgment made by holy Job ! " I know that thou canst do every thiii',', ,ind that no thought, no imaginable scheme can be witliholden from thee, can lie beyond thy power to execute." Chap. xlii. 2. 104 CONTEMPLATIONS never-failing resource in every time of need. What cannot this uncontrollable power of the great Jehovah effect for his people ? Be iheir miseries ever so galling, cannot this God relieve them ? Be their wants ever so numerous, cannot this God sup- ply them ? Be their corruptions within ever so inveterate, or their temptations without ever so importunate, cannot this mighty, mighty God, subdue the former, and fortify them against the latter ? Should trials, with an incessant vehemence, sift thee as wheat ; should tribulation, with a weight of woes, almost grind thee to powder ! should plea- sure, with her bewitching smiles, solicit thee to delicious ruin ; yet hold thou fast by God and lay thy hplp upoa him that is omnipotent.* Thou canst not be in- volved in such calamitous circumstances, or exposed to such imminent peril, but thy God, whom thou servest is able to deliver thee from the one, and to support thee under the other. To support ! to deliver ! — Let me not dishonour the unlimited great- ness of his power : He is able to exalt thee from the deepest distress to the most triumphant joy ; and to make even a com- plication of evils work together for thy everlasting good. He is able, not onl^ to accomplish what I have been speaking, but * It is a most charming description, as well as a most comfortable promise, which we find in Isaiah xl. 29, 30, :A. He giveth power to the feeble ; and to them that have no might at all, he not only impart- eth, but increaseth strength ; making it to abound, where it did not so much as exist. Without this aid of Jehovah, even the youths, amidst the very prime of their vigour and activity, shall become languid in their work, and weary in their course. And the young men, to whose resolution and abilities no- thingseemed impracticable, shall not only not succeed, but utterly fall, and miscarry in their various enter- prises. Whereas they that wait upon the Lord, and confide in his grace, shall press on with a generous ardour from one degree of religious improvement to another. Instead of exhaustmg, they shall renew their strength ; difficulties shall animate, and toil in- vigorate them. They shall mount up, as with soar- ing wings, above all opposition ; they shall be car- ried through every discouragement, as eagles cleave the yielding air : They shall run %vith speed and alac- rity the ^^ay of God's commandments, and not be weary: They shall hold on (pi-ugredientei-, carpenti- ter) with constancy and perseverance in those peace- ful paths, and not faint ; but arrive at the end of their progress, and receive the prize of their high call- ing. To this most cheering doctrine, permit me to add its no less beautiful and delightful contrast. Eliphaz, speaking of the enemies of tire righteous, says, ISiihil excisum factio nnbis adversaria. We should reckon our langliage acquitted itself tolerably well, if, when deprecating the abilities of an adversary, it should re- S resent them weak as the scorched thread, feeble as the issolvlng smoke. But these are cold forms of speech compared with the eloquence of the east. According to the genius of our Bible, all the power that opposes the godly, is a mere nothing; or, to speak with a more emphatical air of contempt, a destroyed, an extir- pated nothing. Admire this CTtpression, ye that are charmed with daring images, and (what Tully calls verbum aniens) a spirited and glowing diction. Re- member this dt-claration, ye that fight the good fight of faith. The united force of all your enemies, be it ever so formidable to the eye of flesh, is before your Rlniighty Guardian, nihil ililiilissiintim, not only no- thing, but less than nothing, and vanity. Job xxii. to " do exceeding abimdantly above all that we can ask or think.* O ! the wretched condition of the ^vicked, who have this Lord of all power for their enemy ! O ! the desperate madness of the ungodly, who provoke the Almighty to jealousy ! Besotted creatures ! are you able to contend with your Maker, and enter the lists against incensed Omnipotence? Can you bear the fierceness of his wrath, or sus- tain the vengeance of his lifted arm ? At his presence, though awfully serene, the hills melt like wax, and the " mountains skip like frighted lambs." At the least in- timation of his displeasure, the foundations of nature rock, and the pillars of heaven tremble. How then can a withered leaf endure, when " his lips are full of indigna- tion, and his tongue as a devouring fire ?" Or, can any thing screen a guilty worm, when the great and teiTible God shall wbet his glittering sword, and his hand take hold on inexorable judgment ? When that hand, which shoots the planets — masses of exces- sive bulk,f with such surprising rapidity, through the sky ; that hand which darts the comets to such lunueasurable distances beyond the orbit of our remotest planet, beyond the pursuit of the strongest eye ; when that hand is stretched out to punish, can the munition of rocks, the intervention of seas, or even interposing worlds divert the blow ? Consider this, ambition, and bow thy haughty crest. Consider this, dis- obedience, and bend thy iron sinew ! O ! consider this, all ye that forget, or affront the tremendous Jehovah. He can, by a single act of his will, lay the universe in utter ruin ; and can he want power to bring you, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, to the dust of death, or to the flames of hell ? He has — I say not ten thousand lightnings to scorch you to ashes, ten thou- » I should in this place avoid swelling the notes any farther, were it not to take notice of the inirnita- ble passage quoted above, and to be found Ephesians iii. 20. Which, if I do not greatly mistake, is the most complete representation of divine power that it is possible for words to frame. To do all that our tongue can ask, is a miracle of might : But we often think more than we can express, and are actuated with groanings unutterable. Yet, to answer these vast desires, is not beyond the accomplishment of our heavenly Father. Nay, t j make his gifts and his blessings commensurate to the largest stretch of hu- man expectations, is a small thing with the God of glory. He is able to do above all that the most en- larged apprehension can imagine; yea, to do abund- antly more, exceeding abundantly more, than the mind itself, in the utmost exertion of all its faculties, is capable of wishing, or knows how to conceive. t One of the planets (.Saturn) is supposed to be more than 90 times as big as the globe on which we live. According to the same calculation, the largest of the planets (Jupiter) is above 2tKJ times vaster than this vast collection of spacious forests, towering mountains, extensive continents, and boundless oceans. Such enormous magnitude ! winged with such prodigious speed ! It raises astonishment beyond expression. "With God is terrible majesty f Job xxxvii. 22. " Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name ?" Rev, xv. 4. ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 105 Band thunders to crush you into atoms ; but, what is unspeakably more dreadful, he has an army of terrors even in the look of his angry countenance. His very frowTi is worse than destruction. I cannot dismiss this subject without ad- miring the patience of the blessed God ; who, though so strong and powerful, yet is provoked every day. Surely, as is his majesty, so is his mercy — his pity alto- gether commensurate to his power. If I ^^lify but the name of an earthly monarch, I lose my liberty, and am confined to the dungeon. If I appear in arms, and draw the sword against my natural sovereign, my life is forfeited, and my very blood will scarce atone for the crime. But thee I have dishonoured, O thou king immortal and invisible ! Against thee my breast has fomented secret disaffection ; my behavi- our has risen up in open rebellion; and yet I am spared, yet I am preserved. In- stead of being banished from thy presence, I sit at thy table, and am fed from thy hand. Instead of pursuing me with thun- derbolts of vengeance, thy fa\ours surround me on eveiy side. That arm, that injured arm, which might justly fall, with irretriev- able ruin, on a traitor's head, is most gra- ciously stretched out to caress him with the tenderest endearments, to cherish him \vith every instance of parental kindness ! O, thou mightiest, thou best of Beings, how am I pained at my very soid, for such shameful and odious disingeniutj' ! Let me always abominate myself, as the basest of creatures, but adore that unwearied long suffering of thine, which refuses to be irri- tated ; love that uiu-emitted goodness, which no acts of ingratitude could stop, or so much as check, in its gracious current. O ! let this stubborn heart, which duty could not bind, which threatenings could not awe, be the captive, the willing captive, of such triumphant beneficence. I have often been struck with wonder at that almighty skill, which Aveighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a ba- lance ; \\hich proportioned the waters in the hollow of its hand, and adjusted the dust of the earth by a measure.* But how much * Isa. x!. 12. The dust of the earth, in this su- blime scripture, signifies the dry land, or solid part of our globe ; which is placed in contradistinction to the whole collection of fluid matter, mentioned in the preceding clause. Perliaps this remarkable ex- pression may be intended to intimate, not only the extreme niceness which stated the dimensions of the world in general, or in the gross, but also that parti- cular exactness with which the very smallest mater- ials that con.-iitute its frame, (not excepting each in- dividual atom) were calculated and disjiosed; — , hint edit. DN THE STARRY HEAVENS. 1(17 and our tongues echo bark tliat great en- comium, they are good, ven,' good, ( Gen. i. 31.) Most beautifid* in themselves ; con- trived by unerring wisdom, and executed with inimitable skill. Most uset'id* in their functions ; exactly fitting the places they fiU, and completely answering the purposes for which they were intended. All the parts of the inanimate creation proclaim, both by their intrinsic and relative excellen- cies, the all- diffusive beneficence of their Maker. How much more wonderful are the displays of divine indulgence in the worlds of life ! Because dead matter is incapable of delight, therefore the gracious Creator has raised innumerable ranks of perceptive existence ; such as are qualified to ti;.ste his bounty, and enjoy each a happiness suited to its peculiar state. With this view, he fiuiiished the regions of inferior nature with an order and a Series of sensitive beings. The waters teem with shoals of fimiy in- habitants ; The dry land swarms with ani- mals of every order : The dwellings of the firmament are occupied by multitudes of wnged people. Not so much as a green leaf, pliilosophers say, but lodges and ac- commodates its puny animalcule tenants. -f- And wherefore this diversity, this profusion of living creatures, flying the air, treading the ground, and gliding through the paths of the sea ? I^or this most glorious reason : That the eternal Sovereign may exercise his superabundant goodness ; that his table may be fmiiished with millions and millions of guests ; that he may fill eveiy hour, every * This fca/oe,^a xtreme- Jy flaccid, (. mparcdwith the nervous original. And 1 g^oatly qu-Stion, whether it is possible to translate the seuleiice with equal conciseness, and with equal spirit. See Eph. iii. ii. Phil. i. 2.J. t Job XXV. 5, ti. 1 submii, to the jtulgment of the leariied, whether this is not the true meaning of the text. It may not, perhaps, recommend itself to the cause for the most irreproachable and emi- nent of mankind to renounce all arrogant pretensions, to lay aside every assuming air, to take nothing but shame and confusion to themselves ? A holy prophet, and a holy prince, felt such humbling impressions from a glimpse of the uncreated purity. I abhor myself in dust and ashes, (Job xlii. 6,) was the declaration of the one : I am a man of unclean lips, (Isaiah vi. 3,) the confession of the other. Shoidd not this teach us all to adore the divine mercies, for that precious purifpng fountain,* which was foretold from the fomidation of the world, but was opened at that awful junctiu-e, when knotty whips tore the flesh, when ragged thorns mangled the temples, when shaqiened nails cut fresh sluices from the crimson ciurent, when the gash of the spear completed the dreadfid work, and forthwith flo^vcd there- from the wounded heart blood and water ' Especially since God liimstlf saw no blemish in his dear Son. He looketh to the moon, and it shineth not ; yet his all- penetrating and jealous eye discerned no- tliing amiss, nothing defective in our glori- ous Redeemer. Nothing amiss ? He bore this most illustrious testimony concerning his holy child Jesus ; " In him I am pleas- ed ; I am well pleased ; I acquiesce, with entire complacency and with the highest de- light, in his person, his undertaking, and the whole execution of his office." How should this thought enliven our hopes, while the other mortifies our pride ? Should not oiu- hearts spring within us, and even leap for joy, at the repeated assurance given us by revelation, that such a divinely excellent person is oiu- Mediator ? What apparent reason has every believer to adopt the bless- ed virgin's exclamation, " My soid doth magnify the Lord for his transcendent mer- cy ; and my spirit rejoices, not in wide ex- squeamishly nice critic; or to those persons who dream of, I know not what, dignity in our fallen nature. But it seems, in preference to every other interpre- tation, suitable to the sacred context : and is fa from being injurious tot! e character of that apostate race, whit-h is " altogether become abominable," and "is as an unclean thing." On this supposition there is not only an apparent, but a very striking contrast, between the purity of God and the pollution of mars. The i)urity of the most hif^h God, which outshines the moon and eclipses the stars ; the pollution of de- generate man, which, exclusive of a Saviour, would render him as loathsome to the all-seeing eye, as the vilest vermin are in ours. Without assigning this cense to the passage, I cannot discern ihe force of the antithesis, nor indeed the propriety of the sentiment. Worms, in the general, give us an idea of meamuss and infirm ty, not of defilement and impurity, un- less they are'insects liatclu ■! r.midst putrefaction, and confide cd in such noisome circumstances. Th" two woids of the original ae evidently ustd in thissigni- fication by Moses and Isaiah; by the fc;-me-, to dt« note the vermin which devoured the putrefied man- na; by the Ir.iter, to express the reptiles which swarm in the body tliat sees corruption. Exod. xvi. 20. Isa. xiv. U. •■ " In that day, there rhall be a fount.^.in opened to the hou^e of David, and to the inhabitants of Je- rusalem, for sin and for uncleannets, Zech. xlii. 1. no CONTEMPLATIONS tended harvests, waving over my fertile 1 glebe ;* not in armies vanquislied, and leav- ing the peculiar treasiu'e of nations for my spoil ;* but in an infiiiitely richer, nobler blessing, even in God my Sa\'ioiu" :" That a person so sublime and perfect has vouch- safed to become my surety ; to give liimself for my ransom in the woi'ld below, and to act as my advocate in the royal presence above ; yea, to make my recovery the re- ward of his sufferings ; my final felicity the honour of liis mediatorial kingdom ! When an innumerable multitudef of bodies, many of them more than a hundi'ed thousand miles in diameter,^ are all set in motion ; when the orbits in which they per- form their periodical revolutions, are ex- tended at the rate of several himdreds of millions ; when each has a distinct and se- parate sphere for finishing liis vast circuit ; when no one knows what it is to be cramp- ed, but each most freely expatiates, in his unbounded career ; when every one is placed at such an immense remove from each other, that they appear to their respective inhabitants, only as so many spots of light — how astonishing must be the expanse which yields room for all those mighty globes, and their \\adely-diffused operations ! To what prodigious lengths did the almighty builder stretch his line, when he marked out the stupendous platform ! I wonder at such an immeasurable extent. My very thoughts are lost in this abyss of space. But be it knowm to mortals, be it never forgot by sinners, that, in all its most sur- prising amplitude, it is small, it is scanty, compared with the bomity and the mercy of its Maker. His bounty is absolutely without limits, § and wthout end. The most lavish gene- rosity cannot exhaust, or even diminish his munificence. O ! all ye tribes of men ; or rather, all ye classes of intelligent creatures. • The inspired penman, from these two occa- sions of distinguished joys, sets forth the incompar- ably greater delight which arises from the gift of a Saviour, and ttie blessing of redemption ; Isa. ix. ver. 3. compared with ver. 6. t This refers, not only to the planets which pass and repass about our sun, but also to the other plan- etary worlds, which are supposed to attend the seve- ral fixed stars. i The diameter of Jupiter is calculated at 130,650 miles, while its orbit is reckoned to consist of 895,134,000. Which computation, according to the maxims of astronomy, and the laws of proportion, may, as is taken for granted in the Contemplations, be applied to other planets revolving round other guns. § By bounty, I mean not the actual exercises, or the sensible effects, of this excellency in the Deity. These are, and always must be, through the immense perfection of the attribute, and the necessary scanti- ness of the recipient, bovmded. But I would be un- derstood as speaking of the divine power, and the di- vine will, to exert divine beneficence. These can have no real, no imaginable limits. These, after a profusion of blessings, distributed to unnumbered worlds, continued through imnumbered ages, must ttiU liave more to bestow, for ever have more to be- ttow, infinitely more to bestow, than it is pos&ible for creation itself to receive. ye are not straitened in the liberality of your ever-blessed Creator ; be not straiten- ed in yoiu: owni expectations. " Open your mouth v\dde, and he shall fill it" with copi- ous and continual draughts from the cup of joy. Yoiu- God, on whom is your whole dependence, is more than able, is more than willing, to " supply all your need, accord- ing to his riches in glory." When the Lord Jehovah is the giver, and his gi-ace* the gift ; let your wishes be imbounded, and your crav-ings insatiable. AH that created beings can possibly covet, is but a very small pittance of that unknown happiness which the everlasting Benefactor is ready to bestow. Suppose every charitable dis- position which warms the hearts of the hu- man race, added to those more enlarged af- fections which glow in heaveidy bosoms ; what were they all, even in their liighest exercise, compared Math the benignity of the divine nature ? Bless me, tlieii, thou eternal som-ce of love ; bless all that rever- ence thy holy name, according to thy own most profuse goodness, whose great prero- gative it is to disdain all measiu-e. O ! bless us, in proportion to that grace, the richness of which (unutterable by the tongues of men and of angels) was once spoken in the groans, and written in the wounds, of thy expiring Son ! Spacious indeed are these heavens ! where do they begin ? where do they end ? what is their extent ? Can angels answer my question ? have angels travelled the vast circuit ? can angels measure the bounds of space ? No ; it is boimdless, it is unknown, it is amazing all. How charming, then, to reflect, that the mercy of God is " greater than the heavens ; is more extensive than the dimensions of the sky." Transporting reflection ! Let me indiflge thee once morcf Let me thmk over the delightful displays of tills lovely attribute ; and, while I admire the trophies of forgi-ving goodness, add one to ^he number. AVith what amiable and affecting colours is this represented in the * 2 Cor. ix. 8. " God is able to make all grace abound towards you, that ye, having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work." How beautiful and eraphatical is this description ; irtferior to nothing but that extent of ability, and those riches of liberality which it so eloquently celebrates. Does it not exhaust all the powers of language, while it at- tempts to give us a specimen of the munificence of the Lord? ■f Once more refers to Reflections on a Flower Garden. Some of the following pages exhibit a di- gressive view of the divine mercy. 1 thought it pro- per to apprize my reader of this excursion ; though I hope it will be needless to offer any apology for en- larging upon a theme incomparably joyous. Who can complain of tediousness, while I speak consolation to distressed, and recovery to ruined creatures ? The divine mercy is the sole fountain of all our present and future blessings. In conformity to this benign attribute, human hopes arise, and human felicity flows. Who, therefore, can be weary of viewing ana reviewing, when the lengths and breadths of forgiv- ing grace are the ravishing prospsct ; ON THE STARRY IIEAVICNS. HI paralilc of the prodijjfal ! AVliat couJd induce tliat foolish )()Ulli to forsake his father's house? Had he not been tenderly cherished by tlie good parent, and loaded with bene- fits from his indulgent hand ? Were not the restraints of parental government an easy yoke ; or rather a preservative from ruin ? Notwithstanding every endearing ob- ligation, he revolts from his duty ; and launches into such scandalous in'cgxdarities, as were dishonourable to his family, and de- structive to himself. Wlien necessity, not clioice, but sharj) necessity drove him to a submissive return, does the injured father stand aloof or shut his doors ? Quite the reverse. He espies him, while he is yet a great way off ; and tlie moment he beholds tlie jjrodigate youth, he has compassion on him. His bowels yeani, they " sound Like a harp," touched with notes divinely soft. He never once thinks of his ungi'acious de- parture, and infamous debaucheries. Pity, parental pity, passes an act of oblinon ; and in one instant, cancels a series of long-con- tinued provocations. So strong ai'e the workings of fatherly affection, tliat he is almost impatient to embrace the naked and destitute Vvretch. The son's pace is slow, he arose and came ; the father's is swift, he spnnig forth (aged as he was) and ran. And is there a single frown in his brow, an upbraiding word on his tongue ? Instead of loathing the sordid creature, or reproaching him for his odious excesses, he falls on his neck, clasps him in his anns, and hugs him to his bosom. Instead of disowning the riotous spendthrift, or rejecting him for his undutiful belia\'iom', he receives and wel- comes him with kisses of delight. He re- joices at his return from extravagance and vice, as he formerly rejoiced on the day of his nativity. ^Vhen this companion of har- lots opens his moutli — before he speaks, the father hears. He interrupts him in the midst of his intended speech. The over- tlo\\ings of his compassionate heart caji brook no delay. He seems to be uneasy himself, till ho has made the afflicted peni- tent glad with the assurance of his accept- ance, and the choicest of his favours. While the poor abashed offender seeks nothing more than jiot to be abhorred, he is thoroughly reconciled, and honoiu-ed before the whole family. AVhile he requests no other indidgence than only to be treated as the meanest sen^ant, he is clothed wth tlie best robe ; lie is feasted with the fatted calf; he is caressed as the dearest of child- ren. Was there ever so bright and win- ning a picture of the tenderest mercy, most freely vouchsafed, even to the most ini- worthy of creatures ? Yet thus, my soid, and thus, my fellow-sinner, will the Lord (Jod of everlasting compassions receive us, if, sensible of our misery, and thirsting for salvation, we turn to lijm tlirough Jesus Christ. Where sin has abounded, says the pro- clamation from the coiu-t of heaven, gi-ace doth much more abound. Manasseh was a monster of bai'barity ; for he caused his o\m\ children to pass through the tire, and filled .lerusaiem with innocent blood. Manasseh was an adept in iniquity ; for lie not oidy midtiplied, and to an extravagant degree, his sacrilegious impieties, but he poison- ed the principles and perverted the man- ners of his subjects, making them to do worse than the most detestable of the hea^ then idolaters, ('2 Chron. xxxiii. ) Yet, tlu'ough this superabundant grace, he is humbled, he is reformed, and becomes a cliild of forgiving love, an heir of immortal glory. Behold that bitter and bloody per- secutor Saul, when, breathing out tlireaten- ings,* and bent upon slaughter, he worried the lambs, and put to deatii the disciples of Jesus. Wlio, u])on the principles of human judgment, woidd not have pronounced him a vessel of wrath, destined to unavoidable damnation ? nay, woidd not have been ready to conchide, that, if there were heavier chains, and a deeper dungeon, in the world of woe, tl««y must surely be reserved for such an implacable enemy of true godliness ? Yet (admire, and adore the inexhaustible treasures of grace !) tliis Said is admitted into the goodly fellowship of tlie prophets ; is numbered wath the noble anny of mar- tyrs ; iuid malvcs a distinguished figure among the glorious company of the apos- tles. The Corintliians were flagitious even to a proverb. Some of them waUowed in such abominable vices, and habituated themselves to such outrageous acts of in- justice, as were a reproach to human na- ture. Yet even these sons of violence, and slaves of sensutJity " were washed, were sanctified, ivere justified, (1 Cor. vi. 9, 10, II): washed in the precious blood of a dying Redeemer ; sanctified by the power- ful operations of the blessed Spirit ; jusri- * Acts ix. 1. " Saul yet brcathiiif; out threatening and slaugtiter." — What a rejiresentation is here of a mind mad with rage, and abandoned to the fiercest extremes of barbarity I I scarce know whether I am more shocked at the persecutor's savage disposition, or charmed with tlie evangelist's lively description. The adverb T/o"? seems referable to chap. viii. ver. 3. and has, in this connexion, a peculiar force. The havoc he had committed, the inotVensive families he had already ruined were not sutlicient to assuage his vengeful spirit. They were only a taste ; which, in- stead of glutting the blood-hound, made him more closely pursue the tr.ack, and more eagerly pant for destruction. He is jtillathirst for violence and mur- der. So eager and insatiable is his thirst that he even breathes out threatening and slaughter. His words are spears and arrows, and his tongue a sharp sword. It IS as natural for him to menace the Christ- ians, as to Ijreathe the air. Nay, they bleed every hour, every moment, in the purposes of his rancor- ous heart. It is only owing to want of power, that every syllable he uttei-s, every breath he diaws, does not (Ual about deaths, and ciuse souieof thciiuioccut iluang of man, there seemed to be insurmountable bars. If the rebel is suf- fered to escape, where is the inflexible jus- tice which denounces death as the wages of sin ? If the offender is thoroughly pai'doned, where is the inviolable veracity which has solemnly declared, " The soul that sinneth shall die ?" These awful attributes are set in terrible array, and, like an impenetrable battalion, oppose the salvation of apostate mankind. 'Who can suggest a method to. absolve the traitorous race, yet \andicate the honours of almighty sovereignty ? This is an intricacy which the most exalted of fui- ite intelligencies are imable to clear. But behold the imsearchable secret revealed ! If these fail, The pillared firmament is rottenness. And earth's base built on stubble. Milton'n Comug. t See tlie next note. ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. II. 5 revealed in the wondert'iJ redemption accom- plished by a dying Savioiu- ! so plainly re- vealed, that, " he who rnns may read," and even babes nnderstand what minds of the deepest penetration coidd not contrive. The Son of God, taking our nature, obeys the law, and undergoes death in our stead. By this means, the threatened curse is executed in all its rigour, and free grace is exercised in all its riches. Justice miuntains her rights, and with a steady hand administers impartial vengeance ; while mercy dispenses her pardons, and welcomes the repentant criminal with the tenderest embraces. Hereby the seemingly thwarting attributes are reconciled ; the sinner is saved not on- ly in full consistence with the honour of the supreme perfections, but to the most illustrious manifestation of them all. Where does the divine power* so signally exert itself as in the cross of Christ, and in the conquests of grace ? Our Lord, i« his lowest state of humiliation, gained a more glorious victory than v.'hen, through the di- viding sea, and the waste howling wilder- ness, " he rode upon his chariots and horses of salvation." When his hands were rivet- ted with irons to the bloody tree, he dis- armed death of its sting, and plucked the prey from the jaws of heU. Then, even then, while he was crucified in weakness, he vanquished the strong man, and subdued oiu" most formidable enemies. Even then he spoiled principalities, triumphed over the powers of darkness, and led cajjtivity cap- tive. Now he is exidted to his heavenly throne, with what a prevailing efficacy does Lis grace go forth " conquering and to con- quer !" By this the slaves of sin are res- cued from their bondage, and restored to the liberty of righteousness. By this de- praved wretches, whose appetites were sen- sual, and their dispositions devilish, are not only renewed, but renewed after the image of God, and made partakers of a di- vine nature. Millions, millions of lost creatures are snatched, by the interposition of grace, like brands from the burning ; and, translated into everlasting mansions, shine brighter than the stars, shine bright as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Would you, then, see an incomparably more bright dis])lay of the divine excellence than the spotted firmament, the spangles of heaven, or the golden fountain of day ex- hibit ? Contemplate Jesus of Nazareth ! He is the brightness of his fiither's glory, and the express image of his person. In his im- maculate nature, in his heavenly temper, in * Christ, the wisdom of God, and the power of God. 1 Cor. i 24. To the intent that now, unto (he principahtics and powers in heavenly places, might be known by the cluir(!i, (by the amazing contrivance and accomplishment of its redemption, the deep,) ex- tensive, and greatly diversified wisdom of God. Eph. iii. 10. his most holy life, the moral perfections of the Deity are represented to the highest ad- vantage.* Hark ! how mercy v.ith her charming voice speaks in all he utters. See how benevolence pours her choicest stores, in idl he does. Did ever conipasslo;i i;;': so amiably soft, as in those pitying tear^ which swelled his eyes, and trickled down his cheeks, to bedew the rancour of his invete- rate enemies ? Was it possible for patience to assume a form so lovely, as that svi'cetly- winning conduct, which bore the contradic- tion of sinners ? which intreated the obstinate to be reconciled ; besought the guilty not to die ? In other things, we may find some scattered rays of Jehovah's glory ; but in Christ they are all collected and united, in Christ they beam forth with the strongest radiance, with the most delightful eiTul- gence. Out of Sion, and in Sion's great Redeemer, hath God appeiu-ed in perfect beauty. Search then, my soid, above all other pursuits, search the records of redeeming love. Let these be the principal objects of thy study. Here employ thyself with the most unwearied assiduity : In these are hid all tlie treasures of wisdom and kno\\ledge :f Such wisdom as charms and astonishes the very angels, engages their closest attention, and fills them with the deepest adoration ; j such knowledge, as qualifies the possessor, if not for offices of dignity on earth, yet for the most honourable advancements in the kingdom of heaven. Disunited from \vhich knowledge, all application is but elaborate impertinence ; and all science no better than pompous ignorance. These records contain the faultless model of duty, and the noblest motives to obedience. Nothing so * In this sense, that -aying of our Lord is eminent- ly true, " lie that hath seen me, hath seen the ia- ther ;" John xiv. 9. t Col. li. 3. Not a mean degree, but a treasure ; not one treasure, but many; not many only, but all treasures of true wisdom and saving knowledge, are in Christ and his glcrious gospel. The transcendent excellency of those treasures seems to be finely inti- matetlin that expression, l,id ; which may be interpre- ted by the Hebrew, Job iii. 21, laid up with the ut- most care, and the greatest safety : Not left, at all ad- ventures, to be stumbled upon by every giddy wan- derer, orto fall into the arms of the yawning sluggard, but, likejewelsofthebrightest lustre, orriches or the highest value, kept in store to adorn andreward the diligent searcher. % This, I believe, is the import of the apostle's language, though it is not a literal translation of 1 Pet. i. 12. I never had such a lively apprehension of the beautiful significancy of the last word, as when I have attended a dissection of some part of the ani- mal body. In order to discern the minutiae of the admirable frame, the latent wonders of art and me- chanism, the eye is so shari)ened, and its application so intensely bended, as gives a very just experi- mental comment on that expressive phrase. With such earnest attention is the everlasting gospel con- templated by the angelic orders. How much more, if it were iiossible, does it deserve the devout and in- cessant C(ln.^ill^ ration of human minds ! Since by them, it is not only to !» speculated as a bright and ravishing display of the divine attributes, but to be applied to thtir fallen nature as a most benign scheme of recovering grace ; as the sure and only me- thod of obtaining lite and immortality. UG eONTEMPLATIONS ])Owerful to work a Iholy faith and a joyful hope, as an attentive consideration of our Lord's unutterable merits. Nothing so so- vereign to antidote the pestilential intiuence of the world, and deliver our affections from a slavery to igiiohle objects, as an ha- bitual remembrance of his extreme agonies. The genuine, the ever-fruitful source of all morality, is the unfeigned love of Christ; and the <-ross,* the cross is the appointed altar, from which we may fetch a coalj- to kindle this sacred fire. Behold, therefore, the man ! the match- less and stupendous man ! whose practice was a ]jattern of the most exalted virtue, and his person the mirror of every divine perfection. Examine the memoirs of his heavenly temper and exemplary conversa- tion. Contemplate that choir of graces which were associated in his mind, and shed the highest lustre on all his actions. Fa- miliarize to thy thoughts his instructive dis- courses, and enter into the very sjiirit of his refined doctrines ; that the graces may be transfused into thy breast, and the doctrines transcribed in thy life. Follow him to Calvary's horrid eminence ! to Calvary's fat^l catastrophe ! where innocence, dignity, and merit, were made perfect through suffer- ings ; each shining, with all possible splen- dour, through the tragical scene ; somewhat like his owai radiant bow, then glowing with the greatest beauty when appearing in the darkest cloud. Be thy most constant attention fixed on that lovely and sorrow- ful spectacle. Behold the spotless victim nailed to the tree, and stabbed to the heart. Hear him poming out prayers for his miu-- derers, before he poured out his soul for transgressors. See the vv'ounds that stream with forgiveness, and bleed balm for a dis- tempered world. O ! see the justice of the Almighty and his goodness ; his mercy and his vengeance ; every tremendous and gracious attribute manifested — manifested with inexpressible glory in that most igno- minious, yet grandest of transactions. Since God is so inconceivably great as these his marvellous works declare ; Since the great Sov'reign sends ten thousand worlds, To tell us, he resides above them all. In glory's unapproachable recess;:}; » " And I," says our Lord, " if I be lifted up from the earth, and extended on the cross, will draw all men unto me ;" will give such a rich and transcend- ent display of my love, as shall constitute the most powerful and prevaihng attractive of theirs. John xii. 32. + Alluding to Isaiah vi. 6. t For this quotation, and several valuable hints, I acknowledge myself in'lebted to those beautiful and sublime poems, entitled Wight Thoughts ; of which I. shall only say, that 1 receive fresh pleasure and richer improvement from every renewed perusal. And I think I shall have reason to bless the indul- gent Bestowerof all wisdom, for th -se instructive and animating compositions, even in ray last moments: than which nothing can more emphatically speak their superior excellence, nor give a more solid satis- £actioa to their worthy Author. Happy should I how can we forbetir hastenii^g, witli Moses bowing om'selves to the earth, and worshij>- ping ! O ! what an honourable, as well a.-; advantageous employ, is prayer ! — Advan- tageous : By ])r.tyer, we cultivate that inr<- proving correspondence with Jehovah, we carry on that ghuidening intercoiu"se with his spirit, which must begin here, in order to be completed in eternity Honourable : By prayer, we have access to that mighty Potentate, whose sceptre sways univer.sal nature, and whose rich regalia tills the skies with lustre. Praj"er places us in his pre» sence-chamber ; while the blood of spriiik,- ling procures us a gracious audience. Shall I then blush to be found prostrate before the throne of grace ? Shall I be ashamed to have it known that I offer up so- cial supplications in the family, or am con- scientious in observing my private retire- ments ? Rather let me glory in this un- speakable privilege. Let me reckon i-t the noblest posture, to fall low on my knees be- fore his footstool ; and the highest honoiu', to enjoy communion with his most exalted Majesty : Incomparably more noble, than to sit in person on the triumphal chariot, or to stand in effigy amidst the temple of worthies. Most inestimable, in such a view, is that promise, which so often occurs in the pro- phetic writings, and is the crowning benefit of the new covenant, I will he thy God, (Heb. viii. 10.) Will this supremely ex- cellent and almighty Being vouchsafe to be my portion ? to settle upon a poor sinner, not the heritage of a country, not the pos- session of the whole earth, but his own ever- blessed self? May I, then, through his free condescending grace, and the iniknovvn merits of his Son, look upon all these in* finitely noble attributes as my treasure ? May I regard the wisdom which superin- tends such a multitude of worlds, as my guide ? the power which produced and pre- serves them in existence, as my guard ? the goodness which, by an endless communica- tion of favours, renders them all so many, habitations of happiness, as my exceeding great reward ? What a finid of felicity is included in such a blessing ! How often does the Israelitish prince exult in the as- surance, that this unutterable and boimd- less good ii his own ! Interested in this, he bids defiance to every evil that can be dread- ed, and rests in certain expectation of every blessing that can be desired. " The Lord is my light and my salvation ; whom then shall I tear ? The Lord," with an air of ex- ultation he repeats both his affiance and his think myself, if these little sketches of o mtempiati ve devotion might be honoured with the most inferior degree of the same success; might receive a testi- mony, not from the voice of fame, but from. tli& dying lips of some ediiiied Christian. ON THE STABRY HEAVENS. 117 t^allenge, " U the strength of my lift ; of whom then shall I be afraid ?" ( Ps-alm xxvii. 1 . ) Nothing so effectual as this ap- propriating faith, to inspire a dignity of mind superior to transitory trifles ; or to create a calmness of temper unalanned by \nil- gar fears, unappalled by death itself. " The Lord is my Shepherd," says the same tru- ■ly gallant and heroic pereonage ; " there- Ibre shall I lack nothing." (Psalm xxiii. 1.) Mow is it possible he should suffer want, Mho has the all-sufficient fulness for his supply ? So long as unerring wisdom is ca- pable of contriving the means, so long as uncontrollable power is able to execute them, such a one cannot fail of being safe and happy, whether he contimie amidst the vicissitudes of time, or depart into the un- changeable eternity. Here let us stand a moment, and humbly contemplate this great God, together with ourselves, in a relative view. If we re- ih'ct on the works of material nature, their iniiiiber incomprehensible, and their ex- tent unmeasurable ; each of tliem apart so admirably framed, the connexions of the whole so exquisitely regulated, and all de- rived from one and the same glorious agent : if we recollect the far more noble accom- plishments of elegant taste and discerning judgment, of refined affections and exalted sentiments, which are to be found among the several orders of intelligent existence ; and all of them flowing, in rich emanations, from the one sole fountain of intellectual Hght : if we farther consider this Author of material beauty and moral excellency, as a Ouardian, a Governor, and Benefactor to all his creatures ; supporting the whole system, and protecting each individual by an ever- watchful jirovidence, presiding over the minutest affairs, and causing all events to terminate in the most extensive good ; heaping, with unremitted liberality, his be- nefits upon every capable object, and mak- ing tlie circuit of the universe a seminary of hajjpiness : is it possible for the human heart, under such captivating views, to be indifferent towards this most benign, most bountiful original of being and of bliss ? Can any be so immersed in stupidity, as to say unto the Almighty — in the language of an irreligious temper and licentious life, to say " Depart from us, we implore not thy favour, nor desire the knowledge of thy Avays ?" Wonder, O heavens ! be amazed, O earth ! and let the inhabitants of both express their astonishment at this unparal- k^led complication of disingenuous, ungrate- ful, destructive perverseness ! If we consider our fidlen and imperfect state — frail in our bodies ; enfeebled in our minds ; in every part of our constitution, and in all the occurrences of life, " like a ixitterijig wall, or a broken hedge :" If we survey our indigent and infirm state — with- out holiness, without spiritual strength, our possessicrations of hus- bitiidry. By this, the sailor kn(;\vs wlieii ro )irocecd on his voyjige with least peril, find how to carry on tlie business of navi- gation with most success. Why should not the Christian, the pro- bationer for eternity, learn from the same monitors, to number for nobler purj)oses, to number his days, and duly to transact the grand, grand affairs of his everlasting salva- tion ? Since God has ap])ointed so many bright measurers of our time, to determine its larger periods, and to minute down its ordinary stages ; sxu'e, this most strongly inculcates its value, and should powerfully prompt us to improve it. Behold ! the Siiipreme Lord mai'ks the progress of our life, in that most cons])icuous calendar above. Does not such an ordination tell us, and in the most emphatical language, that our life is given for use, not for waste ; that no portion of it is delivered, but under a strict account ; that all of it is entered, as it passes, in the divine register ; and there- fore, that the stewards of such a talent are to expect a future reckoning ? Behold the very heavens are bidden to be the account- ants of our years, and months, and days. O ! may this induce us to manage them with a vigilant fnigality : to part with them as misers with their hoarded treasure, wari- ly and circumspectly ; and, if possible, as merchants with their rich commodities, not without an equivalent, either in personal improvement, or social usefulness ! How bright the stany diamonds shine ! the ambition of eastern monarchs could imagine no distinction more noble and su- blime, than that of being likened to those beaming orbs. (Num. xxiv. 17. Dan. viii. 10.) They form night's richest dress ; and sparkle upon her sable robe, like jewels of the finest lustre. Like jewels ! I wrong their character. The lucid stone has no brilliancy, quenched is the flame even of the golden topaz, compared with those glow- ing decorations of heaven. How widely are their radiant honours diffused ! No nation so remote but sees their beauty, and rejoices in their usefulness. They have been ad- mired by all preceding generations, and every rising age \nll gaze on their charms with renewed delight. How animating | then, is that promise made to the faithful ministers of the gospel ! " They that turn many to righteousness, shall shine as the 6tars for ever and ever." (Dan. xii. 3.) Is not this a most winning encouragement " to spend and be spent" in the service of souls ? Methinks the stars beckon as they twinkle. Methinks tliey show me their splendours, on purpose to inspire me with alacrity in the race set before me : on purpose to en- liven my activity in the work that is given me to do. Vcs, ye maicstic monitors, I understand your mcanitig. If honour ban any charms, if true glory, tlie glor}' which Cometh from God, is any attractive, yoii display the most powerful incitements to exercise all assiduity in my holy vocation. I will henceforth observe your intimation ; and when zeal becomes languid, have re- course to your heavenly lamps ; if so be I may rekindle its ardour at those inextin- guishable fires. Of the polar star it is observable, that while other luminaries alter their situation, this seems invariably fixed. * A\'hile other luminaries now mount the battlements of heaven, and appear upon duty ; now retire beneath the liorizon, and resign to a fresh set the watches of the night ; this never de- parts from its station. This, in eveiy sea- son, maintains an uniform position, and is always to be found in the same tract of the northern sky. How often has this beamed bright intelligence on the sailor, and con- ducted the keel to its desired haven ! In early ages, those who went down to the sea in ships, and occupied their business in great waters, had scarce any other sure guide for their wandering vessel. This, therefore, they viewed with the most solicitous atten- tion. By this they formed their observa- tions and regulated their voyage. When this was obscured by clouds, or enveloj)ed in mists, the trembling mariner was bewil- dered on the watery waste. His thoughts fluctuated as much as the floating surge ; and he knew not where he was advanced, or whither he should steer. But when this auspicious star broke through the gloom, it dissi])iited the anxiety of his mind, and clear- ed up lis dubious passage ; he reassumed with alacrity the management of the helm, and was able to shape his course with some tolerable degree of satisfaction and certain- ty'* Such, only much clearer in its light, and much surer in its direction, is the holy word of God to those myriads of intellectual be- ings who are bound for the eternal shores ; who, embarked in a vessel of feeble flesh, are to pass the waves of this tempestuous and perilous world. In all difficulties, those sacred pages shed an encouraging ray, in all uncertainties, they suggest the right doterniination, and point out the proper ])roccdurc. What is still a more inestima- ble advantage, they, like the star which con- ducted the eastern sages, niiike plain the way of access to a Redeemer. '1 hey dis- play his unspeakable merits ; they discover the method of being interested in his great atonement ; and lead the weary soul, toss- « I speak in confomiity to the appearance of the object. For, though this remarkable star revolves round the pole, its motion is so slow, and the circle it ilestribe.s so small, as renders both the revolution and cliange of situation hardly perceivable. 122 CONTEMPLATIONS ed by trouhles, and shattered by temptations, to that only harbour of peaceful repose. Let us therefore attend to this unerring direc- tory, with the same constancy of regard, as the seafaring man observes his compass. Let us become as thoroughly acquainted with this sacred chart, as the pilot is with every trusty mark, that gives notice of a lurking rock, and with every open road that yields a safe passage into the port. Above all, let us commit ourselves to this infalli- ble guidance, with the same implicit resig- nation ; let us conform our conduct to its ex- alted precepts, with the same sedidous care, as the children of Israel, when sojourning in the trackless desert, followed the pillar of fire, and the motions of the miraculous cloud. So will it introduce us, not into an earthly Canaan, flowing with milk and ho- ney, but into an immortal paradise, where is the fulness of joy, and where are pleasures for evermore. It will introduce us into those happy, happy regions, where our sun shall no more go down, nor our moon with- draw itself; for the Lord shall be our ever- lasting light, and the days of our mourning, together with the fatigues of our pilgrimage, shall be ended. ( Isaiah Ix. 20. ) I perceive a great variety in the size and splendour of those gems of heaven. Some are of the first magnitude ; others of an infei-ior order. Some glow with intense flames ; others glimmer with faint- er beams. Yet all are beautiful, all have their peculiar lustre, and distinct use ; all tend in their different degrees to ena- mel the cope of heaven, and embroider the robe of night. This circumstance is re- marked by an author, whose sentiments are a source of wisdom, and the very stand- ard of tmth. " One star," says the apos- tle of the Gentiles, " differeth from another star in glory ; so also is the resurrection of the dead." In the world above, are various degi'ees of happiness, various seats of honour. Some will rise to more illustrious distinc- tions, and richer joys.* Some, like vessels of amjde capacity, will admit more copious accessions of light and excellence. Yet there will be no want, no deficiency in any, but a fulness both of divine satisfactions and personal perfections. Each will enjoy all the good, and be adorned with all the glory, that his heart can wish or his condi- tion receive. None will know what it is to envy. Not the least malevolence, nor the least selfishness, but everlasting friend- ship prevails, and a mutual complacency in each other's delight. Love, cordial love, will give every particular saint a participa- * 1 Cor. XV. 41, 42. The great Mr. Mead prefers the sense here given, and tlie learned Dr. Hammond ad- inils it into his paraphrase. Whose joint authority, though far from excluding any other, yet is a sutVi- cient warrnnt for this application of the words. tion of all the fruitions which ai'e diffused through the whole assembly of the blessed. No one eclipses, but each reflects light upon his brother. A sweet interchange of rays subsist, all enlightened by the great Foun- tain, and all enlightening one another. By which reciprocal communication of plea- sure and amity, each will be continually re- ceiving from, each incessantly adding to, the general felicity. Happy, supremely happy they, who are admitted into the celestial mansions. Bet- ter to be a doorkeeper in those " ivory palaces," (Psalm xlv. 8.) than to fill the most gorgeous throne on earth. The very ]o\^'est place at God's right hand is distin- guished honour and consummate bliss. O that we may, in some measure, anticipate that beatific state while we remain in our banishment below ! May we, by rejoicing in the superior prosperity of another, make it our own ; and provided the general result is harmony, be content, be pleased, with whatsoever part is assigned to our share in the universal choir of affairs. While I am considering the heavenly bo- dies, I must not entirely forget those funda- mental laws of our modern astronomy, pro- jection and attraction. One of which is the all-combining cement, the other is the ever- operative spring, of the mighty frame. In the beginning the all-creating fiat impress- ed a proper degree of motion on each of those whirling orbs ; which, if not controll- ed, would have carried them on in straight lines, and to endless lengths, till they were even lost in the abyss of space. But, the gravitating property being added to the pro- jectile force, determined their courses to a circular form,* and obliged the reluctant rovers to perform their destined rounds. Were either of those causes to suspend their action, all the harmoniously moving spheres would be disconcerted, woidd degenerate into sluggish, inactive masses, and, falling into the central fire, be burnt to ashes ; or else would exorbitate into wild confusion, and each, by the rapidity of its whirl, be dissipated into atoms. But the impulsive and attractive energy being most nicely at- * I am aware the planetary orbits are not strictly cir- cular, but rather elliptical. However, as they are hut a small remove from the perfectly round figure- and partake of it incomparably more than the trajeo lories of the comets, I choose to represent the thing in this view; especially, because the notion of a cir- cle is so much more intelligible to the generality of readers, than that of an ellipsis; and because I laid it down for a rule, not to admit any such abstruse sen- timent, or difficult expression, as should demand a painful attention, instead of raising an agreeable idea. For which reason, I have avoided technical terms ; have taken no notice of Jupiter's satellites, or Sa- turn's ring ; have not so much as mentioned the names of the planets, nor attempted to wade into any depths of t!ie science ; lest, to those who have no opportuni- ty of using the telescope, or of acquainting themselves witli a system of astronomy, I should propound rid- dles, rather than display entertaining and edifying trutlis. ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 123 tempered to each otlier ; and, under tlie im- mediate operation of tlie Almighty, exert- ing themselves in perpetual concert, the various globes run tlieir radiant races with- out the least interrujition, or the least de- viation, so as to create the alternate chan- ges of day and night, and distribute the use- I'ld viscissitudes of succeeding seasons ; so OS to answer all the great ends of a gracious Providence, and procure every comfortable convenience for universal nature. Does not this constitution of the mater- ial, very naturally lead the thoughts to those grand principles of the moral and devotion- al world — faith and love? These are of- ten celebrated by the inspired apostle, as a comprehensive summary of the gospel ; (Col. i. 4. Philem. ver. 5.) These inspirit the breast, and regulate the progTess of each private Christian. These unite the whole congregation of the faithful to God, and one another ; — to God, the gi'cat centre, in the bonds of gratitude and devotion ; to one another, \ry a recii)rocal intercourse of bro- therly affections and friendly offices. If you ask, Wby is it impossible for the true believer to live at all adventures ? to stag- nate in sloth, or habitually to deviate from duty? We answer, it is owing to " his faith working by love." (Gal. v. 6.) He assuredly trusts, that Christ has sustained the infamy, and endured the torment due to his sins. He firmly relies on that divine propitiation for the pardon of all his guilt ; and humbly expects everlasting salvation as the purchase of his Saviour's merits. This produces such a spirit of gratitude, as refines his inclinations, and animates his whole behaviour. He cannot, he can- not run to excess of riot ; because love to his adorable Redeemer, like a strong, but silken curb, sweetly restrains him. He cannot, he cannot lie lulled in a lethargic indolence ; because love to the same infin- ite Benefactor, like a pungent but endear- ing spur, pleasingly excites him. In a word, faith supplies the powerfid impulse, while love gives the determining bias, and leads the willing i'eet through the whole circle of God's commandments. By the united efficacy of these heavenly graces, the Christian conduct is preserved, in the uni- formity and l»eauty of holiness ; as by the lilended power of those Newtonian princi- ples, the solar system revolves in a steady and magnificent regidarity. How admirable, how extensive, how di- versified, is the force of this single princi- ple, attraction /* This penetrates the very essence of all bodies, iind diffuses itself to the remotest limits of the mundane system. By this the worlds, impressed with motion, liang self-balanced on their centres, and. thougli orbs of immense magnitude, require nothing but this amazing property for their support. To this v.'e ascribe a phenome- non of a veiy different kind — the pressure of the atmosphere, which, though an yielding and expansive fluid, yet, constipated by an attractive energy, surrounds the whole globe, and incloses every creature, as it were, with a tight bandage. An expedient this, abso- lutely necessary to preserve the texture of our bodies, and indeed to maintain eveiy species of animal existence. Attraction ! Urged by this wonderful impetus, the rivers circulate, copious and unintermitted, among all the nations of the earth; sweeping with rapidity down the steeps, or softly ebbing through the plains. Imj)elled by the same mysterious force, the nutritious juices are detached from the soil, and ascending the trees, find their way through millions of the finest meanders, in order to transfuse vege- tative life into all the branches. Tliis confines the ocean within proper bounds ; though the waves thereof roar, though they toss themselves, with all the madness of in- digent rage ; yet, checked by this potent, this inevitable curb, they are unable to pass even the slight banier of sand. To this the mountains owe that unshaken firmness, which laughs at the shock of careering winds, and bids the tempest, with all its mingled horrors, impotently rave. By virtue of this invisible mechanism, without the aid of crane or pully, or any instrument of human device, many thousand tuns of water are raised every moment into the re- gions of the firmament : by this they con- tinue suspended in thin air, without any capacious cistern to contain their substance, or any massy pillars to sustain their v/eight : By this same variously acting power, they return to the place of their native resi- dence, distilled in gentle falls of dew, or precipitated in impetuous showers of rain ; they slide into the fields in fleecy flights of snow, or are darted upon the houses in clattering storms of hail. This occasions the strong cohesion of solid bodies ; with- out which, our large machines could exert themselves with no vigour, and the nicer utensils of life would elude our expectations of service. This aflbrds a foundation for all those delicate or noble mechanic arts, which furnish mankind with nundierlcss conven- iences, both of ornament and delight. In short, this is the prodigious ballast, which composes the ecpiilibrium, and constitutes the stability of things ; this is the great chain, which forms the connexions of uni- versal nature ; and the mighty engine which prompts, facilitates, and in good measure, accomi)lishes all her operations. What complicated effects from a single cause !* » I mean tlie attraction both of gravitation ami CO- * See another remarkable instance of this kind, in hesion. the Reflections on a Flower-Garden, page 3y, 3!), to- 124 CONTEMPLATIONS What profusion, amidst fnigality ! an un- known profusion of benefits, with the ut- most fnigality of expense ! And what is this attraction ? Is it a quality, in its existence inseparable from matter, and in its acting independent on the Deity ? Quite the reverse. It is the very finger of God ; the constant impression of divine power ; a principle, neither in- nate in matter, nor intelligible by mortals. Does it not, however, bear a considerable analogy to the agency of the Holy Ghost, in the Christian economy ? Are not the gracious operations of the blessed Spirit thus extensive, thus admirable, thus vari- ous ? That almighty Being transmits his gifts through every age, and communicates his graces to every adherent on the Re- deemer. All, either of illustrious memory, or of beneficial tendency ; in a word all the good that is done upon earth, he doth it himself. Strong in his aid, and in the power of his might, the saints of all times liave trod vice under their feet, have triumphed over this abject world, and con- versed in heaven while they dwelt on earth. Not I, but the grace of God, which was with me (1 Cor. xv. 10.) is the unanimous ac- knowledgment of them all. By the same kindly succours, the whole church is still en- lightened, quickened, and governed. Through his benign influences, the scales of ignorance fall from the understanding ; the leprosy of evil concupiscence is purged from the will ; and the fetters, the more than adamantine fitters of habitual iniquity, drop off from the conversation. He breathes even \\\mn dry bones,* and they live : they are animated with faith ; they pant with ardent and hea- venly desire ; they exercise themselves in all the duties of godliness. His real, though secret inspiration, dissolves the flint in the impenitent breast, and binds up the sorrows of the broken heart ; raises the thoughts high in the elevations of holy hope, yet lays them low in the humiliations of inward abasement ; steels the soul with impenetrable resolution and preserving for- titude, at the same time softens it into a dove-like meekness, and melts it in peni tential sorrow. When I contemplate those ample and magiiiiicent structures erected over all the etherial plains ; when I look iqjon them as so majiy splendid repositories of light, or fruitful abodes of life ; when I remember, that there may be other orbs, vastly more remote than those which appear to our un- aided sight ; orbs, whose effulgence, though travelling ever since tlie creation, is siot yet arrived upon our coasts ;" when T stretch my thoughts to the innumerable orders of being which inhabit all those spacious systems, from the loftiest seraph to the lowest reptile, from the armies of angels which surround the throne of Je- hovah to the pimy nations which tinge with blue the surface of the plum,f or mantle the standing pool with green — how various appear the links in this immense chain ! how vast the gradations in this universal scale of existence ! Yet all these, though ever so vast and various, are the work of God's hand, and are full of his presence. He rounded in his palm those dreadfully large globes which are pendulous in the vault of heaven. He kindled those aston- ishingly bright fires, which fill the firma- ment with a flood of glory. By him they are suspended in fluid ether, and cannot be shaken ; by him they dispense a perpetual tide of beams, and are never exhausted. He formed, with inexpressible nicety, that delicately fine collection of tubes, that un- known nudtiplicity of subtle springs, which organize and actuate the frame of the mi- nutest insect. He bids the crimson cur- rent roll, the ^^tal movements play, and as- sociates a world of wonders even in an ani- mated point.:): In all these is a single ex- pethcr with a fine observation quoted in the corres- ponding note. * See tliat beautiful piece of sacrtd and allegorical imagery displayed, Ezek. XNX.ii. * If this conjecture (which has no less a person than the celebrated Mr. Huygens for its author) con- ceming unseen stars, be true ; if to this observation be added, what is affirmed by our skilful astronomers, that the motion of the rays of light is so surprismgly swift, as to pass through tenraillionsof miles in a sin- gle minute : how vast— beyond imagination vast and unmeasurable — are the spaces of the universe ! While the mind is distended with the grand idea; or ra- ther while she is despatching her ablest powers of piercing judgment, and excursive fancy ; and finds them all dropt short ; all baffled by the amazing sub- ject ; permit me to apply that spirited exclamation, and noble remark ; Say, proud arch Built with divine ambition ; in disdain Of limit built; built in the taste of heaven ! Vast concave ! ample dome ! wast thou designed A meet apparent for the deity ? Not so; that thought alone thy state impairs; Thy lofty sinks ; and shallows thy profound ; And straitens thy dift'usive Night-Ti'ioiights, No ix. t Even the blue down the purple plum surrounds A living world thy failing sight confounds: To him a peopled habitation shows. Where millions taste the bounty God bestows. See a beautiful and instructive Poem styled — Deitt/. X There are living creatures abundantly smaller than the mite. Mr. Bradley in his treatise on garden- ing, mentions an insect which, after an accurate ex- amination, he fouTid to be a thousand times less than the least visible grain of sand. Vet such an insect, tliough quite imperceptible to the naked eye, is aa elephant, is a whale, compared with other animal- cules, almost infinitely more i minute, discovered by Mr. Lewenhock. If we coi .ikltr the several limbs which compose such an organized particle; thedifi'er- ent muscles which actuate such a set of limbs ; the flow of spirits, incomparably more attenuated, wViich put those muscles in motion: the various fiiiicts which circulate : the different secretions which are povfurm- ed : together with the peculiar minuteness ol the so- lids before they arrive at their full growth— not to mention other more astonishing modes of dimmution, sure we shall have the utmost reason to acknowledge that the adored Maker is i>ia.rii,-nis in i-iinimis, greatly glorious even in his smallest works. ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 12.5 liibitioii of creating jjower ; to all thtJBe are extended the special regards of preserving goodness. From hence let nie learn to rely on the providence, and to revere the j)resence of the supreme Majesty. To rely on his providence : For amidst that inconceivable number and variety of beings wliich swarm through the regions of creation, not one is overlooked, not one is neglected by the great Omnipotent cause of all. However inconsiderable in its char- acter, or diminutive in its size, it is still the production of the universal Maker, and be- longs to the family of the Almighty Father. What though enthroned archangels enjoy the smiles of bis countenance ; yet the low inhabitants of earth, the most despicable worms of the ground, are not excluded froui lis providential care. Though the manifestation of his perfections is vouch- safed to holy and intellectual essences, his ear is open to the cries of the young I'aven ; his eye is attentive to the wants and to the welfare of the very meanest births of na- tme. How much less, then, are his own people disregarded ? those for whom he has delivered liis beloved Son to death, and for whom he has prepared habitations of eter- nal joy. They disregai-ded ! No ; they are kept as the apple of an eye. The very hairs of their head are all numbered. The fondest mother may forget the infmit that is dandled upon her knees, and sucks at her breast,* much sooner than the Father of everlasting comjjassion can discontinue or * Isa. xlix. 15. " Can a woman forget heisucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son ofherwomb ? Yea, they may forget ; yet will I not for- get thee. How delicate and expressive are the images in this charming scripture ! How full of beauty if be- held in a critical, how rich with consolation if consi- dered in a believing view ! Cati a ivoman V one of the softer sex, whose nature is most impressible and whose passions are remarkably tender — can such a one, not barely disregard, but entirely forget ; not sus- pend her care for a while, l)ut utterly erase the very memory of her child — licr own child, not an- others ? a child that was formed in her womb.and is a part of herself ? Her .?oji, the more important, and therefore more desirable species, to whom it jiccu- liarly belongs to preserve the name, and build up the family ; her only son — for the word is singular, and refers to a case where theofFspring, not being numer- ous, but centered in a single birth, must be produc- tive of the fondest endearment : Can she divest her- self of all concern for such a child; not when he is grown up to maturity, or gone abroad from her house, but while he continues in an infantile state, and must owe his whole safety to her kind attendance ; while he lies in her bosom, rests on her ami, and even sucks at her breast ? especially if the poor innocent be rack- ed with pain, or seized by some severe affliction ; and so become an object of compassion as well as of love ? Can she hear its piercing cries ; can she see it all rest- less, all helpless under its misery, and feel no emotions of parental pity ? If one such monster of inhmuanity .might be found, could all (hero the prophet, to give his comparison the utmost energy, changes th.e singu- lar number into the pli.'.al) could iM mothers be so degenerate ? This, sure, camiot be suspected, need not be feared ; much less need the true believer be ap- prehensive of the failure of my kindness. An uni- versal extinction of these strongest atTections of nature is a more supposable case, than that I should ever be unmindful of niy people, or regardless of their in- terests. remit his watchful tenderness to his peopie> his children, his heirs. Let this teach me also a more lively sense of the divine presense. All the rolling worlds above, all the living atoms below, together with all the beings that intervene betwixt these wide extremes, are vouchers for an ever-jjresent Deity. " God has not left himself without a witness." The marks of his footsteps are evident in every place, and the touches of his finger distinguisha- ble in every creature. '• Thy name is so nigh, O thou all-supporting, all-informing Lord ; and that do thy wondrous works de- clare." (Psalm Ixxv. 1.) Thy goodness warms in the morning sun, and refreshes in the evening breeze. Thy glory shines in lamps of midnight, and smiles in the blos- soms of spring. AVe see a trace of thy in- comprehensible grandeur in the boundless extent of things ; and a sketch of thy ex- quisite skill, in those almost evanescent sparks of life — the insect race." How stu- pid is this heart of mine, that, amidst such a multitude of remembrancers thronging on every side, I should forget thee a single mo- ment ! Grant me, thou great I am ! thou source and support of universal existence ; Oh ! grant me an enlightened eye to dis- cern thee in every object, and a devout heart to adore thee on every occasion. Instead of living without God in the world, may I be ever with him, and see all things full of him. -The glittering stars By the deep ear of meditation heard. Still in their midnight watches sing of him. He nods a calm. The tempest blows his wrath. The thunder is his voice; and the red flash His speedy swcrd of justice. At his touch The mountains flame. He shakes the solid earth. And rocks the nations. Nor in these alone — In ev'ry common instance God is seen. Thotmun's Spring. If the beautiful spangles which a clear night pours on the beholder's eye ; if those other iires which beam in remoter skies, and are discoverable only by that revelation to the sight — the telescope ; if all those bright millions are so many fountains of day, enriched with native and independent lustre, illuminating planets, and eulivening systems of their own ;* what pomp, how majestic and splendid ! is disclosed in the . midnight scene ! Wliiit riches are dissemin- ated through all those nuinberkss provinces of the great Jehovah's empire ! Grandeur beyond expression ! Yet there is not the meanest slave but carries greater wealth in his own bosom, possesses superior dignity in bis owTi person. The soul that informs * Consult with reason. Reason will reply. Each lucid point, which glows in yonder sky, Informs a system in the boundless space, And fills with glory its appointed place; With beams unborrow'd brightens other skies; And worlds, to thee unknown, with heat ami life supiilies. — T/ie Unitiurac. 126 CONTEMPLATIONS his clay: the soul that teaches him to think, and enables him to choose, that qua- lifies him to relish rational pleasure, and to breathe sublime desire ;* the soul that is endowed with such noble faculties ; and, above all, is distinguished with the dreadful, the glorious capacity of being pained or bless- ed for ever : this soul surpasses in worth whatever the eye can see, whatever of ma- terial the fancy can imagine. Before one such intellectual being, all the treasiu-e, and all the magnificence of unintelligent crea- tion, becomes poor and contemptible, f For this soul Omnipotence itself has waked and worked through eveiy age. To convince this soul, the fundamental laws of nature have been controlled, and the most amazing mira- cles have alarmed all the ends of the earth. To instruct this soul, the \nsdom of heaven has been transfused into the sacred page, and missionaries have been sent from the great King, who resides in light unapproach- able. To sanctify this soul, the Almighty Comforter takes the mngs of a dove, and wath a sweet transforming influence, broods on the himian heart. And O ! to redeem this sold from guilt, to rescue it from hell, the heaven of heavens was bowed, and God himself came down to dwell in dust. Let me pause a while upon this impor- tant subject. What are the schemes which engage the attention of eminent statesmen, and mighty monarchs, compared with the grand interests of an immortal soul ? The support of commerce, and the success of armies, though extremely weighty afl^airs, yet, if laid in the balance against the salva- tion of a soul, are lighter than the downy feather poised against talents of gold. To save a navy from shipwreck, or a kingdom from slavery, are deliverances of the most momentous nature which the transactions of mortality can admit- But, O ! how they shrink into an inconsiderable trifle, if (their aspect upon immortality forgot) they are set in competition with the delivery of a single soul from the anguish and horrors of a distressed eteniity !| Is such the importance of the soul ? what vigilance then can be too much, or rather, what holy solicitude can be sufficient, for « In this respect, as vested with such capacities, the soul even of fallen man has an unquestionable greatness and dignity — is majestic, though in ruin. t I beg leave to transcribe a pertinent passage, from that celebrated master of reason, and universal literature, Dr. Bentley, whom no one can be tempted to suspect either tinctured with enthusiasm, or warped by bigotry. " If we consider," says he, " the dignity of an intelligent being, and put that in the scale against brute and inanimate matter, we may af- firm, without over-valuing human nature, that the soul of one virtuous and religious man is of greater worth and excellency than the sun, and his planets, and all the stars in the world. See his Sei mcnx at Boi/te's Led. No. 8. j. Not all your luminaries (juench'd at once Were ha'lf so sad, as one benighted mind Which gropes for happiness and meets despair. Night Thoughts, No. ix. the overseers of the Saviour's flock, and the guardians of this great, this venerable, this invaluable charge ? Since such is the im- portance of the soul, wUt thou not, O man, be watchfid for the preservation of thy own ? Shall every casual incident awaken thy con- cern, every transitory toy command thy re- gard ? And shall the welfare of thy soul, a work of continual occurrence, a work of endless consequence, sue in vain for thy se- rious care ! Thy soid, thy soul is thy all. If this be secured, thou art greatly rich, and will be unspeakably happy. If this be lost, a whole world acquired will leave thee in poverty, and, all its delights enjoyed, will abandon thee to misery, I have often been charmed and awed at the sight of the nocturnal heavens, even before I knew how to consider them in their proper circumstances of majesty and beauty. Something like magic has struck my mind, on a transient and imthinking sun'ey of the etherial vault, tinged through- out with the piu-est aziu-e, and decorated with innumerable starry lamps. I have felt I know not what powerful and aggran- dizing imj)ulse, which seemed to snatch me from the low entanglements of vanity, and prompted an ardent sigh for sublimer ob- jects. Methought I heard, even from the silent spheres, a commanding call to spurn the abject earth, and pant after unseen de- lights. Henceforward I hope to imbibe more copiously this moral emanation of the skies, when, in some such manner as the preceding, they are rationally seen, and the sight is didy improved. The stars, I trust, will teach as well as shine, and help to dispel both nature's gloom, and my in- tellectual darkness. To some people they discharge no better service than that of holding a flambeau to their feet and soften- ing the horrors of their night. To me and my friends may they act as ministers of a superior order, as counsellors of wisdom, and guides to happiness ! Nor will they fail to execute this nobler office, if they gently light our way into the knowledge of their adored Maker; if they point out with their silver rays our path to his beatific presence. I gaze, I ponder ! I ponder, I gaze ! and think ineflfable things. I roU an eye of awe and admiration. Again and again I repeat my ravished views, and can never satiate either my curiosity or my inquiry. I spring my thoughts into this immense field, till even fancy tires upon her wing, I find wonders ever new ; wonders more and more amazing. Yet, after all my pre- sent inquiries, what a mere nothing do I know ! by all my future researches, how little shall I be able to learn of those vastly distant suns, and their circling retinue of worlds ! Could- 1 piy with Newton's pierc- ing sagacity, or launch into his extensive ON THE STAilRY HEAVENS. 1-27 surveys, even then my ai)prelieiisions would be little better than those dim and scanty images which the mole, just emerged from her cavern, receives on her feeble optic. This, sure, should repress all impatient or immoderate ardour to pry into the secrets of the starry structures, and make me more j)articularly careful to cultivate my heart. To fathom the de])ths of the divine es- sence, or to scan universal nature with a critical exactness, is an attempt which sets the acutest philosopher very nearly on a level with the idiot; since it is almost, if not altogether, as impracticable by the former, as by the latter. Be it then my chief study, not to pursue what is absolutely unnattainable, but rather to seek what is obvious to find, easy to be acquired, and of inestimable advantage when possessed. O! let me seek that cha- rity which edifieth,* that faith which puri- fieth. Love, humble love, not conceited science, keeps the door of heaven. Faith, a child-like tliith in Jesus, not the haughty self-sufficient spirit which scorns to be ig- norant of any thing, presents a keyf to those abodes of bliss. This present state is the scene destined to the exercise of de- votion, the invisible world is the place ap- pointed for the enjoyment of knowledge. There, the dawni of our infantile minds will be advanced to the maturity of perfect day ; or rather, there our midnight shades will be brightened into all the lustre of noon. There the souls which come from the school of faith, and bring with them the principles of love, will dwell in light itself; will be obscured with no darkness at all ; will know, even as they are known. (1 Cor. xiii. 12. ) Such an acquaintance, therefore, do I desire to form, and to caiTy on such a corres- j)ondence with the heaveidy bodies, as may shed a benign influence on the seeds of grace • 1 Cor. viii. 1. I need not inform my reader, that in this text in that admirable chapter, 1 Cor. xiii. and in various other passages of scripture, the word charity, should by no means be confined to the parti- cular art of alms-giving, or external beneficence. It is of a much more exalted and extensive nature. It signifies that divinely precious grace which warms the soul with supreme love to God, and enlarges it with disinterested affection for men, which renders it the reigning care of the life, and chief delight of the heart, to promote the happiness of the one, and the glory of the other. This, this is that charity of which so many excellent things are everywhere spoken; which can never be too highly extolled, or too earnestly coveted, since it is the image of God, and the very spirit of heaven. t The Righteousness of Christ, — Tltis is what Milton beautifully styles -The golden key That opens the palace of eternity. implanted in my breast. Let the exalted tracts of the firmament sink my soul into deep humiliation. Let those eternal fires kindle in my heart an adoring gratitude to their Almighty Sovereign. Let yonder ponderous and enormous globes, which rest on his supporting arm, teach me an un- shaken affiance in their incarnate Maker ; then shall I be, if not wise as the astrono- mical adept, yet wise mito salvation. Having now walked and worshipped in this universal temple, that is arched with skies, emblazed with stars, and extended even to immensity ; having cast an eye, like the enraptured patriarch, (Gen. xv. 5,) an eye of reason and devotion through the magnificent scene ; with the former, having discovered an infinitude of worlds, and with the latter, having met the Deity in every view; having beheld, as Moses in the flam- ing bush, a glimpse of Jehovah's excellen- cies, reflected from the several planets, and streaming from myriiids of celestial lumin- aries ; having read various lessons iti that stupendous book of wisdom,* where un- measurable sheets of azure compose the page ; and orbs of radiance write, in ever- lasting characters, a comment upon our creed. What remains but that I close the midnight solemnity, as our Lord concluded his grand sacramental constitution, with a song of praise ? And behold a hymn, suited to the sublime occasion, indited by Inspira- tion itself, (Psalm xix. ) tiansferred into our language, by onef of the happiest efforts of human ingenuity. Thesjvicious finnament on high. With all the blue etherial sky. And spangled heav'ns — a shining frame. Their great original proclaim : Th' unwearied sun, from day to day. Does his Creator's power display ; And publishes to ev'ry land. The work of an Almighty hand. Soon as the ev'ning shades prevail. The moon takes up the wondrous tale ; And nightly, to the list'ning earth. Repeats the story of her birth ; While all the stars that round her burn. And all the planets in their turn. Confirm the tidings as they roll. And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though in solemn silence all Move round the dark terrestrial ball ? What though no real voice nor sound Amid their radiant orbs be found ? In reason's ear they all rejoice. And utter forth a glorious voice. For ever singing as they shine, " The hand that made us is divine." — Addison. Is as the book of God before thee set, Wherein to read his wondrous works. — Milt. t Addison, Spect. Vol. vi. No. 465. WINTER-PIECE. It is true, in the delightful seasons, his ten- derness and his love are most eminently dis- played. In the vernal months, all is beau- ty to the eye, and music to the ear : The clouds drop fatness ; the air softens into balm ; and flowers in rich abundance spring wherever we tread, bloom wherever we look. Amidst the burning heats of sum- mer, he expands the leaves and thickens the shades ; he spreads the cooling arbour to receive us, and awakes the gentle breeze to fan us : The moss swells into a couch for the repose of our bodies ; while the rivulet softly rolls and sweetly murmurs, to soothe our imagination. In autumn, his bounty covers the fields \\dth a profusion of nutri- menttil treasure, and bends the boughs with loads of delicious fruit ; he fiu-nishes his hospitable board wath present plenty, and prepares a copious magazine for future wants. But is it only in these smiling pe- riods of the year that God, the all-gracious God, is seen ? Has winter, stem winter, no tokens of his presence ? Yes, all things are eloquent of his praise : " His way is in the whklwind ;" storms and tempests fulfil his word, and extol his power; even piercing frosts bear witness to his goodness, while they bid the shivering nations tremble at his wrath. Be \vinter, then, for a while, our theme.* Perhaps those barren scenes may be fruitful in intellectual improvement ; perhaps that rigorous cold which binds the earth in icy chains, may serve to enlarge our hearts, and warm them with holy love. See ! how the day is shortened ! The sun, detained in fairer climes, or engaged in * A sketch of this nature, I must acknowledge, is quite different from the subject of the book; and, I cannot but declare, was as far distant from the thoughtsof the author. But the desire of several ac- quaintances, together with an intimation of its useful- ness, by a very polite letter from an unknown hand, (which has utidesignedly furnished nie with the best motto I could recollect,) prevailed with me to add a few descriptive touches and improving hints, on what is so often experienced in these northeru regions. I hope the attempt I have made to oblige these gen- tlemen will obtain the approbation, or at least the ciLcuse of my readers. more agreeable senices, rises, like an un- willing visitant, with tardy and reluctant steps. He walks with a shy indifference along the edges of the southern sky ; cast- ing an oblique glance, he just looks upon our dejected world, and scarcely scatters light through the thick air. Dim is his ap- pearance, languid are his gleams, while he continues ; or, if he chance to wear a bright- er aspect, and a cloudless brow, yet, like the young and gay in the house of mourn- ing, he seems uneasy till he is gone, is in haste to depart. And let him depart : Why should we wish for his longer stay, since he can show us nothing but the crea- tion in distress ? The flowery families lie dead, and the tuneful tribes are struck dumb ; the trees, stript of their verdure, and lashed by storms, spread their naked arms to the enraged and relentless heavens. Fragrance no longer floats in the air, but chilling damps hover, or cutting gales blow. Nature, divested of all her beautiful robes, sits, like a forlorn disconsolate widow in her weeds ; while mnds in doleful accents howl, and rains in repeated showers weep. We regret not, therefore, the speedy de- parture of the day. When the room is hung with funeral black, and dismal objects are all around, who would desire to have the glimmering taper kept alive, which can only discover spectacles of sorrow, can only make the hoiTor visible ? And since this mortal life is little better than a continual conflict ^\'ith sin, or an unremitted struggle with miserj', is it not a gracious ordination, which has reduced oiu: age to a span ? Fourscore years of trial for the virtuous, are sufficiently long ; and more than such a term allowed to the wicked, would render them beyond all measure vile. Our way to the kingdom of heaven lies through tribula- tions. Shall we then accuse, shall we not rather bless the Providence, which has made the passage short ? Soon, soon we cross the vale of tears ; and then arrive on the happy hills where light for ever shines, where joy for ever smiles. A WINTER-PIECE. 129 ' Sometimes the day is rendered shorter still ; is almost blotted out from the year. The vapours gather, they thicken into an impenetrable gloom, and obscure the face of the sky. At length the rains descend ; the sluices of the firmament are opened, and the low-hung clouds poiu" their congregated .stores. Copious and unintcrmitted, still they pour, and still are unexhausted. The waters drop incessantly from the eaves, and rush in rapid streams from the spouts : They roar along the channelled pavements, and stand in foul shallows on the vil- lage streets. Now, if the inattentive eye, or negligent hand, has left the roof but scan- tily covered, the insinuating element finds its way into every flaw, and oozing through the ceiling, at once upbraids and chastises the careless inhabitant. The ploughman, soaked to the skin, leaves his half-tiUed acre ; the poor poultry, dripping with wet, crowd into shelter j the tenants of the bough fold up their wings, afraid to launch into the streaming air ; the beasts, joyless and dis- pirited, ruminate under their shades ; the roads swim and the brooks swell. The ri- ver, amidst all this watery ferment, long con- tained itself within its appointed bounds ; but swollen by innumerable currents, and roused at last into incontroUable rage, bursts over its banks, shoots into the plain, bears down all opposition, spreads itself far and wide, and buries the meadow under a brown, sluggish, soaking deluge. How happy for man, that this inundation comes when there are no flowery crops in the valley to be overwhelmed, no field standing thick with corn to be laid waste ! At such a juncture, it would have been ruin to the husbandman and his family : but thus timed, it yields manm-e for his ground, and promises him riches in rever- sion. How often, and how long has the divine Majesty borne with the most injur- ious afl^ronts from siimers ! His goodness triumphed over their perverseness, and gra- ciously refused to be exasperated. But, O presumptuous creatures, multiply no long- er your provocations ; urge not, by repeat- ed iniquities, the almighty arm to strike ; lest his long sufl^ering cease, and his fierce anger break forth : break forth like a flood of waters, (Hosea v. 10,) and sweep you away into irrecoverable and everlasting per- dition. How mighty, how majestic, and O ! how mysterious are thy works, thou God of hea- ven, and Lord of nature ! Wlien the air is calm, where sleep the stormy winds, in wliat chambers aie they reposed, or in what dun- geons confined, till thou art pleased to awa- ken their rage, and tlirow open their prison doors ? Then, with irresistible impetuosity, they fly forth, scattering dread and mana- cing destruction. The atmosphere is hurled into the most tumultuous confusion. The aereal torrent bursts its way over mountains, seas, and continents. All things feel the dreadful shock. All things tremble before tlie fu- rious blast. The forest, vexed and torn, groans under the scourge, her sturdy sons are strained to the very root, and almost sweep the soil they were wont to shade. The stubborn oak, that disdains to bend, is dashed headlong to the ground, and with shattered arms, with prostrate trunk, blocks the road. While the flexile reed, that springs up in the marsh, yielding to the gust (as the meek and pliant temper to in- juries, or the resigned and patient spirit to misfortunes) eludes the force of the storm, and survives amidst the wide-spread havoc. For a moment the turbulent and out- rageous sky seems to be assuaged; but it intermits its wrath, only to increase its strength. Soon the sounding squadrons of the air return to the attack, and renew their ravages with redoubled fury. The stately dome rocks amidst the wheeling clouds ; the impregnable tower totters on its basis, and threatens to overwhelm whom it was intended to protect: The ragged rock is rent in pieces, (1 Kings xix. 11,) and even the hills, the pei-petual hills, on their deep foundations, are scarcely secure. Where, now, is the place of safety, when the city reels, and houses become heaps ? Sleep af- frighted flies ; diversion is turned into hor- ror : aU is uproar in the element ; all is consternation among mortals ; and nothing but one wide scene of rueful devastation through the land. Yet this is only an in- ferior minister of divine displeasure ; the executioner of milder indignation. How then, O ! how will the lofty looks of man be humbled, and the haughtiness of men be bowed down,* when the Lord God Omnipotent shall meditiite terror, when he shall set all his terrors in array, when he arises to judge the nations, and to shake terribly the earth ! The ocean swells with tremendous com- motions. The ponderous waves are heav- ed from their capacious bed, and almost lay bare the unfathomable deep. Hung in- to the most rapid agitation, they sweep over • Mortalia corda Per gentishumilis str.ivit pavor. — Virg. One would almost imagine, that Virgil had read Isa- iah, and borrowed this idea from chap. ii. ver. 11. The humilisand stravit of the one, so exactly corres- pond with the — humbled — bowed down — oftheother. lint, in one circumstance, the prophet is very much superior to the poet. The prophet, by giving a strik- ing contrast to his sentiments, represeiitj them with incomparably greater energy. lie sayi, not men in the gross, or the human heart in general ; but men of the most elated looks, hearts big with the most arro- gant imaginations. Even these shall stoop from their supercilious heights, even these shall grovel in trie dust of abasement, and shudder with all the ex- tremes of an abject pusillanimity. K 130 A WINTER-PIECE, the rocks, tliey lasli the lofty cliffs, and toss themselves into the clouds. Navies are rent from their anchors ; and, with all their enormous load, are whirled, swift as the ar- row, wild as the winds, along the vast abyss. Now, they climb the rolling mountain, they plough the frightful ridge, and seem to skim the skies ; anon, they plunge into the open- ing gulf, they lose the sight of day, and are lost themselves to eveiy eye. How vain is the pilot's art ! how impotent the mariner's strength ! They reel to and fro, and stagger in the jarring hold, or cling to the cordage, while bursting seas foam over the deck. Despair is in every face, and death sits threatening on every surge. But why, O ye astonished mariners ! why should you abandon yourselves to despair ? Is the Lord's hand shortened, because the waves of the sea rage horribly ? Is his ear deafened by the roaring thunders, and the bellowing tem- pest ? Cry, cry unto him, who '^ holdeth the wnds in his fist, and the waters in the hollow of his hand. " He is all-gracious to hear, and almighty to save. If he command, the storm shall be hushed to silence ; the billows shall subside into a calm ; the light- nings shall lay their fiery bolts aside ; and, instead of sinking in a watery grave, you shall find yoiu-selves brought to the desired haven. Sometimes, after a joyless day, a more dismal night succeeds. The lazy loiu-ing vapours had wove so thick a veil as the me- ridian sun coidd scarcely penetrate. What gloom then must overwhelm the nocturnal hours ! The moon withdi'aws her shining ; not a single star is able to straggle through the deep arrangement of shades ; all is pitchy darkness, without one enlivening ray. How solemn ! how awful ! It is like the shroud of nature, or the return of chaos ! I do not wonder that it is the parent of ter- rors, and so apt to engender melancholy. Lately the tempest marked its rapid way with mischief ; now, the night dresses her silent pavilion with horror. I have sometimes left the burning tapers, Witlidrawn from the ruddy fire, and plunged into the thickest of these sooty shades ; without regretting the change, rather exult- ing in it as a, welcome deliverance. The very gloom was pleasing, was exhilarating, comjiared with the conversation I quitted. The speech of my companions (how does it grieve me, that I should even once have occasion to call them by that name !) was the language of darkness — was horror to the soul, and torture to the ear.* Their teeth were spears and arrows, and their tongue a sharp sword, to stab and assassinate th' if neighboiu-'s character. Their throat w;ts an open sepulchre, gaping to devour the re- putation of the innocent, or tainting the air with their vimlent and polluted breath. Sometimes their licentious and ungoverna- ble discourse shot arrows of profaneness against heaven itself, and, in proud defiance challenged the resentment of Omnipotence. Sometimes, as if it were the glory of human nature to cherish the grossest appetites of the brute, or the mark of a gentleman to have served an apprenticeship in a brothel, the filthiest jests of the stews (if low ob- scenity can be a jest) were nauseously ob- truded on the company. All the modest part were offended and grieved ; while the other besotted creatures laughed aloud, though the leprosy of uncleanness appeared on their lips. Are not these persons pri- soners of darkness, though blazing sconces- pour artificial day through their rooms. Are not their souls immured in the most baleful shades, though the noontide sun is brightened by flaming on their gilded cha- riots ? They discern not that great and adorable Being, who fills the universe witk his infinite and glorious presence ; who is- all eye to observe their actions, all ear to- examine their words. They know not the all-sufficient Redeemer, nor the unspeaka- ble blessedness of his heavenly kingdom. They are groping for the prize of happiness, but will certainly grasp the thorn of anxie- ty : They are wantonly sporting on the brink of a precipice ; and are every mo- ment in danger of falling headlong into ir- retrievable ruin, and endless despair. They have forced me out, and are, per- haps, deriding me in my absence ; are charging my reverence for the ever-present God, and my concern for the dignity of our rational nature, to the account of humour and singidarity ; to narrowness of thought, or sourness of temper. Be it so. I will indulge no indignation against them. If any thing like it should arise, I will convert it into prayer -. " Pity them, O thou Fa- ther of mercies ! Show them the madness of their profaneness ! show them the base- ness of their vile ribaldry ! Let their disso- lute rant be turned into silent soiTow and confusion, till they open their lips to adoi'e thy insulted majesty, and to implore thy gracious pardon ; till they devote to thy service those social hours, and those supe- rior faculties, which they are now abusing ta * What has been said, I ask'd my soul, what done ? How flow'd our mirth ? or whence the source begun ? Perhaps the jest, that charmed the sprightly crowd, And made the jovial table laugh so loud. To some false notion ow'd its p~or pretence. To an ambiguous word's pervei ted sense i To a wild sonnet, or a wanton air, Oifenceand torture to the sober ear. Perhaps, alas! the pleasing stream was brought From this man's error, from another's fault : From topics, whkhgood nature would forget. And prudence mention with the last regret. PiHor's Sulotnvn* A WINTER-PIECE. 131 tbe dishonour of thy name, to the conta- mination of their own souls, and (unless timely repentance intervene) to their ever- lasting infamy and perdition. I ride home amidst the gloomy void. All darkling and solitary, I can scarce discern my horse's head, and only guess out my blind road. No companion but danger, or perhaps destniction ready at my side. (Job xviii. 12.) But why do I fancy myself so- litary ? Is not the Father of lights, the God of my life, the great and everlasting friend, always at my right hand ? Because the day is excluded, is his omnipresence vacated ? Though I have no earthly acquaintance near to assist in case of a misfortune, or to be- guile the time and divert uneasy suspi- cions by enterfaiining conferences ; may I not lay my help upon the Almighty, and converse with God by humble supplication ? For this exercise, no place is improper, no hour unseasonable, and no posture incom- modious. This is society, the best of so- ciety, even in solitude : This is a fund of delights, easily portable, and quite inex- haustible. A treasure this of imknown va- lue, liable to no hazard from WTong or rob- ber\' ; but perfectly secure to tiie lonely wanderer in the most darksome paths. And why should I distress myself with apprehensions of peril ? This access to God is not only an indefeasible privilege, but a kind of ambulatory garrison. Those who make known their requests unto God, and rely upon his protecting care, he gives his angels charge over their welfare. His an- gels are commissioned to escort them in their travelling, and to hold up their goings, that they dash not their foot against a stone, (Psalm xci. 11, 12.) Nay, he himself con- descends to be their guardian, and " keeps all their bones, so that not one of them is broken. " Between these persons, and the most mischievous objects, a treaty of peace is concluded. The articles of this grand alliance are recorded in the book of Reve- lation ; and will, when it is for the real be- nefit of believers, assuredly be made good in the administrations of Providence. " In that day," saith the Lord, " I ^^^ll make a covenant for them with the beasts of the field, and with the fowls of heaven, and with the creeping things of the ground ; and they shall be in league with the stones of the field." (Job v. 23. Hos. ii. 18.) Though they fall headlong on the flints, even the flints, fitted to fracture the skull, shall re- ceive them as into the arms of friendship, and not oiTer to hurt whom the Lord is pleased to preserve. May I then enjoy the presence of this gracious God, and darkness and light shall be both alike. Let Him whisper peace to my conscience, and tliis dread silence shall be more charming than the voice of elo- quence, or the strains of music. Let him reveal his ravishing perfections in my soul, and I shall not want the saffron beauties of the mom, the golden glories of noon, or the empurpled evening sky. I shall sigh only for those most desirable and distin- guished realms, where the light of his coun- tenance perpetually shines, and consequent- ly there is no night there. (Rev. xxi. 25.) How surprising axe the alterations of na- ture ! I left her the preceding evening plain and unadorned ; but now a thick rime has shed its hoary honoiu-s over all : It has shagged the fleeces of the sheep, and crisped the traveller's locks : The hedges are richly fringed, and all the ground is profusely powdered: The do\vnward branches are tasselled with silver, and the upright are feathered with the plumy wave. The fine are not always the valuable. The air, amidst all these gaudy decorations, is charged with chilling and unwholesome damps : The raw hazy influence spreads wide, sits deep, hangs hea\'y and oppressive on the springs of life. A Listless languor clogs the animal functions, and the purple stream glides but faintly through its chan- nels. In vain the ruler of the day exerts his beaming powers ; in vain he attempts to disperse this insmrection of vapoiu-s. The sullen malignant cloud refuses to depart ; it invelopes the world, and intercepts the prospect. I look abroad for the neighbour- ing village ; I send my eye in quest of the rising turret ; but am scarce able to discern the veiy next house. Where are the blue arches of heaven ? where is the radiant countenance of the sun ? where the bound- less scenes of crcarion ? Lost, lost are their beauties ; quenched their glories. The thronged theatre of the universe seems an empty void, and all its elegant pictiu-es an undistinguished bland. Thus would it have been with our intellectual \aews, if the gos- pel had not come in to our relief. We should have kno^vn neither oiu* true good, nor real e\-il. We had been a riddle to om- sclves ; the present state all confusion, and the future impenetrable darkness. But the Sun of Righteousness, arising with potent and triumphant beams, has dissipated the interposing cloud ; has opened a prospect more beautifid than the blossoms of spring, more cheering than the treasures of autumn, and far more enlarged than the extent of the visible system ; which, having led the eye of the mind through fields of grace, over rivers of righteousness, and hills crownied ^vith knowledge, terminates at length in the heavens, sweetly losing itself in regions of infinite bliss and endless glory. As I walk along the fog, it seems, at some little distance, to be almost solid gloom ; such as would shut out evciy glimpse of light, and totally imprison me J 3-: A WINTER-PIECE. in obscurity. Bnt when I ap]jroach and enter it, I find myself agreeably mistaken, and the mist much thinner than it appeared. Such is the case uath regard to the suffer- ings of the present life ; they are not, when experienced, so dreadful as a timorous ima- gination surmised. Such also is the case with reference to the gratifications of sense ; they prove not, when enjoyed, so substan- tial as a sangiune expectation represented. In both instances, we are graciously disap- pointed. The keen edge of the calamity is blunted, that it may not wound us with incurable angiush: the exquisite relish of the prosperity is palled, that it may not cap- tivate our affections, and enslave them to inferior delights. Sometimes the face of things wears a more pleasing form, the very i-everse of the foregoing. The sober evening advances to close the short-lived day : The firmament, clear and unsullied, puts on its brightest blue : The stars, in thronging multitudes, and ■\\'ith a peculiar brilliancy, glitter through the fau' expanse, while the frost pours its subtile and penetrating influence all around. Sharp and intensely severe, all the long night, the rigid ether continues its operations. When, late and slow, the morning opens her pale eye, in what a cu- rious and amusing disguise is natui-e dressed ! The icicles, jagged and uneven, are pendent on the houses ; A whitish film incrusts the windows, where mimic landscapes rise, and fancied figures swell : The fruitful fields are hardened to iron ; the moistened meadows are congealed to marble ; and both resound (an effect unknown before) with the ]>ea- sant's hasty tread. The stream is arrested in its career, and its everflowing surface chained to the banks : The fluid paths be- come a solid road : where the finny shoals were wont to rove, the sportive youth slide, or the rattling chariots roll. And (what would seem, to an inhabitant of the south- em world, as unaccountable as the deepest mysteries of our religion) that very same l)reath of heaven, which cements the lakes into a crystal pavement, cleaves the oaks, as it were with invisible wedges ; " breaks in pieces the northern iron and the steel," even while it builds a bridge of icy rock over the seas.* The air is all serenity. Refined by the nitrous particles, it affords the most distinct views and extensive prospects. The seeds of infection are killed, and the pestilence destroyed, even in embryo. So, the cold of affliction tends to mortify our coiTuptlons, and subdue oiu" vicious habits. The crowd- ed atmosphere constringes our bodies, and braces our nerves. The spirits are buoyant, and sally briskly on the execution of their office. In the summer months, such an un- clouded sky, and so bright a sun, would have melted us with heat, and softened us into supineness. We shoidd have been ready to throw our limbs under the spread- ing beach, and to lie at ease by the mur- muring brook. But now none loiters in his path ; none is seen with folded arms : All is in motion, all is activity. Choice, prompted by the weather, supplies the spur of necessity. Thus, the rugged school of misfortune often trains up the mind to a vigorous exertion of its faculties. The bleak climate of adversity often inspires us with a manly resolution ; when a soft and dovvTiy affluence, perhaps, would have re- laxed all the generous springs of the soul, and have left it enervated with pleasure, or dissolved in indolence. " Cold Cometh out of the north ; (Job xxxvii. 9. ) The winds, having swept those deserts of snow, arm themselves with mil- lions of frozen particles, and make a fierce descent upon oiu: isle. Under black and scowling clouds, they drive, dreadfully whizzing, through the darkened air. They growl around oiu* houses, assaidt om' doors, and, eager for entrance, fasten on our win- dows : walls can scarce restrain them ; bars are imable to exclude them : through every cranny they force their way : Ice is on their wings ; they scatter agues through the land.; and winter, all winter, rages as they go.. Their breath is as a searing iron* to the little verdure left on the plains. Vastly more pernicious to the tender plants than the sharpest knife, they kill their branches, and wound the veiy root. Let not the com venture to peep too freely from the en- trenchment of the furrow ; let not the fruit-bearing blossoms dare to come abroad from their lodgment in the bai-k ; lest these murderous blasts intercept and seize the imwary strangers, and destroy the hopes of the advancing year. O, it is severely cold ! Who is so hardy as not to shrink at this excessively pinching weather ? See ! every face is pale. Even the blooming cheeks contract a gelid hue ; and the teeth hardly forbear chattering. Ye that sit easy and joyous amidst your commodious apartments, solacing yourselves in the diffusive warmth of your fire, be mindful of your brethren in the cheerless * Job xxxviii. 00. The waters are hid, locked up from the cattle's lips, and secured from the fisher's net, as wells were wont to be closed with a ponderous and imjienetrable stone. And not only lakes and ri- vers, but the surface of the great deep, with its rest- less and uncontrollable surges, is taken captive by the Irost, and bound in shining fetters. » This, I suppose, is the meaning of that figurative expression used by the prophet Habakkuk : who, speaking of the Chaldeans invading Judea, says, their faces, or the incursions they make, shall sup up, shall swallow greedily, shall devour utterly, the in- habitants of the country, and their valuable effects v as the keen corroding blasts of the east wind destro^f every green thing in the field. Hab. i. 9. A WINTER-PIECE. ]nn tonement of poverty. Their sluittered panes are open to the ])ierciiig winds ; a tattered garment scareely co\Trs their shiv- I'riiig flesh ; while a few faint and dying embers on the squalid hearth, rather nioek their wishes than warm their limbs. AVliile the generous juices of Oj)orto sparkle in your glasses ; or the streams, beautifully tinged and deliciously flavoured M-ith the Chinese leaf, smoke in the elegant porce- lain ; O remember, that many of your fel- low-creatures, amidst all the rigour of these inclement skies, are emaciated with sick- ness, bemnnbed with age, and pining with hunger. Let " their loins bless you," for comfortable clothing. Restore tiem with naedicine ; regale them with food ; and baffle the raging year. So, may you never know any of their distresses, but only by the hearing of the ear, the seeing of the eye, or the feeling of a tender commiseration ! IMethinks, tlie bitter blustering winds plead for the poor indigents. JMay they breathe jiity into yoiu- breasts, while they blow hardships into their huts. Observe those blue flames and ruddy coiils in your chim- ney : quickened by the cold, they look more lively, and glow more strongly: — si- lent but seasonable admonition to the gay circle, that chat and smile aroimd them ! Thus may your hearts, at such a juncture of need, kindle into a peculiar benevolence! Detain not your superfluous piles of wood ; let them hasten to the relief of the starv- ing family ; bid them expire in many a willing blaze, to mitigate the severity of the season, and cheer the bleak abodes of want. So shall they ascend, mingled with thanksgivings to God, and ardent prayers for your welfare ; ascend more grateful to heaven, than columns of the most costly incense. Now the winds «cease. Having brought their load, they are dismissed from service. They have wafted an immense cargo of clouds, which empty themselves in snow. At first, a few scattered shreds come wan- dering dovvn the saddened sky. This slight skirmish is succeeded by a general onset. The flakes, large and numerous, and thick wavering, descend. They dim the air, and liasten the approach of night. Through all the night, in softest silence, and with a continual flow, tliis fleecy shower falls. In the morning, when we awake, what a surprising change appears ! Is this the same world ? Here is no diversity of colour : I can hardly distinguish the trees from the hills on which they grow ; which arc the meadows and which the i)lains ; where are the green pastures, and where the fallow lands. All things lie blended in bright confusion, — so bright, tliat it heightens the splendour of day, and even dazzles the org.ms of sight. The lawn is not so fair as the snowy mantle which in- vests the fields ; and even the lily, were the lily to appear, would look tarnished in its presence. I can think of but one thing which excels or equals the glittering robe of winter. Is any person desirous to know my meaning ? He may find it explained in that admirable hymn,* composed by the Royal penitent. Is any desirous to pos- sess this matchless ornament ? He will find it ofltred to his acceptance in every page of the gospel. See! (for the eye cannot satisfy itself without viewing again and again the curi- ous, the delicate scene,) see how the hed- ges are habited, like spotless vestals. The houses ai-e roofed with uniformity and lus- tre. The meadows are covered with a carpet of the finest ermine, f The groves bow beneath the lovely burden; and all, all below is one wide, immense, shining waste of white. By deep snows, and hea- vy rains, God scaleth up the hand of every man, and for this purpose, adds our sacred philosopher, that all men may know his work. (Job xxxvii. 7.) He confines them within their doors, and puts a stoji to their secular business, that they may consi- der the things \\hich belong to their sjjiri- tual welfare ; that, having a vacation from their ordinary employ, they may observe the works of his power, and become ac- quainted v.ith the mysteries of his grace. And worthy, \A'orthy of all observation, are the works of the great Creator. They are prodigiously various, and perfectly amaznig. How pliant and ductile is na- ture under his forming hand ! At his com- mand, the self-same substance assumes the most difl^'erent shapes, and is transformed into an endless multiplicity of figures. If he ordain, the water is moulded into hail, and dischai-ged upon the earth like a vol- ley of shot ; or it is consolidated into ice, and defends the rivers, " as it were with a breast-plate." At the bare intimation of his will, the veiy same element is scattered in hoar-frost, like a sprinkling of the most atteimated ashes ; or is spread over the surface of the ground, in these couches of swelling and flaky down. The snow, however it may carry the ap- pearance of cold, affords a warm garment for the corn ; screens it from nij)ping frosts, and cherishes its infant growth. It will abide for a whUe, to exert a protecting * Can any thing be whiter than the snow ? Yes, saith David ; if God be pleased to wash ine from my sins in the blood of Christ, " I shall be even whiter than the snow." I'salin )i. 7. t This animal is milk-white. As for those black spots which wecenerally see in linings of ermine, they are .added by the furrier, in order to diversify the appearance, or heighten the beauty of the native colour. 134 A AFINTER-PIECE. care, and exercise a fostering influence. Then, touched by the sun, or thawed by a softening gale, the furry vesture melts into genial moistiu-e ; sinks deep in the soil, and saturates its pores with the dissohdng nitre : replenishing the globe with those principles of vegetative life, which will open into the bloom of Spring, and ripen into the fruits of Autumn. Beautiful emblem this, and comfortable representation of the divine word, both in the successful and advantageous issue of its operation ! " As the rain cometh do\vn, and the snow from heaven, and retumeth not thither, but wa- tereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the fiower, and bread to the eater, so shall my word be, that goeth forth oat of my mouth, it shall not return unto me void, but shall accomplish that v^hich I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereunto I send it. " (Isaiah Iv. 10, 11.) Nature at length puts off her lucid veil. She drops it in a trickling thaw. The loosened snow rolls in sheets from the houses. Various openings spot the hills, which, even while we look become larger and more numerous. The trees rid them- selves by degrees of the hoary incumbrance. Shook from the springing boughs, part falls heavy to the ground, part tiies abroad in shining atoms. Our fields and gardens, lately buried beneath the diifted heaps, rise plain and distinct to view. Since we see iiatm-e once again, has she no verdant traces, no beautiful featiu-es left ? They are, like real friends, very rare ; and there- fore the more particularly to be regarded, the more highly to be valued. Here and there the holly hangs out her glowing ber- ries, the laurustinus spreads her gi'aceful tufts, and both under a covert of imfading foliage. The plain but hardy ivy clothes the decrepit crazy wall, nor shrinks from the friendly office, though the skies frown and the storm roars. The laiu'el, firm, erect, and bold, expands its leaf of vivid green. In spite of the united, the repeated at- tacks of wind, and rain, and frost, it preserves an undismayed lively look, and maintains its post, while withering millions fall around. Worthy, by vanquishing the rugged force of winter, worthy to adorn the triumphant conqueror's brow. Nor must I forget the bay-tree, which sconis to be a mean pen- sioner on a few transient sunny gleams, or, with a servile obsequiousness, to vary its appearance in conformity to the changing seasons ; by such indications of sterliU; worth, and staunch resolution, reading lectiu'e to the j>oet's genius, whUe it weaves the chaplet for his temples. These, and a few other plants, clad with native verdure, retain their comely aspect in the bleakest climes, and in the coldest months. Such, and so durable, are the accomplish- ' ments of a refined understanding, and an amiable temper. The tawdry ornaments of dress, which catch the unthinking vulgar, soon become insipid and despicable. The rubied lip, and the rosy cheek, fade. Even the sparkling %vit,* as well as the sparkling eye, please but for a moment. But the virtuous mind has charms, which survive the decay of every inferior embellishment, charms which add to the fragrancy of the flower, the permanency of the ever-green. Such likewise is the happiness of the sin- cerely religious, like a tree, says the inspir- ed moralist, "whose leaf shall not fall." He borrows not his peace from external circumstances ; but has a fund Within, and is "satisfied from himself;" (Prov. xiv. 14.) Even though impoverished by cala- mitous accidents, he is rich in the posses- sion of grace, and richer in the hope of glory. His joys are infinitely superior to, as well as nobly independent of, the transi- tory glow of sensual delight, or the capri- cious favoiurs of what the world calls, For- tune. If the snow composes the light-armed troops of the sky, methinks the haO consti- tutes its heavy artillery.f When driven by a vehement wind, with Avhat dreadful im- petuosity does that stony shower fall ! How it rebounds from the frozen ground, and rattles on the resounding dome ! It at- tenuates the rivers into smoke, or scourges them into foam. It cmshes the infant flowers, cuts in pieces the gardener's eai'ly plants, and batters the feeble fortification * " How little docs God esteem the things that men count {jreat ! the endowments of wit and elo- quence that men admire in some ; alas ! how poor are they to him ! He rcspecteth not any who are wise in heart ; they are nothing, and less than nothing in his eyes. Even wise men admire how little it is that men know ; how small a matter lies under the sound of these popular wonders, a learned man, a great nchulnr, a great statesman. How much more doth the all-wise God meanly account of these ! He often discovers even to the world their meanness: He be- fools them. So valour, or birth, or worldly greatness, these he gives, and gives as things he makes no great reckoning of, to such as shall never see his face ; and calls to the inheritance of glory, poor despised crea- tures, that are looked on as the olTscourings and re- fuse of the world." Thus says an excellent author, who writeJ with the most amiable spirit of benevolence, with the most unaffected air of humility, and, like the sacred ori- ginals, from which he copies, with a majestic simpli- city of style; whose select works I may venture to recommend, not only as a treasure, but as a mine of genuine, sterling, evangelical piety. See page 520 of Archbishop Leighton's select wrjks, the Edin- burgh edition, 8vo : which it is necessary to specify, because the London edition does not contain that part of his writings which has supplied me with the preceding quotation. t He casteth forth his ice like morsels. Psalm cxlvii. 17. Which in modem language, might be thus expressed : " He poureth his hail like a volley of shot." The word inadequately translated morsels, alludes, I think, to those fragments of the rock, or those smooth stones from the brook, which, in the battle, the warriois hurled from theit slings. A WINTER-PIECE. 1:J of Tiis glasses into shivers. It darts into the traveller's face : he tiu'ns with haste from the stroke, or feels on his cheek for the gushing blood. If he would retreat into the house, it follows him even thither, and, like a determined enemy, that pushes the pursuit, dashes through the crackling panes. But the fierce attack is quickly over. The clouds have soon spent theu- shafts ; soon imstiimg their bow. Happy for the inha- bitants of the earth, that a sally so dieadfully furious should be so remarkably short ! What else could endui'e the shock, or es- cape destruction? But, behold a bow, of no hostile inten- tion ! a bow paisted in variegated colours, on the disburdened cloud. How vast the extent, how delicate the texture of that showery arch ! It compasseth the heavens %vith a glorious circle, and teaches us to forget the horrors of the storm. Elegant its form, and rich its tincture, but more de- lightful its sacred significancy. WTiile the violet and the rose blush in its beautiful aspect, the olive branch smiles in its gra- cious import. It writes in radiant dyes, what the angels sung in harmonious strains, " Peace on earth, and good-N\ill towards men." It is the stamp of insurance, for the continuance of seed-time, and harvest ; for the preservation and security of the visible world: (Gen. ix. 12, 16.) It is the comfortable token (Rev. iv. 3.) of a better state, and a happier kingdom ; a kingdom where sin shall cease, and misery be abolished ; where storms shall beat, aiul winter pierce no more ; but holiness, hap- piness, and joy, like one unbounded spring, for ever, ever bloom. TABLE OF THE TEXTS MORE OR LESS ILLUSTRATED IN THE MEDITATIONS. N.B. — As Dr. Shaw, in the supplement to his excellent book of Travels, and several other Authors of the greatest eminence, have given an Index of Scriptures occasionally explained in their writings, I doubt not but I shall oblige many of my readers by what is here subjoined ; those especially, whose taste is hap- pily formed to relish the beauties of the Sacred Records. Genesis xxx. 1. Joshua X. 12, 13. Judges V. 20. 1 Samuel xxviii. 19. 1 Kings viii. 27. XX. 40. Nehemiah ix. 6. Job iv. 12, &c. iv. 19. V. 23. vii. 20. ix. 8. ix. 25, 26. xxii. 14. xxii. 16. xxii. 20. XXV. 5, 6. xxxviii. 30. Psalms viii. 3.. 4. xxiii. 1. xxvii. 1. xxxiii. 6, 9. xlv. 9. li. 7. xcvi. 5. xcTii. 2. civ. 3. civ. 24. cviii. 4. ex. 3. cxxxvi. 9. cxxxix. 2. cxxxix. 7, 8, 9. cxxxix. 11. Ecclesiastes xii. 3, 5. Canticles vi. 10. Isaiah ii. 11. ix. 3. xiv. 23. xxix. 8. xxxiii. 17. xxxv. 1. xxxviii. 11. xl. 12. xl. 15. xL29— 31. xU. 10. xlii. 3. xlix. 15. li. 16. I Isaiah li. 6. 118 liii. 3. 118 Iviii. 10. 19 Ixi. 10. 2 Jeremiah xxxi. 12. 77 xlix. 11. 120 Ezekiel xvi. 63. S3 xxxvi. 31. 5 Daniel ix. 24. 131 xii. 3. 101 Habakkuki.9. 20 iii. 4. 75 iil.ll. 20 Zechariah ix. 17. 86 xiii. 1. 104 xiii. 7. 109 Matthew vi. 25. 132 Luke vii. 12. 100 xiv. 23. 117 John i. 3. 117 iii. 3. 103 V. 17. 35 xi. 26. 102 xii. 32. 120 xiv. 6. 106 xiv. 9. 75 Acts ix. 1. 38 XX. 28. 26 Romans v. 8. 29 1 Corinthians i. 24. 84 i.30. 79 2 Corinthians iv. I7. 74 ix. 8. 79 Galatiansii.20. 12 Ephesians iii. 10. 92 iii. 18, 19. 129 iii. 20. 110 Philippians ii. 6. 8. 90 Ui. 10. 82 Colossians ii. 3. 37 Hebrews i. 2, a 46 vii. 26. 77 viii. 10. 105 xii. 2. 99 1 Peter i. 12. 104 2 Peter iii. 10. 113 Revelation x. 1, &c. 113 xii. 1. 125 xxi. 1. 55 55 57 47 36 46 11 102 102 98 121 133 41 118 m 103 108 117 87 39 33 85 33 21 116 47 115 111 102 108 lis 92 79 110 48 115 101 104 101 48 115 33 102 116 47 115 90 76 56 58 THERON AND ASPASIO ; OR, A SERIES OF DIALOGUES AND LETTERS ON THE MOST IMPORTANT SUBJECTS. CONTENTS. DIALOGUE I. ChAracter of the speakers— On improving conversation— Elegance, dignity, and singular usefulness of the Scriptures. DIALOGUE II. Walk through the gardens— The beautiful frame and beneficial ordination of things— Preji.iratory discourse on the imputation of Christ's righteousness — Meaning of the terms settled. DIALOGUE III. Walk through a meadow— Doctrine of Christ's satisfaction stated— Considered as a re- demption-price, and as a sacrifice for sin — Variously typified under the Mosaic dispensation. DIALOGUE IV. Park and romantic mount— Christ's death farther considered, as the very punishment which our sins deserved — Objections, ancient and modem, answered — The whole summed up and improved. DIALOGUE V. Elegant arbour in the flower-garden— Imputation of Christ's righteousness — Objections from reason canvassed. DIALOGUE VI. Gallery of pictures — Library and its furniture — A sordid taste in painting censured : a more graceful maimer displayed — Imputation of Christ's righteousness resumed — Objections from Scripture urged and refuted. DIALOGUE VII. Hay-making — Pleasures of nature freely enjoyed — Blessings of grace bestowed with equal freeness — Theron's plan- of acceptance v.ith God; consists of sincerity, repentance, and good works, recommended by the merits of Christ— This shown to be a false foundation — No such thing as a good work, till we are accepted through the Redeemer. DIALOGUE VIII. Duelling— Anim.adversions on the practice— Spirituality and extent of the divine law — Infinite purity of God. DIALOGUE IX. Ci . ious summer-house— No relaxation of the divine law, as to the precept or the pe- nalty— Its inflexible strictness, and ])rincipal ends. DIALOGUE X. Theron's last effort to demolish the evangelical scheme of justification — Among other objections, more plausible and refined than the preceding, he strenuously insists that faith is cur righteous- ness—Ileview of the whole. DIALOGUE. XI. Ruins of Babylon — Fine passage from Mr. Howe — Depravity and ruin of human na- ture) as they are represented in Scripture — <\pplietl, with a view to determine the yet dubious inquiry. DIALOGUE XII. Extremely hot day — A solemn shady bower — True method of deriving benefit from the classics — The wonderful structure and economy of the human body. DIALOGUE XIII. Walk upon the terrace — Depravity of human nature laid open, and proved from ex- perience— Uses of the doctrine, and its subserviency to the grand point. DIALOGUE XIV. Theron alone in the fields — His soliloquy on the charms of rural nature — His reflec- tions on the past conferences — Aspasio reinforces his arguments for the imputation of Christ's righteousness — Recommends self-examination, the keeping of a diary, and prayer for the enlightening Spirit — Departs, under an engagement to correspond by letter. LETTER 1. Aspasio opens the correspondence with some important articles of duty, designed to facili- tate self-examination, and promote conviction of sin. LETTER II. Theron, convinced of the iniquity of his life, and the eiil of his heart, sees the necessity of a better righteousness than his own — 'Desires a farther explanation, and a fuller proof, of the doctrine's under debate. LETTER III. Aspasio proves the point, from the Liturgy, the Articles, the Homilies of the church of En?lind, and the writings of the fathers. LETTER IV. Aspasio re-establishes the tenet, from the Scriptures of the Old Testament. LETTER V. Aspasio relates a remarkable panic — Terrors of the day of judgment — Christ's righteous- ness, and its imputation, largely demonstrated from the Nev.f Testament. LETTER VI. Theron takes a cursory view of the habitable creation — Traces the perfections of nature through the earth, air, and fire — Admirable construction, and advantageous effects, of these elements. LETTER VII. Aspasio takes occasion to display the no less admirable perfection of Christ's righteous- ness— Its principle, extent, perseverance. LETTER VIII. Aspasio describes a drought — Majesty and beauty of the sun, after a night of rain — The meritorious excellency of Christ's righteousness illustrated, from the magnificence of his works, and the divinity of his person. LETTER IX. Theron's account of the western clififs, the wonders of the ocean, and the benefits of na- vi'.'ation. LETTER X. Aspasio enumerates the much richer benefits resulting from ihe imputation of Christ's righteousness — Shows their hapjjy influence on holiness of heart, and obedience of life. LETTER XI. Aspasio exemplifies the last particular in two very memorable instances — Especially in the conduct of Abraham offering up his son Isaac. LETTER XII. Aspasio touches upon union with Christ— How described in Scripture— Its blessed and glorious effects. DIALOGUE XV. Aspasio revisits Theron — Theron under anxiety of spirit — Aspasio, partly to enter- tain, partly to comfort his friend, enlarges upon the bounty of the Creator, visible both in the animal and vegetable world — The new convert is slow of heart to believe — Evangelical motives to faith. DIALOGUE XVI. Harvest scene — Phi lenor's gardens — Statues — Grove of Evergreens— Nature of true faith — Its sure foundation, and firm supports. DIALOGUE XVII. A river-voyage — The diversified prospect — Comparative happiness — Advantagcsof peace — A celebration of the Gospel, and its blessings, in a kind of rhapsody — Christ's righteousness applied 10 every case of distress, and every time of need. TO THE RIGiiT HONOURABLE LADY FRANCES SHIRLEY. Madam, If Christianity was inconsistent with true politeness, or prejudicial to real happiness, I should be extremely in- judicious, and inexcusably ungrate- ful, in presenting these Essays to your Ladyship. But as tlie religion of" Jesus is the grand ornament of our nature, and a source of the sublira- est joy, the purport of the following pages cannot be unworthy the coun- tenance and protection of the most accomplished person. Neither can there be a wish more suitable to the obligations or the dictates of a grate- ful heart, than that you may expe- rience what you read, and be what you patronize. Did religion consist in a formal round of external observances, or a forced submission to some rigorous austerities, I would not scruple to join with the infidel and the sensua- list to dread it in one view, and to despise it in another. You need not be informed. Madam, that it is as much superior to all such low and forbidding singularities, as the hea- vens are higher than the earth. It is described by an author, who learn- ed its theory in the regions of Para- dise, and who displayed its eflScacy in his own most exemplary conver- sation ; — it is thus described by that, incomparable author : — The kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness, and peace, and joy ia the Holy Ghost. To be reconciled to the omnipo- tent God ; to be interested in the unsearchable riches of Christ ; to be renevred in our liearts, and influenc- ed in our lives, by the sanctifying operations of the divine Spirit — this is evangelical righteousness ; this is genuine religion ; this, Madam, is the kingdom of God established in the soul. How benign and inviting is such an institution ! How honoura- ble and advantageous such a state ! And from such privileges, what other effects can flow, but that " peace, which passeth all under- standing;" that "joy, which is un- speakable and glorious 1" Is there any thing in the amuse- ments of the gay, and pursuits of the ambitious, of greater, of equal, of com|)arable value? Is not all that wealth ran purchase, all that gran deur can bestow, someuhat like those glittering bubbles, which, when 140 DEDKjATION. viewed, are emptiness, Avlien grasp- ed, are nothing? Wiiereas the com- forts, tlie benefits, the hopes of Christianity, are at once supremely excellent, and infinitely durable ; a portion suited to the dignity of a rational soul ; large as its faculties, and immortal as its being. All these blessings are centered in Christ ; were purchased by Christ ; are communicated from Christ. It is for want of knowing those bound- less and evei'lasting treasures of par- doning, justifying, saving merit, ■which the Lord Jesus Christ posses- ses, and which he freely dispenses even to sinners, that so many un- thinking persons are attached to ig- noble objects, and beguiled by delu- sory pleasures. Unhappy creatures ! what can they do but catch at sha- dows, and stoop to trifles, while they are ignorant of the grand, the sub- stantial, the exalted good ? It is for want of duly attending to that ful- ness of grace, and that plenteousness of redemption, which dwell in our most adorable Saviour, that so many serious persons are strangers to the tranquillity and sweetness of religion, ai-e subject to all its restraints, but enjoy few, if any, of its delights. Mistaken zealots ! How can they avoid the gloomy situation, and the uncomfortable circumstance, so long as they withdraw themselves from the Sun of Righteousness, and his all cheering beams ? May your Ladyship live contin- ually under his heavenly light and healing wings ; be more fully assur- ed of his dying love, and have bright- er, still brighter manifestations of his immense perfections ! By these delightful views, and by that pre- cious faith, may yoiu- heart be trans- formed into his holy, his amiable, his divine image ! Your happiness will then be just such as is wished, but far greater than can be express- ed, by. Madam, Your most obliged, and Most obedient humble servant, JAMES HERVEY. Weston Favel, .Tan. G, 1755. PREFACE. The Reader will probably expect some account of the ensuing Work ; and to gratify bini in this particular will be a real pleasure to the Au- thor. The beauty and excellency of the Scriptures ; — the ruin and depravity of human nature, — its happy recov- ery, founded on the atonement, and effected by the Spirit of Christ; — these are some of the chief points vindicated, illustrated, and applied in the following sheets. But the grand article, that which makes the j)rincipal figure, is the imputed right- eousness of our Divine Lord ; from whence arises our justification be- fore God, and our title to every hea- venly blessing ; an article which, though eminent for its importance, seems to be little understood, and less regarded ; if not much mistaken and almost forgotten. The importance of this great evan- gelical doctrine, — how worthy it is of the most attentive consideration, and of universal acceptance, — is hinted in the second dialogue ; so that I need, in this place, do nothing more than give the sense of a pas- sage from Witsius, which is there in- troduced in a note. " The doctrine of justification," says that excellent author, "spreads itself through the wlu>le system of divinity. As this is eitlier solidly established or super- ficially touched, fully stated or slight- ly dismissed ; accordingly, the whole structure of religion either nses graceful and magnificent, superior to assault and beyond the power of decay, or else it appears dispropor- ti«»nate and defective, totters on its foiindation, and threatens an oppro- brious fall." The design is executed in the form of dialogue ; those parts only except- ed in which it was not easy to carry on a conversation, and assign to each person a proper degree of significan- cy. Here, to avoid the common im- putation of bringing upon the stage a mute or a shadow, — one who fights without weapons, and submits with- out a contest, — the scene shifts. Om* gentlemen separate, and, instead of conversing, enter upon an episto- lary correspondence. The dialogue form seems, on many considerations, a very eligible way of writing. Hereby the author gives an air both of dignity and of modes- ty to his sentiments. Of dignity ; by delivering them from the mouths of persons in every respect superior to himself. Of modesty ; because we no longer consider him in the raised, but invidious capacity of a teacher. Instead of calling us to his feet, and dictating his precepts, he gratifies our curiosity. He turns back a curtain, and admits us to some remarkable interviews, or in- teresting conferences. We over- hear, by a kind of innocent or ima- ginary stealth, tl'.e debates which pass in the recesses of privacy, which are carried on with the most unre- served freedom of speech, and open- ness of heart ; a circumstance which will ai)ologize for some peculiarities- that might otherwise be inconsistent with humility, or offensive to delica- cy. Particularly it may obviate the disgust which generally, and indeed deservedly, attends the frequent in- trusitui of that and)itious and usurp- ing little nidnosyllable, /. The nanu's of the persons are pre- fixed, each to his respective share of 142 PREFACE. the discourse, in imitation of Cicero, and for the reasons which he assigns ; " Quasi enim ipsos induxi loqiientes : neingimmet inquit sie^'ius interjione- rentur. Atque id eo feci, ut tan- quam preesentibus coram haberi ser- mo videretur."* This method, he very justly intimates, is removed farthest from the narrative, and makes the nearest approaches to life and reality. It quite secretes the author, and, by introducing the per- sons themselves, renders all that passes entirely their own. It pre- vents likewise the repetition of those interlocutory words — he said, he re- plied ; which, unless the speeches are very long, must frequently re- cur, and have no pleasing effect up- on the ear. And if the speeches are long, the spirit of conversation is lost. The associates are no longer talking ; but one of them, or the au- thor, is lecturing. Though I have so much to say in behalf of the model, I have very little to say with regard to the execution, unless it be to confess the deficiency. There is not, I am sensible, that pe- culiar air and distinguishing turn, which should mark and characterise each speaker. This is what the na- ture of finished dialogue requires, and what the author applauds in some very superior writers. But uot having the ability to copy it, he has not the vanity to affect it. Nevertheless, the attentive reader, will, all along, perceive a difference in the sentiment, if not in the lan- guage. The materials vary, even when they run into the same mould, and take the same form. * In the diction also there must be some di- versity ; because several of the ob- jections are proposed in the very words of one or two eminent writers who have appeared on the other side of the question. These are not par- ticularized by the mark of quotation ; because the man of reading will have no occasion for the assistance of such an index, and the man of taste will • De Amicitia. probably discern them by the singu- larity of the style. Some of the following pieces, it must be acknowledged, are of the controversial kind ; a species of writ- ing least susceptible of the graces which embellish composition ; or ra- ther, most destitute of the attrac- tives which engage attention and create delight. Yet I have some- times thought, that it is^ not abso-. lutely impossible to make even the stern face of controversy wear ^ smile, and to reap some valuable fruit from the rugged furrows of disputation. Wliether this is effect- ed in the present work, the publie must judge ; that it has been at- tempted, the author may be permit- ted to declare. To soften the asperities of argu- ment, views of nature ai'e interspers- ed ; that if the. former should carry the appearance of a rude entangled forest, or of a frowning gloomy re- cess, there may be some agreeable openings, and lightsome avenues, to admit a prospect of the country ; which is always arrayed in charms, and never fails to please. The author confesses a very pecu- liar fondness for the amiable scenes of creation. It is therefore not at all improbable but his excursions on this topic may be of the diffusive kind, and his descriptions somewhat luxuriant. It is hoped, however, that the benevolent reader will in- dulge him in this favourite foible. If any should feel the same prevail- ing passion for the beauties of na- ture, it is possible these persons may be inclined not only to excuse, but to approve the fault ; and may take part with the lover, even in opposi- tion to the critic. Further to diversify the piece, sketches of philosophy are introduc- ed ; easy to be understood, and cal- culated to entertain the imagination, as well as to improve the heart ; more particularly, to display the wise and beneficent design of Provi- dence, in the various appearances and numberless productions of the material world. Neither are these PREFACE. 143 .remarks altogether foreign to tlie main point ; but, as far as the won- ders of creation may comport with the riches of free grace, subserve the general end. As to the choice of my subjects, some people have desired to see an invective against the fashionable and predominant vices of the age. This, 1 apprehend, would be like picking off tiie leaves, or clipping away the .twigs, from some overgrown and nox- ious tree. Waving this tedious and ineffectual toil, I would rather lay the axe to the root. Let the know- ledge and love of Christ take place in the heart, and not only a few of the branches, but the whole body of «in will fall at once. Some would have the author in- sist upon the conscientious observ- ance of tJie Sabbath, incidcate the daily worship of God in the family, and urge a devout attendance on the public or Ve xxiv. .32.) Those discourses, it is true, M'ere conducted with a spirit, and enforced with an energy, absolutely unequalled ; yet the same happy effects would in some de- gree result from our friendly conferences, if they turned upon the same important points. We also should feel our hearts warmed with holy zeal, and glowing vrith heavenly love. Titer. Such conferences would not only he productive of present advantage, but yield a renewed pleasure in the retrospect. We might reflect, with real complacency, ©n hours spent in so rational a manner. And who would not prefer the silent ap- plause of the heart, to all those tumultuous joys which wanton jests create, or the cir- cling glass inspires ? Asp. Onef who thoroughly knew man- kind, and «ad tried the merits of the jovial board, very pertinently compares such flash- es of mirth to the " crackling of thorns un- der a pot." (Eccl. vii. 6.) The transient blaze of the one, and the senseless noise of the other, continue but for a moment, and then expire ; that in smoke and darkness, this in spleen and melancholy. I said spleen and melancholy. For how- ever jauntee and alert the various methods of modish trifluig may seem, whatever ease or grace they are supposed to give the con- versation ; sure am I, it will be afflictive to look back upon interviews squandered away ill very vanity, and shocking to look for- ward upon the account which we must all shortly render. What figure will such an article make in the final reckoning, and at the decisive bar ! " Our social hours, wliich might have promoted our mutual edification, and been subsei"vient to our Creator's glory, all lost in merriment and whim ; or worse than, lost, in flattery and detraction : A blank, or a blot." Tlicr. Venus, we find, has her zealous knight-errants, and Bacchus, his professed * The significancy and importance of such conversa- tion was smartly represented by the philosopher; who being asked. How he left the company employed ? made answer, some in millung the ram, others in hold- ing the pail. I Kiiig Solomon. votaries, in almost every compn.nj''. An.l is it not truly deplorable, that the Ood of nature alone has none to assert his honourj none to celebrate his perfections ? though he is the original of all beauty, and the pa- rent of all good. When I have taken my morning walk amidst dews and flowers, witli the sun shedding lustre round him, and luiveiling the happy landscape, how has my eye been . charmed with the lovely prospect ! how has my ear been ravished with the music of the grove ! Methought every note was a tribute of harmony ; and all nature seemed one grand chorus, swelling with the Creator's praise. But how has the scene been re- versed, when leaving my rural elysium, I entered the haunts of men ! where I saw faculties divine, meanly engaged in trifles ; where I heard the tongue, prompt to utter, and fluent to express, every thing but its JMaker's glory. I assure you, I have often been chagrin- ed on this occasion ; and sometimes said within myself, " What ! shall trifles be re- garded, and the majesty of heaven neglect- ed ? Shall every friend, and every visitant, receive his share of respect, and no acknow- ledgments be paid to that exalted Being, who is worthy, more than worthy, of all our veneration ?" Asp. This will be still more afiiictive to an ingenuous mind, if we consider that the infinite and glorious God is present at all our interviews, vouchsafes to express his satisfaction, and acknowledges himself mag- nified, when, with admiration and love, we talk of his transcendent excellencies. Nay, we are assured that the Lord ofall lords not only hearkens, but keeps a book of remem- brance ; and will distinguish such persons at the day of universal retribution. When the loose train of licentious talkers are dri- ven away as the despicable chaff, these shall be selected for his peculiar treasiure, and numbered among the jewels of Jehovah.* Titer. If the gentlemen who make high pretensions to reason, think themselves dis- charged from these doctrines of revelation, they should not forget their own Scriptures. A philosopher will tell them the duty of emplojdng their time, as in the awful j)re- sence, and under the immediate inspection of the Supreme Being. "I" An orator wiU show them the egregious impropriety of * Mai. iii. 16, 17. This is a passage much to be ob- served. A most emphatical recommendation of reli- gious discourse, perhaps the most emphatical that ever was used, ana the most endearing that can possi- bly be conceived. t " Sic certe vivendum est, tanquam in conspectu vivamus: sic cogitandum, tanq^uam ahquis in pectus- intimum inspicere possit : et potest. Quid enim pro- sit ab hominealiquid esse secretum ? Nihil Deoclau- sum est. Interest anirais nostris, et cogitaiionibui .nieuiis, inte.venit." Senec. Episi. 113. THERON ANP ASTASIO. 1-49 ■wasting thc'w friendly interviews in the feiineK of drollery, or the froth of imperti- Jieiice.* Asp. Who then, that is wise, would not habituate himself to a practice, which comes recommended by the voice of reason, and is -enforced by the authority of God ? — a prac- tice, which will administer present good, will afford pleasing reviews, and tirminate in everlasting honour ? Ther. It is strange, that subjects which dth indignation, and departed in a rage. Therefore to teach, and not dis- gust— to convince the man of his error, and not exasperate his mind — the blessed Jesus frames a reply, as amiable in the manner as it was pertinent to the purpose. A certain person going down from Jeru- salem to Jericho, fell among thieves, (Luke X. 30. ) Not content to rob him of his trea- siu-e, they strip him of his garments, wound him with great barbarity, and leave him half dead. Soon after this calamitous ac- cident, a traveller happens to come along that very road ; and what renders him more likely to administer relief, he is one of the sacred order ; one who taught others the lovely lessons of humanity and charity, and was therefore under the strongest obliga- tions to exemplify them in his own practice. He just glances an eye upon the deplorable object ; sees him stretched on the cold ground, and weltering in his blood ; but takes no further notice ; nay, to avoid the trouble of an inquiry, passes by on the other side. Scarce was he departed, when a Le- vite approaches. This man comes nearer, and looks on the miserable spectacle ; takes a leisurely and attentive survey of the case." And though every gash in the bleeding flesh cried and pleaded for compassion, this mi- ♦ This seems to be the import of sX*?4iv x.a.1 i^uv, LuUe X. 'M. This diversifies the idea, and heightens the desiiii7 the matter ;" the rer-oliite ambassador drew a circle round him with his ciiiie, aiid insist- ed u])on a positive answer, before he step- ped over those limits. Asp. This, however, you will give me leave to observe, that the affair is of a very serious nature. Upon condition that you will dismiss your flourishes ofuat, and strokes of satire, I will acquaint you with the reasons which ha\-e made me a thorough convert to this doctrine. Once I held it in the utmost contempt, and pitied the simplicity of (as I then styled them) its deluded admirers. But I am now become such a fool, that I may be truly wise and substantially happy. I have seen my ruined state, and I bless God for this sovereign restorative. It is the source of my strongest consolations, and the very foundation of my eternal hopes. T/ier. Excuse mc, Aspasio, if the vivaci- ty of my temper, andt he seemingly uncouth tenet, kindled me into a more humorous gaiety than became the occasion. You speak of the point with so much serious- ness, and in such weighty terms, as check my levity, and command my respect- Be pleased to execute what you have promised, and the most engaged attention of my mind shall atone for the petulent sallies of my tongue. Asp. To conceive a dislike of any doc- trine, only because persons of a particular denomination have been veiy officious to pro- mote its reception ; this is hardly consistent with an impartial inquiry after truth. Ther. 1 grant it, Aspasio. And I should be ashamed of my ojjposition, if it was founded on so slight a bottom. But, ab- stracted from all party considerations, I can see nothing in tliis supposed article of our faith that may recommend it to the un- prejudiced inquirer. V/hat can be more a\^■kward than the tenn, or more iiTational than the sentiment ? Asp. Tlie word imputed, when used in this coimexion, may possibly convey a dis- agreeable sound to the ears of some people, because they look upon it as the peculiar phraseology of a few superstitious sectarists, and reject it merely on the foot of that un- reasonable surmise. — But how can you be disgusted at the expression, Theron, who have so often read it in the most approved and judicious writers? St. Paul, who might aflirm with relation to his epistles, much more truly than the painter concerning his portraits, " I write for eternity,"* scruj)lcs not to use this awkward language several limes in the same chapter- ■!■ JMilton, the * Ailudinf; to the painter, who, apolOjjizing for the slow procfilure ami scnipulously nice tiniches of his pencil, saiil, /Ktrrnitnti /ihii,',,, "I paint for eternity.'' t ^ee GoiU- iv. in which single cliapter, soine branch of the wor. where wehavean apolopy, the most delicate, and most masterly, perhaps, that ever was made; eminentfor line address, clear reason- ing, and important truth. Which, notwithstand- ing all these very superior recommendations, is deem- ed madness; and that by a nobleman from Home; the seat of science, and foimtain-heiid of polite litera- ture. A proof this, no less demonstrative llian de- plorable, of the apostles asscition : The natural man, however ingenious or accomplished, " receivcth not llie things of the spirit of Cod ; fur they are foolish- in-.s unto him." 1 Cor. ii 14. favour of his royal assessor : and brought honour to the Christian cause. This amiable self-regimen, and modera- tion of temper, I shall be sure to see exem- plified in my friend's conversation, however I may fail of it myself, or be proof against all his arguments. Asp. Ah ! Theron, we want no monitor to remind us of our supposed excellencies. And if you begin with your compliments, it is time to put an end to our discourse. Only let me just observe, that divine- truths cannot be jjrojjerly discerned but by the enlightening intluences of the divine Spirit. We must address ourselves to this inquiry not only with unprejudiced minds, but likewise with praying hearts. We must bring to this dispute, not barely the quiver of logic, but tliat " unction from the Holy One which may teach us all things," (1 John ii. 20,27.) Let us then adopt the ])oet's aspiration : -Thou celestial Light, Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers Irradiate ; there plant eyes ; all mist from thence Purge and disperse ! Milton, B. iii. 1. 51. DIALOGUE III. T/icr. We are now, Aspasio, about two miles distant from my house. The horse- road lies through a narrow, dusty lane. The foot-]K'.th leads along a spacious pleasant meadow. Suppose we deliver our liorses to tile servant, and walk the remainder of the way ? Asp. You could not make a jiroposal more agreeable to my inclination ; espe- cially as the air is become cool, and the walk is so in\-iting. What a magnificent and charming scene ! hills on either side, gently rising, and widely spreading ; their summits crowned with scattered villages, and clustering trees : their slops divided into a beauteous chequer- work ; consisting partly of tillage, with its waving crops, partly of pasturage, with its grazing herds. Before us, the trefoil, the clover, and a variety of grassy plants, differ- ently bladed, and differently branched, weave themselves into a carpet of living green. Can any of the maimf'actiires formed in the looms, or exteiuled in tlie palaces of Persia, vie with the covering of this ample area ? vie with it, in grandeur of size, or delicacy of decoration ? What a profusion of the gayest flowers, fringing the banks, and embroidering the plain ! -Nature here Wantons, as in her prime, and plays at will Her virgin fancies, ))ouring forth more sweet, Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss ! .MUtuit, a. T 1(}2 THERON AND ASPASIO. Nothing can be brighter than the histre of those silver daisies, nothing deeper than 4^he tinge of those golden crowfoots ; yet both seem to acquire additional beauty, by succeeding to the defoimity of winter, and flourishing amidst so much surrounding verdure. Ther. Nature is truly in her prime. The vegetable tribes are putting on their richest attire. Those chesnuts, on our right hand, begin to rear their flowering pyramids ; those willows, on our left, are tipt with tassels of grey ; and yonder poplars, which over- look the river, and seem to command the meadows, are pointed with rolls of sUver. The hawthorn, in every hedge, is partly turged with silken gems, partly dissolved into a milk-white bloom : Not a straggling furze, nor a solitary thicket, but wears a rural nosegay. All is a delightful display of present fertility, and a joyous pledge of future plenty. Now we experience what the royal poet, in very delicate imagery, de- scribes : " The winter is past ; the rain is over and gone. The flowei-s appear on the earth ; the time of the singing of birds is come ; and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig-tree putteth forth her green figs ; and the vine, with the tender grapes, give a good smell;" (Cant. ii. 11, 12, 13.) Asp. Your quotation and the scene re- mind me of a remark, which should have taken place in our last night's discourse. When we were enumerating the excellencies of the sacred writings, methinks we might have added, — Are you fond of pastoral, in all its flowery graces, and blooming honours ? Never have we seen such exquisite touches of rural painting, or such sweet images of endeared aflfection, as in the " Song of songs, which is Solomon's." AU the brilliant and amiable appearances in nature are employed, to delineate the tenderness of his heart, who is love itself; to portray the beauty of his person, who is the chiefest among ten thousand ; and describe the happiness of those souls, whose " fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ ;" (1 John i. 3.) See, Theron, what the cheering warmth and the genial showers of spring have done ! Such a change, so pleasing and so ennobling, the gospel of Christ introduces into the soul. Not a day, scarce an hour passes, but this season of universal fecundity produces some- thing new. And is there any state, or any circumstance of life, on which the faith of Christ does not exert a similar efficacy, and bring forth fruit imto God ? This is supposed to be the spiritual meaning of that fine descriptive picture which you have borrowed from the Canti- cles. It displays the benign agency of grace and its doctrines, especially of our Lord's satisfaction for sin, and of his righteousne.<;9 imputed to sinners. These operate with much the samefavoiu-able and happy energy, both on oiu: morals and our comforts, as the sweet influences of the venial sun operate on the sprouting herbs and opening flowers. Ther. If such were the effects of your doctrine, it would stand the fairer chance for general acceptation. But there are several weighty scruples to be removed, before persons of a liberal and enlarged way of thinking can acquiesce in yoiu: opinion. Who, for instance, can persuade himself, that what you call the satisfaction of Christ is consistent wth the dictates of reason, or with the perfections of the Deity ? Asp. Let gentlemen be candid in their inquiries, and truly liberal in their way of thinking ; then, I flatter myself, these scru- ples maybe removed without much difficulty. God, the almighty Creator and supreme Governor of the world, having made man, gave him a law, with a penalty annexed in case of disobedience. This sacred law our forefather Adam presumptuously broke ; and we, his posterity, were involved in his guilt. Or, should that point be controvert- ed, we have undeniably made, by many per- sonal transgressions, his apostacy our own ; insomuch that all have sinned, have forfeited their happiness, and rendered themselves obnoxious to punishment. Man being thus ruined, none could recov- er him, except his injured Maker. But shall he be recovered, shall he be restored, without suffiering the punishment due to his crime, and threatened by his Creator ? What then will become of the justice of the divine Lawgiver ? and how sliall the honour of his holy law be maintained ? At this rate, who would reverence its authority, or fear to violate its precepts ? Sinners might be emboldened to multiply their transgressions, and tempted to think, that the God of immaculate holiness, the God of unchangeable veracity, is "alto- gether such an one as themselves."* Does it not appear needful, that some ex- pedient be devised, in order to prevent these dishonourable and horrid consequences ? Tlier. Proceed to inform us what the expedient is. Asp. To ascertain the dignity of the su- preme administration, yet rescue mankind from utter destruction, this admirable pur- pose was formed, and in the fulness of time executed. The second person of the ever-blessed Trinity unites the human na- ture to the divine, submits himself to the » This was actually the case, as we are informed by the Searcher of hearts, when, on a particular oc- casion, punishment was only retarded. How much more would such impious opinions have prevailed if on this grand act of disobedience, punishment had been entirely forborne ? Psal. 1. 21. DIALOGUE III. 163 obligations of his people, and becomes re- sponsible for all their guilt. In this capacity be performs a perfect obedience, and under- goes the sentence of death ; makes a full expiation of their sins, and establishes their title to life. I3y which means the law is satisfied, justice is magnified, and the richest grace exercised. Man enjoys a great salva- tion, not to the discredit of any, but to the unspeakable glory of all, the divine attri- butes. This is what we mean by Christ's sa- tisfaction. And this, I should imagine, wants no recommendation to our unpreju- diced reason ; as I am sure it is most de- lightfully accommodated to our distressed condition. It is also confirmed by many express passages of Scripture, and illustrated by a variety of very significant images. Ther. Pray, let me be favoured with some of your scriptural images. After which we may inquire, whether your doctrine will stand the test of reason. Asp. What is your notion of a ransom ? When Priam redeemed the dead body of Hector from the victorious Achilles, how was it done? Ther. By paying a price. Thus Fabius recovered the captives which were taken by Hatmibal. He transmitted the sum requir- ed, and they were discharged from their confinement. Asp. Such is the redemption procured for sinners by our Lord Jesus Christ. Of such a nature, (though incomparably more grand and august in all its circumstances,) and expressed by the very same word, " Tiie Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister ; and to give his life a ransom for many." Christ also paid a price, a real price, a most satisfactory price ; in consideration of which, our freedom from every penal evil is granted. " Ye are redeemed,"" says the apostle, " not with corruptible things, as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of (Christ." Let me add one text more, which, in the same style of commutative justice, asserts the same truth : " Christ has redeemed us,"f hath bought us ofl^, " from tlie curse of the law," (Gal. iii. 13.) Yes, my friend, The ransom was paid down. The fund of heav'n, Hcav'n's inexhaustible exhausted fund. Amazing and aniaz'd, pour'd forth the price. All price beyond. Though curious to compute. Archangels hiil'd to cast tlie mighty sum. ISii^'hiThtnights, No. IV. * I Pet. i. 10. We have an equivalent expression, used in the same signification, by one of the cor- rertest writers in tlie world, Ft fratrem Polhix alitina mortc redemit. — Virg. ffial. iii. 13.— We arc said lo be bought, 1 Cor. vi. 211. not in a meta))horical sense, but really and i)ro- ivrly, for here the price is mentioned, and by St. »\icr the price is specilied. I IVt. i. l.'f, ly. Tfier. Holdalittle, good Aspasio. Con- sider the consequence of what you maintain. If there was a ransom in the case, to whom was it paid ? The de\nl had led sinners cap- tive. They are said to be the slaves of Satan. And shall the blessed Jesus pay his life to that accursed fiend ? Shocking to imagine ! Yet, shocking as it is, it must follow from your own and your poet's asser- tion. Asp. You misapprehend the case, Theron. The ransom was paid to God. " Thou hast redeemed us to God," (Rev. v. 9.) is the confession of the saints in light. Sa- tisfaction was made to the divine law, and to the divine justice ; the one of which was offended, the other violated, and both con- curred to denounce the transgressor's doom ; of which doom Satan was only the destined executioner, whose malignity, and implaca- ble rage, God is pleased to make the instru- ment of inrticting his vengeance, as he for- merly used the idolatrous kings of Assyria and Babylon to chastise the disobedient Is- raelites. " WTien we were without strength," (Rom. V. 6.) utterly ruined, yet absolutely helpless ; when none, in heaven or earth, could afford us any succour ; then our Lord Jesus Christ most graciously and most sea- sonably inteqjosed. He said, as it is veiy emphatically I'eprescnted by Elihu, " De- liver them from going doMTi into the pit ; I have found a ransom," (Job. xxxiii. 24.) He did what is very beautifully described by our English classic : -Si man, as is most just, Shall satisfy for man, be judged and die ; And dying rise, and rising with him raise His brethren, ransom'd with his own dear life. Ther. But pray, do not you allow that Christ is truly and properly God ? Asp. We not only allow it, bnt we insist upon it, and make our boast of it. This is the very foundation of his merit, and the support of our hope. Ther. 1 his may aggrandize the merit of Christ, but it will increase the difficulty of your task. For, according to this oi)inion, Christ must make satisfaction to himself. And is not this a practice quite unprece- dented ? a notion perfectly absin-d ? Asp. It is quite unprecedeiit(-d, you say. On this point I shall not vchcnu'iitly con- tend. Only let me mention one instance. Zaleucus, you know, the ])rince of the Lo- crians, made a decree, that whoever was convicted of adultery, should be punished with the loss of liotli his eyes. Soon after this estahlislimcnt, the legislator's own sou was a])prelieiidcd in the very fact, ;iiid brought to a i)ul)lic trial. How could the father acquit himself in so tciidir and deli- cate a coiijuncliire ? Should he cxiMiite the 164 THERON AND ASPASIO. l;iw in all its rigour, this would be worse than deatli to the unhappy youth : Shonhl he pHrdoii so notorious a delinquent, tliis would defeat the design of liis salutary in- stitution. To avoid both these inconvenien- ces, he ordered one of his own eyes to be pulled out, and ojie of his son's, by which means the rights of justice were preserved inviolate, yet the tenderness of a parent was remarkably indulged : And may we not venture to say, that in this case, Za- leucus both received and made the satisfac- tion ? received it as a magistrate, even while he made it as a father? TheT. I cannot see, how this suffering of the father was in any degree satisfactory to the law, since the father and the son could not be considered as one and the same per- son. It may pass for an extraordinary in- stance of parental indulgence ; it may strike the benevolent and compassionate hearer : but, if tried at the bar of equity and reason, it will hardly be admitted as any legal sa- tisfaction, it will probably be condemned, as a breach of nature's first and fundamen- tal law, self-preser\'ation. Asp. What you observe, Theron, I must confess has weight. It will oblige me to give up my illustration. Nevertheless, what you urge against the propriety of the comparison, tends to establish the certainty of the doctrine. For Christ and his peo- ple are actually considered as one and the same person. They are one mystical body ; he the head, they the members; so inti- mately united to him, that they are " bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh," (Eph. v. 30 ; Col. i. 20.) by virtue of which union, their sins were pimished in him, " and by his stripes they are healed," (Isa. Uii. 3,) they obtain impunity and life. Though there may be nothing in the pro- cedure of men which bears any resemblance to this miracle of heavenly goodness, it re- ceives a sufficient confirmation from the language of Scripture. He who wrote as an amanuensis to the unerring Spirit has declared, that " God was in Christ recon- ciling the world," — unto whom ? imto some third party ? No ; but reconciling it by the death and obedience of Christ, " unto him- self," (2 Cor. v. 19.) And I can very readily grant that this divine exertion of benignity and wisdom should be without a precedent, and without a parallel.* Difficulties, I own, may attend the expli- cation of this article, or be interwoven with its consequences. At the same time I nmst aflirm, that our apprehensions of hea- venly things are so obscure, and our ideas of the divine benevolence so sc.Tnty, that W« may very possibly mistake, and fancy that to be absurd, which is only great, wonder- ful, and incomprehensible.* — Nor shall I be thought presumptuous in adding, that it \\'ill be impossible for all the sagacity in the world to prove this doctrine an absurdity, though it should ever remain an inexplica- ble mystery. How many phenomena in the constitution of external nature, ai'e con- fessedly mysterious and inexplicable ! They challenge, they command our assent ; yet baflle all our researches, and defy om* ut- most j>eiietration. If, then, we find this truth fully and incontestibly revealed in the Bible, we must renounce the pliilosopher before we can consistently act the sceptic. Titer. Let us see, then, whether it be so fidly and incontestibly revealed in the Bi- ble. You have given me, as yet, but one of your scriptural images. Asp. I have another at your service. Christ is called an High Priest. What do you take to be the nature of the priestly office? Ther. The business of the priest was, I apprehend, to offer sacrifices, and to make intercession for the people. Asp. Very true ; and Christ could not, with any propriety, receive this appellation, if he had been defective in performing either of the sacerdotal functions. Now, that he offered no such victim as slain beasts, is uni- versally acknowledged. We might presume therefore, even though we had not the au- thority of an apostle to assure us, that " he offered himself through the eternal spirit to God," (Heb. ix. 14.) The cross, shall I say ? t rather his divine nature, was the altar ; his soul and body, each immaculately piure, were the holocaust. • Fancy, in the person of Horace, said of Jupiter and his fdbulous exploits, " Cui nihil viget simile aut secundum." Much more will reason, in the character of a Ijeliever, say the same oi' Jehovah and his marvellous grace. * Its unparalleled, nay, its incomprehensiblenature, is no objection to its truth and reality. This is ra- ther a circumstance which perfectly agrees with the testimony of the inspired writers, and affords, in my opinion, an imanswerable argument for the divine origin of Christianity. It agrees with the testimony of the inspired writers, who called, not only God's wisdom, by way of super- eminent distinction, but his wisdom in a mystery, even his hidden wisdom ; which could not possibly have been conceived by any finite mind, however enlarged or sagacious. It affords an unanswerable ar- gument for the divine origin of Christianity, since it was infinitely too deep for the contrivance of men, and absolutely undiscoverable by the penetration of angels ; how could it be known, but by manifestation fromabove? Whence could it take its rise, butfrom an especial revelation. t The cross is, by some authors, styled the altar, but, I think, improperly. This notion seems to have sprung from, or given rise to, the Popish practice of idolizing the crucifix. At least it countenances such a kind of foppish or sacrilegious devotion, more than a Protestant writer could wish. It was the property of the altar tosanctify thegift. This, therefore, when referred to our Lord's sacrifice, is a far more exalted olfice than we dare ascribe to the instrument of his suft'ering. This must be the honour and prerogative of his divine nature, which did indeed sanctify the great oblation ; gave it a dignity, a merit, an efficacy, unspeakable and everlasting. IMALOGUE III. IW These he resigned, the one to deadly wounds, the other to inexpressible anguish, and both to be instead of all Avhole biimt- ofFerings. On this invaluable oblation, his intercession at the right hand of his Father is founded ; from this it derives that pre- vailing efficacy, which is the security of his standing, and the recovery of his fallen dis- ciples. Give me leave to ask farther, \A'liat is your idea of a sacrifice ? When Iphigenia was slain at the altar, what was the import of that memorable action ? Ther. It was intended, if we may credit Virgil's account,* to appease the indignation of the superior powers, and to obtain a propitious gale for the windbound fleet and confederate forces of Greece. But I hope you would not make that solemn butchery of the royal virgin, a pattern for the supreme goodness ; nor the practice of gross idola- ters, a model for the religion of the holy Jesus. Asp. By no means, Theron. Only I would observe, that the custom of ofTeiing sacrifices obtained among the most cultivat- ed nations of the heathen world ; thst these sacrifices were frequently of the vicarious kind, in which the victim was substituted instead of the oflferex, and the former being cut oflT, the latter was discharged from pun- ishment ; consequently that the classic au- thors would (in case there was any need of such auxiliaries) join with the sacred wri- ters to declare the expediency, and explain the nature of sacrifices. This also you will permit me to add, that if the heathens tiiik sensibly on any part of religious worship, it is on the subject of sacrifices. Their sen- timents concerning expiatory oblations seem to be the faint and distant echo of revela- tion ; and I have usually considered them rot as the institutions of mere reason, but as the remains of some broken tradition. However, the truest and most authentic signification of a sacrifice, is to be learned from the Jewish ritual, explained by the gospel comment. Do you remember the Mosaic account of that ordinance. Ther. You are much better acquainted, Aspasio, with those sacred antiquities, and can give the most satisfactory information with regard to this particular. Only let me remind you, that alms are styled ofltrings ; and praises, both in the prophetical and evangelical writings, come mider the de- nomination of sacrifices. Asp. Though praises and alms arc styled sacrifices, they are not of the propitiatory, but cucharistic kind. They are never said to expiate transgressions, only are repre- sented as acceptable to God through Jesus • Sanguine plarasti vontos, cf virgine caesa Christ, that divinely precious victim, whose merits both cancel our guilt, and commend our services ! According to Ther. Stay a moment, Aspasio. Let me recollect myself. This may be the meaning of sacrifices, as ordained by Moses, and solemnized among the Jews. " Sacrifices were a symbolical address to God ; intended to express before him the devotion, affec- tions, dispositions, and desires of the heait, by significative and emblematical actions." Or thus ; " The ])riest made atonement for sin, by sacrificing a beast, only as that was a sign and testimony of the sacrificcr's pure and upright heart." Asp. Sacrifices, I acknowledge, were a symbolical address to God. But would you confine their efticeicy only to the death of the anim;il, and the purity of the offerer? No, Theron : they always had a reference to the great sacrifice, ordaii.ed in the eter- nal counsels of Jehovah ; prepared when the co-eternal Son was made flesh, offered when the blessed Jesus surrendered him- self to be led as a lamb to tlie slaughter. They were so far from being independent of this divine oblation, that they acted in perpetual subserviency to it, and derived all their virtue from it. They were the sha- dow, but the body was Christ. " They expressed," you say, " the de- votion, affections, dispositions, and desires of the heart." But I rather think they ex- j)ressed the guilt and the faith of the offerer. His guilt : for this seems to be intimated by the very names of the projntiatory sac- rifices ; the sin and the sacrifice, the offend- ing action and the expiatoiy rite, being signified by one and the same word. * It is somewhat more than intimated, by the oc- casion of the offering, and the state of tlie offerer ; since it was only on account of guilt contracted, that piacular oblations were made, and only from a guilty person that they were required. His fiiith, or firm belief that ceremonial guilt, which shut him out from the communion of the visible church, and subjected him to the infliction of temporal punishments, was removed by these ; but that moral guilt, which defiles the soul, and excludes from heaven, should be piu-ged by some better sacrifice than these."}" In the exercise of this fiiith, Abel offered up a more acceptable sacrifice than Cain ; and without this faith exercised in some degree, it was impossible to please God. * nScOn denotes a sin, and sin-offermg. Lev. ir. 3, 24. D^l^ signifies the trespass, and the trespass- olTering, Lev. v. 15, 19. t They "sanctified to the purifyinp; of the flesh," Heb. ix. 1.1. " but could not make him (hat did the service perfect, as pertaining to the conscience, Heli. ix.y. 166 THERON AND ASPA6I0. If paciifices were intended to bespeak integrity of heart, methinks the state of in- nocence had been the properest period for their institution and oblation. But we never hear of this awful ceremony till man is fallen, and sin committed. If intended to denote purity of heart, why should they be particularly enjoined on that solemn day when confession was made of all the sins of the whole congi-egation ? (Lev. xvi. 21.) An oddly concerted device this ! in which the tongue must contradict what the cere- mony would recognise. Or, how could it be proper, after the violation of some law, or the neglect of some ordinance, im- mediately to go and offer a sacrifice ? What would be the language of such a practice ? " I have done wickedly, but my heart is pure and upright." Is this consistent with the spirit of humility, of modesty, or of com- mon ingenuity ? Is this the way of giving glory to God, or of taking shame to oiu-- selves ? Whereas, let the sacrifice be a ty- pical expiation, and this is the signiiicancy of the action, " Lord, I confess myself guilty. Punishment and death ai'e my due. Let them fall, I beseech thee, on my victim ; that thy justice being glorified, and thy law satisfied, thy mercy may be honourably displayed in my forgiveness. Besides, Theron, what likeness, what agreement is there between the profession of integrity and an animal mortally woiuid- ed, wallowing in its own blood, and strug- gling in the agonies of death ? Whereas, between these djdng pangs and the punish- ment due to sin, or the son-ows sustained by the cnicified Saviour, there is an ap- parent, a striking, and in various respects an edifying resemblance. 7'Aer. They declared, perhaps, the sacri- ficer's readiness and resolution to sHy the brute in himself, and to lay down his life in adherence to God. Asp. I do not remember any assertion of this kind in the Bible, or any hint to coun- tenance such an interpretation. It seems, in some cases, to be incompatible with the very natin'e of things, and contrary to the express declarations of Scripture. Doves, you know, lambs and sheep, were offered in sacrifice. But shall we slay the lamb, the dove, the sheep in ourselves ? So far from it, that Christ's disciples are either described by these creatures, or command- ed to imitate their properties. " Be ye harmless as doves," (Matth. x. 16.) " Peter, feed my lambs," (John xxi. 15.) "My sheep hear my voice." (.lohn x. 27.) Supposing, however, that this might be a subordinate design, or a valuable improve- ment of the sacrificial acts, yet their primary intention, and ultimate end, were widely different ; were much more significant of the divine compassions, and much better adapted to the comfort of mankind. They were an awful indication, that death was the wages of sin ; at the same time a cheer- ing declaration, that God was pleased to accept the death of the animal instead of the sinner's ; a figurative representation" also of that illustrious Person, who was to bear the sin of many, and poiu" out his soul for transgressors. TTier. Since sacrifices were of a religious nature, they should not only be instructive and beneficial in their tendency, but have their due effects with regard to God, to sin, and to the person who brought them. Asp. They had their effects mth regard to God, that his justice might be magnified and his anger appeased — to sin, that its de- merit might be displayed, yet its guilt be done away — to the person who brought them, that he might obtain pardon, be ex- empted from punishment, and exercise his faith on the Lord Jesus Christ. T7ie7: There are so many sorts of sacri- fice appointed in the Jewish rubric, that I am at a loss for a distinct idea, unless some one be singled out and separately considered. Asp. Among all the sacrifices instituted by Moses, none more circumstantially typi- fied the blessed Jesus, or more appositely expressed the benefits of his oblation, than the paschal lamb, and the sin-ofFering, on the day of atonement. An expositor, who cannot be mistaken, has given us this interpretation of the pas- chal lamb : " Christ our passover is sacri- ficed for us ;"-)■ declaring hereby, that Christ is a real sacrifice ; that he was prefigured, in this capacity, by the paschal lamb ; that the circumstances which distinguished it, met in him ; and the advantages which re- sulted from it, were prociu-ed by him : those, in their truest import — these, in their largest extent. The words of the apostle speak * What says Milton upon this subject of sacrifices, and with reference to their principal design ? He calls them Religious rites Of sacrifice ; informing men by types And shadows, of that destined seed to bruise The serpent, by what means he shall achieve Mankind's deliverance.— B. 12. 1. 231. + 1 (Jor. V. 7. Would any one venture to say, Paul our passover is sacrificed for us ? Vet this, I think, may be, or rather is in effect said, by the ac- count which some persons give of Christ's satisfaction. The very thought of such a blasphemous absurdity is too painful and offensive for the serious Christian to dwell upon. I would therefore divert his atten- tion to a more pleasing object. Let him observe the exquisite skill, which here and everywhere conducts the zeal of our inspired writer. — The odesof Pindar are celebrated for their fine transitions, which, though bold and surprising, are perfectly natural. We have in this place a very masterly stroke of the same beautiful kind. The apostle, speaking of the inces- tuous criminal, passes, by a most artful digression, to this darling topic, a crucified Saviour. Who would have expected it on such an occasion ? Yet, when thus admitted, who does not see and admire both the propriety of the subject, and the delicacy of Us in- duction .' DIALOGUE III. 167 tliis sense to the plainest, simplest reader. Whereas, to extort any other signification from them, what subtilty of wit, and what refinement, or rather violence of criticism, must be used ! The paschal lamb was without blemish. Such was the lamb of God ; free from all taint of original sin, and from every spot of actu;il transgression. — A lamb of the first year, in all the sprightlincss and tloridity of youth. Christ also laid down his life, not when worn with age, or debilitated with sickness ; but in the very prime of his days ; amidst all the bloom of health, and all the vigour of manhood. — The lamb was to be slain in such a manner as miglit occasion the most copious effusion of its blood. And was not this very exactly fulfilled in our suffering Saviour? His blood fiowed out in vast abundance, by the amazing sweat in the garden ; by the rending lashes of the scourge ; by the lacerating points of the thorns ; by the dreadful nails which cleft his hands and his feet ; by the deadly spear which ripped open his side, and cut its way to his heart Though the blood was to be so liberally spilt, a bone of the lamb was not to be broken. And you cannot but re- collect, you cannot but admire, the wonder- ful interposition of Providence, to accom- plish this emblematical prediction. When the soldiers had received a command to break the legs of the three crucified persons ; when they had actually broke the legs of each malefactor, which hung on the right side of our Lord and on the left ; their minds were over-ruled (by a divine infiuence, no doubt) to spare the blessed Jesus, and to leave all his bones unhurt, untouched. The lamb was to be killed before the whole .assembly; in the presence, either of the whole congregation of Israel, or else of that particular society which concurred in eating the flesh. And did not the whole multitude of the Jews conspire against our Redeemer to put him to death? Did they not all cry out, as with one voice, Crucifi/ Iiiin! Crucify him! Was he not executed at one of their grand festivals, and in the sight of the whole as- sembled nation ? — The blood was not to be poured heedlessly upon the ground, but re- ceived carefully into a bason, and s])rinklcd, with the utmost punctuality, upon the door- posts. In like manner, the blood of the heavenly Lamb is not to be tram])lcd under foot by a contemptuous disregard. It is the treasure of the cluirch, and the medicine of life ; to be received, therefore, by an hum- ble faith, and devoutly ap])lied to our con- sciences The sprinkling of that blood se- cured every Israelitish family from the des- troying angel's sword. So the merits of the slaughtered Saviour* screen every believing • Both St. Peter and St. Paul sjicak of tlicl)looaof fl>rinkUng, 1 Pet. i. 2; Heb. xii. 24.; intimating, sinner from the stroke of offended justice, and from the pains of etenial death. — What must have become of the Israelite, who, trusting to the uprightness of his heart, should neglect to make use of this divinely- appointed safeguard? He must inevitably have been punished with the death of his first-born. Equally certain, but infinitely more dreadful, will be his condemnation, who, before the omniscient Judge, shall pre- sume to plead his own integrity, or confide in his own repentance, and reject the atone- ment of the dying Jesus. Titer. Now, if you please, for the sin of- fering,* which seems to have been the most eminent sacrifice of them all. Asp. It was the most comprehensive, because it shadowed forth not only the death of Christ, but his resurrection from the dead, and his ascension into heaven. As the various actions of some illustrious per- sonage, which cannot be exhibited by the painter in a single draught, are displayed in several compartments, yet all constitute one and the same grand historical picture ; so, these glorious events, incapable of being re- presented by any single animal, were typi- fied by two kids of the goats, which never- theless were reputed but as one offering. f These goats were brought to the door of the tabernacle, and there presented before the Lord. Clu-ist also presented himself before God, when " he went up to Jerusa- by this remarkable form of speech, that the death of Christ will be of no advantage to the sinner, unless it be applied to his heart ; as the blood of the paschal lamb was no protection to an Israelite, till it had tinged the posts of his door. Isaiah, using the same phrase, anci alluding to the same custom, says of our Lord Jesus Christ, "he shall sprinkle many nations,^' lii. 15. Not only initiate them into his church by baptism ; but also, by the application of his blood shall cleanse them from their guilt, and deliver them from the wrath to come. * For the circumstances relating to the sin-offer- ing the reader will consult Lev.xvi. For those which concern the paschal lamb, he will have recourse to E.\od. xii. r How runs the divine command ' " He (the high priest) shall take of the congregation twokids of the goatsforasin-otfering," Lev.xvi. .5. Are not these two kids sty led, in thesingular number and collective sense, an offering ? That we might not mistake, God is pleased to add, " and one ram for a burnt-offering." Here he names one, to prevent a misapprehension of his meaning, when he had before said two. To ren- der his meaning still more apparent, and that we may regard this goat as joined In the same ofFeringwith the other, the Lord, contrary to his own rule in all other cases, orders the high priest to lay his hands upon the head of the scape-goat, not upon the head of the goat devoted to death. He dividis the necessary circum- stances of a sacrifice between them both, to intimate. In the clearest manner, that neither the one nor the other separate, but both taken together, were the one sacrificial oblation, appointee! for this distinguished solemnity. If this be true, I think tlic passage is a pretty con- siderable proof, that atonemont was made by sutTering vicarious punishment; notwithstanding what his been urged against it, from the tenth verse of the chapter. Should we recpiire human authority for the support of this interpretation, one of tlic t^reati'st human authorities may be seen in the celebrated Wit- slus; " Uterquehircuspertinebat ad unum sacrifici- um pro peccato, hostuT unius loco. Uter'iue erat pecuspiacularis, vicaria Israeli pcccatori, ejusque pec- eatum ferens." Do- Oeeon, lib, iv. cap. 6. THERON AND ASPASIO. lem, that all things written by the prophets concerning him might be accomplished," (Luke xviii. 31.) The goat on which the Lord's lot fell, was devoted to death. " Christ also being delivered by the deter- minate counsel and foreknowledge of God," (Acts ii. 23.) "was crucified and slain." The body was burnt wthout the camp, which pointed at tlie veiy place, and pic- tured out the very nature of our Lord's sufferings : " For he suffered without the gate," (Heb. xiii. 12.) was there exposed to the rage of men and the wrath of God, under the most exquisite pains of body, and the most insupportable agonies of soul; all significantly typified by the flame of a de- vouring fire, than which nothing is more fierce, more penetrating, or more severely tormenting. As the animal which was slaughtered showed forth the Redeemer dying for our sins, that which escaped prefigiu-ed the same Saviour rising again for our justifica- tion. The high priest put his hands upon the head of the scape-goat, and with great solemnity confessed the sins of the whole congregation. The import of this cere- mony is expressly declared in the sacred canon : " The goat shall bear upon him their iniquity."* It is charmingly explained by the prophet, " The Lord laid on him the iniquities of us all," (Isa. liii. 6.) and most delightfully confirmed by the apostle, " He himself bore our sins in his own body on the tree," (1 Pet. ii. 24.) This done, the goat was dismissed into a land not inhabited, a place sei)arated from all resort of men, where he was never like- ly to be found any more ; to teach us, that our offences, having been expiated by the bleeding Jesus, are entirely done away, shall never rise up in judgment against us, but according to the prophecy of Jeremiah, " When the iniquity of Israel shall be sought for, there shall be none ; and the sins of Judah, they shall not be found," ( Jer. 1. 20.) It is further enjoined, " that Aaron shall confess all the iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their transgressions, in all their sins." Iniquities, transgressions, sins are particularized ; and to this cluster of expressions, the word all is added, to in- form us, that the least sins need the atone- ment of Christ's death ; to assure us, that the greatest sinsare not beyond the compass of its efficacy ; and that all sins, be they ever so heinous, or ever so numerous, are forgiven to the true believer. The high-priest carried the blood of the victim into the second tabernacle, even with- in the veil. So Clirist entered with his own t It is observable, that whereas the scape-goat is said to bear ( Ji^Ii;^ ) the s iis of Israel, Lev. xvi.SJ; the xrry same pluijse is applied to Christ, Isa. liii. 12. blood, not into the holy places made \vit\i hands, but into heaven itself. The blood was sprinkled before the mercy-seat, and left in the holy of liolies, that it might always remain before the Lord. And does not Christ al- ways appear in the presence of God for us ? does he not ever live to make intercession for us? to plead his all-sufficient propitiation in our behalf; that the benefits procured thereby may be communicated, ratified, and perpetuated to his people ? Ther. These benefits, Aspasio, are as- cribed, in Scripture, to repentance and re- formation of life, qualifications of our own ; not to any such cause as a vicarious sacrifice, where the merit must necessarily subsist in another. \VTiat says the apostle Peter when he had just received his in- structions from the Holy Ghost ? " Re- pent and be converted ;" not look tin- to an atonement, or depend upon a pro- pitiation ; " that your sins may be blotted out." (Acts iii. 19.) Asp. It is tnie, the benefits of the new covenant are promised to penitents, as their happy portion ; but never assigned to their repentance, as the procuring cause : never to their repentance, but to the blood of tlie great High Priest, called, therefore " the blood of the everlasting covenant," (Heb. xiii. 20.) being the condition stipulated in it, required by it, and in consequence of which all its unspeakable privileges are bestowed. Besides, the qualifications you suppose are the gift of the Lord. We are not able to exercise them till Christ, who is exalted for this very purpose, gives repentance. (Acts V. 31.) A conversion to God, and' a newness of life, are not the effect of hu- man abilities, but the work of the divine Spirit, and the fruit of the Redeemer's death. Indeed, this death is the purchase of every heavenly blessing. This opens the heaven of heavens, and all its inex- haustible stores. By this we have the en- joyment of grace, and by this the hope of glory. Ther. You begin to be in raptm'es, As- pasio ! Asp. Excuse me, Theron. It is not easy to repress the sallies of delight and devotion, when we muse upon such amaz- ing loving-kindness, and are touched wth a sense of such immensely rich benefits. A great High Priest! who is "higher than the heavens," (Heb. vii. 26,) yet humbled himself to death, even the death of the cross ! who is " consecrated for evermore,'" (Heb. vii- 28,) and pleads all his merit, im- proves all his influence, for our consum- mate felicity ! " What heart of stone but glows at thoughts like these? Such contemplations mount us. and should mount DIALOGUE III. 169 The mind still higher; nor ever glance on man Unraptured uninflamed." A'iV'< 'Dwughts, No. iv. But I check myself; and will either reply to your objections, or listen to your sentiments ; listen as attentively as you yourself attend to the music of that shrill- tongued thrush. Ther. Its sweetly-modulated lays, emi- nent even in the symphony of spring, have indeed attracted my ears. Eut my mind is disengaged and free for your conversation. Asp. I can re])eat a song, sweeter far than this, or all the melody of the wood- land choirs. — A song, which has harmony enough to make the brow of melancholy wear a smile, or to sooth away the sorrows of death itself: " Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect ? It is God that justifieth ; who is he that condemneth ? It is Christ that died ; yea rather, that is risen again ; who is even at the right hand of God ; who also maketh intercession for us." (Rom. viii. 33, 34.) According to my friend's principles, the strain of this triumphant exclamation was ill-judged, and should have run in the following manner : " Who shall lay any thing to our charge ? We have endeavoured to preserve a recti- tude of disposition, and to persist in a laudable course of action. Wherever we failed, we have been sony for the fault, and have implored pardon from the divine ma- jesty. What then shall dismay us, or who shall condemn us ?" Your topics of con- solation would be complete, without having recourse to the death of Christ as an atone- ment for sin ; or, to the resurrection of Christ, as an evidence that the atonement is accepted ; or to the intercession of Christ, as the cause of our interest in that transcendent blessing. Ther. Since you so frequently mention, and so earnestly insist upon atonement, I should be glad to know the precise signifi- cation of the word. I am told, the original phrase has nothing to do with the idea of making satisfaction. Asp. We may learn the precise signifi- cation of atonement, by considering the means, the effect, and the manner, whereby the means accomplish the effect. The ef- fect of atonement is pardon. The means of obtaining it are the death of Christ. The way or manner whereby the death of Christ becomes efticacious for this blessed purpose, is the sovereign appointment of his F^ither, the infinite dignity of his ])er- son, and especially the vicarious nature of his sufferings, or their being undergone in the stead of sinners. Tlur. It has been supposed, and is af- firmed too, that our Saviour's obedience and death were conducive to our redem})tion, only in virtue of his Father's will and aj)- pointmcnt. Aep. I am glad it is some other, and not my Theron, who esjmuses this opinion, which is highly injurious to the dignity of our Redeemer's person, and to the merit of his obedience. Neither is it very honour- able to the wisdom of the Father, miless we suppose him therefore to have appointed the death of Christ, because he knew it was fully sufficient for the glorious pui-jiose. jAnd why should we use that weak in- adequate expression, conducive to our re- demption ? Would any one say, of Solo- mon's elegant and sumptuous temple, that it was conducive to the accomplishment of what Moses foretold? (E.\od. xv. 17.) David's provision of stones, of timber, and of gold, was, if you please, condu(dve to it. But Solomon's act was perfective of it, was the very execution of the thing itself. Such are the obedience and death of Christ, with respect to our redemption. Ther. But we forget the original word, and neglect to inquire into its genuine im- port. Asp. The word, which we translate atonement, implies, in its primary accepta- tion, the notion of covering. Tims the ark was covered,* " was overlaid with pitch, within and without," that all its chinks might be secured against the insinuating attempts of the water, and all its timber defended from the injuries of the liquid ele- ment. When an object, in this or any other manner, is covered over for safety ; the covering receives every shock, and sus- tains all damages, which would othenvise fall upon the thing covered. The image, therefore, is very pertinently used to ex- press the true evangelical nature of atone- ment; and the M'ord is used, with equsl propriety, to describe the mercy-seat,f which was a costly covering for the ark, made of j)ure gold, and exactly conmieiisurafe to that sacred repository. In this were lodged the tables of the law ; whose precepts we have violated, and to whose curse \ve were sub- ject. Consequently the mercy-seat, both by its situation, its extent, and its office, prefigured the Redeemer ; who interposes between the law and the ofl'ender ; fiiltils the commands, and sustains the curse of the former ; merits i)ardon, and procures salvation for the latter. As some fine flower, having entertained our eye with one beautiful colour, suddenly breaks, or gradually softens into another, and gives us a renewed ])leasure ; such, methinks, is the nature ol this delightful * jmE)0 Thou shalt " besmear, cover, or overlay, Gen. vi. 14. This is the first place in wliich our word occurs. It is supposed to give us the genuine and native sense of the phrase. Perhaps the Knglish ex- pression " cover,'' may be derived from the participle 133 " copher." \ n"13D Kxod. XXV. 17. 170 THERON AND ASPASIO. word. It is expressive of the hoar-frost,* which, in a serene but sharp wintry morn- ing, covers the houses, covers the trees, covers the whole face of nature. So the blood of Jesus, according to the Psalmist's representation, covers all our guilt, and hides every offence. (Psalm xxxii. 1.) Insomuch that, when this blood is applied by the divine Spirit, the Lord " sees no in- iquity in Jacob." (Num. xxiii. 21.) He acts, as if he saw none ; neither punishes the guilty, nor abhors the polluted siiuier. The same expression is used with refer- ence to a covenant, and signifies the aboli- tion of the contract ;f which was done by cancelling the deed, or expunging the ar- ticles of stipulation. By the covenant of works, all mankind became obnoxious to condemnation, were bound over to death. By the grace of Christ our obligation to punishment is disannulled, and the hand- writing of condemnation is blotted out. Should you ask, how this is effected ? By paying a ransom, and offering a sacrifice. Should you farther inquire, of what this ransom and this sacrifice consisted? Of nothing less than the precious blood,| the inestimable life,§ the divinely-magnificent person of Christ- 1| Ther. Tliese then are the capital ideas included in the original word — a covering by way of defence, and a covering by way of concealment. Asp. They are, Theron. — As the brain, in the animal body, is the source of sensa- tion, sends out various detachments of nei-ves to animate aiid actuate all the parts of the vital system ; so these two cajjital ideas branch themselves into a variety of subordinate, yet similar significations, ^^■hich run through the whole economy of the gos- pel, to enliven and quicken the spirit of a believer. Let me instance in a few parti- culars. This richly-significant word de- notes— the exercise of divine mercy, (Deut. xxxii. 43,) the pardon of sin, (Deut. xxi. 8; 2 Chron. xxx. 18,) a cleansing from guilt, (Numb. xxxv. 33,) purging from transgression, (Psalm Ixv. 3,) reconciliation * "713 J Psa'- cxlvii. 16. The idea deduced from noar-frost, is not so exact and striking, in our north- ern clime, as in the more southern regions. There, the exhalations and dews being more copious, the hoar-frost must fall thicker, lie deeper, and more ful- ly correspond with the notion of covering. t Isa. xxviii- 18. "}r3 J abolebitur. " Proprie sonat, oblinetur, obliterabiter, estenim. "13^ Hebra'ispro- prie quid obducere, atque inde (cum obducta et oblita dispareant) delere, abolere." Thus, I apprehend, the words should be pointed- t " Nor by the blood of goats and calves, but by hisowTi blood," Heb. ix. 12. § " The son of man came to give his life a ransom for many," Mark x. 45. II " Who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God," Heb. ix. 14. for iniquity, (Dan. ix. 24,) the pacifying of wrath, ( Ezek. x-vi. 63. ) Do not these pas- sages (which are expressed by some branch of the verb that conveys to us the idea of atoning) plainly intimate, that the atone- ment of Christ is the meritorious cause of all these desirable effects ? is the foundation of every act of divine goodness ; and the origin of every blessing vouchsafed to sin- ners? Ther. After all, this is the consideration wluch principally offends and perplexes me : God is a spirit, an absolutely perfect and infinitely pure being ; remote, inconceivably remote, from whatever is gross or corporeal. How then can he take pleasure in the effu- sion of blood, or the biu-ning of flesh ? How can any such low carnal inducements make him merciful to sinners, or appease what you call his ^vrath. Asp. Rather, what the Scriptures call his wrath. You mistake oirr doctrine, my dear Theron. We never maintain that any sacrifice whatever, not even the propitiation of Christ's death, was intended to make God merciful ; only to make way for his eternal purposes of mercy, without any pre- judice either to the demands of his law or the rights of his justice. Our sentiments on this head are exactly consonant to his ovm declaration, and his own procedure, in the case of Job's friends ; (see Job xlii. 7, 8. ) Though displeased with their con- duct, he was merciful to their persons ; nevertheless, he would not exercise that mercy till they had tiist offered a sacrifice, and acted faith in a dying Saviour. Neither is it ever supposed, that the infi- nitely wise and pure God can take pleasure in the effusion of blood, or the burning of flesh, simply considered ; only as they had a reference to that noble and inestimable sacrifice, which brings the highest honour to his name, which those slaughtered animals exhibit in a figure, and to which every tnie Israelite had a believing regard. I say, had a believing regard. For it is af- firmed by the author of the Hebrews, that the gospel was preached to the Israelites in the wilderness, (Heb. iv. 2.) What does he mean by the gospel ? The very essence of this benevolent scheme, according to the apostle's own definition, is, that " Christ died for our sins," (I Cor. xv. 3.) How was this gospel preached to our fathers in the wilderness ? By significant emblems ; especially by slaughtered anim.ils, and bleed- ing victims, by which Christ was almost continually, though not so evidently as in these latter times, " set forth crucified for sinners." (Gal. iii. 1.) In this sense alone, those carnal nsages were worthy the wisdom of God to appoint, and the majesty of God to accept. This DIALOGUE III. in gave them a peculiar dignity and importance, and set them far above all the similar obser- vances used in the heathen worship. They were also, when thus explained, thus improv- ed, extremely profitable to believers ; as they directed their contemplation to the future sufferings of a Saviom', and ratified to their faith the benefits of his ever-operating sac- rifice ; which, we were assured by an infalli- ble voice, was effectual " for the redemption of the transgressions under the first cove- nant."* Ther. So you apprehend, that in those usages practised by the ancient Jews, the gospel was emblematically preached, and Christ in a figure exhibited ? Axp. ]\Iost certainly, Thcron. And for this cause, under the law, almost all things were purged with blood, (Heb. ix. 22.) The midtiplicity, the variety, the constancy of their sacrifices, were all designed to im- press upon their minds, and familiarize to their thoughts, this great evangelical truth. Was any one overtaken by a fault ? He must present a victim, and the priest must slay it, by way of trespass-offering ; to sig- nify, that the guilt which was contracted could be done away only by the atoning death of Clu^ist. Had any one received a signal blessing? A beast was slain by way of peace- offering; as a public expression of gratitude for the mercy, and also as an emphatical declaration, that all good vouchsafed to fal- len man is owing to the Redeemer's ransom. Was any one to be invested with the priest- ly office, or admitted to minister in the sanc- tuary? A ram or a bullock must bleed, byway of atonement, and for the purpose of conse- crating, (Lev. viii. 22. Numb. viii. 12.) in order to testify, that no man can officiate with acceptance in the worship of God ; that no service, though of a religious kind, • Heb. ix. \h. When I reflect on these words, I wonder how any one can assert, that all the Jews died under the curse of the law. Died under the curse of the law ! even though the apostle has war- ranted it for a truth, that " all these" (meaning Abra- ham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob,&c.) "died in faith, Heb. xi. 13. Even though he has elswhere laid it down as a maxim, "so then they which are of faith," (in whatever period of time they live, or under whatever dispensation of religion they worship,) "are blessed with faithful Abraham." Gal. iii. !». Kven though the Psalmist in one place alKrms "blessed are they whose unrighteousnesses are forgiven, and whose sin is covered ;" and, in another place, declares concern- ing himself and his pious cotemporaries, "look how wide the east is from the west ! .'^o far hath he set our sins from us." Psalm xxxii. 1. Psalm ciii. li. From these and many other texts, I think it it evident, that the faithful Jews no more died under the curse of the law, than the faithful Christians. The death of Christ procured the pardon and accept- ance of believers, even before he came in the flesh. From the beginning, he had covenanted with the Father, as their Mediator; and God, to whom all things are present, saw the certain accomplishment of his undertaking. He was therefore, by virtue of thedivuie decree, and in point of saving efficacy, " a Lamb slain from the foundation ol the world." Though he laid down his life in the reign of Tiber- ius, he was a real Kcdccmer in all ages. can be pleasing in his sight, till the former is interested in the merits, unless the latter is recommended by the death of the great High Priest. And not only by their solemn sacrificial acts, but even by their ordinary meals, this grand lesson was inculcated. They were forbidden to eat the blood, in order to awaken and preserve in their consciences a reverential and fiducial regard to the pre- cious blood of Christ. The Holy Ghost assigning a reason for this sacred prohibition, says expressly, " Because the blood maketh an atonement for your souls," (Lev. xvii. 11.) the blood of beasts typically, the blood of Christ effectually. O that Christians would, in this particidar, learn of Jews ; learn, at least, from Jewdsh ordinances, to have their attention incessantly fixed on that divine High Priest, who, by one offering, hath perfected for ever, — not barely condu- ced or contributed to the work, but hath fully accomplished it, and obtained complete remission for — them that are sanctified, (Heb. x, 14.) Thcr, Some offerings were made without any effusion of blood. What could those mean ? Or how coidd they typify the sac- rifice of Christ ? Asp. Perhaps the apostle might foresee such an objection when he used that guarded expression, almost all things were purged with blood. If, in these cases, there was no effusion of blood, yet there was a des- truction of the substance. The meat-offer- ings were consumed by fire ; which is much the same to inanimate things, as shedding of the blood is to livingcreatures. The same ef- fect is ascribed to these oblations, as to those of the sanguinary kind. It is expressly de- clared of the poor man's trespass-offering, which consisted of fine Hour, and was burnt upon the altar, " It shall make an atone- ment for him," (Lev. v. 11, 12, IS.) So that here also was what we may truly call a visible prediction of Christ. The offerings which flamed, as well as the victims which bled, sliowed forth our dying Lord : whose one "oblation of himself once offered," com- prized all the qualities, and realized the whole efficacy represented by every other sacrifice. Titer. Another odd circumstance has often given me disgust, and been apt to pre- judice me against the institutions of the Old Testament. Many of them appear mean, contemptible, and perfectly puerile. " Can these," I have said within myself, " be or- dained by a God of infinite wisdom, and transcendent glory ? Can we reasonably im- agine, that a mandate should be issued from the coiu't of heaven, on purpose to forbid the boiling, and enjoin the roasting of some particidar piece of meat? (Exod. xii. 9.) 172 THERON AND ASPASIO. Will the Great Ruler of the skies concern himself about the precise manner of killing one bird, and releasing another ? ( Lev. xiv. 4, 5, 6, 7.) Will he who claims the wor- ship of the heart, have such an especial re- gard to a drop or two of despicable blood, put upon the tip of the right ear, or the thumb of the right hand? (Exod. xxix. 20.) Surely, such childish ceremonies are too minute and trivial for the notice, much more for the solemn appointment, of the supreme Majesty !" Asp. You will please to remember, that when those ceremonies were ordained, it was the infancy,* at least the minority of the church. If we advert to this circumstance, we shall have reason to admire both the all- comprehending wisdom, and the no less con- descending goodness, of Jehovah. His all- comprehending wisdom, in conforming so accurately and so minutely the type to the event, though the former was established long, long before the latter existed. Many ages before the Desire of Nations appeared, his picture was drawn, was presented to public view, and is now foimd to correspond in every feature with the illustrious original. What hand could be equal to such a task, but only the hand of an omniscient limner? His condescending goodness, in adapting the tenor of his revelation to the state of his people ; " speaking unto them even as unto babes." (1 Cor. iii. 1.) not by naked pre- cepts, or ab.stracted truths, but by earthly similitudes,-!- and (if I may so express my- self) by embodied instructions, such as were level to their low capacities, and calculated to affect their dull apprehensions. The institutions to which you hint were undoubtedly mean and trifling, if considered in themselves. Accordingly, their wise and majestic author cautions his people against such erroneous and unworthy notions. " I spake not unto your fathers, nor commanded them, in the day that I brought them out of the land of Egypt, concerning burnt-offer- ings or saciifices," (Jer. vii. 22.) " It was not my design that they should acquiesce in * St. Paul calls the church of those times " nepios." an infant, or babe. Gal. iv. 1, 3. And the ceremonial institutions have been styled, with as much truth as ingenuity, evangelium elemenlare et pra^liminare. T This seems to be our Lord's meaning, when he says to Nicodemus, "if I have told you earthly things." He had been treating of that internal spiri- tual renovation, which is the root and .spring of all holiness. He had been speaking of that Divine Spirit, whose gracious and almighty agency produces this desirable change. The nature of the former was represented, under the similitude of a birth, by which we enter upon a new state, form new ideas, and habituate ourselves to new practices, pleasures, pursuits. The operations of the latter were des- criljed, by the common and well known properties of the wind. This he mentions, as a plain and fami- liar method of teaching : this he opposes to telling him of heavenly things; or delivering refined and exalted truths, not accommodated to the capacity, not brought within the compass of an infantile un- derstanding, by an assimilation to sensible object*. John iii, 12. the shadow, and neglect the substance. 1 never intended that they should rest in the porch, but pass through these ordinances to much sublimer things. Christ and spiritual blessings were principally in my view ; to which all the Mosaical usages were relative, subser\aent, and one continual manuduction. " Considered in this light, as bearing a refer- ence to the ever-blessed Mediator, as em- blems of his person and pledges of his grace, they acquire a real magnificence, and convey the most salutaiy lessons. The blood put upon the tip of the ear, and thumb of the hand, denotes oiu" personal application of the death of Christ ; without which all its virtue, though boundless and inconceivable, will profit us nothing. Those particular parts of the body may sig- nify the perceptive and executive faculties ; in both which we offend, and for both which we need the great propitiation. Of the two birds you mention, one was to be killed, the other was to fly away, after it had been dip- ped in the blood of its fellow. Thus the Lord Jesus was crucified for our sins ; and we being washed in his blood, being inter- ested in the atonement of our holy victim and elder brother, are acquitted from guilt, and escape condemnation. Concerning the paschal lamb, it was particularly enjoined, That the flesh should not be eaten raw, nor sodden with water, but roasted with fire, and of every ofl^ering from the herd or from the flock, the fat and tlie inwards were, by an express command of God, delivered up to the devouring flame. All this was an em- blem of that tremendous indignation, which " is poured out like fire,"(Nah. i. 6.) which seized our immaciflate Sacrifice, that it might spare polluted sinners ; and which must have consumed utterly any mediator, who was less than infinite, or other than di- vine. Had you beheld our renowned Newton blowing up with great assiduity and attention, his little watery visicles into the air, you would perhaps, have despised the venerable philosopher, and have thought him little bet- ter than a hoary idiot. But when you was told, that in every one of these volatile soapy bubbles he discovered the beauteous colours of the rainbow, and from this seemingly child- ish experiment he explained the nature of that wonderful arch ; you would then en- tertain a different notion, both of the man and of his employ. So when you discern the blessed Jesus looking forth at these win- dows, and showing himself through these lattices of the Jewish economy, you will. » Cant. ii. 0. The word, in the first edition, is ■Miourishing through." It was taken from the He- brew, without consiilting the English i;ible, and is a literal translation of yiUQ- Which signifies more than barely showing himself with lustre and beauiy ; like a delicate flower, in its blooming state and glossy DIALOGUE III. 178 I liope, conct'ive a hii^lier opinion of tlicin, 1111(1 derive richer advantage tVoiii tliein. Ther. There are several persons, as well as ritual observances, of a very singular character, mentioned in the Mosaic law. The leper, for instance, the Nazarite, with others of the same antiquated and grotesque stamp ; which seem, to me at least, so many unmeaning narratives, that convey no man- ner of edification to readers in the present age. I have frequently had an inclination, and now I have a proper opportunity, to ask your opinion upon these points. Aap. I thank you, Theron, for giving me the hint. What you propose is by no means foreign to the topic of our discourse. Those persons were truly remarkable ; neither are the pecidiarities of their case recorded in vain. They picture out, in dismal and de- lightful colours, the sinner and the Saviour. To know ourselves, and to know Christ, is true wisdom ; is indeed the consmnmation of all knowledge. Here we have a lecture of liieroglyphical instruction, on both those im- portant subjects. The leper was an emblem of a sinner ; (see Levit. chap. xiii. xiv. ) His disease extremely afflictive to himself, and intoler- ably loathsome to others. Sin likewise is the sorest of all miseries to the wretch who commits it ; and most detestably odious to the God who forbids it. The leper \\as secluded from the benefits of society, and all communication with his fellow citizens. The sinner also, while impenitent and un- pardoned, is an alien from the common- wealth of Israel, (Eph. ii. 12.) without any enjoyment of the comforts, or any interest in the privileges of the gospel. If he dies in this condition, he must be for ever shut out from the kingdom of heaven ; for ever cut off from the presence of the Lord. The contagion was sometimes so pesti- lent, that it not only tainted the clothes of the diseased, but spread itself over the walls of his house, and infected the timber of the beams. It was sometimes so inve- terate, that it could be eradicated no other way but by burning the garment, and demo- lishing the building. Does not this give us a clear, but melancholy view, of original corruption ? which has transfused its poison through all the faculties of the soul, and all the members of the body ; nor will ever be entirely expelled, till death releases the for- mer, and consigns the latter to the dust. What could cure this terrible distemper, even in its mildest state ? Not all the balm of (iilead ; not aU the drugs on a thousand hillsi ; nothing but the consecrated oil, and colours: yet nourishing through lattices; manifest- ing hiiiiseil' not lornplelcly, but in part; concealing some, wlule he reveals much, of his mediatorial glory. sacrificial blood duly applied by the High- priest. And what can heal the disorders of our fallen souls ? so far heal them as to purge away their guilt, and subdue the pre- valence of their iniquities ? No acts of mor- tification, no vigilance, nor any efforts of our own ; nothing but the atoning death, and sanctifying sjjirit of the blessed Jesus. The malignity and virulence of this plague of the heart, are absolutely incorrigible by any other expedient. But, blessed be divine grace, this remedy, provided by oiu- great High-])riest, and administered by our great Physician, is sovereign, and never fails. The case of the Nazarites, (see Numb, chap. vi. ) was the very reverse of the state of the lepers. " Her Nazarites," .Teremiah says, " were purer than snow, they were whiter than milk, they were more ruddy in body than rubies, their polishing was of sap- phires ; (Lam. iv. 7.) A faint represen- tation of the only begotten Son, who is the fairest among ten thousand ; the brightness of his P^ither's glory, and the express image of his person ? both God and man in one sa- cred, wonderful, adorable Saviour. They, during the time of their separation, abstained from wine, withdrew from secular business, avoided every kind of pollution ; and de- dicated themselves in an especial manner, to the service of God. A type of that glorious Nazarite, who was separated for a season from the fruitions of heaven ; who was holy, harmless, and undefiled, both in his nature and all his conversation, who sancti- fied himself, and devoted his life and labours, his soul and body, to the glory of his Fa- ther, and the redemption of his peojile. The Nazarites, even when they had discharged their vow, and woe CGremonially clean, yet were obliged to offer a sin-offering, a burnt- offering, and a peace-offering. So the great Redeemer, though he had perfectly obeyed all the preceptive parts of the divine law, yet was required to offer up a sacrifice — even the incomparably precious sacrifice of himself — in order to consummate the work of our salvation. Ther. Have you a sufficient warrant for this strain of interpretation ? Is it sound, is it rational, or conformable to any authentic standard of scri[)tiiral exposition ? Me- thinks it looks more like the child of fancy, than the ofl^spring of judgment ; more like the sally of a sportive imagination, thiui the result of a sober disquisition. You cannot be ignorant, Aspasio, how the riding jiassion tinctures the whole con- duct. Hence it is, I apprehend, that your religious inamoratos find heavenly beauties, where Scriptmc intended no more than na- tural truths. Hence it is that they turn plain facts into |)rofound figures, and alle- gorize common sense into jiious absurdity. 174 THERON AND ASAPSlO. Have you never eeen the mystic interpreta- tions of some ancient, and, I may add, some modern divines? The honesty of their design IS transparent, and the piety of tlieir lives is unquestionable ; otherwise we should be tempted to suspect, that they meant to bur Jesque the Scriptures, and disgrace their Author. Who can ever persuade himself, that the supremely wise God would send us to search for a body of divinity in a bundle of rods ? or set us to spin all the mysteries of Chris- tianity from a few fleeces of wool, ring- streaked, speckled, and spotted ? ( Gen. xxxi. ) Thus to expound the Scriptures, is not to open them clearly, and apply them judiciously, but rather to whip them into froth. • Asp. We have the authority of our Lord himself, who has informed us, that the brazen serpent lifted up in the wilder- ness (John iii, 14.) was figurative of his own suspension and death on the cross : that the temple built on mount Sion was typical of his immaculate body, in which dwelt all the fulness of the Godhead, (John ii. 19. 21; Col. ii. 9:) that the prophet Jonah, lodged in the belly of the whale, and discharged from that strange con- finement on the third day, (Matth. xii. 39, 40. ) was an emblem of his own descending into the gi'ave, and rising again before his flesh saw corruption. We have also the testimony and the prac- tice of the chiefest of the apostles, for our warrant. He assures us, that the rock smitten by Moses had a reference to Christ, (1 Cor. X. 4 ;) who was wounded for our sins, and is the foundation of our hopes : that the waters issuing at the stroke, were significative of those spiritual blessings which flow from a crucified Saviour : that as the former followed the sons of Jacob through all the circumvolutions of their tedious journey, the latter accompany the disciples of Jesus in every stage of their earthly pilgri- mage. Let the great teacher of the Gen- tiles be our expositor, and we shall see the veil of the temple dignified with a sigiiifican- cy, richer fiir than its costly materials and curious workmanship. Its silk and em- broidery exhibit to the eye of faith the pm-e and spotless flesh of Christ, (Heb. x. 20.) As, by rending the material veil, the holy of holies became visible and accessible ; so, by piercing the body, and spillnig the blood of Christ, the God of heaven was manifest- ed, and the way to heaven opened. Every reader must admire those divided waves, which instead of overwhelming the Israelites with a resistless deluge, stood like a Wiill of defence on their righj liand « Luther iisf-il to call aurh f?.r-fetched and unr.atii- rai alU'jjovifs '..^mnani s-'rijiurx'." and on their left, as they marched through the depths of the sea. Every reader must admire that suspended cloud, which spre'ad itself like a spacious canopy over the hosts of Israel, and screened them from the an- noying sunbeams as they passed through the sultry desert. Our admiration must be heightened when we find that which was a cloud by day becoming a pillar of fire by night, and illuminating their camp with the most amazing as well as the most cheering splendour. But St. Paul discerned a greater glory, and a deeper design, in those un- paralleled events. The people, he says, " were baptized unto Moses, in the cloud and in the sea," ( 1 Cor. x. 2. ) These sym- bolically represented the baptism of water and of fire ; or the application of Christ's blood to oiu" souls, and the efficacy of his spirit on our hearts: — in the former of which consists our justification ; from the latter of which proceeds our sanctification. I fear you will think my discourse some- what like the journey just now mentioned ; but I must not wholly omit the epistle to the Hebrews, which is the most unexcep- tionable vindication, as well as the faultless model, of allegorical exposition. It is de- lightful to observe what propriety of address the inspired writer uses. He speaks to the Jews in their own way ; alludes to their own usages, ordinances, and ceremonies ; proves them to be types of, and guides to, a more clear, a more benign, and in all re- spects a more excellent economy. • More particularly he displays the transcendent superiority of Christ and his gifts, even to those persons and privileges wliich they held in the highest esteem. These, like the moniing star, were introductory to, yet to- tally eclipsed by, the rising sun. They had exalted apprehensions of the angelic excellencies. The apostle therefore celebrates the Redeemer as the Lord whom angels obey, as the God whom angels adore. They always reckoned Moses to be the first favourite of heaven, and chief among the children of men. He lets them know, that Moses, with all his extraordinary en- dowments, was but a servant in the house of Jesus. It was his greatest honour, to * He styles the legal oblations, and the whole ser- vice of the Jewish sanctuary, " the example and sha- dow of heavenly things;" or of Christ Jesus; and evanRelical worship, and spiritual blessings, Heb. viii. ,5. — The original signifies " the pattern ; " somewhat like the strokes pencilled out upon a peace of fine linen: which presents you with the figure of sprigs of leaves, and of flowers ; but have not yet received their splendid colours, their curious shades, and beautiful enrichments, f.om the labours of tlie needle. — The o.iginal signifies likewise "a shadowy representa- tion ; which gives you some dim and imperfect idea of the body ; but not the fine features, not the dis- tinguishing air, none of those living graces which adorn the real person. Vet both the pattern and the shadow lead our minds to something nobler than themselves. The pattern, to that wliich complttes il; the shadow to that wliich occasions it. DIALOGUE III. 175 minister unto this Prince of Poace. As tlie priesthood and saerilices were some of their distinguishing privileges, lie shows the pre-eminence of Christ's office to all the Aaronic orders. He demonstrates the ex- tensive and everlasting efficacy of his one atonement, in preference to every form, and the whole series of Levitical oblations. Ther. Thus inteqiretated, I must ac- knowledge, the book of Levitical ceremonies is significant and edifying ; whereas, ab- stracted from this evangelical improvement, nothing can be more empty and jejune. I once thought, that to peruse those obsolete canons, was like sitting down to an enter- tainment of diy bones. But, if such be their import, they may yield marrow and fatness to tlie attentive mind. Due care, however, should be taken, not to suppose a type where there is no apparent foundation of analogy in the thing itself, or no hint of this nature given us by the un- erring Spirit ; lest, instead of being guided by truth, we are bewildered by fancy. And, when either or both these handles present themselves, I think we should beware of straining the subject beyond the bounds of a jiist and reasonable comparison ; lest, in- stead of following the clue, we stretch it till it breaks. If the first caution is not obser- ved, the sense of Scripture will lie so deep, or be removed to such a distance, that none but persons of the most acute discernment can find it, or none but persons of the most excursive imagination can reach it. If the second is not regarded, the meaning of those divine volumes will become so vague and volatile, that there will hardly remain any possibility of ascertaining or fixing it. Asp. As to the expedience and necessi- ty of these cautionarj' limitations, I have the pleasure of agreeing entirely with my friend. Let our fancy submit to the reins of judgment, otherwise her excursions will be wild and lawless. Let our zeal borrow the eyes of discretion, otherwise her efifiorts will be blind and extravagant. And let all, thus tempered, thus regtdated, be under the influ- ence of enlighteninggrace. Then to spiritual- ize the ancient Scriptures, will be to convert the stones of the sanctuaiy into the jewels of a crown ; and to fetch, not water only, but milk and honey, from the tlinty rock. Then, how pleasing must it be, as well as instnu'tive, to discover the blessed Jesus, in all the institutions of the Mosaic law ! To see liis incarnation prefigured by the feast of tabernacles, when the Israelites were to relinquish their houses, and lodge in booths. (Lev. xxiii. 34. 40. 42.) Even as the son of (Jod left the bosom of his P^ather, and the seats of bliss, to inhabit a cottage of clay, and sojourn in a viile of tears. To .^ee our spotless and divine vic- tim tyi)i(M!'y sl:i'ii at the joyful solemnity of the passover, and the anniversary fast of e\-]jiation. To see his death, that inesti- mable ransom for our souls, presented to om- faith, in every morning and evening sa- crifice, (Exod. xxix. 38, 39.) his interces- sion, that prevailing recommendation of our prayers, most sweetly expressed by the rich incense which attended the sacred rite. To see the various methods of puritication ; some pointing at the fountain for sin and for uncleanness, opened in our Redeemer's bleeding heart, (Exod xxix. 4 ; Psal, li. 7.) others referring to those sanctifying opera- tions of the Spirit, which act as a refiner's fire, or as a fuller's soap, (Numb. xxxi. 23 ; Isa. iv. 4.) To see, in the city of refuge, that perfect seciu-ity which Christ's meri- torious sufTerings in our stead, afford to every penitent and believing sinner, (Numb, xxxv. 11,12.) Was it so very affecting and so very encour- aging to ..^neas, when hebeheld the storyof the Trojan heroes pictured upon the walls of the Carthaginian temple?* How much greater encouragement and joy must arise in the Christian's breast, when he perceives the amiable lineaments of his everlasting friend pourtrayed in all the peculiarities of the Jewish worship, and in the most distin- guishing events of the .Jewish liistory ! Thia must highly ennoble the Bible, and inexpres- sibly endear it to our affections. This spreads lustre, Ufe, and glory, through every page of that blessed book. And though I would forbear indulging what might be call- ed a pious wantonness of imagination ; yet I should much rather choose, in expounding the Scriptures, to ramble with Augustine, than err with Grotius, see, or tliink I see, my Saviour, even where it may not perhai)s be easy to make out the traces of liis dignity to the satisfaction of a rigorous inquirer ; ra- ther than shut my eyes upon the display of his perfections when they beam forth with the most inviting beauty. Ther. How soon is this walk finished ! How imperceptibly has the time stole away ! These garden-gates I always used to approach with a particular complacency. They seem- ed to afford me a welcome retreat from the impertinence and vanity of the world. Now, methinks, I enter them with reluctance, because they are likely to put a j)eriod to this agreeable conversation. However, as my Aspasio enters with me, I am recon- ciled, I am satisfied. It will be in his power to restore the pleasure which must now be interrui)ted. And tliis is what I shall ere long request ; because I have not sj)oke my whole mind ui)on the present subject. Asp. Whenever you think proper, The- ron. This is to me a favourite subject ; and not to me only, but to incomi)arably Viig. /Fii. 1. 176 THERON AND ASPASIO. l)etter judges. The man who had been caught up into the third heavens, and seen the visions of God, " determined to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him cracifi- ed," (1 Cor. ii. 2.) At the gi-andest as- sembly that ever was convened on earth, this furnished the principal, if not the only topic of conversation. And in that world where the voice of joy and thanksgiving is perpetually heard, this constitutes the biu-- den of the -song, " Thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood," (Rev. V. 9.) DIALOGUE IV. Titer. I MUST now desire my Aspasio to inform me, what that grand assembly was, (which he mentioned in the close of our last discourse), and where convened ? Asp. Can you not guess, Theron ? — Was it in the plains of Thessaly, when Xerxes drew together the forces of more than half the known world, and appeared at the head of all the potentates of the east ? Was it in the Roman forum, when the Senators were assembled in their robes, and the barbarians took them for a spiod of gods ? No : it was on the mount of transfiguration, where the Son of the true God, the Lord of eter- nal glorj', shone forth in some of his celes- tial and native splendour; with garments white as the snow,* and a countenance bright as the sim : where he conversed with two of his most distingui.shed saints, just rome down from the regions of bliss and immortality ; with Moses the great deliver- er of the law, and with Elijah the resolute restorer of its honours : where he was at- tended by three of his principal ambassa- dors, who were to be the reformers of man- kind, and the lights of the world. This, I think, is the most venerable and august assembly that the annals of history have recorded. And what was the topic of conversation among these illustrious personages ? Not the affairs of state, nor the revolutions of empires ; not the curious refinements of literature, nor the wonderful discoveries of philosophy; but the igno- minious and bloody exitf which the divine * Mark ix. 3. The evangelist's description is, like tlie scene, remarkably bright, and the gradation of his images is almost as worthy of observation as the memorable fact. 'J'he garments were white — ex- ceeding white — white as the snow — whiter than any fuller on earth could make them : surpassing all the works of art, equalling the first and finest productions of nature. Nay, so great was the lustre, that it glis- tered like the lightning, and even dazzled the sight. t Does not this very delicately, yet very strongly intimate, that the sufferings and dea'th of Christ were the principal end of the Mosaic institutions, and the principal subject of the prophetic teachings ? For is it not natural to suppose, that Moses and Elijah in- tended, when ministering on earth, that very thing, which their conversation dwelt upon, when they de- scended from heaven ? Jesus was soon to make at Jerusalem. This circimistance, methinks, should strongly re- commend the subject to our frequent dis- coiu-se, even though it was less eminent for intrinsic dignity, and comfortable import. Talking in this manner, they arrive at the park ; which the moment you enter, fills the view with its bold, enlarged, and magnificent sweep. It was diversified wdth level and rising ground. Here scooped into mimic amphitheatres, with the deer pendent on the little summit, or shooting down the easy precipice ; there raised into gentle hillocks, some of which were cano- pied with a large spreading, solitary oak, others were tufted mth a cluster of taper- ing and verdant elms. Two or three cas- cades, gleaming from afar, as they poured along the slanting rock or the grassy slope, gave a pleasing variation to the prospect ; wliile they startled the timorous inexper- ienced fawns with their foaming current and watery roar. Grandeiu" and simplicity seemed to be the genius of the })lace. Every thing breathed an air of noble negli- gence, and artless majesty. In the centre of all rose a cm'ious roman- tic mount. Its form was exactly round, somewhat like a sugar-loaf, lopt off a little below the point. Not coeval with natin-e, but the work of human industry. Thrown up, it is supposed, in those perilous times, when Britain was alarmed by foreign in- vasions, or bled with intestine wounds. It was covered, all around, with alder shrubs ; whose ranks, gradually arising, and spread- ing, shade above shade, composed a kind of woody theatre, through which were struck two or three spiral walks, leading, by a gentle ascent, and under embowering ver-. dure to the summit. At proper intervals, and on every side of the hill, were formed little arborets with apertures cut through boughs to admit a prospect of the country. In one or other of these leafy boxes you command, at eveiy hoiu- of the day, either the enlivening sim, or the refreshing shade. All along the circling avenues, and all a- round the beauteous rests, sprimg daffodils, primroses, and violets ; which, mingling with hyacinths and cowslips, composed many a charming piece of natiu^al mosaic. How agreeable, as they climb and wind themselves round the hill, to reflect on the happy change which has now taken place ! Where steely helmets gleamed, or brazen shields clashed, the goldfinches twitter their loves, and display their painted plinnes. The dens of rapine, or the horrid haunts of bloodshed, are become the retreats of calm contemplation, and friendly converse. In yonder lower spaces, where the armed troops were wont to patrole, from whence they made excursions to ravage the villages DIALOGUE or terrify the swains, the fallow-deer trip lightly or the full-headed stags stand at bay. From a small eminenoe, but at a consid- erable distance, gushed a couple of springs, which, rambling through a grove, lost one another in the shady labyrinth. Emerging at length from the gloom, they approached nearer and nearer, and fell into embraces at the foot of this hill. They rolled, in ami- cable conjunction along the pebbly channel which encircles its basis, and added their sober melody to the sprightly warbling of the birds. Flowing oif in one common stream, they formed the fine pieces of water which beautified the park. From thence they stole into the meadow, and widened into a river. There, enamoured, as it were \vith each other, they glide by wealthy towns, and sweep through tiowcry vales ; regardless of the blooming toys which deck the one, and of the noisy crowds which throng the other. So, said Aspasio, may Theron and his Selina, pleasing and pleased with each other, pass through the busy and the amusing scenes of life ; neither captivated by the one, nor anxious for the other. With such harmonious agreement, and indissoluble union, may they pursue the coiu-se marked out by Providence, their happiness increas- ing, and their usefulness enlarging, as they draw nearer the Ocean of all good ! Then, parted by a gentle stroke of fate, like the waters of some ample stream severed by the piers of an intervening bridge, may they speedily reunite ! reunite in consum- mate bliss, and never be separated more ! Titer. I thank you, Aspasio, for your affectionate compliment. Nor can I wish you, by way of return, a greater recom- pence, than the contLimal exercise of such a benovolent temper. For to exercise be- nevolence, is to enjoy the most refined and exalted pleasure ; such as makes the near- est approaches to the felicity of the Eternal Mind, who, as the Scripture most beauti- fully speaks, " has pleasure in the prosper- ity of his servants." But while we are seated on this mount, our situation reminds us of (what you just now mentioned) the grand conference re- lating to the death of Christ — a business for which you have indeed accounted, but in a manner that may be thought not the most honourable to the divine attributes. Asp. I have represented it as a ransom for our souls, and a sacrifice for our sins. If you disapprove my account, be pleased to favour me with your own. For what puqjose, according to your opinion, did that ever-blessed i)erson die ? Ther. I'o confirm the truth of his doc- trine, and leave us a pattern of the most perfect resignation. Anp. And is this all ? Shall we thus im- IV. 177 poverish the riches of gi-ace ? Was this no- tion defensible, it could never be desirable. But it has as little to support it as it has to recommend it. For, upon such a suppo- sition, where is the difference between the death of Christ and the death of the martyrs ? They confirmed the truth of the gospel : In their sufferings was obe- dience and resignation, the same in quality, though not in degree. Upon such a sup- position, what benefit could the ancient patriarchs receive from the Redeemer ; since none could be improved by the exam- ple of his patience, or the pattern of his obedience, till they were actually exhibited, or how could Christ be styled " the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world ?" (Rev. xiii. 8.) the advantages of whose death commenced from the veiy beginning, as they will be prolonged even to the end of time. Not to depend on consequential argu- ments, let us hear the express declaration of our divine Master himself : " This is my blood, \vhich is shed," — for what ? To give credibility to my gospel, or yield an example of entire resignation ! Rather — " for the re- mission of sins," (Matth. xxvi. 28.) Will any one attempt to make the remission of sins, and the proposal of a pattern, or the ratifica- tion of a doctrine, synonymous terms ? They who can torture and transmute the genuine sense of words at this extraordinary rate, may metamorphose any expression into any meaning. If, then, we would consider our Lord's death in its due amplitude, we must con- sider it both as a pattern of piety and as a ransom for sinners : we must neither sepa- rate nor confound these very distinct, yet very consistent effects. Titer. Is it not inconsistent with the ac- knowledged principles of justice, that the innocent should be punished instead of the offender ? Asp. If the innocent person has an ab- solute power over his own life, willingly substitutes himself in the place of the guilty, and by his vicarious sufferings fully answers all the purposes of a righteous government ; —in this case, which was the case with our Lord, I see not the least repugnancy to the rules of justice. The Bible, that authentic transcript of the counsels of heaven, avows, and by avowing, vindicates the practice, " The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.* When all we like sheep had gone astray, and were exposed to the stroke of vengeance, as those wandering creatures to * Isa liii. 6. 1^ i?''D9/l matle to meet, or fall upon, in a hostile vindictive manner; with a design to take vengeance, or inflict death; asaH aimed man falls u)ion his enemy, or a fierce lion on the helpless iamb. M 179^ TilERGN AiiD ASPASIO. t'he nwenous Leasts ; the good shepherd in- terposed, and the jnst God made that ven- geance to fall upon him, which must other- wise have been executed upon us. " He suffered," says another inspired writer, " the iust for the unjust," (1 Pet. iii- 18.) that, by expiating our guilt, "he might bring us to God ;" now to his gracious favour, here- after to his blissiul presence. You will permit me to add a passage from our common favourite, Milton. Be- cause it is no less beautiful in itself, than it is pertinent to the occasion ; must please the critic, and may expound the apostle. Messiah, pleading in behalf of fallen man, thus addresses his Almighty Father : ' Man dead in sins and lost, Atonement for himself, or offering meet, (Indebted and undone !) hath none to bring. Behold me then ! me for him ! life for life I offer. On me let thine anger fall. Account me m.an : I for his sr.ke will leave Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee Freely put off; and for him lastly die Well-pleased : on me let death wreak all his rage.' Milton, b. iii. 1. £33. Ther. The fine imagination of a poet will hardly pass for a decisive argument. When we are searching after truth, we must attend to the dictates of reason, not I viour, or in all the writings of his apostles, follow the vagaries of fancy. And reason, They speak to a people who were accus- unanimous m supposnig ttiviir vicarious na- ture, so also are the Jewish writers. Ther. What man of sense pays any re- gard to the Jewish writers ? Legendary they are, and extravagant to the last degree. Dotards I might call them, rather than writers. Asp. They are, I believe, extravagant enough in their comments upon Scripture ; but they relate, with sufficient exactness and fidelity, the prevailing belief of their nation. In this case, their testin>ony is as luiexceptionable, as, in the other, their no- tions are chimerical. Now, had it been a mistaken belief, surely our blessed Lord, that infallible judge, and impartial reprov- er, would have testified his disapprobation of it. Surely his disciples, who were ac- tuated by the unerring and nndaimted spirit of their Master, would have entered their protest against it. Surely St, Paul, in his epistle to that very people, and in his trea- tise on that very subject, would have set himself to rectify such an error, and have weeded out the tares before he sowed the good seed. But there is not the least hint of this kind in all the discourses of our Sa- Aspasio, remonstrates against yoiu- notion of a vicarious sacrifice ; Reason, that pri- mary guide, and final test, both in discover- ing and determining the sense of Scripture. Asp. Suppose you, then, my dear The- ron, that none are in possession of reason but the pupils of Socinus, and the zealots for Deism ? or that none make use of reason in their religious inquiries, but men of this mould ? Wrong not the Christian, think not reason your's ; 'Tis reason our great Master holds so dear: 'Tis reason's injured rights his wrath resents ; 'Tis reason's voice obeyed his glorious crown, Through reason's wounds alone thy faith can die. Night Thoughts, No. IV. Poets, you see, are far from disclaiming reason- Equally far is Christianity from discarding the sober, the sanctified use of this noble faculty. When reason is un- der the influence and direction of the divine Spirit, we have the same high opinion of her excellence as yourself. And, when thus regulated, we have, I am persuaded, the sanction of her authority for all our sentiments. Reason, as she operated in the sagest of the heathen world, instead of rejecting, ap- proved and adopted this vei7 scheme ; ap- proved it even under the disadvantage of a mutilated and defective, or rather of a per- verted and dead form. The current lan- guage of the classic authors, and almost every historian of Greece and Rome, are vouchers for the truth of this observation. As the Gentiles were xmanimous in the custom of offering sacrifices, and equally tomed to look upon their sacrifices as pia- cular oblations,* and a typical expiation of guilt. They speak of our Redeemer's cru- cifi3don, and the benefits of his death, in the sacrificial terms, that were of current use and established signification. If, there- fore, the popular opinion was improper, their manner of expression and address must be calculated rather to authenticate error, than to propagate truth. So that, I think, even the silence of the inspired pen- men on this occasion, is but little inferior to a loud attestation. Did they only say nothing against the doctrine of satisfaction by sacrifice, it would in effect, and circum- stances considered, be saying abundance for it. But they are very copious and explicit upon the point. JJier. Where are they so copious ? If you have such a heap of their allegations, it will be easy to pick out a few, and give us a specimen. Asp. It is as easy, Theron, as it is de- lightful. " Messiah shall be cut off," says the Prophet Daniel, " but not for himself." (Dan. ix. 26.) For whom then, and for what? Isaiah informs us concerning both. " For the transgression of my people was he stricken," (Isaiah liii. 8.) Because this is an article of the last importance, it is re- peated, it is confirmed, it is explained, with the most remarkable particidarity : " He was wounded for our transgressions ; he was » This, I think, is incontsstably proved by Outram in I-.is treatise De .Sacrificiis. DIALOGUE IV. 179 bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and with his stripes we are healed." (Isaiah liii. 5.) Our Lord himself asserts the same tnith in the very same style : " I am the good shep- herd, and lay down my life for the sheep," (John X. 15.) St. Paul, in a multitude of passages, sets his seal to this momentous doctrine. St. Peter maintains it in very forcible words : " Who his own self bare our sins in his o\\ti body on the tree."* The sacred writers not only assert this capitid article, but use every diversity of speech, in order to give it the fullest evi- dence, and the strongest estiiblishment. " He made reconciliation for the sins of the people." (Heb. ii. 17.) "Jesus Christ the righteous is the propitiation for our sins." (1 John ii. 2.) " He loved us, and washed us from oiu- sins in his own blood." (Rev. i. 3.) " He was made sin for us, though he knew no sin." (2 Cor. v. 21.) Ther. Nobody makes any objection to these texts ; but the sense, the true sense of such phrases, is the thing in question. Asp. ^Vliat you call the question, to me appears so plain, as not to want a decision, or admit of a doubt. However, since you seem to demand a critical sci'utiny, it will not be thought pedantic if I make an ob- servation or two upon the original lan- guages ; or rather, as you are not acquainted with the Hebrew, on that language of which you yourself are a judge and a master. If one died for all, then were all dead. The preposition i/Ttj in this connexion, must ne- cessarily signify more than " on our account, or for our advantage." Because, if it be taken in this unsettled rambling sense, the apostle's argument is vague and inconclu- sive. In case our Lord had suffered, only " to free us from some evil, and procure us some benefit," this would by no means im- ply that all were dead, imder the sentence of condemnation, obnoxious, and doomed to death. (2 Cor. v. 14.) The utmost you can infer from such premises is, that all stood in need of a deliverance from some evil, or wanted the procurement of some good. Whereas, suppose the sacred writer to intend tlwt our Lord's death was truly vicarious, aiul undergone in oiu- stead ; that he suffered what was our due and our doom ; then the reasoning is just, and the inference undeniable. He gave himself avriXvr^ov irrt^, a ransom for all. (1 Tim. ii. 6.) If this does not im- ply the notion of vicarious, I veiy much question whether huiguage itself can ex- press it. Aurfov is a ransom, which con- veys a vicarious sense, in its most common and authorized acceptation. Ayn, which is equivalent to instead,* still more fully as- certains and strengthens the idea. TrEj, which is translated _/or, and denotes a sub- stitution of one in the place of another ;t this added to all, renders the expression as determinate and emphatical for the purpose, as words can possibly be. Shidl I argue from a more obvious topic, which has no such dependence on the pre- cise significancy of the original ? " Surely," says the prophet ; he speaks with vehe- mence, as of an affair which is very weighty ; he speaks with confidence, as of a face which is very certain : " He hath borne our griefs, and carried our son'ows, (Isa-. liii. 4. ) What can this mean, but he hath taken upon himself that affliction and those miseries which properly belong to us ? Let us read on, and this meaidng will present itself in the clearest view. " We did es- teem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted ;" we took him for a real malefac- tor, and thought that he was punished for his own misconduct. In opposition to which injurious and false surmise it is added, " but he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iiuquities." May I not here borrow the prophet's language, and say, with an air of certainty. Surely this is the plainest proof in the world, that our sins were the meaitorious cause of Christ's sufferings ; and if our sins were the meritorious cause of his sufferings, our guilt must be charged upon him, and pun- ished in him. St. Paid affirms that " Christ hath de- livered us from the curse of the law," (Gal. iii. 13.) How? By taking our place, and enduring what we deserved ; or, as the apos- tle himself speaks, to the same effect, but much more emphatical manner, "by being made a curse for us." Docs not this evidently denote both a commutation of persons, and a translation of punishment? He suffered, who Avas innocent ; not we, who were guilty. He also suffered that very sentence which the law denounced on us, for it is written, " Cursed is every one that continueth not m all things," (Deut. xxvii. 26.) to this we were obnoxious. It is written again, " Cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree," Gal. iii. 13.) to this Christ submitted. And if Christ en- • 1 Pet. ii. 24. Very forcible words indeed. He bare .—himself bare — our siius — in his own body; intended, one would imagine, to make the article of our Lords vicarious sufferin<;s clear beyond all niisct. ii. 4. 182 THERON AND ASPASIO. indignation, but of his love, let no ungodly wretches audaciously presume : It is not so ■with them. They are " the briars and thorns"* mentioned in the next clause; cumberers of the ground, improfitable and noxious. Them he warns, them he chal- lenges : "Who will set them in battle against me ?" Let them come on ; they shall find it a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. Nay, he will not stay for tbeir approach : " I will march against them," in his threat- ening : " I will pass through them ; I will bum them together." This wU certainly be the case, if not in the present yet in a future world. When once the master of the house is risen up, and has shut to the door, mercy is gone for ever. Then nothing must be expected, nothing will then be ex- perienced, but " vengeance and fiery indig- nation, to devoiu' the adversaries of the gospel." God will then "execute judgments in anger, and in fury, and in fiuious re- bidvcs," (Ezek. v. 15.) wth such aw^ul severity and immense glorj', as wiU cause heaven to adore, and heU to tremble. Yet in all this there is not the least tinc- ture of that outrageous temper, which in man we properly call fiuy. In man, fury implies an immoderate degree of resent- ment, which will hearken to no reasoning, and accede to no terms. The gospel ac- coiuit proves, even to a demonstration, that thisphas no place in the divine nature. So far from it, that God, though highly provoked, has provided an atonement, has made overtures of reconciliation to his dis- obedient creatures, has even besoughtf a guilty world, to accept of forgiveness, (2 Cor. V. 20.) This is the purport of that gracious invitation which follows in the prophet : " Let him," let the wicked man forsake his way, " and take hold of my strength ;" let him fly to my cnicified Son, who is the power of God for the sal- vation of sinners ; cleaving to his merits by faith, as some poor delinquent to the horns of the altar. I Thus he shall make peace ; * There is a fine contrast between the vineyard and the thorns, at the same time a regular continuation of the metaphor. As nothing is more common than to see the latter shooting up amidst the former ; so no- thing is more common than to have hypocrites inter- mingle themselves with believers. t 2 Cor. V. 20. It was an instance of singular com- passion in the blessed God, that though oftended with Job's friends, he admitted of a sacrifice, and directed them to an intercessor ; both typical of Christ Jesus. But what unparalleled condescension, and divinely tender rnercies, are displayed in this verse ! " As though God did beseech you by us; we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to Goci." Did the judge ever beseech a condemned criminal to accept of pardon ? Does the creditor beseech a ruined debtor to receive an acquittance in full; yet our al- mighty Lord, and our eternal Judge, not only vouch- safes to offer these blessings, but invites us— entreats us — with the most tender and repeated importunity solicits us — not to reject them ? t This is the precise idea included in the original Din and the idea is as charming, as the image is expressive. Isa, xxvii, 5. 1 Kings i. 50. all his iniquities shall be forgiven, and all my displeasure shall be pacified. So that the insinuations of our satirical gentlemen are as egregiously mistaken, as they are shockingly worded. You are a man of sense, Theron, and es- teem that character far above the idle re- putation of a wit. As such, let me ask you seriously, is it not for the honour of the divine majesty to exercise justice as well as mercy? Always to pardon, and never to punish, would be tameness, rather than be- nignity ; a renunciation of holiness, rather than a display of goodness. Or can it be right in us so extravagantly to magnify the amiable, as depreciate, nay even anni- hilate, the awful attributes of Deity : This, says a poet, is the theology, not of Christ- ians, but of infidels j Who set at odds heaven's jarring attributes. And with one excellence another wound ; Maim heaven's perfection, break its equal beams. Bid mercy triumph over— God himself, Undeified by their opprobrious praise : A God all mercy is a God unjust. Night Thoughts, No. IV. Ther. But we have lately been told, that the pardoning grace of the Lawgiver is not obstructed by any demands of law and jus- rice ; for he can set them aside. Asp. What ! Set aside a law, which is holy, righteous and good ! set aside a jus- rice, which is eternal, inflexible, and in- finite ! — St. Paul gives a very difierent so- lution of this difficiflty. He tells us, not that God set aside his law and his justice ; " but that he set forth the blessed Jesus for a propitiation, through faith in his blood," with, this express design, " that he might declare his righteousness," (Rom. iii. 25,) might demonstrate, not only his clemency, but his justice, even that vindictive justice whose essential character and principal ofiice is to pmiish sin. This seems to be the import of the word riyhteousness in the present connexion, and, I think, more than seems, if we consult the following verse, " to declare, I say, at this time his righteousness, that he might be just,"* evidence himself to be strictly and inviolably righteous, in the administrarion of his government ; even while he is the all- forgiving, gracious justifier of the sinner that believeth in Jesus. According to this plaji, mercy and truth meet together ; right- eousness and peace kiss each other," ( Psalm Ixxxv. 10,) all the attributes harmonize; every attribute is glorified ; and not one superseded ; no, nor so much as clouded. Ther. If some are verging to one ex- • Rom. iii. 26. The attribute of justice must be preserved inviolate ; and inviolate it is preserved, if there was a real infliction of punishment on our Savi- our. Nothing else can thoroughly clear up this great evangelical paradox — " Just, yet Justifier of the un- godly." DIALOGUE IV. 183 treme, are not you incliriiiig to the other ? Our ears tingle, and our blood runs chill, at the very thoughts of so severe a vengeance, executed on an object so worthy and illus- trious. Besides, how can we suppose that the beneficent Creator and presener of men should take pleasure in the sufferings of the most unblamable person that ever existed ? Especially since he himself has made this tender declaration, " 1 will have mercy and not sacrifice." (Matt. ix. 13.) Asp. A tender declaration indeed it is ; signifying, that God is better pleased with the duties of humanity and charity, than with the most costly and pompous train of sacrifices ; nay, that he will even dispense with the observance of his own ceremonial institutions, when they interfere with our CKercise of beneficence one to another ; thus resigning (so admirable is his goodness!) the services due to himself, for the benefit and comfort of his creatures. But all this lias no sort of relation to the sacrifice of Clu-ist, which was the most noble, and the most acceptable oblation ever made to the King of heaven. We are assured by a prophet, that " it pleased the Lord to bruise his holy child Jesus." God not only gave up liis Son to sufferings, but gave liim up with a divine complacency. * In like manner, the blessed Jesus addressed himself to the dreadful task, not only without reluctance, but v\dth the utmost alacrity. f " I delight to do thy will," was the language of his soid. Should you ask, how could the Son take pleasure in undergoing, or the Father in inflicting, such amazing sorrows ? No otherwise, than upon account of those grand and everlasting advantages which were to result from them. " A severe vengeance," you say, " such as makes our ears to tingle." This is the very thing intended, to awaken and alarm pre- sumptuous offenders ; that they " may hear and fear and do no more wickedly." It is such a method of dispensing grace, as is cal- culated to strike the deepest terror, even while it cherishes the brightest hope ; strike the deepest terror on every persevering sin- • This ii the idea included in the original word i*3n. Isa. liii. in. Which is but poorly and faintly represented by the BuXtrai of the Septuagint. t Utmost alacrity— There it no inconsistency be- tween this assertion and our Lord's supplication ; " Father, if it be possible, let thi» cup pass from me ; nevertheless, not my will but thine be done." Such a deprecatory request, put up with so much e.irnest- iicss, yet with so much submission, only shows the extreme severity of our Redeemer's angmsh, and the prodigious weight of his woes. And this indeed it nhows beyond the power of description. His.irdent love to mankind, ,ind his fervent zeal for his Father's glory, prompted him to desire these suft'erings. His invincible resolution, and unequalled magnanimity, emboldened him not to decline, but to meet them. Yet they were so great, so terrible, that his nature being human, could not but recoil a little, and he t^artcd at their approach, and h.nd it not been divine alio, must ineritably h.ivc ro.r.k under the ioad- ner — while it cherishes the brightest hope on every penitent trajisgressor. Ther. If one of my servants bad aflStont- ed or injiu'ed me, I should upon his sub- missive acknowledgment, forgive his fault, and not insist upon satisfaction for the wrong. Will you make the father of com- passions more inexorable in his nature, more rigid in his demands than a human master ? Asp. When you have a servant that owes his being to your power, that has re- ceived inmimerable benefits from your bounty, yet has offered you innumerable af- fronts, all attended with the most aggravat- ing circumstances, and all in defiance of the most righteous threatenings ; when you are possessed of infinite majesty, and unblem- ished sanctity ; when truth inviolable, and justice inflexible, are essential to your cha- racter ; then, Theron, the parallel will hold good, and your conduct shall be a pattern for the procedure of Jehovah. Till then, you and I must be willing to forgive, because God has made it oiu- own bouiiden duty ; and because we have incom- parably more to be forgiven by the Judge of the world, than we can possibly remit to our fellow-creatures. In the mean time, you will allow the great God, who is gloii- ioua in holiness, to communicate his hea- venly favours in a manner becoming him- self; on such august and honourable terms, as shall maintain the rights of his universal government, and manifest the glory of liis adorable attributes. Ther. Might not God have cancelled our transgression,s, and received fallen men into his favour, without any propitiation ? To deny this, would be to limit the Holy One of Israel, and impose conditions on that uncontrollable Sovereign, "who giveth no accoimt of any of his matters." Asp. We need not embarrass ourselves by entering upon inquiries, which may seem to lie beyond the limits of human understand- ing ; — enough for us to know, that this propitiation was absolutely necessary with regard to the first covenant. For as God hat! solemnly declared, " In the day thou eatest thereof, dying thou sh;dt die," his truth and justice stood engaged to execute the threatening. And no second Adam coidd restore the first, but by taking this curse upon himself. " Die man, or justice must ; unless for him. Some other able, and as willing, pay The rigid satisfaction, death for death." Hilton, b. 3. 1. 210. Therefore the divine Jesus, who lay in the bosom of the Father, and knew the counsels of heaven, says, " The Son of man must be lifted up,"* on the cross. There • John. iii. 14. A-j tov, ^Vc. The srmc txprei. siop. is used, Luke xxiv. 26, ]84 THERON AND ASPASIO. "was a necessity for his crucifixion ; because this was stipulated in the covenant of peace made between the Father and the Son : be- cause it was expressly foretold by the an- cient prophets, (and the scripture cannot be broken), that the Messiah should be cut off out of the land of the living ; because a va- riety of types, and a multitude of sacrifices, prefigured his death : one of the types point- ed out the very manner of his suffering; and all the sacrifices, detached from their dependency on this great oblation, would have been beggarly elements — mere unavailing empty ceremonies. I apprehend, it is no limitation of the great God to suppose him incapable of acting otherwise than in perfect and perpetual con- sistency with himself. Neither is it any infringement on his absolute sovereignty, that he cannot but order all affairs for the honoiu- of his justice, his fidelity, and each of his exalted perfections. This is the very thing which the sacred writers express in their plain but strong language, " God who cannot lie," (Tit. i. 2.) " He cannot deny himself," (2 Tim. ii. 13.) Ther. God is often said to forgive our sins ; particularly in that sublime passage, where he proclaims his name to Moses : " The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suifering, abundant in good- ness and truth ; keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin." Now, pardon is a free thing. Freeness is implied in the very nature of forgiveness. Take away the former, and you destroy the latter. If an equivalent be given, pardon is no longer pardon, but a purchase. For- giveness ceases to be an act of grace, and becomes the payment of a debt. Asp. The text you quote is truly sublime and equally comfortable. But you forget to mention one article of very great moment, which closes and completes the glorious character ; which seems added on purpose to prevent any wrong apprehensions of the Deity, and to guard against all abuse of the doctrine : " He will in no wise clear the guilty."* — Godwillnot,onanyconsidei'ation whatever, absolve the obstinate, persevering, irreclaimable ofl^ender ; neither will he ac- Auit any of the guilty race, absolutely, un- ..nditionally, or without such a satisfaction as may repair the honour of his injured law. • Exod. xxxiv. 7- This text is not without its dif- ficulty, especially in the original. Steuchus inter- prets the words, Et innncens non etit sine piaculo, " He shall not be acquitted without a piacular sacri- fice." I think they may be translated, with a little more propriety and exactness, thus: " Pardoning in- iquity, transgression, and sin," HDJI is) Jlp^') though not with impunity; or rather, "though he will by no means let it go unpunished," meaning sin; which is the immediate antecedent, is expressed in the three preceding words, and may very properly be referred to in tliis clause. " We have redemption through his blood," says the apostle, " even the forgiveness of our sins," (Eph. i. 7.) It is forgiveness, you see, though bought with a price. It is remission, though prociu-ed by blood. It is free with regard to that Sovereign Being who pardons ; for he was under no obliga- tion to admit of a propitiatory sacrifice, but might, without any diminution of his dignity, have left all mankind to perish in their sins. It is free with regard to the obnoxious crea- tures who are pardoned ; for it is vouchsaf- ed without any satisfaction demanded at their hands, or any penalty inflicted on their persons. It is in this respect also free, that an interest in the great atonement is granted to us, wdthout the least merit, or any deser\dng qualifications of our own. In all this God is not only merciful but most tenderly and immensely merciful. And \vlLl any one calumniate this adorable me- thod of exercising mercy, because provision is also naade for the glory of God's truth, God's holiness, and supreme authority ? Ther. Does not yoiu- notion of a propi- tiatory sacrifice derogate from the goodness of the Almighty Father, and transfer all our obligations to the incarnate Son? Asp. Is there not goodness in allowing a substitute to sutfer in our stead ? Is there not still greater goodness in providing a sub- stitute for us, without any solicitation on otu- part? Is there not the very highest exertion of goodness, in appointing a dear, an only, an incontparably excellent Son for the piu^ose ? This marvellous scheme, far, very far from obsciu-ing, most illustriously displays the superabundant loving-kindness of the Father. " God so loved the world," apostate and polluted as it was — How did he love it ? To a degree unutterable by any tongue, inconceivable by any imagination, and only to be expressed by the infinitely-precious effects : Loved it so, " that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have everlasting life;" (John iii. 16.) And does this dero- gate from the goodness of the Almighty Father, to give not barely pardon and life, but give them through the hands, nay, through the wounds, the agonies, the death, of his divinest, dearest Son ? Such privileges, vouchsafed on any terms, must challenge the devoutest acknowledg- ments. But when attended with this ad- ditional demonstration of favour, they are enough to inflame us with gratitude, and transport us with admiration. They not only manifest, but commend* the divine * Kom. V. 8. Tu^rii". It seems to be an image taken from the practice of tradesmen : who, in show- ing their goods, point out their excellencies, and set in the clearest light whatever may bespeak their worth, or recommend them to the purchaser. DIALOGUE IV. 185 love ; show it to the greatest advaiitajre, in the highest perfection, with every circum- stance of recommendation and endearment. By this means, blessed God ! thon hast un- speakably enhanced thy benefits ! thou hast rendered them, though invaluable in them- selves, exceedingly more so by the manner of conferring them ! Ther. Again in your elevations, As- pasio ? The world, you know, is grown very rational and inquisitive ; will admit nothing but upon clear evidence and full conviction. We expect, in ;dl religious in- quiries, not the flights of fancy, or the sal- lies of zeal, but a sobriety of reason and so- lidity of argument. Asp. The world, rational as it is, seems, by the taste of the present age, no enemy to works of fancy. The world therefore may not be displeased with an affecting stoiy. And a story, suitable to the occa- sion, just occurs to my mind ; such as may serve to shadow forth, though very faintly, the surpassing benignity and grace of our crucified Lord. An Asiatic queen, departing this life, left behind her three accomplished sons, all arrived to years of maturity. The young princes were at strife who should pay the highest respect to their royal mother's me- mory. To give scope for their generous contention, they agreed to meet at the place of her interment, and there present the most honourable gift they knew how to de- vise, or were able to procure. — The eldest came and exhibited a sumptuous monument, consisting of the richest materials, and orna- mented with the most exquisite workman- ship. The second ransacked all the beau- ties of the blooming creation ; and offered a garland of such admirable colours, and de- lightful odours, as had never been seen be- fore. The youngest appeared, without any pompous preparation, having only a crystal bason in one hand, and a silver bodkin in the other. As soon as he approached the tomb, he threw open his breast ; pierced a vein, that lay opposite to his heart ; received the blood in the transparent vase ; and, with an air of affectionate reverence, placed it on the beloved parent's monument. The spectators, struck with the sight, burst into a shout of general applause, and immediate- ly gave the preference to this last oblation. If it was reckoned such a singidar ex- pression of love, to expend a few of those precious drops, for the honour of a parent ; O how matchless, how ineffable, was the love of Jesus, in pouring out all his vital blood, for the salvation of enemies ! Ther. My gi-eatest objection is still to come. If Christ suffered in our stead, he must suffer that veiy punishment which was due to our iniquities. This your or- thodox divines affirm to be incomparably worse than bodily death ; to be nothing else than the everlasting displeasure of God. Asp. The punishment due to our ini- quities, was shame, death, and the divine wrath. As for shame — Was ever shame like that shame which our despised Redeemer bore? Though prince of the kings of the earth, yet born in a stable, and laid in a manger. When an infant, exiled from his own coun- try, and a vagabond in a foreign land. When engaged in the discharge of his mi- nistry, accused of the most flagitious crimes, and branded with the blackest names. When brought to his exit, apprehended as a thief; condemned as a malefactor, nay, the vilest of malefactors, a robber and a murderer is preferred before him. His executioners poured contempt upon all his venerable offices. As a king, they ridi- culed him, by putting a mock sceptre into his hand, and crowning him with ragged thorns* instead of a royal diadem. They vilified his prophetic character by hood- winking his eyes, striking his blessed head, and then asking, in cruel derision, " who it was that smote him ?"f They cast reproach on his priestly undertaking, when they sharpen- ed their tongues with malicious irony, and shot out those bitter words, " He saved others, himself he cannot save," (Matth. xxvii. 42.) To render his infamy as pub- lic as it was shocking, they hung him on a tree ; and exposed him, defiled as he was with spitting, and disfigured vnth wounds, to the gazing eyes and contumelious scoffs of numberless spectators. If you doubt whether Christ sustained the ^vrath of God, let us follow him to the garden of Gethsemene-^a scene, which I would always recollect when I walk along the fertile vale, or expatiate amidst the flowery garden, or enjoy the delights of any rural retirement. — He had no remorse to a- larm his spotless conscience ; yet fearfulness and trembling came upon him. No vio- lence was offered to his sacred person ; yet a horrible dread overwhelmed him. It was night, cold night ; and though our divine Master lay prostrate upon the earth, amidst the fall of chilling dews, he sweat — sweat blood — sweat great drops of blood, run- ning down in reeking streams to the ground ! — " He was anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows," (Psal. xlv. 7.) yet so insupportable was his afiiiction, that he could not forbear crying out, " My sold is sorrowful — exceeding sorrowful — • To have crowned the blessed Jesus with straw, would have been a vile insult, and treating him like an ambitious madman. But to crown him with keen, pungent, lacerating thorns, was adding cruelty to their insults; unheard-of barbarity to the most con- temjituous mockery. Matt, xxvii. 39. t Scornfully insinuating, that his sacred prophetic otTicc was fit for nothing, but to serve such aespicable purposes, Matt. Jtxvi. (JO. 186 THERON AND ASPASIO. sorrowful even unto death!" (Mat. xxvi. 38.) What cause, what adequate cause, can be assigned for this amazing anguish ? None but th« wrath of his Almighty Fa- ther, who was now become an inexorable Judge ; and treated him no longer as the Son of his love, but as the Siurety for un- numbered millions of guilty creatures. Ther. "Was it possible that the innocent and holy Jesus, the dearly beloved Son of God, should be an object of his Father's wrath ? Asp. It was not only possible, but una- voidable and necessary : unavoidable, with respect to the divine holiness ; necessary, for the prociuement of our redemption. Sin was charged upon Christ ; all the sins of all believers, in all ages and places of the world. And could the infinitely-righteous God behold such a deluge of iniquities, (those abominable things, which he hateth) without expressing his displeasure? Or could the blessed Jesus be punished, truly punished for them, without any painful sen- sation of their horrid evil, and of that tre- mendous indignation which they deserved ? If this was not the case, who can main- tain the dignity of his conduct during the agony in the garden ? Was there no pouring out of the divine displeasure ? Then his be- haviour in that hour of trial did not equal the intrepidity of the three Hebrew youths, who continued calm, and without the least perturbation, while the furnace was heated into seven-fold THge, (Dan. iii. 16, 17, 18.) But if this was the time in which, no creat- ed arm being strong enough to give the blow, " it pleased the Lord to bruise him," (Isa. liii. 10.) if the most high God " bent his bow like an enemy, and stood with his right hand as an adversary," (Lam. ii. 4.) it is easy to account for the prodigious conster- nation of our Redeemer. It is not to be wondered, that his heart, though endued with otherwise invincil)le fortitude, should become like melting wax. For who know- eth the power of that wrath, at which " the pillars of heaven tremble?" (Job. xxvi. 11.) Ah ! Theron, the vinegar and the gall which they gave him to drink, were not half so bitter as the cup of his Father's wrath ; yet, for our sake, he drank it off to the very dregs. The nails that pierced his hands, and the spear that cleft his heart, were not half so shai-p as the frowns of his eternal Fath- er's countenance ; which, for our consolation, he patiently submitted to bear. — He was rent with wounds, and racked with pain ; liis bones were dislocated, and his nerves convulsed : a thousand thorny daggers were planted in his temples, and life flowed out at ten thousand gushing veins. Yet this, all this was gentle, was lenient, in compari penetrated his very ioul. The former fetch- ed not a single complaint from his mouth ; the latter wnmg from his breaking heart that passionate exclamation ; " My God ! my God ! why hast thou forsaken me ?" — Astonishing words ! Surely, a distress, be- yond all imagination grievous,* uttered them. Surely, the vengeance, not of men, but of heaven itself, extorted them. Every syllable of which speaks what the mourn- ing prophet describes, " Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by ? Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, wherewith the Lord hath afflicted me in the day of his fierce anger?" (Lam. i. 12.) Here now is our whole punishment en- dured ; the shame of the cross, and the sorrows of death ; the suspension of the Almighty's favour, and the terrible sensa- tions of his wrath. Ther. Be it so. Yet all this amounts to no more than part of payment. For these sufferings were transient, temporary only, not eternal. Therefore the main cir- cumstance, the most bitter ingredient, was wanting. Asp. In the estimate of di\dne justice, and in point of penal satisfaction, they were equivalent to our endless puiushment ; especially if we consider the severity of the sufferings and the dignity of the Sufferer. TTie severity of the sufferings. At the last day, all those fierce eruptive llames, which have raged in .^tna, in Vesuvius, and in every other bumingmountain through- out the world ; all those confined subterra- nean fires, which have so terribly shaken the foundations of Jamaica, Sicily, and Con- stantinople— in a word, the whole element of fire, however employed through all the revolutions of time, wherever diffused through all the regions of the globe, will then be collet-ted from all quarters, and burst forth into one vast, resistless, general conflagi'ation. In some such manner, all that wrath, which was due to the innumer- * To heighten our idea of this distresi, the evan- gelists make use of the most forcible words — n^^urx ixD^fx^iiaHai, he was seized with the most alarm- ing astonishment— aSu^orso, he wajs overwhelmed with insupportable dejection — ^'fiXyros, he w* besieged on all sides, as it were, with an army of invading sorrows — He wrestled amidst strong cries and tears, not only witli the malice of men and rage of devils, but with the infinitely more dreaded indigna- tion of God; he wrestled even unto an agony of spirit, «» ayuvia. All these circumstances of horror and anguish, constitute what a celebrated poet very justly styles, " A weight of woe more than ten worlds could bear '." The critic, probably, will admire the propriety and beauty of this line, which, composed of nothing but monosyllables, and clogged with the frequent repeti- tion of a cumbrous consonant, makes thesound remark- ably apposite to the sense. May we all be sacred • have not only a refined taste to relish such . „ . . . eleganciesof composition, but an awakened heart, to son of those inexpressible agonies, which'fc*? the energy of such imiwrtant truths. DIALOGUE IV. 187 able multitude of sinners, redeemed from every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation, which, if executed on the offending creatures, had been prolonged to eternal ages — all that wrath was contracted into one inconceivably dreadful blaze, and at once poured out upon the interposing Surety ; at once flamed forth on our heavenly victim . This will appear more than probable, if, among other particulars, we contemplate the un- equalled magnanimity of our Lord, who is styled " the Lion of the tribe of Judah," ( Rev. vi. 5. ) and compare it with his bloody Bweat in the garden, and his exceeding bit- ter cry on the cross. * The dignity of the Sufferer. — Had our Saviom-'s sufferings been the sufferings of a mere man, or of the most exalted angel, I acknowledge they could have bore no pro- portion to our demerit. It were impossi- ble for a finite being to sustain the wrath, or discharge the debt. But they were the sufferings of the Prince of Heaven, and the Lord of Glory ; before whom all men are as dust, and all angels as worms. Was an infinite Majesty offended ? An infinite ]\Ie- diator atoned. Weigh the dignity, the im- mense dignity of the Redeemer's person, against the everlasting dui'ation of our pun- ishment, and it will not only counterbalance, but preponderate. Finite creatiu-es can never make an infinite satisfaction ; no, not through the most unlimited revolution of ages. Whereas, when our divine Lord un- dertook the work, being truly and properly infinite, he finished it at once. So that his sufferings, though temporary, have an aU- sufficiency of merit and efficacy. They are, in this respect, parallel ; nay, on account of the infinitude of his nature, they are more than parallel to an eternity of our punishment. It was Emmanuel, it was the incarnate God, who purchased the church, and re- deemed sinners, with his own blood. (Acts XX. 28.) The essential grandeur of oiu" Sa- viour communicated its ennobling influence to eveiy tear he shed, to every sigh he heav- ed, and every pang he felt. This renders his sufferings a perfect, as their vicarious nature renders them a pro- per, satisfaction. And though " the wood of Lebanon was not sufficient to burn, nor all the beasts thereof sufficient for a burnt- offering," (Isa. xl. 16,) this sacrifice fully answers the exigence of the case. This sacrifice sends up an ever-acceptable odour to the skies, and diffuses its sweet perfume tlirough all generations ; such as appeases heaven, and revives the world. Yes, Theron, you must give mc leave to ♦ I think the languaReof the Greek liturgy is the language of strict propriety, as well as of fervent de- votion, Ai' ayiiM^uv e u Tocfyifi.aTuv. The suffer- ings of our I.ord arc, in their measure and weight, to us unknown ; absolutely beyond the reach of hu- man imagination. repeat the delightful truth : It was " the great God, even our Saviour Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us." (Tit. ii. 13, 14.) His sacrifice, therefore, must be inconceiv- ably meritorious. O that sinners, the vilest of sinners, knew its all-sufficient efficacy ! they would no longer be holden in the bonds of iniquity, by that destructive sug- gestion of the devil, " There is no hope." (Jer. ii. 25.) Ther. What valuable end could such vi- carious sufferings accomplish ? Suppose God absolutely inexorable, and they cannot avail. Suppose him divinely merciful, and they are needless. Asp. The difficulty you propose, I think, has been obviated already ; so that I have no occasion to solve your dilemma, but only to answer your query. These sufferings, as a punishment, gave ample satisfaction to the divine violated law ; as a sacrifice, they per- fectly reconciled us to our offended God ; as a price, they redeemed us from every evil, and purchased for us a title to all good. This is a subject of the most distinguish- ed importance. Let not my Theron ima- gine, I would abuse his patience, if I dwell a moment longer on the favourite topic. I might enumerate many ends, all magnificent and gracious, accomplished by this wonder- ful expedient. I content myself with spe- cifying a few ; but those, such as bring the highest glory to God, administer the most solid comfort to man, and most effectually promote the interests of piety. In this we have a manifestation of the most awful justice, and at the same time a display of unbounded goodness. Awful justice, in that the great and terrible God, though determined to exercise mercy, would exercise it only in such a maimer as might vindicate the authority of his law, might testify the purity of his nature, and declare the inviolable faithfulness of his word. Un- bounded goodness; in that he withheld not his Son, his only Son, but freely gave him up for us aU ; gave up " the brightness of his glory," to be covered with infamy ; gave up " the beloved of his soul," to expire in agonies ; on purpose to obtain honour and immortality for apostate men. The tor- ments inflicted on all the damned in hell, are not so fearfid a monument of God's jus- tice, as those dying agonies of the Lord Jesus Chi^st. Nor could a thousand worlds conferred on mankind, have been such an act of superiibundant munificence, as that gift of his ever-blessed Son. Look we for power and wisdom ? To up- hold tlie humanity of Christ, under all the studied cruelties of men, under the insatiate rage of devils, and the far more tremendous curse of the divine law ;* to conquer sin, • Isaiah xliii. 0. " I the Lord, will hold thine liaiid, and will keep thee." This is spoken of the 188 THERON AND ASPASIO. and death, and hell, by a person bound with fetters, nailed to a tree, and crucitied in weakness ; to expiate, by one offering, the innumerable millions of crimes committed by all his people from the beginning to the end of time : was not this power ? match- less power ! astonishing power ! And as for wisdom, how admirable was the contriv- ance, which could harmonize the seemingly opposite claims of mercy and of justice ! and not only satisfy each, but mag^fy both ! Had punishment been executed in all its ri- gour on the sinner's person, mercy had lost her amiable honours. Had the sinner been restored to favour, without any penalties sustained either by himself or his Surety, justice had been set aside as an insignificant attribute. Whereas, by our Lord's vicari- ous and expiatory sufferings, both are mani- fested, and both are exalted. Therefore the Scripture affirms, that God hath not only exercised, but abounded in wisdom and prudence ; nay, hath abounded in all wis- dom and prudence, (Eph. i. 8,) by this combination of righteous vengeance and triumphant grace, which is at once so hon- ourable to himself and so advantageous to his people. Thcr. " Advantageous to his people." — I am glad you are come to this point. This is what I want to have cleared up. I am for those doctrines, which glorify God by doing good to man. Give me the reli- gion whose aspect is benign, and whose agency is beneficial : not like a meteor, to dazzle us with a vain glitter ; or like a comet, to terrify us with a formidable glare ; but like yonder sun, whose beams shed light, and life, and joy all around. Asp. If this be what you seek, and what you prize, the Christian religion, this doc- trine in particular, uall answer your warmest expectations, and challenge your highest es- teem ; for it is rich with benefits of the most needful, the most desirable, and most exalted kind. — The first and grand blessing is pardon of sins ; pardon, not of small sins only, but of the most aggravated, the most horrid, the most enormous. Be they flam- ing as scarlet, be they foul as the dunghill, be they black as hell itself — yet they shall be as the spotless wool, or as the virgin snows. Isaiah i 18. They shall " be, as though they had never been." Pardon, not of a few, but of all sins. Be they numer- ous as the hairs of our hcatC numerous as the stars of heaven, numerous as the Piind upon the sea- shore, the blood of Jesus cleanseth from them all. ( 1 John i. 7. ) Messiah. It gives him assurance of effectual support, when the vengeance of heaven, the fury of Iiell, and the sins of the world, should fall upon him with unit- ed violence. To support the Mediator under these circumstances, is mentioned as a very distinguished act of that onmijiolcnt arm, which created the hea- vens, and spread forth the earth, and yivelh spirit to ;htia th.it walk therein, vcr. 5. Hereby we have victory over death, and admittance into everlasting life. For thus saith the holy apostle, concerning the poor sojourners in clay. "Seeing therefore the children were partakers of flesh and blood, he also partook of the same : that, by un- dergoing death he might destroy him who had the power of death, that is the devil • and deliver those who, through fear of death, were all their lifetime subject to bondage." (Heb. ii. 14, 15.) And thus saith the ve- nerable elder, concerning the glorified saints in light : " These are they who came out of great tribulation ; and they have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb ; therefore are they be- fore the throne." (Rev. vii. 14.) The Philistines rejoiced when Samson, the destroyer of their country, was delivered into their hands. How much greater rea- son have we to rejoice, since the blessed Jesus has vanquished our last enemy ! has made death the minister of endless life, and the grave a gate to eternal glory ! Joseph had cause to be glad, when he put oS his prison-garments, and was clothed with change of raiment ; when he was brought from the diuigeon to the palace, and hon- oured with a seat at the right hand of the king. But is it not an incomparably richer blessing, to have our robes washed in re- deeming blood, and our souls cleansed from all guilt .'' Is it not an incomparably higher advancement, to be admitted into the bliss- ful presence, and to possess the everlasting kingdom of God ? To comprehend all in a word Hereby are procured, even for the most unworthy creatures, all the benefits of the new cove- nant. Therefore the blood of Christ is styled by a prophet, " the blood of thy cove- nant," (Zech. ix. 11.) by an apostle, "the blood of the everlasting covenant," ( Heb. xiii. 20.) and our Lord himself says, " this is the new covenant in my blood," (Luke xxii. 20.) Is it a privilege to know God, the infinitely amiable centre and source of all perfection ? Is it a most valuable en- dowment to have his laws put into our minds, and written on our hearts ? Is it a branch of real felicity to have our number- less sins forgiven, and not one of om: ini- quities remembered any more ? Is it the compendium of all happiness to have God for our portion and our exceeding great re- ward ? to be his peculiar treasiu-e, his lov- ing and beloved people ? ( Heb. riii. 10 — 12. Of all these we may say, They are tlie piu- chase of Immanuel's blood ; and whoever is truly interested in the one, is unques- tionably entitled to the other. Who, then, would refuse so comfort- able— Ther. Too comfortable, we might ima- gine, to be either tiije in itself, or safe in DIALOGUE IV 189 its consequences. Must knot tend to im- bolden the sinner in the prosecution of his vices ? Who need scruple to transgress, or be very solicitous to repent, if an all-aton- inf^ sacrifice has been offered for every kind and every degree of wickedness ? Asp. Would you have sinners intimidat- ed ? Nothing speaks such terror to the children of disobedience, as the bitter pas- sion and accursed death of Christ. All the rhetorical aggravations of sin, with regard to its loathsome nature, and execrable vile- ness ; all the severity of vengeance, execut- ed upon rebellious angels or wicked men ; all, all are weak and inexpressive, compar- ed with the dreadful emphasis of this great transaction. For if the Lord Almighty, spared not his own Son, when guilt was not found in him, but only imputed to him ; how much less shall he spare inconigible offt'iiders, who both habitually commit, and obstinately persist in their daring impieties ? If, by repentance, you mean an ingenuous sorrow for our transgi'essions, nothing is so likely to break the stony, or melt the icy heart, as these doleful effects of sin. Let us imag'ine ourselves present at Calvai-y, and standing by the cross. See ! the innocent, the amiable, the illustrious Saviour, hangs on a tree — a tree, torturous as the rack, and ignominious as the gibbet ! See ! his face is foid with spitting, and his sides are torn with the scourge. His veins stream ■ with blood, and his heart is wounded with anguish. There he hangs, abandoned by his friends, reviled by his enemies, and forsaken even by his God. Can we reflect, that we, even we, were the cause of this inconsolable misery, and not feel remorse in our con- sciences, or sorrow in our minds ? Can we reflect, that for us, for us he bore this amaz- ing torment, and not smite our breasts, or be pained at our very souls ? If, by repentance, you mean a thorough renunciation of all iniquity, no motive is so efl^ectual to divorce the heart from every abominable idol, and divert the feet from every : evil way, as an attentive consideration of ©ur Redeemer's d«\th. WTiose indignation does not rise against the infamous wretch that betrayed the blessed Jesus ? who is not ready to detest those envenomed tongues which accused him, and those barbarous hands which crucified him? Hovv then can we cherish those horrid lusts, which were the principal actors in this deepest of tragedies ? How can we caress, how can we entertain, how can we endure those ex- ecrable iniquities, which were the betrayers and murderers of the Prince of Life? " He bore our sins in his own bleeding, agonizing body on the tree;" not that we should be imboldened to forsake them, but incited to abhor them, and induced to forsake them ; that, in our practice and out afi"ections we shotdd not only be averse, but even " dead to sin," (1 Pet. ii. 24.) If you would have benevolence, your fa- vourite principle, take place and operate, it is impossible to lu-ge so endearing a per- suasive to universal good-will as this " kind- ness and love of God our Saviour," ( Tit. iii. 4.) Hovv can we indulge the sallies of resentment, or harbour the seeds of animo- sity, when the meek, the merciful, the infi- nitely gracious Redeemer, laid down his life for his bitterest enemies ? How can we treat with contempt or indifference, even the meanest of mankind, since our divine Master gave his all-glorious person for vile wretches, and miserable sinners? Never was there so winning a call to disinterested charity, as the amiable example of ('hrist j never so binding a cement of brotherly love, as the blood of the crucified Jesus. In short, would you have people possess- ed of every heavenly virtue, and animated to the practice of every good work ? No- thing administers so powerful an incitement to them all, as a lively and appro{)riating sense of this wondrous grace. Set home by the Holy Ghost,* it produces such a warm gratitude, and such a heart-felt joy, as are far more operative than the most awful threatenings, or the most cogent rea- sonings. So that, quite contrary to your suspicions, the native tendency of this ex- cellent doctrine is, to suppress ungodliness, and promote piety. Observe how the present calm evening, yonder mild declining sun, and these soft balmy breezes, have unlocked the flowery prisons, and detached a profusion of odours through the air; have inspirited the little songsters of the grove, and fetched lavish hannony from their throats. So sweetly will a true belief in Jesus Christ, and him crucified, draw forth all the powers of the soul, in acts of ready and cheerful obedience. He is therefore said, not only to justify, but also to " sanctify the people with his blood," (Heb. xiii. 12.) Let us consider the death of Christ, in this its full grandeur and extensive efficacy, and we sliall discern the admirable proprie- ty of the apostle's remark, " It became him, for whom are all things, and by whom are all things, in bringing many sons unto glory, to make the Captain of their salvation per- fect through sufferings," (Heb. ii. 10.) It * The reader will give me leave, on this occasion, to subjoin the noble aoxology of our church ; which, when thus applied, may be an excellent means, both of expressing our gratitude, and of quickening our devotion. " Glory be to the Father," for providing this all-sufficient atonement, and giving his Son to save a ruined world. " Glory be to the Son," for humbling himself lo the death of the cross, and ob- taining eternal redemption for sinners. " Glory be to the Holy Ghost," for testifying of Christ in our hearts, and appropriating this great salvation to our souls. 190 THERON AND ASPASIO. became, as an act of sovereignty in God, it comported with the dignity, and emblazon- ed (if I may so speak) the incomprehensible majesty of his perfections. As an execu- tion of impartial vengeance on our Surety, it asserted the rights of divine government, and secured the utmost veneration to the divine law. As an emanation of rich in- dulgence to us, it redressed all oiu- misery, and retrieves oiur whole happiness. In each, in every respect, it is worthy of the most grateful and adoring acceptance from sinful man, and such as will be had in everlasting honour by the choirs of saints, and the host of angels. Ther. I thank you, Aspasio. Your argu- ments have not indeed converted me, but they have strengthened my faith. I never was so unhappily mistaken, as to disbelieve the satisfaction made by our Lord Jesus Christ ; made to divine justice ; made for the sins of the world. But I now see more clearly its reasonableness and importance ; its cheering aspect on the guilty conscience, and its benign influence on the moral con- duct. Asp. I congratulate you, dear Theron, from my inmost soul, on your thorough con- viction of this important truth. May you have still more extensive and generous views of the glorious article ! and may every re- newed view be more and more influential on your heart ! Reviving, ravishing thought ! to have him for our bleeding victim ! him for our great propitiation ! at whose feet the armies of heaven bow, and the saints in light adore ! reviving, ra\ashing thought ! to have all our punishment sustained, and the whole ciu-se of the law exhausted ; so that justice itself can demand no moic! Nay, to have so per- fect a ransom paid for our redemption, that it is not barely an act of favourable indul- gence, but of the highest righteousness* also, to pardon, accept, and glorify the believer. In such a method of reconciliation, how fully does the judgment acquiesce, and how securely the conscience rest ! Excuse me, Theron. My affections are again upon the soar. But I clip their wings. — Only let me ask, is not this doc- trine the grand peculiarity of the gospel, by which it stands distinguished from every other religion professed in the world ? Is it not the central point, in which all the lines of duty unite, and from which all the rays • Therefore the apostle says, " God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins." 1 John i. 9. Faithful; because he had promised this blessing, by the unani- mous voice of all his prophets. Just; surely then he will punish ! No; for this very reason he will pardon. This may seem strange ; but, upon the evangelical principles of atonement and redemption, it is appar- ently true: because, when the debt is paid, or the purchase made, it is the nart of equity to cancel Uie Lund, and consign over the purchased possession. of consolation proceed ? Strike this article from the creed, and you reduce the mystery of godliness to a system of ethics ; you de- grade the Christian church into a school of philosophy. To deny the expiation made by our Redeemer's sacrifice, is to obscure the brightest manifestation of divine be- nignity, and to undermine the principal pil- lar of practical religion ; is to make a des- perate shipwreck of our everlasting interests, and to dash (such, I fear, it will be found in the final issue of things) ourselves to death on the very rock of salvation. Ther. Now, I believe it is time to repair homewards. And I hope it will be no dis- agreeable exchange, if we resign our seat on the mount for a place in the dining- room. Asp. Pray, let me inquire, as we walk along, (for I was unwilling to interrupt our discourse, merely to gratify my curiosity,) what may be the design of yonder edifice, which rises on a small eminence, near the public road ? It is neither a tower, nor a dwelling-house ; but looks like a stately column, erected on purpose to beautify the prospect. Ther. It is a sort of monumental pile : erected, as the story goes, on a very me- morable occasion. Queen Eleanor accom- panied King Edward the First to (what was called) the holy war ; in which he gained signal advantages over the infidels, and acquired a large share of renown to himself. After many gallant exploits per- formed in the field, a treacherous and des- perate Saracen, demanding admittance into his chamber, under pretence of private busi- ness, woimded him with an impoisoned dag- ger. The consequence of which, his phy- sicians declared, must be inevitable and speedy death, unless the poison was sucked out by some human mouth. This might possibly preserve the royal patient, but would be extremely dangerous to the oper- ator. Dangerous as it was, his Queen claimed the office ; insisted upon it, as the consort's right ; and executed it so faithfully, that she saved the king's life — so happily, that she lost not her own. After this, she retiuTied to England, lived many years, and bore se- veral children. But, sooner or later, royalty itself must pay the debt to natiu^e. Dying on a jomTiey to Scotland, she was brought back to the last and long home of oiu- En- glish monarchs.* Wherever her corpse rested, in the way to its interment, a struc- ture,! (such as you now behold) was raised. * Westminster Abbey. t One of these structures stands on the high roatf, near Northampton. It is surrounded with a large flight of steps, at the bottom; and ornamented to- wards the top, with four fcmalg statues, in full prQ. DIALOGUE V. .191 in order to porpetuate the memory of her conjugal iiffection. Asp. And should not our hearts be a monument of gratitude to the blessed Je- sus ? who drew the deadly venom, not from our veins, but from the immortal part of our nature ; and not at the hazard, but at the loss, the certain and unavoidable loss of his precious life ? He opened his breast, opened his very soul, to the keenest arrows of vindictive justice ; that, transfixing him, they might drop short of us ; " the poison whereof drank up his spirits," (Job vi. 4,) that the balm of peace might refresh ours. O, my Theron ! let our memories be the tablet, to record tliis unexampled instance of compassion and goodness. Let our af- fections dwell upon the tragical, the delight- ful history ; till they melt into contrition, and are inflamed with love. If we want an inscription, let us make use of those noble lines, which, in the finest climax imaginable, describe the magnificence and grace of this astonishing transaction : " Survey the wondrous cure. And at each step kt higher wonder rise. Pardon for infinite oflfence ! and pardon Through means that speak its value infinite ! A pardon bought with blood ! with blood divine ! With blood divine of him I made my foe ! Persisted to provoke ! Though woo'd and aw'd, Hless'd and chastised, a flagrant rebel still; Nor I alone ! A rebel universe ! My species up in arms ! N ot one exempt ! Yet for the foulest of the foul, he dies !" Niglit Thoughts, No. iv. DIALOGUE V. AsPASio having some letters of import- ance to answer, as soon as the cloth was taken away, retired frym table. His epis- tolary engagements being dispatched, he inquired for Theron. The servants in- formed him that their master walked into the garden. A very little search found him seated on an airy mount, and sheltered by an elegant arbour. Strong and substantial plants of labur- num formed the shell, while the slender and flexile shoots of syringia filled up the inter- stices. Was it to compliment, as well as to accommodate tlieir worthy guests, that they interwove the luxuriant foliage ? Was it to represent those tender but close at- tachments, which had united their affections, and blended their interests ? I will not too positively ascribe such a design to the disposi- tion of the branches. They composed, liow- ever, by their twining embraces, no inexpres- sive emblem of the endearments and the ad- vantages of friendship. They composed a canopy of the freshest verdure, and of the thickest texture ; so thick, that it entirely excluded the sultry ray, and shed both a cool refreshment, and an amusive gloom ; while every unsheltered tract glared with light or fainted with heat. You enter by an easy ascent of steps, lined with turf, and fenced with a balus- trade of sloping bay-trees. The roof was a fine concave, peculiarly elevated and stately. Not embossed with sculpture, not mantled over with fret-work, not incrusted with splendid fresco ; but far more deli- cately adorned with the syringa's silver tufts, and the laburnum's flowering gold ; whose large and lovely clusters, gracefully pendent from the leafy dome, disclosing their sweets to the delighted bee, and gently waving to the balmy breath of spring, gave the utmost enrichment to the charming bower. Facing the entrance, lay a spacious grassy walk, terminated by an octangular basin \vith a curious jet d'emi playing in the centre. The waters, spinning from the lower ori- fices, were attenuated into innumerable little threads, which dispersed themselves in a horizontal direction, and returned to the reservoir in a drizzling shower. Those which issued from the higher tubes, and larger apertures, either spmng perpendicu- larly, or spouted obliquely, and formed as they fell, several lofty arches of liquid crys- tal, all glittering to the eye and cooling to the air. Parallel to the walk ran a parterre, plant- ed with an assemblage of flowers, which advanced one above another, in regidar gra- dations of height, of dignity, and of beairty. First, a row of daisies, gay as the smile of youth, and fair as tbe virgin snows. Next, a range of crocuses, like a long stripe of yellow satin, quilted with threads, or diver- sified with sj)rigs of gi'een. A superior order of ranunculuses, each resembling the cap of an earl's coronet, r^lenished the third story with full blowTi tufts of glossy scarlet. Beyond this, a more elevated line of tulips* raised their flourished heads, and portion. A latin inscription informs the traveller, concerning its occasion ami design : " In perpetuam Regina; Eleanora: Conjugalis amoris raemoriain." • Here is, it must be confessed, somelittle deviation from the general laws of the season ; some anachorism in the annals of the parterre. The flowers united in this representation do not, according to the usual pro- cess of nature, make their appearance together. However, as, by the economy of a skilful gardener, they may be thus associated, I hope the possibility of the thing will screen my tlowery productions from theblasts of censure. Or, may I not snelter my bloom- ing asscmljly under the remark of a masterly critic, which is as pertinent to the case, as if it had been written on purpose for our vindication; and in all respects so elegant, that it must adorn every work which quotes it, and charm every person who reads it? " A painter of nature is not obliged to attend her in her slow advances, which she makes from one sea- son to another ; or to observe her conduct in the suc- cessive product ions of plants and flowers. He may draw into his description all the beauties of the Spring and .\utumn, and make the whole year contribute some- thing to render it more agreeable. His rose trees, wood 102 THERON AND ASPASIO. opened their enamelled cups ; not bedecked with a single tint only, but glowing with an intermingled variety of almost every radiant hue. Above all arose that noble ornament of a royal escutcheon, the fleur-de-luce, bright with etherial blue, and grand vvdth imperial piu-ple ; which formed, by its gi-aceful projections, a cornice or a capital of more than Corinthian richness, and im- parted the most consiunmate beauty to the blooming colonnade. The whole, viewed from the arbour, looked like a rainbow painted upon the ground, and wanted nothing to rival that resplendent arch, only the boldness of its sweep, and the advantage of its ornamental cui've. To this agreeable recess Theron had withdrawn himself. Here he sat musing and thoughtful, with his eye fixed upon a picture representing some magnificent ruins. Wholly intent upon his speculation, he never perceived the approach of Aspasio, till he had reached the summit of the mount, and was ready to take a seat by his side. Asp. Lost, Theron ! quite lost in thought ! and unaffected with all these ami- able objects ; insensible amidst this profu- sion of beauties, which, from every quarter, make their court to your senses ! Methinks, the snarling cynic in his tub, could hardly put on a greater severity of aspect than my polite philosopher in his blooming Eden. Ther. Ah ! my dear friend, these flowery toys, which embellish the garden, are fami- liar to my eye, and therefore cheap in my esteem. I behold them frequently, and for that reason, feel but little of the pleas- ing surprise which they may possibly awaken in a stranger. Something like this we all experience with regard to events infinitely more worthy our admiring notice. Else, why are we not struck with a mixture of amazement, veneration, and delight, at the grand macliinfery and magnificent produc- tions of nature ? That the hand of the Almighty should wheel roimd the vast terrestrial globe, with such prodigious rapidity and exact punctu- bines and jessamines may flourish together.andhisbeds be covered at the same time with lilies, violets, and amaranthuses. His soil is not restrained to any par- ticular set of plants, but is proper either for oaks or myrtles, and adapts itself to the product of every cli- mate.—Oranges may grow wild in it ; myrrh may be met witli in every hedge ; and if he thinks it proper to have agrove of spices, he can quickly command sun enough to raise it. His concerts of birds may be as full and harmonious, and his woods as thick and gloomy as he pleases. He is at ncr more expense in a long vista than a short one, and can as easily throw his cascades from a precipice of half a mile high, as from one of twenty yards. He has the choice of the winds, and can turn the course of his rivers in all the variety of meanders, that are most delightful to the reader's imagination. In a word, he has the model- ling of nature in his own hands, and may give her what charms he pleases, provided he does not reform her too much, and run into absurdities by endeavour- ing to excel."^Spect. Vol. vi. No. 41S. alit}', on purpose to produce the regular vi. cissitudes of day and night, on purpose to bring on the orderly succession of seed-time and harvest ! We wonder when we read of the Israelites sojoiu'ning forty years in the desert, marching backward and forward over its burning sands, and find neither their clothes waxing old, ( Deut- viiL 4,) by so long a use, nor their feet swelling with so painful joumies. (Neh. ix. 21.) Yet we are neither impressed with wonder, nor affected with gratitude, when we enjoy the benefits of the air, which clothes the earth, as it were, \vith a garment ; which has neither contracted any noxious taint through the extensive revolution of almost six thou- sand years, nor suffered any diminution of its natural force, though exercised in a se- ries of unremitted activity, ever since the elementary operations began. This draught in my hand, shows us the instability of the grandest, most laboured monuments of human art. They are soon swept away among the other feeble attempts of mortality ; or remain only, as you see here, in shattered ruins, memorials of the vain and powerless ambition of the builders. How strange then, that a structiu-e, incom- parably more tender and delicate, should be preserved to old age and hoary hairs ! That the bodily machine, which is so exquisite in its frame, so complicated in its parts, and per- forms so many thousands* of motions every moment, should continue unimpaired, yet act without intermission, so many days and weeks, and months and years ! How strange aU this ; yet, because common, how seldom does it excite our praise, or so much as engage our notice ! Asp. Your remarks are as just, as the neglect of them is customary Unaccount- able supineness ! Though " God doth great things," worthy of all observation, " yea, and wonders without number," we ya«ii with indolence, instead of being animated with devotion, or transported with delight. " Lo ! he goeth before us," in evident ma- nifestations of \visdom and power, yet we see him not ; " he passeth on also," and scat- ters unnumbered blessings from his provi- dential hand, " but we perceive him not." (Jobix. 10, 11.) * Thousands— Not to mention the spontaneous, if we consider only the mechanical motions, which are continually performed in the animal system ; the di- gestive action of the stomach— the vermicular agita- tion of the bowels— the progress of the chyle through the lacteal vessels — the many, many operations of the secreting gland&— the compression of the lungs, and all their little cellular lodgments by every act of res- piration : above all, that grand impetus, the systole of the heart, which, by every constriction, darts the crimson current through an innumerable multitude of arteries: and drives, at the same instant of time, the refluent blood through an innumerable multitude of corresponding veins. Such a view will oblige us to acknowledge that Theron's accoimt is far from being extravagant, that it rather diminishes than exagger- ates the real fact. DIALOGUE V. 193 This, though greatly culpable, is to be reckoned among the smallest instances of our ungratefiJ insensibility- Are we not inattentive even to the \\ork of redemp- tion ? That work, which according to the emphatical declaration of scrii)tuic, " ex- ceeds in glory," (2 Cor. iii. 9,) is by far the greatest, the most marvellous of all sub- lunary, perhaps of all divine transactions. Are we not shamefully unaffected, even with the appeai'ance of God in human tlesh ? Though the King of kings vouchsafes to exchange his tlirone for the humiliation of a servant, and the death of a malefactor ; though he is pleased by the imputation of his active as well as passive obedience, to become " the Lord our righteousness ;" yet Ther. You are taking an effectual way, Aspasio, to rouse me from my reverie, and make me indeed like the snarling philoso- pher. " Imputed righteousness is a scheme grossly frivolous and absurd, utterly insuffi- cient to answer the end proposed ; and, one would think, could never be depended on, where there is the least degree of under- standing, and capacity for reasoning."" Asp. Who is warm now, Theron? May I not remind my friend, that the resentful is no more fitted to work conviction than the rapturous ? Perhaps you have not duly considered this subject, nor seen it in the proper point of view. I have sometimes beheld a ship of war several leagues off at sea. It seemed to be a dim cloudy some- thing, hovering on the skirts of the horizon, contemptibly mean, and not worthy of a moment's regard. But, as the floating cit- adel approached, the masts arose ; the sails swelled out ; its stately form and curious proportions struck the sight. It was no longer a shapeless mass, or a blot in the prospect, but the master-piece of human contrivance, and the noblest spectacle in the world of art. The eye is never weary of viewing its structure, nor the mind in contemplating its uses. Who knows, Theron, but this sacred scheme likewise, which you now look upon as a confused heap of errors, may very much improve when more closely examined; may at length appear a wise and benign plan, admirably fitted to the condition of our fallen nature, and perfectly worthy of all acceptation. Then. I know not what may happen, » The reader will probably be disgusted at this heat of temper, this as|ierity of diction, and both so abruptly iiitroduied. I have no apology to make for my Theron. The readier has reason to be disgusted, has reason to be chagrined. Only let me desire him tt) remember that this is the very spirit, nay, these are the very words of a celebrated opposer of our doctrine: not added when he has fully proved the absurdity of the scheme, but assumed even upon the t!Ulalu^e to hi:i discourse. Aspasio ; but there seems to be very little probability of such a change. For, though my last opposition was a mock-fight, in my present objections I am vei-y sincere, and to this doctrine I am a determined enemy. The notion of a substituted and vicarious righteousness, is absurd even to common sense, and to the most natural and easy re- flections of men. Asj). It may not, my dear friend, agree with our natural a])])reheiisions, nor fall iii with the method which we might have de- nsed for the salvation of mankind. Btit this is the voice of scripture, and a maxim never to be forgotten : " God's thoughts are not as our thoughts, nor his ways as our ways,"(Isa. Iv. 8.) "His righteousness is like the strong mountains, and his judg- ments are like the great deep," (Psal. xxxvi. 6.) the former immoveable, the latter un- searchable. ' Thtr. The mention of mountains put me in mind of what I was reading yesterday ; the keen irony with which Abimelech's jjrincipal officer chastised the blustering Gaal : " Thou seest the shadow of the mountains, as if they were men," ( Judg. ix. 36.) He, it is sarcastically intimated, was afraid, and my Aspasio seems to be fond, of shadows. Asp. Happy for your Aspasio, that irony is no argum?nt. If a jury was impannell-ed to try me and my doctrine, I shoidd cer- tainly except against irony. Generally speaking, he is neither a good man, nor a true ; and, if I remember right, you your- self consented to set him aside in this de- bate. I shall therefore adapt my reply ra- ther to what is solid than what is smart. " This notion," you say, " is absiu'd even to common sense." A saying, on which I must beg leave to put a query. It was, I own, absolutely beyond the power of com- mon sense, unassisted by divine revela- tion, to discover this truth. I will grant, farther, that this blessing infinitely tran- scends whatever common sense has observed in all her converse with finite things. But if I have any the least acquaintance with common sense, I am very sure she will not, she cannot pronounce it an absiurdity. To this judge I refer the cause. And to open the cause a little, let me just observe that God imputed our sins to his Son. How else could the immaculate Jesus be pimished as the most inexcusable transgressor? " Awake, O sword, against the man that is my Fellow, saith the Lord of Hosts," (Zech. xiii. 7.) Is not this the voice of a judge, proncnmcing the sentence, and authorizing the execution ? Or rather, docs it not describe the action of justice, turning the sword from us, and sheathing it in Christ? AVho, if he was our substi- stute, with regard to penal suffering, \\ hy. o Wi THERON AND ASPASIO. inay lie not stand in the same relation with regaiil to justifying obedience? There is the same reason for the one as for the other, every argument, in favour of the former, is equally conclusive in behalf of the latter. Ther. I very freely grant, that Christ Jesus was punished in our stead ; that his death is the expiation of our sin, and the cause of our security from penal suffering. But this — Asp. Will undeniably prove, that sin was imputed to him ; otherwise he could not truly suffer in our stead, nor be justly punished at all. " And imputation is as rea- sonable and justifiable in one case as in the other, for they both stand upon one and the same foot ; and, for that reason, he who throws down one, throws down both." I should not have interrupted my Theron, only to introduce this answer from an eminent divine, who adds what should be very seri- ously considered : " And therefore, who- ever rejects the doctrine of the imputation of our Savioiu-'s righteousness to man, does, by so doing, reject the ijnjmtation of man's sin to our Saviour, and all the consequences of it. Or, in other words, he who rejects the doctrine of the imputation, does, by so doing, reject the doctrine of the expiation likewise."* T7ier. I know nothing of this divine ; and, eminent as he is, can hardly take his ipse dixit for a decision. Asp. I was in hopes you would pay the greater regard to his opinion, because he is not in the number of the whimsical fana- tics. Give me leave to observe farther, that the imputation of Christ's righteousness bears an evident analogy to another great truth of Christianity. We did not personally com- mit Adam's sin, yet are we chargeable with guilt, and liable to condemnation, on that — Tlier. How ! we chargeable with guilt and liable to condemnation on account of Adam's tiansgression ! This position I must deny, I had almost said, I must ab- hor. None other could, in the eye of jus- tice and equity, be blamable for any of- fence of om- tirst parents, but they only. Asp. So says Theron ; but what says St. Paul ? This may be the voice of natural reason, but what is the language of divine revektion ? " In whom," that is, in Adam, "all have sinned." Ther. The woi-ds, if I remember right, are, " For that all have sinned." Asp. In the margin, they are translated as I have repeated them» For this interpre- tation I might contend, as not in the lease incompatible with the original phrase,* and as the most precisely suitable to the sacred argument. But I wate this advantage. Let the words nm into your mould, and the translation take your form. They are equally decisive of the point in debate. They assign the reason why death came upon all men, infants themselves not ex- cepted : " For that." or inasmuch as, " all have sinned." How ? not in their own: person ; this was utterly impossible. But in that first grand transgression of their fe- deral head, which, as it could not be ac- tually committed by them, must, according to the tenor of the apostle's arguing, be im- puted to them. Titer. Pray, what do you mean by that stiff, and to me unintelligible phrase, fe- deral head ? Asp. 1 mean what Milton celebrate*, when he represents the Almighty Father thus addi'essing his eternal Son : » Staynoeupon " Salvation by Jesus Christ alone." Vol. i. p. .04. Where the reader may find several weighty considerations, clearly proposed, and strongly urged, for the explanation and establishment of this capital doctrine. " Be thou in Adam's room The head of all mankind, though Adam's son. As in him perish all men, so in thee, As from a second root, shall be restored As many as ate restored ; without thee none." Book 3. 1. 285. I mean what the apostle teaches, when he calls Christ " the second man," (1 Cor. XV. 47.) and "the last Adam," (1 Cor. xv. 43. ) The second ! the last ! How ? Not in a nnmerical sense, not in order of time, but in this respect : That as Adam was a public person, and acted in the stead of all mankind, so Christ was a public person, and acted in behalf of all his people. That,' as Adam was the first general representa- tive of this kind, Christ was the second and'. the last ; there never was, and there never will be any other. That what they seve- rally did, in this capacity, was not intended to terminate in themselves, but to affect as many as they respectively represented. This is St. Paulas meaning, and this is the foundation of the doctrine of imputation. Ther. If you build it on no other founda- tion than yoiu" own parti ridar sense of the apostle's words, perhaps your ground may prove sandy, and treacherous to its trust. Asp. I build it upen mine, and I deduce it from yours, Theron. Bat I am far from resting the whole weight of the cause upon a single text. It is established, again and again, in this same chapter. Neither do I wonder at the prejudices which you and others may entertain against the doctrine. It lies quite out of the road of reason's re- searches ; it is among the wonderful things, of God's law. This the inspired penmait foresaw, and modelled his discourse ac- cordingly. Like some skilful engineer, who^ E^' u iranTSs Tifta^rc*. Rom. v. 12. DIALOCiUE V 195 though he makes the whole compass of his fortitication strong, yet bestows peculiar and additional strength on those parts wliich he apprehends will be exposed to the fiercest attack ; so the wise, the divinely wise apos- tle, has inculcated, and re-inculcated this momentous point, has enforced it with all the assiduity of ze;d, and confii'med it by all the energy of expression. " If, through the oflence of one, many be dead — The judgment was by one to condemnation — By one man's offence, death reigned by one — By the offence of one, judgment came upon all men to condemnation," (Rom. v. 15, 16, 17, 18.) That there may remain no possibility of mistaking his meaning, or of eluding his argument, he adds, " By one man's disobedience, many were made sin- ners," (Rom. V. 19.) Ther. Sin, I am told by a celebrated ex- positor, sometimes signilies punishment. He farther informs me, that we may be said to sin in Adam, not by the imputation of his disobedience to us, but by becoming obnoxious to those sufferings which were due to liis sin. Asp. Then the apostle's reasoning will stand in this form ; " death came upon all men, for that ail have sinned ;" that is, " deatl) came upon all men, because all have been punished, or, an obno.xiousness to pun- ishment came ujjon men, because all are become obnoxious to punishment." A goodly strain of argumentation for an unerr- ing writer to use ! But surely Gamaliel's pupil would disclaim, much more would Christ's ambassador scorn, sucli weak and unmeiuiing chicanery. He mentions sin and its punishment ; but never hints, that they are intended to signify one and the same thing. He all along maintains a dis- tinction between them ; represents the for- mer as the cause of the latter. Judgment, condemnation, death, are owing to sin, of- fence, disobedience. It is by the im])uta- tion of these that we become obnoxious to those. This accoimt is clear, is natural, and wants no strained criticisms -to support it. This account demonstrates the equity of that providential government, which exe elites the sentence of death even on those descendants of Adam who have not sinned in their own persons. It also illusliates tlie procedure of that sovereign grace, which treats as righteous, and entitles to life, even those believers in Jesus, who have not obeyed in their own persons. — What says our church ? You have a great \'eneration for the church of England, Theron. TTier. I have. But, I fear, my Aspasio has neither so honourable an opinion of her worship, nor so steady an adherence to her Constitution ; otherwise he would not so highly extol those ambitious and canting h}'])ocrites the Puritans ; who were the most inveterate enemies of our excellent establishment, and would have rejoiced in its utter subversion. Asp. As to the Puritans, j'ou wall do me the justice to acknowledge, that I speak only of their evangelical tenets, abstracted from all political princijjles. As to myself, your fears are friendly, but I trust they are groundless. I would only ask, who are to be deemed the most affectionate and faith- ful sons of their sacred mother ? Those, I presume, who most cordially embrace her doctrines, and most dutifully submit to her precepts. By this touchstone let my fide- lity be tried ; and, for an immediate trial, be pleased to repeat her ninth article. T/irr. I cannot say, that I remember the particular words of any, though I have often read, and very much approve them all. Asp. I wish you would commit to your memory four or five of the most distin- guished.* They iixe a valuable treasm-e, and contain the quintessence of the gospel. These are the words of the ninth article. " Original sin is the faidt and corruption of every man, that naturally is engendered of the offspring of Adam." It is ihe fault, says the pious Bishop Bevcridge, and there- fore we are guilty of it ; it is the corruption also, and therefore we are defiled with it. Our homilies have recourse to no such pal- liatives, and qualifying interpretations, as my Theron's expositor uses. One of them affirms point blank, that "in Adam all men sinned universally." This seems to be a para])hrase on the text, whose translation you lately controverted. In what sense our great poetical divine understood the sa- cred writer is apparent from the following woids, \vhich are supposed to have been spoken by Jehovah himself: " Adam's crime JIakes guilty all his sons." Milton, book iii. 1. 290. And from another passage, where our re^ bellious progenitor, bewailing his aggravated misery, and the extensive malignity of his sin, declares, " In me all I'osterity stands cursed." — Book .\. 1. 817. For my own part, I nuist confess, that if the transmission of original depravity be granted, 1 know not how the imputation of Adam's destructive apostacy can be denied. If ^\•e had no concern in the one, how could we be justly punished with the other? I say i)unislied. h'or to lose the jjrimitivc integrity of our nature, and inherit a de- praved disj)osition, is at once a most deplor- able calamity, and a most terrible punish- ment. Corru])tion transmitted, and guilt imputed, seem to be doctrines indissolubly * Especially ArticleiO, 10, 11, 12, 13. fM THERON AND ASPASIO. connected. To allow the former, and re- ject the latter, is in my apprehension to iicknowledge the effect \vithout admitting the cause. Ther. To make us parties in a covenant, which we did not agree to, can this be equitable ? To ruin us for a crime which we never committed, can this be merciful ? Surely this is a flagrant injustice, never to be ascribed to the all-gracious God ; a dia- bolical barbai-ity, add some, never to be mentioned without the utmost detestation. Asp. I see no cause for such a tragical outcry of barbarity, nor indeed for any complaint of injustice. Not to insist upon the sovereignty of an all-creating God, and his unquestionable right, to " do what he will with his own," (Matt. xx. 13.) 1 would only ask, did he not condescend to transact with man, not on the foot of abso- lute uncontrollable authority, but in the lionourable and delightfid way of a cove- nant ? Were not the terms of this covenant }ierfectly easy, and wonderfully gracious ? Wonderfully gracious ; for ihey proposed a state of inconceivable and everlasting feli- city to creatures who were_ entitled to no happiness; (Luke x. 28.) had not the least claim to any good ; no, not so much as to the privilege of existence. Perfectly easy ; for what was the condition on man's part ? Not any rigorous act of duty, nor se- vere course of self-denial, but the free en- joyment of millions of blessings and plea- sures, with only the prohibition of one j>er- nicious indulgence. Here, then, is made on one hand, a promise of the most glorious reward that God himself could give ; and nothing required on the other, but the smallest expression of allegiance that man liimself could wish. And is this injustice ? is this barbarity ? Ther. All this was equitable enough with regard to Adam ; but why should we be condemned for his violation of the cove- nant ? Or how was such a constitution of things gracious with respect to us? Asp. " AVhy condemned ?" Because we should have been partakers of the benefit and the glory, if he had persevered in his duty. To this, I presume, none would ob- ject. And if they would not to the one, they ought not to the other. You ask farther, " How was such a con- stitution of things gracious with respect to us ?" I an.swer, because it was the most likely means to seciu-e the hapj)iness of us and all mankind. Was not Adam, of all persons, by far the best quaUfied to act as a general head? He had a perfection of knowledge, to discern his tnie interest ; a perfection of holiness, to capacitate him for obedience ; and a perfection of happi- ness, disposing him to perseverance. As none could have more eminent qualifica- tions, none could have so many obligations. His own welfare, both bodily and spiritual, was at stake ; the eternal interests of his rising family, and of his remotest posterity, were depending ; the lives, the souls, the ever- lasting all of the whole human race, were em- barked on the single bottom of his fidelity. Therefore the felicity of every indinduaf that should spring from his loins, was a fresh motive to vigilance, an additional en- gagement to duty.* As his love to his- offspring was more refined, more exalted, more god-like than ours, all these consider- ations, and inducements must operate upon him in their fullest scope, and A^ith the strongest energy. AVhat an intrcnchment was here to keep out disobedience, and ward off ruin ! An intrcnchment deep as hell, high as heaven, wide as the whole ex- tent of the human species. — Here then I may venture to throw the gauntlet, and challenge the whole woiid. Let the most penetrating mind devise a scheme, so wisely and graciously calculated to ascertain the success of a probationary state. If this be impracticable, then must every mouth be stopped ; no tongue ean have the least reason to complain : I, for my part, shalf think myself obliged to admire the benignity of my Creator's conduct ; and God may justly demand of all intelligent creatm'es, " What could have been done more" for the preservation and felicity of mankind, " that I have not done ?" ( Isaiah v. 4. ) Especially, when to all this we add, that the same Almighty Being, who appointed Adam to be- our representative in the first covenant, without asking our actual con- sent, appointed also Christ to be our repre- sentative in the second covenant, without staying for our actual solicitation. Whew we take this into the account, there remains not the least shadow of injustice ; but good- ness, transcendent goodness, shines forth- with the brightest lustre. Ther. Goodness, Aspasio ! This is sur- prising indeed ! Why, if Adam's transgres- sion be laid to our charge, we are damnable creatm'es the very moment we exist ; and' are liable to the torments of heU, even on account of his disobedience. To term this goodness, is the greatest of paradoxes ! to affirm it of the Deity, is little less tlfan blas- phemy ! Asp. Let us be calm, my dear friend, and * Should any person imagine himself more capable of standing than Adam, -who was endowed witn all" the perfections of an innocent, holy, god-like nature ; I think, by this very imagination he begins to fall ; fall into pride. Should any person suppose, that, from a view to his own partictriar salvation, he would con- tinue faithful ; v.'hen Adam was not engaged to fide- lity, from a regard to his own and the final happiness of all his posterity ; he seems to be just as wise as the mariner, who persuades himself, that though a thou- sand anchors could not secure the ship in a storm, yet one might have done it effectually.. DIALOGUE V. 197 consider the case iinpaitially. It' it is not a real truth, I shall be iis willing to relin- i^uish it as yourself. Is not death, eternal death, the wages of every sin? And if of every sin, then doubtless of original, whicli is the fountain from whence all the streams of actual ini- quity How ; or rather the abyss from whence all tiie toiTcnts pour. That which could not be pardoned, but by the humiliation and agonies of God's adorable Son, may reason- ably be supposed to deserve the most dread - fid vengeance. And it is affirmed, by an authority which you will not dispute, that, *' for original as well as actual sin, the of- fering of Christ is a propitiation and satis- faction."* Docs not St. Paid deliver it as a maxim in diviiuty. That, " by the offence of one," Adam he undoubtedly means, "judgment came upon all men to condemnation ?" (Rom. V. 18.) The import of the words, together with the connexion of the passage, lead us to understand this of a condem- nation to eternal misery. The import of the words ; for they are doubled, f to make them peculiaiy strong in their signification ; and each word, within the compass of this very epistle, is used in that awful latitude of meaning, ( Rom. ii. 3 ; iii. 8 ; viii. 1 . ) The connexion of the passage ; because it stands opposed to that justification which is iiuto life. This, we are sure, includes the idea of an everlasting duration. And why should its tremendous counterpart be less exten- sive ? This sense is evidently patronized, and tills doctrme most peremptorily asserted by our established church. What says the book of Homilies, when treating of the miseries consequent upon the fall ? " This «o great and miserable a plague, if it had only rested on Adam, who first offended, it had been much easier, and might the better liave been borne. But it fell not only on him, but also on his posterity and children for ever; so that the whole brood of Adam's race sliould sustain the self-same fall and punishment, M'hich their forefather by his offence most justly had deserved. "| Lest any should misapprehend the design of our reformers, and sti])pose the punish- ment to consist oidy of some bodily suffer- ing, or the loss of immortality, it is added in the same alarming (hscourse,. " Neither Adam, nor any of his, had any right or in- terest at all in the kingdom ot heaven ; but v/ere become plain reprobates and castawa}'s, being perpetually damned to the everlasting pains of hell." Lest you should unagine this might be * Article XXXI. if llomilyon thenativily of Christ written under a sally of hasty zeal, or that it is to be reckoned among the doting opi- nions of a credulous antiquity, let nie re- mind my friend, that it is ingrafted into the Articles: those articles, which were ap- proved by the archbisho]>s and bishops of both provinces, were ratified by the general consent of the clergy, and are to this day the natioiud standard of our belief. The ninth article, beginning with a description of our depraved nature, subjoins an account of its proper desert : " In every person bom into the world, itdeserveth God's wrath and damnation,"* Ther. How miserable then is man ! Asp. In himself he is miserable beyond expression. But a conviction of this misery is the beginning of all happiness. The valley of Achor is a door of hope, t Ther. E.xplain yourself, Aspasio. You seem to deal very much in the incompre- hensible. Aap. Such a conviction would demon- strate the absolute insufficiency of all hu- man attainments, and all human endeavours to i^rocure life and salvation. Tor in case we coidd perform every jot and tittle of the divine law, offend in no instance, fall short in no degree, persevere to the very end ; yet this would be no more than our present bounden duty. Not the least pittance of merit could arise from all this. Much less could this be sufficient to expiate ori- ginal guilt, or remove the di'eadful entail of the primitive all-destroying sin. 1 his, therefore, would most effectually preclude every false confidence, and sweep away at one stroke " every refuge of lies," (Isa. xxviii. 17.) It would lay us under an immediate, indispensable, and happy ne- cessity of betaking ourselves to Christ. I say happy necessity; because then we should know by experience what each part of our Lord's aw'ful yet tender declaration mean- eth ; " O Israel, thou hast destroyed thy- self, but in me is thy help," (llos. xiii. 9.) We should then find, that as sin and misery hath abounded through the first Adam, mercy and grace have much more abounded through the second. For, if we were ruin- ed by a crime which we committed not, we are recovered by a righteousness which we jierformed not ; a righteousness infinitely * I am surprised to see a learned author attempting to sheath the sting of this awful deiuinciation; at- tempting to prove that the words "do not signify God's eternal wrath, and the damnation of liell." I shall take no pains to confute what he is pleased to advance. I leave tlie question in the reader's own breast. Let him discover, if he can, a difierent meaning in the sentence. Unless he has a pretty shrewd nack at sopliistry, I am persuaded he will find it a difficult matter to give any other tolerable turn to the passage. Surely it must be a reproach to our venerable mother, if she delivers her doctrine in lan- guage so fallacious, as must necessarily mislead the generality of her sons; or in terms so abstruse, as evena good undertanding cannot develope, without some proficiency in critical legerdemain. t Hes. ii. 15. Achor si^ifies trouble. 198 THERON AND ASPASIO. surpassing VA'liatevcr we cotild have acquired, even though oiu- nature had been transmitted to us free from any depravity, and exempt from all guilt. Titer. In your opinion, then, and accor- ding to your scheme, salve and regimen are better than a sound constitution. Asp. No, Theron. My opinion is, that none can think himself aggrieved, or have any reasoTi to complain, at that gi-and and beneficent regulation, which suifers the glimmering taper to he obscured or ex- tinguished, but sheds abroad the boundless and majestic beams of day. And if any comparison be made between the most per- fect human obedience, and the everlasting divine righteousness of Christ, it should be taken from the glimmering taper and the meridian sun. Ther. I cannot persuade myself to ad- mire such mysterious and unaccountable no- tions. They must puzzle some, will of- fend others, but cannot edify any. Asp. This point, that " we all died in Adam," were undone by his apostacy, can- not puzzle the simplest, if unprejudiced, mind. Nor will it offend any but the proud philosopher, or the self-righteous moralist. And I assure you I should not mention it, much less insist upon it, did it not subserve, and in a very singular manner, the purposes of edification. The doctrine of a Redeemer obeying and dying m our stead, is the very hinge and cen- tre of all evangelical revelations — is the very life and soul of all evangelical bless- ings. This doctrine is not a little illus- trated, and comes greatly recommended, by the imputation of Adam's sin. Contraries, you know, cast light upon and set off each other. Winter and its severe cold malte spring and its cheering warmth more sensibly perceived, and more highly pleasing. Such an influence has the pre- sent subject with respect to the vicarious obedience of our Mediator. The more clearly we see the reality of the first, the more thoroughly we shall discern the ex- pediency, the excellency, the glory of the last. The more we are humbled under a conviction of the former, the more we shall covet, or the more we shall trimnph in, the enjoyment of the latter. The apostle draws a long parallel, or rather forms a strong con- trast between them, in the fifth chapter to theRomans. He speaks copiously of Adam's guilt, imputed to all mankind for condem- nation and death ; that he may speak the more acceptably, the more charmingly of Christ's righteousness, imputed to all believers for justification and life. In that dark ground, he well knew, this fairest, loveliest flower of Christianity appears with peculiar beauty ; iiideed with all the beauty of consummate wisdom, and adorable benignity. Tlicr. It really seems to me a thing imi- possible, that one man's righteousness should be made another's. Can one man live by the sold of another ? or be learned by the learning of another? — Good Aspasio, never attempt to maintain such palpable absurdi- ties. They will expose Christianity to the scorn of infidels. Asp. If infidels scoff at this comfortable truth, their scoffing will be, like all their other cavils, not the voice of reason, but the clamour of prejudice. My friend's objection insinuates, what we never assert, that the essence of this right- eousness is transfused into believers ; which would doubtless be in fact impossible, as it is in theory absurd. But this we disavow as strenuously as you can oppose. The Redeemer's righteousness is made ours, not by infusion, but by imputation. The very terms we use may acquit us from such a ri- diciUous charge ; as imputation signifies a placing to the account of one what is done by another. Accordingly, we believe, that the essence of this righteousness abides in Christ, but is placed to our account ; that Christ, and Christ alone, actually performed it ; that Christ, and Christ alone, personally possesses it ; but that, performing it in our stead, and possessing it as oiu- covenant- head, God imputes it to us, God accepts us for it, accepts us as much as if we had, on our own behalf and in our own persons, severally fulfilled it. Though one man cannot live, be actuat- ed with a principle of life, by the soul of another ; yet you must allow, that one man, nay, that many men may live, be continued in the possession of life, for the righteousness of another. Or else you nuist do, what I am sure you abhor, you must charge with absurdity and impossi- bility even the declaration of the Deity : " If I find in Sodom fifty righteous within the city, then will I spare all the place for their sakes." (Gen. xviii. 26.) Ther. Not all your refinements can re- concile me to this uncouth notion. The practice is unexampled, and absolutely in- consistent with the ndes of distributive jus- tice. Asp. Ah ! my Theron, if we seek an example of God's unbounded goodness amongst the puny proceedings of men, we shall be led into the most egregious misap- prehensions. To measure one of the sparks on your ring, and fancy we have taken the dimensions of the Alps or the Andes, would be, in comparison of this error, a small mistake : Since between a brilliant speck, and a range of mountains there is some proportion, but between human bene- ficence, and heavenly bounty there cannot possibly be any. However, the all-condes- cending Creator has been pleased so to dis- DIALOGUE V. ItD pense liis infinitely rich grace, that we may find, though nothing parallel, nothing cor- ' respondent, yet some faint shadow of its manner among the affairs of mankind ; something that may perhaps give us such an idea of the stupendous subject, as a glow-worm would give of the sun's splend- our, in case a person had never belield that magnificent luminary. This remark I must entreat you to recollect, whenever I attempt to elucidate the mysteries of the gospel by the occurrences of common life. Wlien your worthy minister was disabled, by a rheumatic disorder, from attending on the business of his function, several of the neighbouring clergy gave him their assist- ance. Was he not, by this vicarious per- formance of his office, entitled to all the profits of his living? It seems, therefore, not so unexampled a thing for one person to act in another's stead. And when a sei-vice is thus discharged by the pro.xy, the benefit may, according to the received max- ims of mankind, accrue to the principal. Did not Jehu's descendants, even to the fourth generation, reap the advantage of their great-grandfather's zeal ? (2 Kings X. 30.) Does not the Duke of **** en- joy the honours and rewards won by the sword of a victorious ancestor ? And may not the whole world of believers, with equal, with far greater justice, receive life and sal- vation on account of their all-deserving Sa- viour, especially since he and they are one mystical body, represented as such in scrip- ture, and considered as such by God. No, say you, this is contrary to the rules of distributive justice. What is your idea of a Surety ? How was the affair stated, and how were matters negotiated, with re- lation to your generous acquaintance Phil- ander ? He, you know, \\'as bound for an unfortunate brother, who lately stepped aside. Ther. The debt by his brother's abscond- ing, devolved upon Philander. He was re- sponsible for all, and obliged to i>ay the whole sum. Asp. Was not his payment as satisfac- tory to the creditor, as if it had been paid in the debtor's own person, by the debtor's Own hand ? Ther. Certainly. Asp. Was nos the debtor, by this vicaii- ous i)iiyment, released from, all fear of pro- secution, and acquitted from luiy futui'e de- mand on this score ? Titer. He was. Asp. Apply this instance to the redemp- tion of sinners by Jesus Christ, who is in the sacred writings ex|)ressly styled a Surety. (Heb. vii. 22.) If Philander's act was deemed, in the estimation of law, the act of his brother ; if the deed of the former was imputed, in point of advantiige, entij'ely to the latter ; why should not the same ef- fects take place, with regard to the divine bondsman and poor insolvent sinners ? Why should that be exploded in our systems of divinity, which is universally admitted in our courts of justice ? Ther. Obedience and righteousness are, in the nature of the things themselves, per- souid q'lalities, and only so. Every man is that only (and can be nothing else) which he is in himself. Asp. Righteousness, as dwelling in us, is undoubtedly a personal quality ; and obe- dience, as performed by us, comes under the same denomination. But does this supersede the necessity, or destroy the ex- istence of imputed righteousness ? Your first proposition is ambiguous. Let it speak distinctly ; add inherent to your right- eousness, and the sense becomes determi- nate, but the argument falls to thp ground. " Every man is that only (and can be nothing else) which he is in liimself." If I had never seen the Bible, I should have yielded my ready assent to this proposition. But, when I 0])en the Old Testament, and find it written by the prophet, " in the Lord shall all the house of Israel be justi- fied," (Isa. xlv. '25,) when I turn to the New Testament, and hear the apostle say- ing, " Ye ai'e complete in him, who is the head of all principalities and powers." ( Col. ii. 10.) I cannot concur with Theron, without contradicting revelation. Israel, or the true believer, is said to be justified ; and the foundation of this blessing is declar- ed to be, not in himself but in the Lord. The Colossians are said to be complete, \vliich we are very certain they were not in themselves, and are expressly assured they were so in Christ. Hence it appears quite contrary to my friend's assertion, that sin- ners both have and are that in Christ, which they neither have nor are in themselves. They have by imputation a righteousness in Christ ; they are, by this imputed right- eousness, complete before God. I believe your mistake proceeds from ne- glecting to distinguish between inherent and imputed. We never suppose that a profane person is devout, or an intemperate person sober. This is inherent righteous- ness. But we maintain that the profane and intemperate, being convinced of their iniquity, and betiiking themselves to the all-suilicicnt Saviour for redemption, are in- terested in the merit both of his life and of his death. This is imputed righteousness. We farther affirm, that though really abo- minable in themselves, they are fully accept- ed by God for his beloved Son's sake. This is justification through unputed righteous- ness. However strange this may seem, it is no precarious or unwarrantable opinion, but 200 THERON AND ASPASIO. the clear and positive declaration of scrip- ture. He justifieth, he absolves from giiilt, he treats as righteous — Whom ? Upright, obedient, sinless creatures ? This were no- thing extraordinary. — No, but " he justifieth the ungodly, that believe in the Lord Je- sus," (Rom. iv. 5,) imputing as the ground of this justification, their trespasses to him, and his righteousness to them. Ther. I see no occasion for such nice distinctions and metaphysical subtilties, in plain popular divinity. Hard terms and abstruse notions may perplex the head, but seldom improve the heart. Asp. Wliy then do you oblige us to make use of them ? If some people twist and en- tangle the reins', it behoves others to clear them of the embarrassment, and replace them in their due order. Many writers, either from an artful design, or through a strange inadvertence, have jumbled and confoimded these two very diiferent ideas. Hence they have started objections to oiu- doctrine, which, the moment you introduce this obvious distinction, vanish into air. They fall into a mistake of their own, and then charge the absurdity upon others. I am no more fond of hard terms and abstruse notions than my Theron. Neither can 1 think the instance before us so ab- struse a notion. I am very certain, you are capable of comprehending much higher and nicer refinements. Therefore I must once again intreat you to remember the very ma- terial difference between inherent and im- puted righteousness. The former is the essence of sanctification, the latter is the ground of justification. By this, we are restored to the favour of God ; by that, we are made meet for his heavenly kingdom. Let this distinction, which is easy, which is scriptural, which is important, take place, and we may for the future dismiss wliat you call the metaphysical subtilties. Our disagreement will cease;, and our opinions tally. Ther. I question that, Aspasio. There are other difficulties to be got over before I can digest so crude an opinion. If we are justified by the righteousness of Christ, then the righteousness which justifies man- kind is already wrought out. Asp. And this you take to be a most enormous falsehood, whereas I look upon it as a most delightful truth. The right- eousness which justifies sinful man was set on foot, when God sent forth his Son from the habitation of bis holiness and gloiy, to be bom of a woman, and made subject to tlie law. It was carried on through the whole course of our Saviour's life, in wiiich he always did such things as were pleasing to his heavenly Father. It was completed at that ever memorable, that grand period of time, when the blessed Emmanuel bowed his dying head, and cried with a strong triumphant voice, " it is fin- ished !" If the justifying righteousness was to be MTOught by ourselves, we could never be truly ajid fully justified till death, till our warfare is accomplished, and our last act of obedience exerted. But how uncomfort- able is such a notion ! How miserable would it render our lives ! And how direct- ly does it I'un counter to the determination of the apostle, " Ye are justified," ( I Cor. vi. 11.) Ther. Soothed, then, with this pleasing surmise, may not the libertine say to his sold, " Sold, take thine ease in the most indolent security. All my carnal appetites, indulge yourselves without restraint. Con- science, be under no solicitude to live sober- ly, righteously, and godly, for the work is done, all done to my hands. I am like some fortunate heir, whose parents have been successfully industrious, and have left nothing to exercise the diligence of their siir\'iving son, but only to possess the inhe ritance, and live on labours not his own." Asp. Thelibertine, who only speculates or disputes; may indeed abuse the doctrine of grace. But the believer, who feels the power of grace, will improve it to better piu-poses. Where the former only fluctuates in the understanding, such detestable conse- quences may ensue. Where the latter ope- rates on the heart, it will always produce very different eflfects. Such a person, from such a faith, will be no more inclined to in- activity or licentiousness, than our busy humming companions are inclined, by this bright sunshine, and all those expanded blossoms, to sleep away their hours in the hive. And you may as soon expect to see these colonies of the spring swarm in December, clinging to an icicle, or dispers- ing themselves to gather honey on the snow, as to see a truly gracious man " who is dead to sin, living any longer therein," (Rom, vi. 2. ) Whoever, therefore, so shamefully per- verts so sweet and glorious a doctrine, is a witness against himself, that he has neither lot nor portion in the inestimable privilege. If an animal suck poison from the most wholesome herbs, we are sure, from that infallible indication, it is the vile spider, or some envenomed insect, not the valuable and industrious bee. Ther. Truly, Aspasio, I know not how to call that doctrine sweet, much less can I recommend it as wholesome, which renders repentance, personal reformation, and inhe- rent rectitude, needless. And if your tenet is once received, all these duties may fairly be dismissed. So that if the thing was possible, yet it woidd be pernicious. Asp. The proidict was of another mind: " They shall look on him \\Uom they have DIALOGUE V. £01 pierced, and moiirn," (Zecli. xi. 10.) Sin- ners shall look by faith to their crucified Lord.; shall see him fastened with nails to the cursed tree ; see him stabbed to the heart by the bloody spear. And remembering that this was the punishment due to their provocations, believing that by this punish- ment they are freed from all penal suffer- ings, and entitled to all spiritual blessings, — they shall not be tempted to transgress, but incited to mourn ; not play the profligate, but act the penitent. The apostle exactly Agrees with the prophet ; and both are dia- metrically opposite to my friend : " The goodness," the transcendent and amazing goodness of God our Saviour, instead of di- verting from, " leadeth to repentance," (Eom. ii. 4.) Far from obstructing, it powerfully pro- motes personal reformation. For thus saith that all-wise Being, who intimately knows our frame, and discerns what is most effec- tual to work upon our minds : " The grace of God, which bringeth salvation, hath ap- peared ; teaching us, that, denying all vn- godliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously and godly, in this pre- sent evil world," (Tit. ii. 11, 12.)- Grace, you obsei've, even that gloriously free grace, which bringeth salvation to unworthy crea- tiu-es, is a disuasive of all vice, and an en- couragement to every virtue. As to inherent rectitude, how can that be rendered needless by imputed righteousness? Is health rendered insignificant by the abun. dance of our riches ? Does ease become superfluous, through the beauty of our ap- ])arel ? Holiness is the health of our souls and the ease of our minds ; whereas, ungo- vernable passions create keener anguish than a brood of vipers gnawing our bosoms. Inordinate desires are a more intolerable nuisance than swarms of locusts infesting our abodes. To regulate those, and to re- strain these, can never be needless, till com- fort and sorrow change their properties — till the diabolical nature becomes equally desir- able vvdth the divine. Ther. The believer, indeed, out of mere generosity, may, if he please, add works of righteousness of his own. But his main interest is secure without them. Asp. Rather, Theron, he must out of duty, he will out of gratitude ; and, from the new disposition of his nature, he cannot but add to his faith works of righteousness. How runs the heavenly edict in this case made and provided ? " I will, that they who have believed in God, be carefid to main- tain good works.* — How beats the pulse of • Tit. iii. 8. The original word T^oiratrCcti ha? a beauty and an energy, which, I believe, it is impos- i-ible for our language to preserve, by any literal translation. It implies, that a believer .should not only be exercised in, but eminent for, all good worKs i a believing soid? You may feel it in that trulygenerous demand made by the Psalmist, " What shall I render unto the Lord for all the benefits that he hath done unto me," (Psalm cxvi. 12.) A grateful heart wants not the goad, but is a spur to itself. How leans the bias of his nature ? He is new born ; " created in Christ Jesus unto good works," (Eph. ii. 10.) "his delight is in the law of the Lord," (Psalm i. 2.) And whatever is oiu" supreme delight, we are sure to prosecute, and prosecute with ar- dour. " We cannot but speiik the things which we have seen and heard,* was the profession of the apostles ; and, if applied to practical godliness, is the experience of the Christian. Nor can his main interest be secure with- out a holy obedience. Because the Judge of the world, at the day of eternal retribution, will declare to the workers of iniquity, " I never knew you ; depart from me," (Matt, vii. 23. : Because holiness, though not the cause of our admittance to the beatific vi- sion, is so necessary a qualification, that " without it no man shall see the Lord," (Heb. xii. 14.) Without it, there is no access to heaven, neither could there be any enjoyment in heaven. llher. Pray recollect yourself, Aspasio, According to the tenor of your own illus- tration, the necessity of personal obedience is evidently vacated. For how can the law demand a debt of the principal, which has been fully discharged by the surety ? Asp. The debt of penal suffering, and the debt of perfect obedience, are fully dis- charged by our divine Surety, so that we are no longer under a necessity of obeying, in order to obtain an exemption from pun- ishment, or to lay the foundation for our final acceptance. We are nevertheless en- gaged, by many other obligations, to walk in all dutifid and conscientious regard to the law ; because this is the most authentic proof of our love to the gracious Redeemer : " If ye love me, keep my commandments," (John xiv. 15.) This is a comfortable evidence of our union with that exalted head : " He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit." (John XV. 5.) This is idso the most ef- fectual method of adorning our profession, of magnifying its Author, and of winiung our neighbours to embrace the gospel : " Let .should show others the way, and outstrip them in tho honourable race; be both a pattern, and a patron of universal godliness. * " Cannot but" — This is an expression used by the apostles, Acts iv. -M. It dcscrilx^s the genuine and habitual propensity of their new nature. ."Vs the compassionate bowels cannot but yearn at spec- tacles of misery : as the benevolent heart cannot but dilate with pleasure at the sight of a brother's happi- nesj : so the new creature in Christ cannot but desire to glorify, and delight to obey the cver-blciacd God. 202 THERON AND ASPASIO. joiir light," the light of your exemplary conversation, not only appear, but " shine before men, that they, seeing your good works," may think honourably of yoiu" re- ligion, (Matt. V. 16,) "may glorify your Father which is in heaven ;" and say, with those proselytes mentioned by the prophet, " We will go with you." " Do we then make void the law," through the imputed righteousness of our Lord ? No, verily ; but if gratitude to our dying Savi- our have any constraining influence ; if a concern for our own comfort have any per- suasive energy ; if there be any thing invit- ing, any thing desirable in the prospect of honouring God, and edifying man — " we establish the law." By all these generous, manly, endearing motives, we enforce its precepts, and provide for its observance. Tlier. Should we admit this doctrine, mankind could no longer be considered as the Lord of lords to become the servant of all ? Could it be matter of duty in the Khig of Glory, to embrace the infamy of the cross ; and in the Prince of life, to pour out his soul unto death ? If all this was matter of duty, the ever-blessed Jesus (how shall I speak it ! who can believe it ?) was no better than an unprofitable ser\'ant. For such is the acknowledged character of every one who does no more than is bis duty to do. (Luke xvii. 10.) Tlier. Not so fast, nor quite so vehement, my friend. Remember what the scripture affirms. Christ is said to receive a com- mandment, and be subject to the law ; both which expressions evidently imply duty. Asp. In order to accomplish our redemp- tion, the Son of God submitted himself to the authority of the law, and became obedi- ent to its precepts. But this was his own spontaneous act, the matter of his free in themselves, and solely in themselves, ac- 1 choice ; to which he lay under no manner countable creatiues. Nor would the future judgment be an equitable distribution of re- wards and punishments, but only God's awful and uncontrollable execution of his own arbitrary and irreversible decrees. Asp. I have never been accustomed to consider mankind, under the gospel dispen- sation, as accountable solely in themselves ; because in this comfortable and benign scheme a Mediator intervenes, undertakes to answer for his people, and bears the chastisement of their peace. Were we ac- countable solely in ourselves, Christ as our great High- Priest would be set iiside, and his sacriiice as a propitiation for shi be of none effect. Why may not the future judgment be an equitable distribution of rewards and pun- ishments ? If those who reject the atone- ment of the dying Jesus, and refuse to de- pend on his consummate righteousness, are left to stand or fall according to the issue of their own obedience ; if believers, on the other hand, are accepted through their most meritorious Redeemer, but rewarded with higher or inferior degrees of felicity, in proportion to the sanctity of their na- ture and usefulness of theii' lives : — I see nothing arbitrary in this procedure, but an admirable mixture of just severity, and free goodness : on those who reject the atone- ment, just severity ; to those who rely on their Saviour, free goodness. Tlier. The obedience of Christ was wholly due for himself, and therefore could not merit for another. Asp. A bold assertion this ! Whoever can make it good, will infallibly overthrow my opinion, and at the same time destroy all my hopes. But surely, Theron, it is not your real sentiment. Could it then be matter of duty in the eternal Son to be burii of a woman ; and in of obligation, till he engaged to be our Surety. " Being in the form of God," he was Lord of the law ; and no more subject to its commands than obnoxious to its curse. Nevertheless, " he took upon him the form of a servant, and was made under the law." Wherefore ? That he might obtain ever- lasting life and glory for himself? No ; but that he might " redeem those who were under the law." (Gal. iv. 5.) From which it appears, thut both his engagement and his obedience were, not for himself, but for his people. Therefore the prophet cries out, with holy exultation, " To us a Child is born ; to us a Son is given !"* His incar- nate state and human nature, together with all that he did and suffered in both, were for us ; those assumed on our account, these referred to our advantage. Let us consider this, and be amazed, and be charmed. The great universal Lord vouchsafes to pay universal obedience : What condescension was here ! He vouch- safes to pay it, for us men, and for ouv re- demption : What goodness was this ! Ther. Before we indulge the devotional strain, we should take care that our devo- tion is founded on rational principles ; other- wise it may prove, like the flash of a sky- rocket, transient and momentary. Asp. For this, I think theie is a solid foundation in reason, as well as scripture. As soon as the man Christ Jesus was unit- ed to the second person of the Trinity, he must have, by virtue of that union, an un- questionable right to everlasting hfe and glory ; therefore he could be under no nft- » Isa. ix. 6. "Est praeterea emphasis singulans iij voce nobis. Significat id, quod omnes sentiunt, nos- tro bono et commodo natum esse hunc Pueruin Im- licratorem." — Vitrins. in loc. DIALOGUE V. 903 CEs'sity of obeying, in order to procure either honour or happiness for himself. But all that he performed in conformity to the preceptive part of the law, he perform- ed under the character of a public person, in the place and for the benefit of his spiri- tual seed, that they might be interested in it, and justified by it. Ther. Be it so : the believer is interested in Christ's righteousness. Pray, is he in- terested in all, or only in part ? If in all, then every believer is equally righteous, and equally to be rewarded ; which is contrary to an allowed maxim, that there will be dif- ferent allotments of happiness in the hea- venly world. If in part only, how will you ascertain the degree — what proportion be- longs to tliis person, and what to the other ? Either way, your scheme is inextricably em- bairassed. A.tp. The reply to my Theron's inquiry is easy ; and the embarrassment he meu— tions is but imaginary. Every true believer is interested in aU Christ's righteousness — in the whole merit of his spotless nature, of his perfect obedience, and expiatory death. Less than the whole would be unavail- able. Whereas the whole renders us com- pletely justified. You are a great admirer of anatomy, Theron, and must undoubtedly remember tlie very peculiar structure of the ear. Other parts of the body are progressive in their growth : their bulk is proportioned to the infantile or manly age. But the organs of healing, I have been informed, are jjrecisely of the same size, in the feeble infant and tlie confirmed adult. Justification likewise, being absolutely necessary to a state of ac- ceptance with God, is in every stage of the Chi'istian coiu-se, and even in the first dawn of sincere faith, complete. With regard to the existence of the privilege, there is no difTerence in the babes, the young men, the fathers in Christ.* The perception, the assurance, the comfortable enjoyment of the mercy, may increase ; but the mercy itself is incapable of augmentation. The varioug advances in sanctification account for the various degrees of future glory ; and not account for them only, but render them entirely reasonable, and, accord- ing to our apprehension of things, unavoid- able. As to settling the proportion, we may safely leave that to the supreme Arbitrator. He, " who meteth out the • To the same purpose speaks one of our most cele- brated divines ; as great an adept in sarred literature as aRts have produced. — " All are justified alike ; the truth of faith justifying, not the measure. Justifica- tion therefore is the same in all that believe; though their helief be in ditt'erent degrees. So, once in the wildei-ness, all galheiwl not niaiiiia in the same mea- sure, yet when all oiu i.- tdincisuro, they had all alike; none above an ouier, none under." I/Zi/iC/oor, vol. ii. p. 1052. heavens vdth a span, and sctteth a compass upon the face of the deep," cannot be at a loss to adjust this particular. Titer, The organs of healing, though not precisely, are very nearly, of tiie same biUk in the liabe and the man. They acquire, from advancing years, scarce any thing more than an increase of solidity. So that I make no objection to yoiu: illustration, but to yoiu- doctrine. if Christ has done all, and we are en- titled to his whole merits only by believing — to be saved must be the easiest thing in the world : whereas the Bible represents Christianity as a race and a warfare, a state of confiict and a course of striving. In good truth, Aspasio, you prophesy pleasing things. Divinity is not your profession, or else I shoidd number you among " the smooth emoUient do^Tiy doctors." For, according to the articles of yoiu- creed, there is no more difficidty in securing heaven, than in rising from our seat. Asp. A speculative assent to all the princi- ples of religion, js, I acknowledge, a very easy matter. It may, it must exist, wherever there is a tolerable capacity for reasoning, and a due attention to evidence. This no- tional faith forced its way into the breast of Simon the sorcerer, (Acts viii. 1.3,) and ex- torted a confession from the dying lips of Ju- lian* the apostate. Irresistible as the stroke of lightning, terrible also as its fiery glare, it flashes conviction into the very devils. Even those execrable spirits, "believe and tremble." (James ii. 19.) But the faith which, f;u- from resting in specidation, exalts the desires, regidates the passions, and refines the whole conversa- tion ; the faith which, according to the ex- pressive language of Scripture, " purifies the heart, overcomes the world, and sets the afl^ections on things above ;" — this tridy noble and triumphant faith is no such easy acquisition. This is the gift of an infinite Benefactor, the work of a divine Agent ; called therefore by way of super-eminent distinction, " faith of the operation of God," (Col. ii. 12,) because God himself, by the efl!ectual working of his mighty power, pro- duces it in the human soul. The exercise of this faith I woiUd not compare to an active gentleman rising from his seat, but rather to a shipwrecked mari- ner, labouring to gain some jdace of safety.- He espies a large rock which rears its head above the boisterous flood. To this he bears away, and to this he approaches ; but whirl- ing winds and dashing waves drive him back * It is related in ecclesiastical history, that the Em- peror Julian, that royal but wretched apostate, in an engagement with the Parthians, wasmortally wound- ed; and that he cried, with his expiring breath, " Vi- risti.OGalikre!" — I am vanquished,0 Galilean; thy right hand halh the pre-emiueuce ! 26) THEKON AND ASPASIO. to ail unhappy distance. Exerting all his strength, he advances nearer still, and at- tempts to climb the desirable eminence, when a sweeping surge interposes, and drenches him again in the rolling deep. By determined efforts, he recovers the space he bad lost. Now he fastens on the cliff, and has almost escaped the danger. But there is such a numbness in his limbs that he can- not maintain his hold, and such an impetu- ous swell in the ocean that he is once more dislodged, and plunged afresh into the rag- iiag billows. What can he do ? His life, bis precious life is at stake. He must re- new, still renew, and never intennit his en- deavours. Neither let him abandon him- self to despair. The Master sees him amidst all his fruitless toil. Let him ciy earnestly, "Lord save me, I pei-ish!" and he who commandeth the winds and the waves will be sure to put forth his benefi- cent hand, and rescue him from the devour- ing sea. Such, my friend, so painful, so assiduous are the struggles of faith, before it can rest in peaceful security on the " Rock of Ages, Christ Jesus." Of this you may, some time or other, be assured, not only from my lips, but from your own experience. Ther. What may happen in some future period of time, is beyond my power to fore- see. At present, I am apt to think, we must j>ut a stop to the theological lecture. Do you not remember our engagement with Altinous? and you will own, that punctuali- ty in performing our promises is at least a moral virtue, if it be not a Christian grace. DIALOGUE VL A?PASio's affairs called him to London. He staid in town a few days ; but as soon as business was finished, he quitted the city, and hastened to his friend's coun- try-seat. Upon his arrival, he found some agreeable company, that came to spend the evening with the family. This incident prevented the immediate prosecution of their subject. As the next morning proved misty, and unfit for walking abroad, The- pon invited Aspasio to pass an hour in his study. It was situated at the extremity of a large gallery, whicii, while it conducted the feet to a repository of learning, interposed between the ear, and all the disturbance of domestic affairs ; so that you are accommo- diited with every thing that may regale a studious mind ; and incommoded with no- thing that may interrupt a sedate attention. Aspasio readily consented to the proposal ; but desired fu'st to take a turn in this beau- tiful oblong, and divert himself with the- decorations of the place. Asp. A very short survey, Theron, is sufficient to discover the correctness of your judgment, and the true delicacy of your taste. Here are no impertinent and frivolous ex- hibitions of romantic tales or poetic stories. Here are no indecent pieces of imagery, that tend to corrupt a chaste, or inflame a wan- ton fancy. On the contraiy, I am present- ed with a collection of maps, accurately drawn by the most able hands ; and with several remarkable transactions of aniquity, most eloquently told in the language of the pencil. You have happily hit that grand point, which the gentleman of refinement, as well as the author of genius, should ever keep in view — the union of the beneficial with the delightfid. Ther. Indeed, my Aspasio, I have often been disappointed, sometimes even shocked, in the gardens, the porticos, and the walks of some modem virtuosi Their portraits and statues ai-e little else but an assemblage of elaborate trifles. Ixion stretched upon the wheel, or Phaeton precipitated from the chariot. Apollo stringing his lyre, or Ju- piter (I beg his supreme highness' pardon, for not giving him the precedence in my catalogue) bestriding his eagle and balancing his bolts. Pray, where is the advantage of being introduced to this fabulous tribe of gentry ? What noble idea can they awaken, or what valuable impression leave upon the mind ? The best we can say of such perform- ances is, that they are Umning and sculp- ture ex])ensively thrown away. This celebrated trumpery one can bear with however. But when the painting and sculpture, instead of cidtivating virtue, and improving oiu: morals, are calculated to be tlie very bane of both — will you caU this an elegant entertsiinment? No : it is a nuisance ; it is a pest. In the statues, I grant, every dimple sinks, and every muscle swells, with the exactest propriety. The countenance is animated with life, and the limbs are ready to start into motion. The picture, I am sensible, is as highly finished as the effigy : the distributions of light and shade most artfully adjusted; the diminutions of the perspective true to a nicety ; nor can any thing exceed the easy flow of the robe, imless it be the graceful attitude, and al- most speaking aspect, of the principal figure. But is this masterly execution an equiva- lent for the most malignant effects? for sullying the purity of my fancy, and poison- ing the powers of my imagination ? Is it an indication of the owner's judi- cious taste, to prefer regularity of features in the hammered block, before orderly and liarmonious afl^ections in his own breast'' Does it bespeak a refined disposition, or a benevolent temper, to be so extravagantly DIALOGUE Vr. 205 enamoured with the touches of a lascivious pencil, as to expose them in the most fre- quented passages, and obtrude them on every unwiuy guest ? Surely, this can create no very advantageous o])inion of a gentleman's intellectual discernment ; much less can it raise an amiable idea of his moral charac- ter.* On such occasions I am strongly tempted to suspect that real honour is a stranger where common decencyf is want- ing. As for the artist, one can hardly forbear execrating his hateful folly, who could pros- titute such fine talents to such infamous puq)oses. Detested be the chisel that teaches, though with inimitable dexterity, the cold obdurate marble, to enkindle dis- solute affections. Abhorred be the pencil that makes no other use of the most lovely colours, than to pollute the canvass, and in- snai'e the spectator. It is argued, I know, that many of those, pieces aie the completest models extant. An everlasting reproach this to the art ; but no apology for the performances ; since the more nicely they are executed, the more mischievous^ is their influence. It strikes the surer, and sinks the deeper. It dresses destruction gay, and paves with beauty the way to min. * It is a pity, but the advice of Cicero, that great master of eleg nt taste and polite manners, was re- ceived as a standard of regulation by all our connois- seurs in tlie fine arts: "In iiriniis provideat, ne or- namenta a'dium atque hortorum vitiura aliquod in- dicent inesse moribus." — De Ofiic. t A gentleman observing some gross indelicacies of this kind at the seat of a person of distinction, very acutc-ly (and, I believe, too justly) said, " His paint- ings are the gibbet of his name." t I hope it will not be thought improper, I wish it was entirely needless, to animadvert upon a practice, which is not only a reproach to our Christian profes- sion, butau insult upon national decorum — theprac- tice of exposing to public view, and oflbring to pub- lic sale, such shameful prints, as are fitted inly to create licentious desires and cherish the most prolii- gate dispositions. .Such spectacles are a species of the rankest poison. And can the poison be less pernicious, because it is received at the eye, instead of passing through the lips ? Because it tends more immediately to debauch the morals, and but remotely to destroy theconstitu- tion ? No wonder so many of our youths are corrupt- ed, and so many robberies committed, whilesuch scenes of pictured lewdness are suttered to inflame them with lust, and habituate them to impudence. Another very indecent custom lias unaccountably stole its way into several performances of genius and elegance. The custom, 1 mean of representing the muses, the graces, and other romantic personages in the form ot beautiful ladies, partly, if not entirely, raked. It is true, here are no loose adventures; no immodest gestures, nay more, he artist expresses hiv own and consults your modesty, by presenting you with a position m jirolile, by the intervention of a foliage, or the lappet of a robe. But let me ask the ingenious operator, if he would choose to introduce his wife or his daughter, in such a manne , to public company ? Is he startled ai the question ? is he shocked at the thought? I'hen iethimretiect, and let others consider, whether that can be graceful or allowable in a picture, which would be brutal and unsufferable in common life. .^ocratej (who, before his application to pliilo- sophy, practised as a statuary) could not but blush at this abuse of his art : and, being to form a repre- &.ntation of the graces, he represented them properly habited. It is my chief ambition, Aspasio, to have all my decorations so circumstanced, that the beholder may leant some valuable lesson i'n morality, or be reminded of some import- ant event in history, — may find, even in the scenes of his amusement, something to es- tablish his virtue, or enlarge his know- ledge. I frequently entertain my eldest son, who is reading the Greek and Latin historians, with an explanation of my principal draw- ings, that he may behold in colouring, what he has perused in narrative. — At this in- stant, the youth happened to make his ap- pearance, paying his respects to Aspasio, and dutifully saluting his father. It just recurs to my memory, said Theron, that some necessary affairs of the family require my attendance tor a few minutes. Will you excuse my absence, good A.spasio ; and permit my son to supply my place. You will very much oblige me by leav- ing me such a companion — And come, my dear Sir, addressing himself to Eugenio, as I know you are a lover of learning, what think you of diverting ourselves with these agreeable books ? which give us their in- structive lessons, not in puzzling languages, but in pleasing colours. Eugenio spoke his consent, and expressed his modesty, by a becoming blush, while Aspasio proceed- ed Asp. This is a striking picture indeed : Hills piled on hills form a most astonishing prospect. What horrible magnificence reigns amidst those wild and shaggy rocks ! Na- ture seems to have designed them for the boundaries of the world. Yet those d;n-ing troops are attempting to pass the prodigious barrier : Who are they, Eugenio ; and whom shiJl we call their leader ? Eijy. This, Sir, is the famoits Ilamiibal, heading and encouraging his army in the passage of the Alps. I'he sons of Africa seem to shiver with cold, as they traverse those frozen regions, and march among the clouds. Asp. It is the very same. Some, you observe, climb with excessive toil, the steep and craggy cliffs. Others, with far greater diflicuhy, descend through dreadful declivi- ties of ice, e.\j)osed all the while to the ar- rows of the moimtaineers. Some, endea- vouring to avoid the showers of steel, slip wTth their feet, and tumble headlong down the vast projecting promontories. See from what a height they are falling ! carriages and their drivers, the horse and his rider, and at what a distance still from the stony abyss below ! Some lie with closed eyelids and ghastly features, dashed to death at the very bottom. Others, writhing with the torture of mangled limbs and broken bones, lift up an agonizing look to their comrtules. Their comrades, insensible of a brother's misery, and wholly 206 THERON AKD ASPASIO. intent upon their own preservation, hang frightfully suspended on the edges of the precipice. The precipice seems to tot- ter as they cling ; and the alarmed specta- tor expects every moment a hideous down- fall. Are you not startled at the view, Eugenio, and in pain for the hardy adven- turers ? Eug. I am, Sir. And I wonder how they will extricate themselves from these peril- ous circumstances. I have read in Livy, that they cut their way through the rocks, after they had softened them with vinegar. But is this probable ? how could they pro- cure a sufficient quantity amidst those deso- late mountains ? Asp. I believe their resolution and their perseverance were the ^dnegar. These open a road through rocks. These, under the conduct of prudence, and the favour of hea- ven,* surmount aU obstacles. Influenced by these, the survivors press boldly on, and are determined to vanquish the horrors of nature, as a prelude to their victory over the forces of Rome. Let these, resolution andperservance Imean, be the companions of my Eugenio's youthful studies, and they will enable him also to conquer difficulties — even all the difficulties which lie in his way to true religion and sound learning. What is our next draught ! At each end we have a group of living figures. All tlie inter- mediate space is an extensive tract of land, diversified only by rapid rivers, horrid de- serts, and mountainous, ridges ; with here and there a few savage natives in uncouth dresses, and formidable arms. It is more like a map than a picture ; and the most remarkable beauty is the aerial perspective ; which puts a very agreeable cheat upon our eyes ; causing us to behold on an ell of can- vass the space of many hundreds of miles. Euy. This represents the retreat of the ten thousand Greeks. First we behold them in the plains of Media ; at an immense distance from their native coimtry ; without * Under the favour of heaven. I cannot but wish ithat the relator of Lord Anson's voyage round the world had anticipated Aspasio's remark; had made some grateful acknowledgments to an interposing Providence, in that masculine, nervous, noble narra- tive: A narrative of such signal deliverances, so cri- tically timed, and so surprisingly circumstanced, as in the course of one expeaition, are scarcely to be par- alleled. I am persuaded, it would have been no disparage- ment of^ the great commander, and his gallant offi- cers, to have it thankfully recognised, on some very unexpected, yet most advantageous turn of affairs, "this hath God done!" Neither could it have de- .tracted from the merit of the brave sailors, to have confessed, on many hazardous emergencies, that all their resolution, all their address, and the exertion of their utmost abilities, had been only lost labour, without the remarkable co-operation of divine good- ness. And I am apprehensive, that it must consider- ably diminish the delight of many readers, to observe the blessed author of all these mercies passed by un- noticed, unacknowledged, and without any sliare of the praise. The sarcasm on Pope Adrian and his exploits, I fear, would be too proper on this occasion, Hie Deus nihil fecit. guides ; without provision ; and, what is lh» most desperate ciilamity of all, deprived of their ablest officers by treachery and murder. Well may they lock dejected I How Lave I pitied them as I read their story ? abhor- red the perfidy of their enemies ; and wish- ed them all success in their hazardous en-r terprise ! Asp. Do not you perceive their drooping spirits begin to re\dve, and some gleam of hope difl^uses itself through their counten- ances, while they listen to the eloquent Xenophon, who stands conspicuous in the midst, haranguing his soldiers, and rousing their courage. But, all ! what a vast ex^ tent of unknown climes must they traverse, with a numerous and \ictorious army har- assing them in flank, or hanging upon their rear? What fatigues must they sustain, what hardships endiu-e, before they arrive at their wished-for l.oroe ! — Fired by the enchanting name, and animated by their brave philosophic leader, they resolve to push their way through all the extremes of peril and of pain. To scatter, with their little band, the encircling millions of bar- barians, is the smallest of their achieve- ments. They cross rivers, they scale rocks, whose slippery banks, and craggy summits, are lined with opposing nations. They wade through deserts of snow ; and pass over inhos])itable mountains, the far mere dreaded abodes of desolation, drought and famine. They encounter the keenness of the northern storm, and all the rigour of the most malignant seasons. As some of these articles are incapable of being expressed by the pencil, the artist remits us to the his- torian, and has contented himself with marking out the most distinguished stages of this memorable expedition. Only we \aew the courageous itinerants, once again, on a pretty lofty eminence. There they appear, not with their former dejection, but in all the transports of joy. Eiuj. This, Sir, is the mountain Tecqua, from whence they had the first view of the sea, and the first dawn of safety^ There they embrace one another, and extol their commanders, especially the noble Xeno- phon, whose history gives me great delight, and his manly yet benign aspect strangely attracts my esteem. Methinks, under such a general, I could have been willing to take my share in all the toil and all the hazards of the expedition. Asp. Would my Eugenio ? Then I wiU list him under a Captain unspeakably more accomplished and beneficent. Young as you are, you shall, from this hour commence a soldier and a traveller ; — a soldier, to fight against sin, and eveiy temptation — a tra- veller, to pass through the wilderness of this worid, unto the land of evcriasting rest. Though yoiu- enemies may be numerous. DIALOGUE VI. 207 and your joumey tedious, yet faint not, neither be discouraged. The Lord of hea- ven is your guide, and heaven itself shall be your exceeding great reward. When you arrive at those happy abodes, your de- light will infinitely surpass all that the Grecians felt on Tecqua, when their ra- vished eyes beheld, and their tongues with ecstasy shouted, " the sea ! the sea !" The scene of yonder picture, I would venture to affirm, lies among the ancient Jews. Evg. How can yon tell this, Sir, at such a distance ? Asp. By " the fringes in the borders of their garments, and on each fringe a riband of blue." God Almighty commanded all the Jews to observe this peculiarity in theii' habit,* that their very clothes, being differ- ent from the apparel of their heathen neigh- bours, might admonish them not to be con- formed to their idolatrous worship and li- rentious manners. This, as well as every other divine command, our Lord Jesus Christ most exactly obeyed. Therefore We are told by the ev;mgelical historian, that the diseased woman, " who touched but the hem of his garment, was restored to health." Hem it is in our English bibles ; but, if you consult that most excellent of all books, the Greek Testament, you will find, that the original word might more pro- perly be rendered y7w<7e.f However, let us pass from the drapery to the design. Eiig. Here we see David in one of the most threatening exigencies of his whole life. Saul, more like a blood-hound than a king, ])ursnes the best of sons, and the most valuable of subjects. He has extend- ed the wings of his very superior army, in order to surround| the injiu"ed hero and his handful of associates. » One would wonder how the Jews can so tenaci- ously adhere to their law, and yet so apparently ne- glect its precepts. Where are the sons of Abraham, Avho observe this express and positive command of Jehovah ! Though this indeed might be obeyed, yet majiy of the Mosaical injunctions are rendered, and by nothing less than the dispensations of Providence, absolutely impracticable. Is not this, therefore, a most incontestible proof — a proof, not invented by the arts of sophistry, but written by the finger of the Almighty himself — that the legal ordinances are abol- ished, in order to make way for a better dispensa- tion ? When the avenues are l)ecome inaccessible, the house imtenantable, and the jjrincipal apartments ir- reparably decayed ; is not this the most cogent ad- monition to the inhabitants, that they betake them- selves to some new and more commodious residence ? See Numb. xv. .38. t Matt. ix. 20. KjaT^-Sov. % To this, or some such incident, may be applied a passage of the Psalms, which, in our translation, is very obscure ; has scarce any sense, or if any, a very unjustifiable one. " Wherefore should I fear in the days of evil, when the wickedness of my heels com- passpth me round about?" Psalm xlix. .'J. Where- fore ! The reason is \ery apparent : When wickedness cleaves to a jiorson's heels, or liabitui> He was justified in or by the Spirit ; declared to be the true Son of God ; manifest- ed on earth, and recognised from lieaven, as the un- doubted Saviour of the world. t A very little reflection, I should imagine, must convince every unprejudiced reader, that St. Janies cannot possibly be stating the method of justification before the infinitely righteous God ; because he never so much as mentions the death of Christ, " who made his soul an oflering for sin ; to whom gave all the prophets witness, that whosoever belicveth in him, shall receive remission of sins; and besides whom, there is no other name gi ven under lieavcn, whereby we ran be saved. Could an apostle so alisnhilely fur- gel his Lord; and in a case where every other ni- spircd writer acknowledges Him; nay, acknowledges hiin to be ALL in all ! DIALOGUE VI. 219 excellence of faith, or the extreme necessity of a vicarious obedience. Asp. I have often read, and I well re- member, that beautifid, that instructive psalm. And I beg leave to observe, once for all, with relation to such passaj^^es of the Old Testament, that they suppose the per- sons whom they describe to be convnnced of their natural corruption, to be humbled under a sense of their actual guilt, and to live in a conscientious observance of the expiatory sacrifices ; all which had an in- variable reference to Christ, and derived their whole virtue from his mediation. Would any of the Jewish saints, think you, have dared to ad\-ance a plea for eter- nal blessedness, upon the foot of their own conformity to such moral directions ; ne- glecting, at the same time, the sacrifices of the tliree great festivals, or a believing im- provement of the daily oblation ? By no means. They were, and they would ac- knowledge themselves deplorably defective ; they would plead the promise of free grace, and Hy to the blood which God himself had appointed to make an atonement for their souls. By such sentiments, and such a conduct, they reduced to practice the very essence of our doctrine ; disavowing their own deeds, however virtuous or religious, and trusting in the strength of Israel, " the Lord our righteousness," who alone fulfill- ed all the i)recepts contained in this excell- ent formulary of duty ; who was also the substance of every purifying and of every proj)itiatory rite. Ther. Has not the sacred writer ex- pressly said, at the close of the psalm, " Whoso doeth these things, shall never fall ?" Asp. He has ; and this, I apprehend is his meaning. " Persons of such a temper, and such a practice, bear the marks of God's children, and are meet for his glory. Ac- cordingly, they shall never fall either into total apostacy here, or final condemnation hereafter. They are now heirs, and in due time shall be possessors, of his eternal king- dom." But you will take notice, that all these duties and qualifications only characterise, not constitute, the inheritor of heaven. You will likewise advert to another very remarkable circumstance in the description : " He setteth not by himself, but is lowly in his own eyes ;"* or, as the more expressive 1 Psal XV. 4. □MQDV DU'mjH I cannot say that I admire the Rible translationof thisclausc: " In whose eyes the vile person is contemptible." Me- thinks, it does not sivovir of the tender and benign spirit of our religion, which teaches us to honour all men, to despise no one's per^on, but only to detest the wickedness of the wicked. Should the sense I have opposed have its weight, the sense I have preferred is incomparably weif;Iilier. If to despise the vile, is a religious act, to think meanly ol uui.selvcs, is a much more advanced, and a original speaks, he is despicable and vile in his owTi sight ; so far from aspiring to self- justification, that he even condemns and ab- hors himself, and falls down, as a most lui- worthy wretch, at the foot of infinitely free grace. Ther. I cannot but think it is the current doctrine of scripture, and I am sure it is one of the first principles which the light of nature teaches, — That the most high God must necessarily love righteousness, and take pleasiu'e in the righteous. Asp. If the light of nature was to pub- lish a gospel, I believe it would be formed upon your plan. It would bestow favour only on the innocent, the virtuous, and the holy. But the gospel of Christ rims in a very different strain : This brings ))ardon for the condemned, and blessings for the acciu'sed : This is health to the sick, and recoveiy to the ruined. " The Lord hath anointed me," saith its divine Author, "to preach good tidings to the meek,"* who arc humbled under a sense of their sinfulness. " He hath sent me to bind up the broken hearted," who are wounded with a conviction of their undone state ; — " to proclaim liber- ty to the captives," the wretched captives of Satan ; " and the opening of the prison to them that are bound," bound in the chains of ignorance, impotence, and misery. As I am myself a most unworthy siimer, you must not be displeased if I espouse the cause of those unhappy creatures. Yet though a friend of sinners, I am no enemy to the righteous. I entirely agree v\'ith my Theron in allowing, that the most high God necessarily loves righteousness. Only I want to be informed, where this admira- ble and lovely quality is to be found ? Not far more difficult instance of true religion. This is to copy the highest pattern of human excellence, who, notwithstanding his very superior attainments, ac- counted himself less than the least of all saints, nay, the very chiefest of sinners. * Isa. Ixi. 1. Upon this passage of Isaiah I would beg leave to observe that the word meek seems not to answer or convey the prophet's idea. By glad tidings to the meek, we are inclined to think of persons en- dued with that placid and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. This might discourage many people, who know themselves to be destitute of such a gracious habit. This might lead others to sus- pect, that some amiable disposition is previously ne- cessary, in order to receive the benefits of redeeming grace. Which is a very mistaken, and will prove a most uncomfortable forbidding notion. The original □113^ signifies, in this place, the afflicted ; not so much those who are beautified with meekness as those who are oppressed with misery, spi- ritual misery especially ; not excepting even those who are slaves to their own unruly passions. The Lord Jesus never find.s, but makes people meek. Meek- ness is one of the fruits of his .Spirit, one of the bless- ings which he bestows on the unworthy. 1 he whole paragraph i.s a descrintion of extreme wretcliedness. Wliat can be more aistressed than the man whose outward circumstances are imiioverished and ruined; whosespiritisbroken uiideiihe weightof his calaiiiuies, who is lakcn laplive by llie enemy, is thrown into a dungeon, ami loaded with rous ? Tins i.s the prophet's lepiekcntatioii, tins is the picture of unconverted sinners; and to these, to these Christ Jfsus is a ransom, a deliverer, a portion. 220 THERON AND ASPASIO. among the Gentiles : They have swerved from the dictates of natural conscience. Not among the Jews : They have broke the holy commandment delivered on mount Sinai. Not among Christians : For, if God should enter into judgment with us, we could not answer him one of a thousand. In the kingdom of Ethiopia, or in the country of the Moors, where will you find the native whites ? The Son of God found none among the race of Adam that were entitled to the character of righteous. He who gave him- self a ransom for all, makes no application to such persons.* Why? Because he sul- lenly disesteemed personal goodness, or was unable to distinguish the excellency of in- herent virtue ? No ; but because he knew, that, amiable as these qualifications are, they have no existence in the human heart, till the sinner, reconciled by his death, be sanctified also by his Spirit. You remember, perhaps, that remarkable answer which the Spartans once returned to a threatening embassy from some of the neighbouring states ? Nothing could be more concise ; and, I think, nothing was ever more spirited and significant. Ther. Those neighbours gave them to imderstand, by their ambassadors, " That, if they entered their territories, they would biu-n their towns, make the inhabitants pri- soners, and spread destniction wherever they advanced." To which msolent me- nace, the brave Lacedemonians made no other reply, than — If. Is this the story to which you refer ? Asp. The very same. And when you are speaking of human righteousness, as the cause of our acceptance with the eternal God, I would borrow the language of a Spartan. If, shall be my reply. — If, se- clusive of the obedience, and independent on the Spirit of Christ, you can furnish yourself with this endowment ; or if you can carry your righteousness to that perfec- tion, which may equal the purity of the law, and comport with the majesty of the 'La.w- giver ; then trust in it — let it be the ground of your confidence, and seek no better foundation. But whosoever shall in this manner seek for his recommendation to the favoiu- of God, will act like the mistaken countryman in Horace, who, being vuiable to ford the river, took up a resolution to wait till the stream was all run by : " At ille LabituT, et labetur in omne volubilis aevum."f Ther. Here, I fancy, we must take leave of your countryman. If he adheres to his resolution, we shall find him in the very same situation when breakfast is over ; and may resume our subject, just where it is discontinued. DIALOGUE VII. Ther. To me, who have spent the great- est part of the winter in to\vn, these scenes of the country are inexpressibly pleasing. Take who will the gilded saloon, and the silken settee, so long as I can shelter my- self under the canopy of such a spreading beech, and use one of its coarse misshapen roots for my seat. It is true we see no longer those splendid brocades, and elegant toupees, which dis- tinguish the Park and the Mall : but we have full in our view a multitude of honest rustics, piu-suing their cheerful labours in yonder meadow ; some mowing the luxuri- ant herbage ; some raising it into regular cocks ; others loading their waggons vrith the hay, or clearing the ground with their rakes. The ground, cleared of its soft en- cumbrance, appears fresh and green, like another spring ; while the exhalations of the tedded grass, floating in the air, give a rural perfume to the gale. And which, my Aspasio, which are the most valuable objects : — The little labourers of the hive, that enrich themselves, and regale their masters ? or the gay flutterers of the garden, whose whole life is nothing but sport, and their highest character is, to be insignifi- cantly pretty ? Asp. In this retirement we hear none of the wanton and corrupting airs of the opera ; no, nor the majestic and ennobling melody of the oratorio.* But we have a band of music stationed in the grove, and a concert of native liarmony warbling from the boughs. We are entertained with the music which charmed the human ear long before Jubal found out his instruments, (Gen. iv. 21,) and thousands of years before Handel com- posed his notes. The buliinch, and a mul- titude of little tuneful throats, strike the key. The thrush below, and the skylark responsive from above, diversify and exalt the strain. The blackbird, somewhat like the solemn organ, with notes perfectly mel- low and gracefully sonorous, crowns the choir ; while the turtle's melancholy voice. « Matth. ix. 13. " I came not to call the righteous but sinners to repentame. ' j Vain man desist ; such flatferinR hopes forego : 11 Rows, and flows, and will forever flow. » Majestic and ennobling.— This, I think, is the true character, and expresses the real tendency of the ora- torio. Nevertheless, it may not be improper to ob- serve, that ifwe carry a trifling or irreligious spiut to the entertainment; if we attend to the musical airs, but disregard those sacred truths which enter into the composition; such a behaviour wiil be little belter than a profanation of holy things. I fe.ir it will be a species of taking Cod's adoiable and glorious name m vain. DIALOGUE VIl. 22 i and tlie murmuring water's jjlaintive tone, deepen and complete the universal sym- j)hony. This is the music which constituted the first song of thanksgiving, and formed the first vocal praise, that the all-gracious Cre- ator received from his new made world. This is neither the parent of effeminacy, nor a pander for vice, but refines the affec- tions, even while it amuses the imagination. Tlier, All the entertainments of nature are calculated to secure our innocence, as well as to gratify our fancy. And what is another very agreeable circumstance, those gratifications which afford the sublimest pleasiu'e are exhibited gratis, while those ■which enervate the mind and debauch the affections nmst be dearly purchased. Every one cannot gain admittance into the boxes or the pit, when some celebrated tragedy is brought upon the stage ; but every one may behold the beauteous exhibitions of spring, and the finished productions of autumn. All may contemplate the machinery of na- ture, and the wonders of creation ; thereby enjoying a far more exquisite amusement, without any of the guilt or any of the dan- ger. The inhabitants of yonder villages have never beheld the splendid i>roccssion which solemnizes the coronation of a monarch, nor the gaudy illuminations which distin- guish the anniversary of his birth. But they see, almost every morning, a much nobler spectacle displayed in the east. I'hey see the great Ruler of the day, or rather the envoy from day's eternal Sovereign, making his entry amidst the spaces of the sky. The heavens are strewed with co- lours, which outvie the pinks and carnations. The grass is decked with dew-drops, and every plant is strung, as it were, with peails. All around, the darkness retires, and sweet refreshing gales arise. At length the mag- nificent luminary appears. And what is all the ostentatious pomp of kings, what is all the glitter of the most brilliant court, compared with his-' transcendent lustre ? This spectacle we may behold without loss of time or prejudice to health. Nay, we cannot behold it without improving one and redeeming the other. So beneficial are even the pleasures which nature yields ; so serviceable the very diversions to which she invites ! Asp. Thus gracious is the Almighty Maker in the constitution of material things. The substantial and the valuable are open to every one, are accessible by all. Only the tinsel and the trappings are the property of a few, the i)oor jirerogative of wealth. No less gracious is God in the disposal of spiritual favours. These are infinitely more excellent, and yet are equally free. We are invited to buv tlicm, " w itliuut money and without price." (Isaiah Iv. 1.) What do you give for the benefits of the rising sun, or the delights of this rural me- lody ? The case is much the same with re- gard to the righteousness by which we are justified, and all the blessings of salvation. Ther. This brings to our remembrance the countryman whom we left on the banks of the liver. And for aught I can see, Theron and the rustic are j)retty much upon a footing -. the first as far from acceding to your notions, as the last is from gaining his point. Asp. Have you any objection, Theron, to these gifts of nature, because they are neither purchased by your money nor pro- duced by your own toil ? Ther. But who can ever expect to ob- tain pardon, and acceptance, and eternal salvation, at so cheap a rate ! It seems to be all delusion, Aspasio. Asp. So cheap ! Then you would pay somewhat, I perceive, by way of price. But give me leave to ask, what price did you pay to God your IVIaker, for fa.shioning you in your mother's womb ? what price have you paid to God your Preserver, for upholding you ever since you was bom? or what price do you think of paying to God the supreme Proprietor, for the ground on which you tread, for the air in which you breathe, for the light by which you see? Just the same price must you advance to God your Saviour, for all his justifying merits. Both these and those proceed from the same benefactor. They are all absolutely nece.'isary, either for the welfare of the body, or the happiness of the soul. And they are all vouchsafed on the same free terms. For thus saith the propliet : " His going forth," in the dispensation of the gos- pel, " is prepared as the morning." ('hrist, with all his precious privileges, " shall come unto us as the rain, as the latter and former rain unto the earth." (Hos. vi. 3.) However, if you are acquainted with a dif- ferent or a better way, be so good as to communicate your knowledge. Ther. Some, you may observe, depend upon their inoffensive behaviour. They live peaceably ; they do no harm to their neighbours ; they are guilty of no gross of- fence against God. And why should they not hope to obtain his favour ? They ap- prehend the prophet Samuel establishes their hope, when he makes this solemn ap- peal : " Whose ass have I taken ? whose ox have I taken ? or whom have I defraud- ed ?"(1 Sam. xii. 3.) Nay, they imagine, that our Lord himself has authorized their expectation, by giving this character of Na- thaniel : " An Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile." (.John i. 47.) A freedom from outward injustice and inward hypocrisy, is 222 THERON AND ASPASIO. / all the qualification, applauded in the one case, avowed in the other. Asp, This negative goodness (if it de- serves to be called goodness) was a plea for the empty Pharisee. But none, I presume, would choose to be associated with such a companion, either in character here, or in condition hereafter. Samuel, in the place you mention, is vin- dicating himself only to his fellow-crea- tures, and only in the capacity of a magis- trate. He speaks not of his justification before the Judge of quick and dead. This he well knew must be derived from another source, and must rest upon a firmer bot- tom. The " Israelite without guile," was a per- son who not only abstained from every sin, but performed every duty ; and without any wilful neglect of the one, or any allowed indulgence of the other. This instance, therefore, will by no means prove the suf- ficiency of your negative righteousness, which seems to have just the same degree of excellency as a fountain that never issues in water, or as a cloud that never descends in rain. Ther. In this particular, Aspasio, your sentiments are mine. But I would add morality to civility ; the virtuous to the in- offensive conversation. And if we not oidy cease to do evil, but learn to do well ; if we use temperance, exercise charity, and keep all the commandments to the best of our power, is not this a sufficient foundation for our hope ? Asp. Yes, Theron ; if, as you add mo- rality to your civility, you add perfection to both. Othei-wise you must be ranked, not among the claimants, but among the delin- quents. You have no title to a I'eward, but stand in need of pardon. It is a principle of justice, founded on the unalterable constitution of things, that the debtor be acquitted, when he has paid the debt. But supposing him, instead of gold to bring iron ; instead of talents to return pence, instead of defraying, to increase the score daily ; can he then reasonably expect, or legally claim a discharge ? With respect to such an obedience, we may pass om- verdict in the figiu'ative, but . very expressive language of Isaiah : " The bed is shorter than that a nian can stretch himself on it ; and the covering narrower than that he can wrap himself in it." (Isa. xxviii. 20.) It can neither give rest to the alarmed conscience, nor afford protection to ■ the guilty soul. If we have nothing better .to plead, we shall not be able to lift up our ■ heads in the last decisive judgment ; " but must enter into the rock, and hide ourselves in the dust, for fear of the Lord, and for the glory of his majesty." (Isaiah ii. 10.) Ther. We will go a step farther, and take in the exercise of devotion. We nil! read God's word, pray to his divine Majesty, and regularly attend on his public worship. Here now are socisd accomplishments and moral virtues, completed by the performance of I'eligious duties. Asp. Completed ! I fear that expression will scarcely abide the test of a single query. Have you then performed all your duties, with that ardent love of God, and undivided view to his gloiy ; with that adoring grati- tude to the blessed Jesus, and that child- like dependence on his Spirit, which the nature of things requires, and the scriptures of truth enjoin ? If not, your duties, be they moral or religious, or both, are far from be- ing complete ; nay, they are utterly defec- tive, and for that reason absolutely insuffi- cient for your justification. They are clip- ped or sophisticated coin ; and will that be current in the world of glory ? Ther. Allowing them to be defective, they are at least sincere. And though not free from all alloy, yet if they bear the image and superscription of integrity, why should they be rejected as "reprobate silver?" (Jer. vi. 30.) Why should they not obtain the currency you mention ? Asp. " Alas !" says a judicious and admir- ed writer, " the imperfections of our best services daily forfeit the blessings of time. How impossible then is it, that the sincerity of them, amidst so many fraUties and de- fects, should purchase the glories of eter- nity !" TTier. Be your writer ever so judicious, I can confront him wth others, equally ca- pable of judging, and diametrically opposite in opinion. What says that wise and brave man, the successor of Moses, and generalis- simo of the armies of Israel ? Joshua, I am sure, declares himself on my side ; " Fear the Lord, and serve him in sincerity," is his last solemn charge to the people. (Joshua xxiv. 14.) Even the great apostle, on a review of his ministry, makes it matter of self-gratulation, that he " had his conversa- tion in godly sincerity." (2 Cor. i. 12.) Asp. You have quoted the charge de- livered by the servant ; be pleased to recol- lect the protestation made by the master : " Not for thy righteousness," says Moses, " or for the uprightness of thy heart, dost thou go to possess their land." (Dent. ix. 3. ) Even an earthly Canaan was not given to the Israelites, as the reward of their own, either outward obedience or inward sinceri- ty. Much less can we expect the kingdom of immortality on account of any upright- ness of our intentions, or piety of our ac- tions. However, as the doctrine of sincerity is the favourite and the fashionable tenet, I will conform a little to the taste in vogue. You shall have no reason to. complain, that DIALOGUE VII. 2i>;J I Kill either a cyiiic or a stoic* Let it suflice us to be sincere ; only let us refer ourselves to the apostle for a description of this darling qualification ; " That ye may be sincere, being filled with the fruits of right- eousness, which are by Jesus Christ, unto the praise and glory of God." (Phil. i. JO, H.) Here are three properties of acceptable sincerity It must bear fruits, "the fruits of righteousness ;" and bear them abundant- ly, so that we may be lilled with them. The branch and the fruits must derive, — that its vigour, these their tlavom', and both of them their very being — from the all-suppoiting, all-supplying root (yhrist Jesus. Then, in- stead of terminating in self-justification, they must redound to the honour of God. It is not said, these shall justify you, but " these shall glorify your father which is in heaven." This kind of sincerity can never be too highly esteemed, nor too zealously encou- raged. But this, you will observe, flows from the grace of Christ, and issues in the glory of God ; therefore does but very poor- ly attest, either the sufficiency of human ability to perform good works, or the suffi- ciency of human works to win the prize of our high calling. Ther. Do you then exclude all works ? Will you make a mere nothing, both of our moral endowments, and of your evangelical obedience ? Asp. They are excluded, both the one and the other, fVom all share in justifying us ; yet not by me, but by an authority to which there can be no objection, and from which there lies no appeal. Speaking of salvation, thus saith the wisdom of God, " Not of works " Titer, Works of the ceremonial law, I suppose. These, we all acknowledge, are under the Christian dispensation, as a bond cancelled or an act rejjealed. But sure you will allow a better office, and a nobler cha- riicter to that course of obedience which is regulated by the commands of Christ. Asp. St. Paul will allow it no such office as that for which my Theron is pleadmg. " Ye are saved," says the apostle. Ye are delivered from wrath, reconciled to God, and made heiis of his kingdom. How ? "By grace, through faith," (Eph. ii. 8.) Grace, like a magnificent sovereign, from the riches of bis own bounty, and without any respect to human worthiness, confers the glorious gift. Faith, like an indigent petitioner, with an empty hiuid, and without any pretence to personal desert, receives the lieavenly blessing. * The cynic had no comiilaisance, the stoic u,- luite inlkxiljle. Both grace and faith stand in direct op- position to works, all works whatever whether they be works of the law, or works of the gospel ; exercises of the heart, or actions of the life ; done in a state of na- ture, or done under the influences of grace ; they are all and every of them, equally set aside in tliis great affair. That the bill of exclusion is thus exten- sive, or rather quite unlimited, appears from the reason assigned : " Lest any man should boast," Eph. ii. 9 ; that all pretence of glorying may be cut off from fallen crea- tures ; that the whole honour of obtaining salvation may be appropriated to him, " who hid not his face from shame and spitting." — And is he not worthy, unspeak- ably and infinitely worthy, to receive this unrivalled honour as a recompense for his unparalleled humiliation ? Ther. All our good works, we allow, are recommended by Christ. They prevail for our justification only through his merits- So that we still depend upon the Redeemer ; and, by this means, pay him the highest honour. Asp. Depend upon the Redeemer ! No, my dear friend ; you rely upon your own pious acts, and moral qualifications. They, they are your grand recommendation. The office consigned over to the divine Jesus, is nothing more than to be (as it were) master of the ceremonies. He may have the credit of inti-oducing your fine accomplishments with a kind of gracefid air. But is this an office suited to his incomparable dignity ? Was it for this that he bowed the heavens and partook of our nature ? Was it for this that he became subject to the law, and obe- dient unto death? Only for this, that he might usher in our own endowments with a plume and a scarf ? Surely, Therjn, you can never entertain such low thoughts of the incarnate God, and of Christ's media- torial undertaking. Titer. Neither can I entertain such low and vilifying thoughts of our own virtuous attainments. They distinguish persons of eminence and worth from the sordid wretch, and execrable villain, just as the noble fa- culty of reason distinguishes the man from the brute. Asp. To deny good works the merit of justifying us, is very different from vilifying them. You are going to build a new house, 'I'heron: Pray, do you intend to hew your timber from the flimsy tendrils of the vine ? Ther. No certainly. Asp. Because you do not think its feeble shoots proper to form the benms, and sup- port the roof, of your intended edifice ; do you therefore affront them, deiireciate them, or disallow their usefulness ? By no means. 'I'licy may beautify your walls with their onuiriiental spread, and enrich the desert 224 THERON AND ASPASIO. with their delicious fruit. This is an office suitable to the iinture of the plant ; and from this it receives sufficient estimation, without pretending to the honours of the oak. Virluous attainments, I owai, are a con- siderable distinction in the present state of tilings ; and, what is a higher encomium, (I shall now outshoot you in your own bow,) they will distinguish the true believer from the hyprocritical professor, even at the great tribunal. But let them be con- tent with their province, and not intrude upon the Sa\-iour's prerogative. To effect justification be his, to discriminate the justified, theirs. Neither let them elate their possessors with a vain conceit of themselves, who, though they were meek as Moses, holy as Samuel, and wise as Daniel, must confide in nothing but the boundless mercies of the Lord, must plead nothing but the infinite merits of his Christ. This is the theology both of the Psalmist and of St. Paul. They derive the bless- edness promised in scripture, not from the shallow stream of human accomplishments, but from the inexhaustible ocean of divine grace : " Blessed is he whose unrighteous- nesses are forgiven, and whose sins are co- vered." (Psalm xxxii. 1.) Ther. Will Aspasio then, like many of our modem disputants, mutilate the holy word ? industriously display what seems to strengthen his argument, but artfully secrete what tends to overthrow his scheme ? How could you forget, or why shoidd you sup- press the following clause, " and in whose spirit there is no guile." Was you afraid it would demolish your opinion ; and point out an upright honest mind as the cause of this blessedness? Afip. Vox was I, my dear Thcron, from any such groundless apprehensions, and equally far from all such delusory designs. "Shall I talk deceitfully for God?" (Job xiii. 7. ) His sacred cause does not need it, and his exalted majesty would disdain it. No, I would coiidcnm my tongue to eternal silence, rather than speak a syllable, either to conceal or disguise the truth. Most readily we will admit the sentence you mention, " In whose spirit there is no guile." It is evident from the context, that these words are not descriptive of a person in whose heart and conversation there is no iniquity, but of a penitent sinner, whose mouth freely confesses the iniquity of them both, confesses without any reserve or the least attempt to palliate ; which, instead of invalidating, corroborates my argument, since, according to your own allegation, the liighest merit consists in a free acknow- hdgment of sin, or a total renunciation of ail worthiness. Ther. When, therefore, we join rejient- ance to all our other works, lament our de- ficiencies, and implore forgiveness, surely this must be available with a merciful God, and cannot but entitle us to the happiness of heaven. Asp. How strange does it soimd, at least in my ears, for poor miserable guilty crea- tures, to talk of entitling themselves to the happiness of heaven by any deeds of their owTi ! when it is owing wholly to God's rich forbearing mercy, that they are not transmitted to hell ; owing wholly to God's free preventing grace that they are enabled to think a good thought. But not to enlarge upon this considera- tion, I would ask, whether those peniten- tial exercises were attended with a hearty detestation of sin, and an utter abhorrence of the sinner? (Ezek. xxxvi. 31.) If they \^'ere, you would then renounce yourself universally. You would never think of placing the least dependence on any thing of your own, nay, you woidd even loathe yourself. If they were not, then yom- very repentance falls short, and is to be repented of. It is as if " one came to the press-fat for to draw out fifty vessels, and there were but twenty." (Hag. ii. 16.) It is, if I may continue the prophet's metaphor, and the prophet's language, " the scant measure, which," in this your spiritual traffic, as well as in the afl^airs of secular commerce " is abominable." (Micah vi. lO. ) Or, should 3-our repentance be without a failure and without a flaw, I must still say to my friend, as our Lord replied to the young ruler, "one thing thou lackest." In all these acts of humiliation, you have only taken shame to yourself, whereas a right- eousness is wanting which may magnify the law and make it h.onourable. Should God, without insisting upon this, pardon and reward, he would not act according to his glorious character, nor be at once "a just God and a Saviour." (Isaiah xh'. 21.) And if you can find this righteousness, " either in the depth, or in the height above ;" in any person or any object, save only in the imjiuted obedience of our Lord Jesus Christ, I retract whatever I have ad- vanced. Ther. A preacher and an author has lately assured us, that we are to be " accept- ed of God, and saved by our own obedi- ence." If so, I need not scruple to repeat my assertion, that our own duties, especially when accompanied with repentance, are a real and proper foundation for life eternal. Asp. Then the apostle was under a great mistake, when treating of Christ and his merits, he ventured to assert, " other foun- dation can no man lay, save that which is laid, even Jesus Christ." (1 Cor. iii. 11.) Ther. If vou will not credit a modern DIALOGUE VII. 225 prcaciier, I cun produfe a decision, made by one of the most ancient and authoritative synods ; " Then hath God also to the Gen- tiles granted repentance unto life." (Acts xi. 18.) Repentance unto life is their unanimous voice, and my unexceptionable voucher. Asp. I can easily guess the assembly to which you refer. But I can hardly grant it the venerable name of a synod. It con- sisted of some Judaizing converts, who adhered with a tenacious and bigoted zeal to the Mosaic rites. However, though I might scruple my Theron's appellation, I readily acquiesce in their determination. It is not said, those Gentiles were peni- tent, and therefore God granted them life. This should have been the language of the assembly, in order jto establish my friend's way of thinking. On the contrary, they were dead in sin. God, of his free good- ness, granted them repentance, which is both the beginning and a substantial part of true life, even of tliat life which is founded cni justification, is carried on by sanctification, and completed in glory. I would farther observe, that repentance is a turning of the heart. And when it is repentance unto life, it is a turning of the heart from every other object, to the great and sole fountain of good, Christ Jesus. (Acts xix. 4.) — Were men slaves to sensu- ality? AVlien they repent, they are turned to Christ, for refined and heavenly afltc- tions. Were they wont to confide in them- selves and their own works ? As soon as they truly repent, they turn to Christ for a better righteousness ; and thereby, for everlasting acceptance with God. In short, they turn from every false stay, and fiy only to Christ, depend only on Christ, look- ing not to their own tears of humiliation, not to their own duties or graces, but " look- ing for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life." (Jude "Jl.) TVier. Suppose it should be wrong to expect such a vast reward, as the inconceiv- able glories of heaven, on account of our own duties, yet to set them wholly aside, to allow them no influence at all, not so much as the least co-operation in turning the scale ; this is an access on the other hand. If the former is presumption, the latter is fanaticism. Asp. I must confess, I do not thoroughly understand what you mean by fanaticism. Neither is it of much significancy to enter upon the disquisition of an obnoxious term. I would only maintain, that on us unworthy sinners, whatever is bestowed by the right- eous God, is bestowed, not as a debt* to our works, but as the donation of pure grace. T/ier. I think, it is sufficiently of grace, if we acknowledge good works to be wrought by the assistance of the divine Spirit ; and then admitted, together with our Saviour's merits, as a recommendation to the divine favour. Asp. The Pharisee could make his ac- knowledgments for the assistance of grace -. "God, I thank thee," was his language. Yet this did not exempt him from the charge of ]nide, nor secure him from the sin of boast- ing. Besides, if good works are wrought by the operation of the divine Sjjirit, tbeydraw a bill upon our gratitude, not upon the bank of heaven ; they render us the obliged, not the deserving party. To think or teacli otherwise, is errant popery,* however it may lurk under a veil of Protestantism. You bring to my mind a memorable story. Two persons were travelling througli the deserts of Arabia- The one utterly unarmed, the other wore a sword and car- ried a nuisket. As the place was exceed- ingly dangei'ous, the latter, solicitous for the safety of his companion, makes him a jiresent of his firearms ; which was no sooner done, than a lion espies them, and advances fiercely towards them. The for- most discharges liis piece, and wounds their horrid aggressor. The wound neither kill- ing nor disabling, only enrages the mon- ster. He seizes the unfortunate marksman, and is upon the point to tear him limb from limb. His fellow-traveller flies to his suc- cour,' snatches up the carbine, which dropt fi'om the other's hand, and fells the raven- ous beast to the ground ; then, drawing his sword, stabs him to the heart, and rescues his friend. The lion thus slain, they take off the skin, which he who slew the lordly sa\age claims as his own. " No," says his grateful friend, " as you did part of the execution with my weapon, I insist upon half of the shaggy spoil. I expect satisfaction likewise for the loss of my piece, which you broke in the encounter." To obtain both, he com. mences a law-suit against that generous as- sociate, who not oidy gave him the weapon, but saved the prosecutor from the very jaws of destiuction. Tlicr. If I had been judge, I shoidd, without much hesitation, have determined such a cause. Instead of costs and da- mages for my plaintiff, I should have trans- mitted the wretch to the jiillory. A.ip. I believe all the world would ap- plaud your sentence. Only be pleased to remember, that the procedure on which you • iiestoived nx a rli-hf, is, I must allow, somewhat like jargon. But perhaps jargon and inconsistency may not be without their propriety in this place, as they tend to show the genius of that doctrine which would connect such contradictory ideas. ♦ Good works, says a champion for the church of Rome, are " mercatura regni ccelcstis, — the price we, pay, or the commodity we barter, for the kingdom of heaven. Q 226 THERON AND ASPASIO so justly animadvert, is the very picture of our excessive unreasonableness, if we pre- sume to write ourselves creditors, and the divine Being debtor ; because he has de- livered us from the bondage of corruption, and enabled us to perform the duties of godliness. Theron paused, as somewhat struck by the representation. After a short interval, Aspasio resumed the discourse. Believe me, my dear friend, salvation, both in the root and all its branches, is en- tirely of grace. Or else believe me, for the many cogent testimonies of scripture, which most circumstantially ascertain this great truth. Election is of grace : " Hav- ing predestinated us into the adoption of ehildi'en," not on account of human worthi- ness, but, "according to the good pleasure of his will, (Eph. i. 3.) Equally gratuitous is our effectual vocation : " God hath called us with an holy calling, not according to oiu" works, but according to his purpose and grace," (2 Tim. i. 9. ) Faith, with all its precious fruits, is owing to the same cause -. *' By grace ye are saved through faith," (Eph. ii. 8.) From hence springs justifi- cation, together with all its attendant pri- vileges : " Being justified freely by his grace."* This is the origin of regeneration, and every living principle of godliness : " Of his own wiU begat he us by the word of truth," (Jam i. 18.) The consummation of bliss flows from the same all-supplying source -. " The gift of God is eternal life," ( Rom. \d. 23. ) It is, in every respect, a gift, not only without, but contraiy to all desert of ours. — So that the foundation is laid in the riches of grace ; the superstruc- tm-e is reared by the hand of grace, and when the top- stone is brought forth, when our felicity is completed in the kingdom of heaven, the everlasting acclamation will be, " Grace, grace unto it !" (Zech. iv. 7.) This is that glorious gospel, which hu- man learning could never have discovered ; which carnal reason cannot understand ; which the wisdom of this world accounteth foolishness ; which the en\y of the devil, and the pride of man, will alwaj^s oppose. Ther. What say you to the opinion which Ouranius so strenuously maintains, that we are justified, not by the merits of Christ imputed to us, but by Christ himself form- ed in our hearts ? And Ouranius is none of your proud or carnal people. His writ- ings are remarkable for their strict piety, and his life is as exemplary as his princi- ples. * Rom. Hi. 24. An'jsav T>I aurs ^a^iri. One of these words might have served to convey the apostle's meaning. But he doubles his assertion, in order to give us the fullest conviction of the truth, and to impress tis with a sense of its peculiar import- ance; " Freely by hisgiace." Asp. You know, Theron, I have nothing to do with the persons of men, but with the truths of the gospel. Ouranius, though eminently devout, may be mistaken : And if this is his way of thinking, he quite mis- apprehends the doctrine of grace- What is written in the oracles of scrip- ture ? " The Lord justifieth the ungodly," (Rom. iv. 5.) What is implied in the maxim of Ouranius ? He justifieth the holy, the heavenly, the Christ-like. — " A man is justified by faith," (Rom. v- 1,) says the secretary of heaven. He is justified by works, says the pen of Ouranius -. only let them be works of a superior order, such as are internal, spiritual, and wrought by the operation of Christ on the soul. — Accord- ing to this notion, every one is justified by his o^\Tr love, his own jxirity, his own zeal. Whereas, an unerring writer has most so- lemnly declared, " that by one man's obe- dience, many myriads of sinners, even all the redeemed world, shall be made righte- ous." (Rom. V. 19.) This notion, I think, is legalism in its gi'eatest subtilty, or highest refinement. It disannuls the merit of Christ, it vacates all imputation, and makes our salvation to con- sist wholly in the work of sanctification. Against which, if you remember, I entered my protest in one of our first conferences." And now, having ventured to animadvert on the tenets of others, it may reasonably be expected, that I should give an account of my ova\ faith. — " I am justified ; my soul is accepted ; not because Christ has put his laws in my mind, but shed his blood for my sins ; not because I myself am enabled to walk in all godly conversation, but because the Lord Jesus has fidfiUed all righteous- ness as my siuety." Tlier. 1 am for neither of the extremes. The middle way is most eligible. This is what sound sense approves, and the sacred system authorizes, " Whoso believeth on me," says our Lord, " shall not perish, but shall have everlasting life," (John iij. 13.) " Blessed," adds the beloved disciple, " are they who do his commandments ; that they may have a right to the tree of life ; and may enter in, through the gates, into the city, (Rev. xxii. 14.) Conformably to these texts of scripture, I would neither reject our Redeemer's me- rits nor repudiate good works. As this shady tree, and these cooling breezes, unite their properties, to render our situation agreeable ; so those two causes, acting in conjunction, exalt us to tlie favour of God, and constitute us heirs of heaven. God himself has joined them. And I must urge my remonstrance in oiu' Lord's own words. « See Dialogue II. p. IGU. DIALOGUE VII. 227 " ^V'hat God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." Asp. Would you then make impotence itself a coadjutor with omnipotence ? does this humble the sinner? does this exalt the Saviour? No: it is a most injurious in- fringement of his mediatorial dignity. In- stead of excluding, it endently introduces boasting. In consequence of such a scheme, it would be said by the inhabitants of the heaveidy world, " Thanks to our blc-ssed Redeemer for this happiness ! yet not to him only, but to our own righteous- ness also. Can you imagine, that the obedience of Christ is instifficient to accomplish our jus- tification? Must its efficacy be reinforced by the accession of our works ? And what are these works of ours, that they should enhance the value, the immense value of our Redeemer's ? Maimed, tarnished, worm- eaten things : eaten by the worms of self- seeking, self-admiring, self-love ; tarnished by a thousand vanities, maimed by ten thousand negligences. To join these in commission with our di\dne Master's right- eousness, would be infinitely more disgi'ace- ful than to tack the beggar's rag on the mo- narch's robe ; would be altogether as need- less as to dream of augmenting the sea by the drops of our bucket. Tker. Worm-eaten ? What reason have you to represent our acts of obedience under this sordid and shameful image ? Asp. I thought you could hardly brook this disparaging expression. It is somewhat like petty treason against the dignity of man. My reasons I would postpone to some other opportunity, when if you please we will give the cause a full hearing. At present, to make amends for this vile slander, I will suppose j-our works to have no defect ; nay to have all the perfection which you yourself could wish. Will you glory on this account? You are too mo- dest, I am sure, to avow or patronize such a practice ; yet, if we say or think concern- ing any attainments of our own, " This is the gi'ound on which I expect to escape con- demnation, and inherit life ;" we do, in the most ofi'ensive, though not in the most ex- plicit manner, glory.* Or, will you reckon, that these services, because faultless, are in any degree merito- rious? Let us hear our Lord's decision in the case : " When ye have done," not only some, " but all those things which are com- X " Omnis causa justitiae et salutis est materia et objectura xcivxicic-i;. Unde apostolus : Nam si Abra- ham ex operibus justificatus est, tx^"^'^" XlF-<^ '" t. e. Whatever is the cause of righteousness and sal- vation, is a real and proper foundation for glorying. Therefore the apostle acknowledges, "If Abraham were justified by works, he hath whereof to glory." Rom. iv. 2. manded you." And where is the man, or what is his name, who, in any nation, or iti any age, has doih; all that is commanded ? . Where shall I find him ? .Angels, tell me where? Shall I see glories beaming from his brow ? Or trace his footsteps by the rising (lowers ? Yet even in such a case, if all this were performed, what shall we say ? We are no better than unprofitable servants ; we have done nothing more tlian what was our in- dispensable duty to do, (Luke xvii. 10.) And have, on this footing, just the same claim to honours and rewards, as the negro slave, after the despatch of his daily busi- ness, has upon the estate or the wealth of an American planter. Ther. But what say you to those pas- sages of scripture which I have quoted ? You have given them a hearing, but no an- swer. They, I do insist upon it, expressly assert, therefore incontestably prove, an union of Christ's merit and our own works in the business of salvation. Asp. It is written in the book of Revela- tion, " Blessed are they that do his com- mandments." And wherefore ? Because the obedience of faith is attended with a real blessedness on earth, and demonstrates our title to eternal blessedness in heaven. It is, though not the purchase, yet the evidence of our right to the tree of life. All this I acknowledge. But where, I beseech you, does the scripture join the obedience of Christ and the obedience of man, as mutually conducive to the justifica- tion of a sinner ? The scripture utterly dis- avows such a copartnership, and asserts what our homily expresses, " surely, there can be no work of any mortal man (be he ever so holy) that shall be coupled in inerit with Christ's most holy act."* The scrip- ture steadily declares, that, in this greatest of transactions, Christ is not an accessary, but the principal ; nay that he is all. " Be It known unto you, men and brethren, that, through this" illustrious and exalted " per- son,-f- is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins ; and by him all that believe are justified from all things." Through this person, without any partner or coadjutor. By him ; not by him and our works jointly, but by him solely ; without the concurrence of any other action or any other agent. This was typified by the high-priest, when, on the solemn day of expiation, he went into the tabernacle alone, and made the fi- gurative atonement without any associate, (Lev. xvi. 17.) From all things : by hiiu they are wholly, as well as solely justified ; § Homily on Good Friday. t Acts xiii 38. Aia tsts, the word man is not in the original. So that I think, " this illustrious and exKliPrt person," is the fuUe.'-t and most exact trans- lation. 228 THERON AND ASPASIO. freed from every charge, \\hetlu>r of oniis- bion or commission, and rendered, not in ])art only, but completely jirceptable. I hope, therefore, you will no longer con- sider the supremely excellent Jesus as a partial cause of our justification. What would be the consequence, if a person should fix one foot on the bank of yonder river, and rest another on the iluid stream? Ther. He must unavoidably fall. Asp. A nd what says our divine instructor to those double-minded Galatians, \\ho could not believe themselves safe and com- plete in the merits of Christ alone, but must be seeking some other foundation, on which to repose a share at least of their confidence ? He says, and they are awful words ; they call for my Theron's most serious regard, " ye are fallen from grace." (Gah V. 4.) Let me entreat my friend to beware of this error. I think it is the prevailing error of our times ; and so much the more dangerous, because it is somewhat specious. To pour contempt upon the blessed Jesus, with the libertines and deists, would be shocking to a mind that retains the least reverence for sacred things. Entirely to set aside the meritorious efficacy of his im- dertaking, with the Arians and the Soci- nians, would be afflictive to a conscience that is impressed with the least sense of sin. Whereas, to erect our merits on the foundation of Christ's ; to be found in his, yet not renounce our own righteousness ; this is both plausible to our reason, and pleas- ing to om' vanity ; this seems to honour the divine Saviour, even while it gratifies hu- man pride. But this is an egregrious false- hood, and cannot stand : This is an abomin- able idol, and must be laid in the dust. Christ, like the real mother of the child, will have the whole or none, (1 Kings iii. 26.) the whole — unshared, inu'ivalled, lui- diminished glory of our salvation. Let me again entreat my dear Theron to beware of this error. It is the main pillar in the Roman heresy, and the master-policy of the Popish Machiavilians. Christ hath merited, that we may merit, is their grand maxim, and their grand delusion. Hence come their penances and their pilgrimages, hence the hj-pocritical mortifications of some, and the extravagant austerities of others ; this enriches their shrines, and fills their cloisters. And to those seminaries of su- perstition let it be banished, let it be con- fined. There let them raise their scaffold- ing, and try to enlarge the dimensions of the sky ; there let them kindle their flambeaux and attempt to increase the lustre of the sun. And when they have effected this easier task, then will we Protestants fol- low their example, and adopt their system ; then will we also think of adding our own righteousness, by way of siFppleraent to tJie dignity and efficacy of our Lord's. Ther. If we are justified wholly by our Lord's righteousness ; if nothing need be added, if jiothing can be added to its all- conijjrehending fulness, what becomes of the generally-received opinion, that Christ obtained for us only a possibility of being saved, or put us into a capacity of acquir- ing salvation. Afip. It will be discountenanced and over- thrown, as extremely dishonourable to the Redeemer, and no less uncomfortable to the redeemed. When Christ procured our par- don, and recovered our title to life, it v.'as all his own doing. " Of the people there was none with him," (Isa. Ixiii. 6.) In both cases his work was perfect. Hear his o\\'n testimony : " I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do," (John xvii. 4.) Should you want an explication of these words, 1 refer you to the comment of an apostle : " He, that is, Jesus Christ, has obtained eternal redemption for us," (Heb. ix. 12.) This was his work, and it is fidly executed. He has — he has obtained eter- nal redemption ; and left nothing for his people, but to accept the glorious purchase, and live as becomes the redeemed of the Lord. This tnith is written, as with a simbeam, in the pages of the gospel ; and sounds, as with a voice of thunder, in the songs of heaven. " Salvation to our God," they cry, " that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb," (Rev. vii. 10.) Those saints in glory ascribe the whole — the whole of their salvation they ascribe to the grace of God, and to the blood of the Lamb. Ther. Have not many of our ablest di- vines represented faith, obedience, and re- pentance, as the terms of acceptance ? Christ, according to this account, procured not the blessing itself, but only the grant of easier conditions on which it may be enjoyed. Asp. What says that sublime Being vs'ho gives the ablest divines all their wisdom ? " My righteous servant shall justify many," (Isa. liii. 11.) not pave the way, or adjust the preliminaries, but despatch the veiy bu- siness ; " shall justify." The terras of ac- ceptance, for fallen and rebellious man, were a full satisfaction to the Divine jus- tice, and a complete conformity to the di- vine law. These, impracticable by us, were consigned over to Christ. By him they were thoroughly accomplished ; and by this accomplishment of them, he purchased for us all blessings. Among others, he pur- chased the gift of faith, the grace of repent- ance, and ability to yield thankful, dutiful, evangelical obedience. These, therefore, are very improperly called, the terms which are really constituent parts of our salva- tion. DIALOGUE VII. 229 To sum up all in a word— the whole tenor of revelation shows, that there are but two methods whereby any of the human race can be justified : Either by a perfect obedience to the law, in their own persons ; and then the reward is of debt : * — Or else, because the Surety of a better covenant has satisfied all demands in their stead ; and then the reward is of grace. There is no trimming or reconciling expedient You may choose either of the two ; but no tliird is proposed or allowed. Thcr. Was there not a different method for the ancient people of God? Asp. None, Theron. In the state of primitive innocency, a perfect and persever- ing observance of the divine command was the condition of life and immortality. When, by the fu'st grand apostacy, this be- came impossible, a free pardon, and gracious acceptance, through the blessed Jesus, were substituted in its stead. Which economy, like a fountain of life, was opened, when God promised " the seed of the woman to bruise the serpent's head," (Gen. iii.. 25.) It ran like a salutaiy rivulet through the antediluvian world ; — continued its progress along the patriarchial age ; — flowed, in broader streams, under the JNIosaic dispen- sation.;— is derived down to us, abundantly enlarged, by the coming of Gluist, and the ministry of his apostles ; — will be transmit- ted with an increasing spread to the latest posterity ; — nor ever cease to amplify and extend its influence, till, as the fountain is become a river, the river is augmented into an ocean ; and " the knowledge of the Lord" our righteousness " fill the earth, as the waters cover the abysses of the sea," (Isa. xi. 9.) There was, I confess, a diversity in the administration, but no difference in the na- ture, of the blessing. Jesus Christ, how- ever variously manifested, was the " same yesterday," is the same " to-day," will be the same " for ever," ( Heb. xiii. 8.) as it is the very same sun which gleams at eai-ly dawn, which seines in the advancing day, and glows at height of noon. My simile reminds us of the time, and leaves a most important doctrine upon our memories. Sup])ose we take the admo- nition, and begin to move homeward. Ther. We need be m no hurry, Aspiisio. IVIy watch tells me, that we have h;ilf an hour good. Besides, I have something far- ther to allege, and from a very great autho- rity, which seems directly contrary to yoiu' notion. Asp. Just as you please, Theron. If you choose to stay, I am all compliance with * Rom iv. 4. Pactional ilebt ; fnunded on the pro- misp of tliecovenanl, not sjirin^ing from any worth in the obedience. your iiu-lination ; and, would truth i)er- mit, I shoidd be all conformity to your opi- nion. Ther. You know who it is that asks, " What doth the Lord require of thee ?" And neither of tis need be informed, what it is that the j)rophet replies ; " Do justice, love mercy, and walk hiunbly wth thy God, (Mic. vi. 8.) But I want to know what you think of this passage. Asp. I think it is absolutely inconsistent with yom- scheme. This passage inciU- cates humility. But your scheme is the very reverse of that amiable virtue. A self- justiciary walking humbly with God, is little better than a contradiction in terms. The liord has said, " Ye shall be saved by grace."* Yom- system replies, " No, but by oiu- o^vll works. — It is declared in scrip- ture, " that the gift of God is eternal life." It is implied in my friend's doctrine, that this happiness is the wages of our own deeds — " My son shall have all the glory of a sinner's salvation," is the unalter- able decree of the Most High. " We will have a share in the honour," is the language of yoiu- opinion — Look, how wide there- fore is the east from the west ! so remote is such a strain of teaching from the prac- tice of walking humbly with our God. Ther. But consider, good Aspasio ; have I not the prophet's authorit)' for my opi- nion? Are not his words expressly on my side? does he not mention those duties of morality and piety as the appointed method of obtaining the divine favour. Asp. He mentions, I a])prehend, a soli- citous inrpiiry ; to which he gives a satisfac- tory answer ; then subjoins a practical im- provement of the whole. The inquiry is expressed in these words ; " Wlierewithal shall I come before the Lord, and bow my- self before the high God ? Shall I come be- fore hhn witli bm-nt-offerings, with cid\es of a year old ? AVill the Lord be pleased \nth thousands of rams ; with ten thousands of rivers of oil ? Shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ?" ( Mic. \-i 7, 8. ) To which it is replied, " He hath showed thee, O man, what is good," for this important purjiose ; namely, the Messiah ; pointed out by all thy sacrifices, and described in the pre- ceding chapter. Atonement for sin, and peace with God. are to be made by a better hand, and in a better way, than thou pro- posest. He " whose outgoings have been from of old, from everlasting," (^lic. v. 2.) He, who is the Son of the highest, and yet * Kph. ii. ri. This text lays tfie axe to the very root of spiritual pride, and all self-glorying whatever. Therefore, the in.spired writer, foreseeing the back- wardness of mankind to receive it, yet knowing the absolute necessity of its reception, again asserts (ver. H.) the very same truth in the very same words. 280 THERON AND ASPASIO. the seed of " her that travaileth ;'' (Mic v. 3.) He has undertaken, and will fully exe- cute, this great office. " And what doth the Lord thy God re- quire of thee ?" AVhat temper, what con- duct, what expressions of gratitude, from his people, who are reconciled through the blood of Christ, and admitted to the bless- ings of the new covenant.* They ai'e to testify their thankfulness, by the alacrit}% uniformity, and constancy of their obedi- ence ; or by the conscientious discharge of every moral, social, and religious duty. If this be a true interpretation of the text, instead of establishing, it overturns your cause. — But I have another objection to your method, perhaps more weighty than the foregoing. Ther. Pray, let me hear it. — I am not so enamoured with my notions, but I can bear to have them censm'ed ; nor so attached to my scheme, but I can relinquish it for a better. Asp. I would illustrate my meaning, by a common experiment in optics. When ob- jects are viewed in a concave speculum, or in the hollow of a polished spoon, how do they appear ? Ther. Inverted. Asp. Such is iiiy friend's system of reli- gion. He inverts the order of the gospel : Hetiuns the beautiful building upside dowm, and lays that for the foundation which should only be part of the superstructure. Not so the apostle Paid. He, like a wise master-builder, places Christ as the foun- dation-stone, and rears his edifice of prac- tical godliness on that all-supporting basis. — Examine his epistle to the Romans ; which is unquestionably the completest mo- del of doctrine, and the noblest body of divinity extant in the world. He first discovers the depravity of our nature, and the misery of our condition : He then displays the method of our reco- very by Christ, and the blessings freely vouchsafed in his gospel : After which he delineates the offices of morality, and en- forces them by the most engaging motives ; motives drawn from the free unbounded lov- ing-kindness of God our Saviour, and from the rich invaluable benefits of his grace ;f * Thy God is the phrase. Which denotes an in- terest ; implies an appropriation ; and is the pecuhar language of the covenant — Thy God ; not made so by thy humble walking, but by an act of his own grace, previous to any obedience of thine. — According to Theron's principles, the prophet should rather have «aid, "Walk humbly (not with thy God, but) that he may be thy God." t This, I think, is the best platform foran evange- lical catechism. The ruin of man, occasioned by sin — his recovery, effected by Christ— his gratitude, to be expressed by way of obedience. — This plan is carried into execution by the Palatinate divines : who have formed upon it, a sunnnary of catechetical instruc- tion, than which 1 have met with nothing of the kind more clear and satisfactory: more edifvmg and aui- niatnig ; moae exact y consonant to the benign spirit pri\'ilege he plants as the root ; from whirli duty blooms as the flower; godliness grows as the fiaiit. The same order is observed by St. Peter in his very concise, but veiy accurate map, of the way to heaven : " Elect, according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, through sanctification of the Spirit, imto obedience, and sprinkling of the blood of Christ," (1 Pet i. 2.) First, the everlasting and electing love of the Father — Then, the enlightening and renewing agency of the Spirit ; who testifies of Christ, and applies his death to the soul, purifying the heart by faith ; from wheiice, as from a fountain of li\ing water, flows true sanctification, and every act of filial obedience, every species of real holiness ; all wliich, being partly de- fective, and partly polluted, must be sprink- led with the blood of Jesus, and made ac- ceptable by his dj-ing oblation. Ther. Is this the constant method in which the sacred wiiters represent the gos- pel salvation ? Do they always observe this particular order, in arranging its doctrines and its duties ? Or, is it not an insignificant circumstance which goes first, provided we take in both ? Asp. To observe this order, I am per- suaded, is no insignificant circumstance. It is of great consequence both to our estab- lishment, and to our growth in grace. Is it a matter of indifl^erence to the archer whether he send the point or the feather of his arrow foremost ? Can he, in either case hit the mark with equal ease, and equal cer- tainty. I believe, you ^^^ll find, that the sacred writers, in all their evangelical discourses, invariably adhere to this order. Nay, it took place even under the legal dispensa- tion. When the Lord God published his law from ]\Iount Sinai ; Avhen he wrote it with his own finger, on tables of stone ; how did he introduce the precepts ? how enforce their observance ? Let us attend to the preamble, which is the language of love, and the very spirit of the gospel : " I am the Lord thy God, who brought thee out of the land of Eg}'pt, out of the house of bondage," (Exod. xx. 2.) "I have already delivered thee, with a mighty hand, from the most sordid and insupportable slavery. I have promised thee, for thy possession, the delightful country of Canaan, ' a godly heritageofthehostsof nations, (Jer. iii. 19.) Nay, I myself am thy portion ; a God in covenant with thee ; engaged by an invio- lable contract, and with the exertion of all of the gospel, or better calculated to make mankind both holy and happy. This piece the reader may see, together with ajudicious, and very valuable exposi- tion of it, in the Latin works of Henricus Altingius, vol. i. quarto. Which, I believe, may be bought for a trifle, yet are more precious than gold. DIALOGUE VII. 231 my attributes to do thee good. Therefore keep the statutes, the judgments, and or- dinances, which I am now going to esta- blish." Could there be a more winning in- ducement, or a more endearing obligation to obedience? I might point out the same strain running through the exhortations of Moses and the 8ongs of David, the sermons of the pro])hets and the writings of the apostles. But this I wave, not through an apprehension of its difliculty, only from a fear of prolixity. However, j'ou will not think me tedious if I produce one more instance from the great master of our schools. " For we ourselves were sometime foolisli, disobedient, deceiv- ed, serving divers lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful, -and hating one another," (Tit. iii. 3 — 8.) Here he sets before us a dismil but exact picture of our depraved and undone condition. Then he presents us with a delightful view of oiu- re- demption, both in its gracious cause and precious effects. " But after that the kind- ness and love of God our Saviour toward man appeared ; not by works of righteous- ness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost ; which he has shed on r.- abvmdantly through Jesus Christ oiu- Savioui ; that be- ing justified by his grace, we should be made heirs according to the ho])e of eternal life." Having thus provided for our hap- piness, he then jiromotes our holiness. " This is a faithful saying, and these things I will that thou affirm constantly, that they who have believed in God might be careful to maintain good works : these things are good and profitable unto men." I make no comment* upon the passage ; because I hope you wiU commit it, as a noble depositum, to your memory. Your own diligent meditation, accompanied with humble prayer, will fuiiiish out the best ex- position. Only I would just remark, that the apostle, always consistent, dways uni- • Perhaps the reader will give me leave, though Aspasio has declined the office, to add a short exposi- tory stricture upon the most distingushctl parts of this very important paragraph. I. We liave the cause of our redemption; "not works of righteous- ness which VIC have done, but the kindness, tlie love, the mercy of Ciod our Saviour." II. Theefl'ects; which are, 1st, Justification — being justified, having our sins forgiven, and Christ's righteousness imput- ed: all thi-, without any the least deserving qua ity in us; solely by his grace, and most lumierited goodness. OA, .Sanlification — expressed by the '• wash- ing of regeneration, and renewmg of the Holy (Jhost ;" wYiose influences purify the soul, as the washing of water cleanses the body ; and introduces an improvement inio all the faculties of the mind, somewhat like tlui! annual renovation and general suiile of naKue, which the return of spring dilVuscs over tlie face of the eavLh. 111. The end and con- summ.Tlionof all; "that we should be made heirs of the heavenly kingdom; and live, now in the as- sured hope, hercafitv in the full enjoyment of cter- »>.t1 lifit." form, marshals his thoughts with his usual exactness. Good works are not disbanded, nor yet suffered to lead the van, but made to bring up the rear. * When be mentions these fruits of the Spirit, he mentions them, not slightly as matters of small moment, but earnestly, as affairs of great importance. It is his desire and his charge, that all believ- ers should be careful ;f have their hearts upon the business ; should use their best contrivance, and exert their utmost endeav- ours, iTot barely to practise, but to main- tain ; to be exemplary, distinguished, and pre-eminent in the exercise of every virtue, because this virtue, and those works, though not the ground of a reconciliation with God, are amiable in the eyes of all, and honour- able to the Christian profession. They are also a necessary ingredient in personal happiness, and the apparent means of social usefulness. Ther. This view of the evangelical plan is, I must confess, new to me ; and parti- cidarly yoiu: ordonnance of the epistle to the Romans. Asp. If this be new, perhaps what I am going to advance may be strange. We have been talking about acceptance with God, and debating whether our own good works are the cause of this inestimable blessing. What will you say, if we can perform no good work, till we are interested in Christ, and accepted by God ? Ther. Say ! — that this is razing founda- tions. Asp. It is razing the WTong, the founda- tion lalsely so called, which will certainly deceive as many as make it their trust. And is it not prudent, when we are build- ing lor eternity, carefidly to examine the ground ? Is it not friendly to divert a man from the treacherous sand, and lead him to the tinshaken rock ? For this cause I said it once, and for this cause I say it again, that we can perfonu no good work till we are interested in Christ, and accepted of God. * The same order is observed by .St. John, Kev. xiv. 13. "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord ; for they rest from their labours, and their works do follow them." Not go before, to open the everlasting doors, and give them admittance u;to the mansions of joy. Hut they follow thein, when ad- mitted : As the robe, which, on a king's coronation day, flows from his shoulders, cannot but accompany him, vvhcrcsover he goes. It may be i)crtinent, on the mention of this illustration, just to hint, that as it is not the robe of state which makes the king; so neitlier is it the external practice of holiness which makes the Christian. .\n union with Christ, an in- terest in his merits, and the indwelling presence of his .Spirit ; these, and nothing slior' of these, consti- tute the true Christian. ^ ei, as the royal robe is an attendant on majesty, and distinguishes the monarcli ; so practical godliness is inseparable from faith, and adorns the believer. f ^ot)ti7.^'^'i. This is some\'ould look like cowardice in me, and be a piece of injustice to you, Aspasio. Therefore I am now ready to give you all the satisfaction which a gentle- man can demand. Only, as the weather continues hazy, I believe my study must be the place of action. Asp. A challenge, Theron ! T/ier. What, Sir ! do you bogle ? would you eat your words, and play the poltroon ? Asp. Perhaps I may have an inclination to follow the example of a brother hero, who ran away from the field of battle just as his comrades were advancing to charge the enemy ; and when called to an account for his behaviour, right wortliily alleged, that liis retreat proceeded, not from any ti- midity of mind, no, but from a concern for the public good ; " for," quoth he, " if I had been knocked on the head to-day, how should I have been able to fight for my country to-morrow?" You smile, Theron, at my doughty war- rior, and his sage maxim. But, since you have glanced at a certain modish custom, give me leave very seriously to assure you, that, if the affair was to be determined by sword and pistol, I should reckon such a conduct, a resolute refusal at least, not at all unmanly, but the truly wise and gallant behaviour. For surely it can never be an instance of wisdom, to hazard my life at the mere caprice of a turbulent ruffian, who is a stranger to all the principles of humanity and generosity, but a slave, an abandoned slave to his own ungovernable passions. Surely it can never be an act of real bravery to expose my person, because some fool- hardy practitioner in the fencing-school is desperate enough to risk his ! The gentle- man, the true gentleman, should exert a becoming dignity of spirit, and scorn to set his welfare on a level with that of an incon- siderate and barbarous bully.* Ther. But honour, my Aspasio, honour is at stake. Better to lose our life than forfeit our reputation. Better to be in a grave than to be the jest of every coffee- house ; and perhaps pointed at, as we pass the streets, for mean-spirited, sneaking, or, as the gentlemen of the sword so elegantly speak, white-livered animals. Asp. Forfeit our reputation ! Amongst whom, I beseech you? A few rash and precipitate creatures, the pupils of La * Aspasio calls the person wlio gives the challenge a bully. And such, notwithstanding all the maxims of fantastical and false honour, he will certainly he found, when tried at the bar of reason or justice. For, if the most impetuous, irrational, and brutal barbarity, is al'owcd to constitute a bully, lie has an indisputable title to the character, who," on account of a mere punctilio, or some slight allVont, would destroy a life tliat might be of service to soci;fy, might he a blr-sing to various relatives, and is inti- mately connected with a blis-jl'iil or miserable innVior- talily. Mancha's knight ; the .sons of chimera* and cruelty ; whose applause is infamy ; and their detraction the highest praise they can bestow. From every judicious and worthy person, your conduct will be sure to gain approbation, and your character esteem. When Caesar received a challenge from Antony, to engage him in single combat, he very calmly answered the bearer of the message : " If Antony is weary of life, tell him, there are other ways to death, besides the point of my sword." Who ever deem- ed this an instance of cowardice ! All ages have admired it as the act of a discreet and gallant man; who was sensible of his own importance, and knew how to treat the pe- tulant and revengeful humour of a discon- tented adversary with its deserved contempt. Barely to lose our life, is the smallest of those evils which attend this mischievous practice. It is pregnant \\'ith a long, an almost endless train of disastrous conse- quences to parents, wives, children, friends, associates, and the community. It is an infallible exi^edient to be deprived of the favour of the infinite God, and to be ex- cluded from the joys of his eternal king- dom. It is the sure way to become an ob- ject of abhorrence to the angels of light, and be made the laughing-stock of devils, in their dungeons of darkness.f Shame, ever- lasting shame, shall be the reward of such gallantry, " the promotion of such fools." (Pro v. iii. 35.) Ther. With regard to this point, I am entirely of your opinion, Aspasio, however I may differ in other particulars. Asp. Say you so, Theron ? Would you then tamely submit to affronts, insults, and injin-ies ? 77.'er. As to the trifling affronts of a peevish, incontinent tongue, I ^vould treat them with a superior scorn. And when thus treated, they are sure to recoil, with the keenest edge, and severest weight, upon the impotent malice^v]lich offers them- The wretch should see, that 1 could pity his misery, and smile at liis folly. But as » Thiskindof gentry are styled, in a book, with which tliev have little or no aciiu.iintance, but whose maxims will be had in reverence when their names are lost in oblivion, ]"lJ>Jii^'i^D " l^? sons of bluster, or the children of noise." Jcr. xlviii. 45. t "Let me tell you with coufideisce," (says an ex- cellent person, addressing himself to one of these un- hanpv desperadoes) that all duels, or single combats, are murderous: blanch them over (how you list) with names of honour and honest pretences, their use is sinful, and their nature devilish.." See the se- lect works of 13ishop Hall, in one volume folio, page 520, where the reader will iind a happy nnxUirc of true oratory and sound divinity ; aricli veinox tancy, and a sweet spirit of pietv ; contemplations upon the histories of scripture (which, I think, are our pre- late's master-piece) almost as entertr.ininp and in- structive, as the subjects illustrated are important and wonderful. Notwithstanding a few still or .-in- tiqtie phrases. I cannot but c-sreem tlie works of this author amongst the most valuable compositions ex- tant in our lan^uajjc. DIALOGUE Vin. to injuries, tbe case is otlierwise. Should any one assault my person, it is at his peril. He would find, and perhaps to his smart, Et nos tela manu, ferrumque baud debile dextra Spargimus, et nostro sequitur de vuluere sanguis. ViRK. Here the fundamental and everlasting law of self-preservation calls upon us to play the man. And I am sure, Christianity does not require us to yield our throats to the knife, or open our breasts to the dag- ger. •2.15 outrageous passions. Neither have I so totally renounced all that is humane, bene- volent, or amiable, as to di-aw my sword for your destruction, because you have first been overcome by precipitate and unreason- able resentment. You have given me an opportunity of acting the gentleman and the Christian. And this challenge I accept, as a note under your hand for five hundred pounds ;* which mil very soon be de- manded according to law, by. Sir, " Yours, &c." But to retire to deliberate, to sit down and indite a formal challenge, seems to me al- together as savage and iniquitous, as to as- sault on the highway. He that demands my money on the road, or extorts it by an incendiary letter, or decoys me into the snare by a forged and counterfeit note, is stigmatized for a villain, is abhon-ed by every person of integrity, and when detected is rewarded with a halter. Why should we reckon the headstrong bravo less in- jurious, who makes his attempt ujion my very life, and thirsts with insatiable fury for my blood ? A.sp. He allows you a fair chance, it is said. 7Vicr. A chance ! Of what ? i:ither of falling a sacrifice to his rage, or of imbru- ing my hands in his blood. Which is nei- ther more nor less than reducing me to a ne- cessity of launching into damnation myself, or of transmitting a fellow-creature to eter- nal vengeance. And is this an extenuation ? this a mitigating circumstance ? It really proves the practice so inexcusably wicked, that nothing can be pleaded in its defence. The very argument used to justify the hor- rid deed, inflames its guilt, and aggravates its malignity. It is a pity but the legislative authority would interpose for the suppression of such a flagrant wrong to society, and such a no- torious violation of our benign religion. Why should not the laws declare it felony to make the fii'st overture for a duel ? Since it is always more heinous, and frequently more pernicious — is alwaj s murder in the intention, and frequently issues in double destruction ; the one inflicted by the stab of violence, the other executed by the sword of justice. Might it not, at least, be branded with some mark of public infamy, or subjected to a severe pecuniary mulct ? so that a gentleman of spirit and tem])er might have it in his power to return the comj)liment of a challenging letter \^■ith some such an- swer:— Sl«' pa. _ __ horrid manner, if it was made the s'.ire way to en- " However meanly VOIl mav think of iiot)lc and enrich the object of their m^cr^.—N.B. The ,T T .... 1 ■ I. " I ' . ^« ».:«„ civic crov/n was an ornament assigned to these sol- yonr life, I set too high a value upon mme, K;j;;^/„.fJ„ .,,,, ■„ ,.^.,^jg rescued a fellow citizen from to cvpose it as n ni;irk for luu'.i-ciiilmcd and i iimirn-lin:; death. Asp. But to resume the proper subject, the nature of our engagement ; which I now recollect, and which was explained when I ventured to give what you call the chal- lenge. As it is not my Theron, but the obstacles of his faith, and the enemies of his felicity, that I am to encounter, perhaps I shall have courage to stand my ground ; and, instead of violating all the obligations of equity, honour, and conscience, I shall certainly evidence my love to mji friend, may possibly promote his tniest good. Tker. I do not see how this can be ef- fected by your late attempt. You under- took to run doAvn all works of righteous- ness as absolutely unable to find acceptance with God, and equally insufficient to re- commend us to his favour. It is for the credit of these, which Aspasio has depre- ciated, that I enter the lists. Asp. Pray, what is the standard to which these works of righteousness must be con- formed, and by which their sufficiency may be determined ? The/: The moral law, doubtless ; I know no other standard of righteousness, nor any other way of becoming righteous. Asp. You will, I hope, ere long be ac- quainted with another way. At present, I agree to your proposal. We will join issue on this footing, and try the merits of our cause before this tribunal. Yourself shall be the judge. I will only ask your opin- ion, and refer myself to your decision. You see, I aiTi soon weary of the military style. I had obtruded myself on a part which I was not qualified to act, and now resume a more becoming character. Ther. If you place me on the bench, I • Might not the refuser of a challenge be dignified with some honorary distinction, resembling the civic crown amongst the ancient Romans; since, by his cool and temperate bravery, ho saves one life from the sword, another from the halter ? Was some ho- norary distinction, on the one hand, united to a pe- cuniary forfeiture on the other, I cannot but think, they would prove an etfectual method to check the progress of this destructive evil. It would break the teeth of malice with her own weapons, and turn the artillery of revenge upon herself. Those detestable 2S6 THERON A^D ASPASIO. shall allow of no such digressions, but shall keep you close to the subject. Asp. Has your Lordship then considered the nature of the divine law, and the extent of its obligations ? Ther. It obliges all persons, and com- prises the whole duty of man. It forbids all immorality, and enjoins every virtue. — Are not these your sentiments ? Asp. They are, when somewhat enlarged. — The empire of the law, as prohibitory of evil, extends both to the outward and in- ward man. It takes cognizance of the ac- tions ; it judges every word. All the ope- rations and all the dispositions of the soul come under its sacred jurisdiction. It is indeed a discerner, not only of the working thoughts, but also of the dawning inten- tions ; and arraigns them both at its awful bar. " It pierces even to the dividing a- sunder of the soul and spirit. " ( Heb. v. 1 2. ) Not the inmost recesses of the breast are too deep for its penetration, nor all the artifices,of the deceitful heart too subtle for its detection. Other laws forbid the un- clean act ; this condemns the wanton eye, and irregular desire. Other laws punish the injurious deed; this passes sentence on the unguarded sallies of passion, and the most secret emotions of resentment. So eminently true is that remark of the Psalm- ist, " thy commandments are exceeding broad." (Psalm cxix. 96.) Tell me now, Theron, has your obedience been commen- surate to this extensive platform of duty? Ther. If the law be so very extensive — Asp. Nay, my friend, you caimot sus- pect, that I have stretched, to an undue ex- tent, the obligations of the divine law, since this interpretation is established by an au- thority too great to be controverted, too clear to be misunderstood — even by the authority of Christ himself; whose sermon upon the mount is a professed exposition of the commandments, and maintains in the most explicit manner all that I have ad- vanced. So that if our Lord's exposition is just, I think it will be neither rash nor uii<;haritable to say, there is not a man ujion earth but has broke them all. Tker. Are we all idolaters then ? all adulterers ? all murderers ? Shocking to imagine ! Asp. It is shocking, I confess. But how nnich more so, if such delinquents ex- pect justification by their own deeds ? Ther. This is no proof of your assertion, my good friend. Asp. To be fond of gold, to be enamour- ed with the world, to love any creature more than the ever-blessed Creator, are in- stances of idolatry, ( Col. iii. 5; Phil- iii. 19,) not (juite so gross, but altogether as real, as to set up idols in our temples, or pay nets of adoration to senseless iniii;,'cs. Have you always been free from this apos- tacy of the affections ? Our infallible Teacher has informed us, that unreasonable anger, contemptuous lan- guage, and malevolent wishes, (Matt. v. 22,) are each a species of murder, and not many removes from the assassin's deadly stab. Have you been always meek, always bene- volent, and never chargeable with this men- tal homicide ? We are farther assured, that the indul- gence of inordinate desire is, in the impar- tial estimate of heaven, as the commission of the impure deed. (Matt. v. 28.) And evil concupiscence of every kind Anolates that sacred precept, " Thou slialt not covet. "* Has your will been invariably up- right, and warped with no irregular inclina- tion ? are you wholly unpolluted with this adultery of the heart ? I wait not for a reply. I have often heard you plead guilty to all — yes, to all and every of these charges respectively. Ther. Where, and when, Aspasio ? Asp. In the most sacred place, and on the most solemn occasion. And not you only, but a whole multitude of self-con- demned criminals. Our church, you know, has ingrafted the decalogue into her public ser\'ice ; and taught all her members to an- swer, after the repetition of each command- ment, " Lord, have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law." Is there any sense in these words? or have we any meaning when we lUter them ? If we have, surel}' they must imply an ac- • Rom. vii. 7. Aspasio's oliservation brings to my remembrance a remarkable incident ; wliich, as it is - quite pertinent to our purpose, the reader will allow me to relate. It passed between a friend of mine, and a certain ingenious stranger, into whose company he happened to fall. The gentleman was extolling, at an extravagant rate, the virtue of honesty ; what a dignity it imparted to our nature! how it recom- mended us to the Supreme Being ! he confirmed all by a celebrated line from Mr. Pope. " An honest man's the noblest work of God." .Sir, replied my friend, however excellent the virtue of lionesty may be, I fear, there are ^ery few men in the world that really possess it. You surprise me, said the stranger. Ignorant as I am of your charac- ter. Sir, I fancy it would be no difficult matter to prove even you a dishonest man. I defy you. Will you give me leave, then, to ask you a question or two, and promise not to be offended? Ask your questions, and welcome. Have you never met with an opportunity of getting gain by some unfair means ? The gentleman paused. 1 do not ask, whether you made use of, but whether you have met with such opportunity? I, for my pait, have; and I believe every body else has. Very probably I may. How did you feel your mind affected, on such an occasion ? Had you no secret desire, not the least inclination, to seize the advantage which offered ? Tell me, without any evasion, and consistently with the character you admire. I must acknowledge I have not always been absolutely free from every irregular inclination, but— Hold, Sir, none of your salvos. You have con- fessed enough. If you had the desire, though you never proceeded to the action, this shows you was dishonest in heart. This is what the scripture calls concupiscence. It defiles the soul. It is a breach of that law, which "requireth truth in the inner p.irts;" and, unless you are pardoned through the blood of Clinst, will hca just ground of your condenuiation, •• wlKii Oud sliall judge the secrets of men." DIALOGUE VIII. •2i\l knowledgment of disobedioiire in every par- ticular. The criniinal arraigned at the bar never falls on his knees, and craves for- giveness, till he either corifcsses or is con- victed. This then must be the purjjort of our response. " We are verily guilty con- cerning this thing. And we humbly im- plore, both pardoning mercy for the past, and strengthening grace for the future." (live me leave to urge my question a little farther. Is there a single day in which you have not transgressed, some way or other, this sacred rule ? Titer. If the law of (Jod will dispense with no deviation, not e\'en the (irst starts of thought, or the least wanderings of de- sire— But surely to affirm this, is to extend the law beyond all reasonable bounds. The motions of evil desire, if indulged, are un- doubtedly criminal. But are they also, wlien restrained, breaches of duty ? I should rather imagine, that such temptations are tlirown in our \\ay for the trial of our obe- dience— which, had they no i)Ower over our affections, would not be trials ; and when they are resolutely withstood, cannot be faults. Asp. What was the judgment of our re- formers ? And what is the voice of our church ? We may find both in the ninth article. " Although there is no condemna- tion for them that believe and are baptized, yet the apostle doth confess, that concupis- cence and lust hath of itself the nature of sin." It is not said, concupiscence hath then only the nature of sin when it is ripen- ed into action ; but of itself, and before it breaks out into the commission of iniquity. Of itself it is contrary to the piu-e nature, and therefore cannot but be condemned by the perfect law of God. Ther. This I can truly plead in my own belialf, that it has not been customaiy with me to offend ; at least not presumptuously, or of deliberate wickedness. Asp. My dear Theron, do not offer to palliate your guilt. Such an opiate may stu- pify, but will not ciu'e ; or rather, like opiates ill ])reparcd, it will intoxicate the mind, and counteract the operation of eveiy healing medicine. Besides, it is not only pernicious, but false and unreasonable. You know the use of that solar microscope, and are able to inform me of its effects. Titer. I ought to be pretty well acquaint- ed with these experiments ; since it has long been my favourite diversion to employ a few S})are liours in such agreeable specu- lations. Asp. You have seen the body of an in- sect, accommodated to the surprising in- strument. When, in this situation, the animal was pricked by a very fine needle, your eye, your naked eye, just perceived the ])ui;cture, and discovered, perhaps a sjx'ck of moisture oozing from the orifice. But in \vhat manner were they represented by the magnifying instrument? Ther. The puncture was widened into a frightful gash ; the speck of moisture swell- ed into a copious stream, and flowed like a torrent from the gaping wound. An ox, under the sacj'ificing knife, scarce looks more bulky, or bleeds more largely. Asp. Do you not apprehend my design ? — If we, short-sighted mortals, and almost blinded with self-love ; if we cannot but be sensible of our faults, how flagrant must they appear, in what enormous magnitudes, and with what aggravating circumstances, to an eye perfectly pure and infinitely penetrat- ing ! Instead of attempting to extenuate our offences, lei us make some such improving reflections: " If tliis holy law, which pro- hibits the minutest failure, from the indict- ment ; if this all-discerning God, who sifts our conduct even to the smallest defect, be the judge; if our personal goodness, which abounds with imperfections, be our pleaj what can we ex])ect at that decisive hour, when the Lord shall "lay judgment to the line, and righteousness to the plunnnet?" (Isa. xviii. 17.) Surely, this consideration should incline us to adopt the v\'ise and ar- dent wish of the apostle, " That we may" now, in this our day, "win Christ, and" at the last tremendous audit, be " found in him ; not having our own righteousness, which is of the law," for the foundation of our hopes, " but the righteousness which is of God, by faith in Jesus Christ." (Phil, iii. 8, 9 ) Consider the law in its nobler capacity, as enjoining whatever is excellent. Can you hope. Thereon, to be justified by it, if you fall short of its demands, not barely in a few instances, I)ut in every action of your life, and every temper of your heart? Ther. Such a hope, cherished amidst such circumstances, would be fallacious and ab- surd. But I trust, I am not so very faulty, or rather so entirely abandoned, as your in- terrogatory supjioses. Asp. Have you duly weighed the perfec- tion and spirituality of the divine law ? It is a transcript of the mispotted i)urity and absolute rectitude of the divine nature. It reiiuires an unreserved obedience to all God's commands, and a most unfeigned submission to all his dispensations ; with- out regrching the former as a grievous yoke, or repining at the latter as rigorous treat- ment. It calls, not only for exteriml duty, but also for the most ujiright imaginations, and devout affections. Nay, it insists upon the exercise of every virtue, and that in the highest degree : love to God, without the least Inkewarmness, and love to all our neighbours, without anv uiikiiulness ; a 23B TIIERON AND ASPASIO. !«anctity of desire, tluit knows no stain, ami a humility of mind that is free fiom all elatement. In a M-ord, it requires us to be perfect, "even as our Father which is in hea- ven is perfect."* Do any of your actions come up to this exalted standard ? Are any of your graces thus refined ? Ther. Am I then absolutely an insolvent before the great Lord of the universe? Have I no lamb in my fold without a ble- mish ? nothing in my life, nothing in my heart, but viliat is defective and detiled ? Asp. Indeed, my friend, this is not your condition alone, but the condition of the most irreproacliable person on earth. Tiiere is none perfect, in any character, or in any work, no not one. None that obeys the divine la\v, uniformly, invariably, and com- pletely. Cast your eye upon the names which are subjoined to those beautiful prints. How elegant is the engraving ! How accurate are the letters ! The strokes most delicate- ly fine ! Their shape most exactly true ! Let me ask you to transcribe them with your pen ; and make the copy equal to the original. Preserve all the noble boldness of the Roman stamp, and all the gracefid softness of the Italian touch. What ! could you not execute this task, even in your pre- sent unimpaired health, and with the exer- tion of all your .skill? How shamefully then must you fall short, if your eyes were dim with age ; if your hands shook with a paralytic disorder, and your understanding was oppressed with a lethargic dulness ! Such is really the case with regard to all the children of men. Our nature is de- praved ; our moral abilities are enervated ; and our intellectual faculties clouded. And can we, in such a state of impotence, tran- scribe that sacred system, which is the very image of God — transcribe it into our tem- pers, and render it legible in our lives, with- out diminisliing one jot or tittle of its per- fect purity. Ther. Though I fall short, there are Christians of a much higher class ; Christ- ians, I do not doubt, who have these laws written on their hearts, aU whose tem- pers are cast into this heavenly mould. * Mat. V. 48. Our Lord, having explained several commandments of the law, sums up the whole, and <;ives us the spirit of them all, in this most refined precept ; " Be ye perfect, even," which we generally render eecrtiin', (i;il. i. /• Ther. Without the law, signifies without the necessity of an exact and unerring con- formity to it. Aap. This is not without, but by the law, qualified in the rigour of its demands, and departing somewhat from the perfection of its precept.?. Could you afiirm with any propriety, that this part of the hemisphere is without the sun, because an intervening cloud has moderated its fervour and abated its glare ? What says the apostle ? His words in another place will determine his meaning in this. If a state of acceptance with God be of works, be referable to our own obedi- ence, whether sincere or perfect, " it is no more of grace."* Works and grace, in point of justification, are irreconcilable op- posites. On this pinnacle they cannot stand together. One must supplant and overthrow the other. But why do I speak of gi-ace ? If my friend's opinion prevail, grace is at an end. What we took to be the gospel, turns out a covenant of works. Salvation ceases to be a free gift, and becomes a necessary pay- ment. For " to him that worketh," that per- forineth what the law requires, " is the re- ward not reckoned of grace ;" but he may claim it as his due, it must -be paid him as matter of debt ; Rom. iv. 4. Tlicr. You take no notice of what I ur- ged concerning the benignity of this scheme, and how much it magnifies the clemency of the great Legislator, Asp. But why should clemency erect its throne on the ruins of almost every other attribute ? This method would dishonour the veracity of God, which has denounced a curse upon every deviation from his re- vealed will. It would depreciate the ad- ministration of his justice, which cannot but punish whatever violates his sacred precepts. It would greatly derogate from the dignity of his law, and make it a mere thing of wax to bend, and truckle, and take its form from the sin and weakness of human nature. Ther. Will the divine law then make no favourable allowances for human infirmities, for constitutional faults, and strength of passion ? Asp. Far be it from me to represent the law of the Most High, either more strict, or more yielding, than it really is. To avoid all possibility of such a mistake, let us hear the declaration of the law itself: " Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things that are written in the book of the law, to do them." Gal. iii. 10. * Rom. xi. 6. The passage produced by Aspasio, refers immediately to the doctrine of election, and but remotely to the privilege of justification. How- ever, as the former includes the latter, if that be per- fectly free, this cannot be the consequence of works. The aigument therefore, I apprehend, is conclusive, Ihougli the proof is not so direct. 246 THERON AND ASPASIO. " Every one ;" without any exception of persons, without any regard to pleas, either of human weakness or violent temptation. — " That continueth not ;" it is not enough to observe these holy commandments in the general tenor of our conversation. Our course of obedience must be without any intermission, from the earliest dawn of rea- son to the latest period of life. " In all things ;" we must refrain from all the sins that are forbidden, and from every approach towards them. We must practise all the virtues that are enjoined, and in their full extent of perfection. In a word, the law insists upon obedience, perfect in its principle, perfect in all its parts, perfect in every degree, and in each of these respects perpetual.* The least de- ficiency in anyone particular renders us liable to vengeance; and notwithstanding any re- pentance for transgressions, notwithstanding all pretensions to sincerity of heart, subjects us to the curse. Theron paused ; — he seemed to be struck with surprise ; — but rallying his thoughts, replied, If this be the sense of the passage ; who of all flesh can be saved ? Asp. Say rather. If the extent of the di- vine law be so enlarged, if its demands be so high, and its sanction so awfully rigor- ous, then must " every mouth be stopped ; — then is all the world become guilty liefore God ; and by the works of the law shall no man living be justified." Ther. WiW not such excessively severe doctrine drive people into despondency, or even drown them in despair? Asp. No, Theron ; unless it be such a despair as is the parent of heavenly hope, and productive of those amiable twins — peace and joy : A despair, I mean, of being reconciled to our offended God, and of ob- taining eternal happiness by any satisfaction or any duties of our own. Ther. Surely, you forget the gracious manifesto published by the condescending King of heaven : " If there be first a wil- ling mind, it is accepted, according to what a man hath, not according to what he hath not," 2 Cor. viii. ] 2. Is it not plain from this text, that infinite goodness will admit our honest, though imperfect endeavours ; and, since we are not able to pay an unsin- ning, will mercifully accept our best obe- dience? Asp. I donotforget,but possibly my friend may misapply, the gracious manifesto. To whom was the word of this consolation sent ? To true believers, who had "given their own selves to the Lord," 2 Cor. viii. 5 ; » That the law insists upon an obedience absolute- ly perfect, will be farther evident to the attentive reader, if he considers the tenor of St. Paul's argu- mentation, in his epistles to the Romans, and to the Galarinns; particularly Rom. iii. 23. tv. 15. Gal. iii. who " were established in Christ," 2 Cor. i. 21 ; "and abounded in faith," 2 Cor. viii. 7. If you likewise, my dear Theron, ac- knowledge yourself a vile sinner in your worst, and an unprofitable servant in your best estate ; if, in consequence of this ac- knowledgment, you fly for refuge to the wounds of a crucified Saviour, and rely for sal- vation only on his obedience unto death j then you imitate those Corinthian converts ; then you may apply that indulgent declaration to yourself; and then would I venture to ad- dress you, in the elegant and cheering lan- guage of the royal preacher, " Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart ; for God now accept- eth"' both thy person and thy perform- ances. But if you overlook the righteousness of the blessed Jesus : if you depend upon your- self and your own attainments; you are (how shall I speak it) not accepted, but accursed. In such a case you have already heard your doom denounced by the leader of the Jews, and may hear it ratified by the apostle of the Gentiles : " As many as are of the works of the law," who seek justification by their own observance of its commands, " are under the curse." Gal. iii. 10. Ther. Under the curse ! Because our at- tempts to obey, though faithfully exerted, are attended with defects ! Is not this un- reasonable and shocking? Unreasonable, that the God of justice should establish a law of such consummate perfection, as no child of Adam can, even with his utmost assiduity and care, fulfil ? Shocking, that the God of mercy should thunder out so severe a denunciation on the least inadver- tent breach, on every unavoidable failure ? This exceeds the relentless rigour of Draco, or the tyrannical impositions of Egyp- tian task-masters. Draco is said to have written his laws in blood ; yet he never en- acted such institutions as were absolute- ly too strict and difficult to be observ- ed. And though the Egyptian task-mas- ters insisted upon the full tale of bricks, without allov/ing the necessary proportion of straw ; yet the punishment they inflicted was incomparably less than everlasting de- struction. Asp. If God Almighty, in delivering his law to fallen mankind, intended to propose the means of their justification, your argu- ment would be valid, and your inference unde- » Eccl. ix. 7. Aspasio's remark discovers an ambi- guity in the word accepted. If people mean, that sincere obedience shall be accepted, as their justifying righteousness, as that which constitutes their title to everlasting felicity, the proposition is extremely false. If they mean, that the smcere obedience of believers, though very imperfect in itself, shall be graciously regarded in Christ, and find favour through his all- recommending merit, the sentiment is unquestiona- bly true. DIALOGUE IX. niable. But the Supreme Legislator had a very different, a far more mysterious design. However, before I proceed to touch upon this point, let me desire to know your opinion — For wh^f reasons, think you, was the law ordained ? Ther. For what reasons ? To deter men from the commission of vice, and excite them to the practice of virtue. To set before them a rule for their conduct which, if they diligently observe, they shall be rewarded with eternal happiness ; which, if they pre- sumptuously transgress, they shall be pun- ished with eternal misery. Asp. If man had never fallen, this doc- trine had been sound divinity, and this me- thod a practicable scheme. But ever since the fail, such a way of salvation is some- what like the north-east passage- As moun- tains of ice, and the severest rigours of win- ter, block up this, — so extreme impo- tence in man, and the utmost perftction in the law, bar up that- " The law," saith the apostle, "is weak;" is incapable of furnishing us with a title to the heaven- ly felicity ;* not through any defect in its precepts, but " through the flesh," through the inability of our degenerate nature. Yet I must confess you are not alone in your opinion. Multitudes have unwarily entertained the same notion; not appre- hensive that they frustrate hereby the grace of God, and render it of none eSect with re- gard to themselves. If you examine the scriptural account, you will find it quite of another strain. Ther. Pray let me hear the scriptural ac- count. For whenever those divine oracles speak, I am all attention : Wherever they interpose theirauthority, lam all submission. Asp. " By the law is the knowledge of sin," Rom. iii, 20. Far from being our justifier, it is our accuser. It arraigns, and proves us guilty- It demonstrates, beyond all possibility of contradiction, that the very best among us have failed and come short of our duty ; nay, that the very best among us have done amiss, and dealt wickedly. " I was alive without the law once," says the apostle, Rom. vii. 9. I thought my- self upright and holy ; and entitled, by virtue of these qualifications, to life eternal. *' But when the commandment came," shining in its purity, and operating with power, "sin revived:" aclear and livelysense of guilt shot, like a piercing ray, through all my soul. 1 saw myself chargeable with many past provocations. I felt myself * Rom. viii. 3. Therefore he says in another place, " If there had been a law given, which coulti have given life." Gal. iii 21. It is the same way of speaking, and intended to denote the very same im- postibility, which is implied in tliat speech of Jeho- vah to Abraham, •' If a man can number the dust of the earth." Oen. xiii. Ki. 247 subject to much remaining corruption. In consequence of which "I died:" my vain conceits were blasted ; my presumptuous hopes expired ; I could not but acknowledge myself justly liable to condemnation and death. Ther. It had this effect on Saul, when he was a malignant and barbarous persecutor. But when people are virtuous and benevo- lent, what purpose does it then serve ? Asp. A very important one ; yet such as may probably, at the first hearing, affect you with a little surprise. " The law enter- ed," says the apostle, " that the offence miglit " Tfier. Be restrained, no doubt. Asp. That the offence might " abound," Rom. V. 20. is the assertion. Ther- Surprising indeed ! Is it possible that God's law should give countenance to sin ? nay, add spurs to the sinner ? Asp. Let us beware of mistaking our sa- cred casuist. The law entered, not that the commission of sin might be authorized, but that the abundance of our sins might be manifested ; that oil mankind, even your virtuous persons, may perceive the great multitude of their iniquities, the greater im- purity of their hearts,* together with the utter imperfection of their highest attain- ments, and best services. This end could not be answered by a law relaxed in its demands, or warping to our weakness ; only by a system of precepts every way exact, and in all degrees perfect. Whoever would represent to his neighbours the spots that sully, or the scars that disfi- gure his countenance, must effect the de- sign, not by a stained, but by a pure mirror. Ther. " The knowledge of sin, and a con- viction of our exceeding sinfulness :" these are intentions which I should not have sus- pected. Asp. These are not all. There is an- other intention of the law, equally neces- sary, and no less awful : " it reveals the wrath of God against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men." Romans, i. 18, Having set before the sinner his innumera- ble offences and enormous guilt, it denounces the doom which he deserves ; it unsheathes the sword of justice, and threatens the of- fender with eveilasting destruction from the presence of the Lord. Ther. A modern writer supposes, that God may set aside the law, in favour of fiail men. I might far more reasonably suppose, that he would mitigate the law, on the same con- sideration. But what you urge makes me afraid to lean on so precarious a prop. ./*7). To look for comfort and salvation from this quarter, would be to lean, as the And therefore was law given them, to evince Their natural jiravity Milton, b. 12. J. 287. 218 THERON AND ASPASIO. Ther. I can. Bui will not this chase lead us away very far from our subject ? Asp. Perhaps not so far as you imagine. I have a reason for my request- Ther. What reason, I beseech you ? Asp. You shall soon know. Only favour me with the account. Ther. 1 protest, I cannot discern the least connexion between these rural sports and the grandtopicof our conversation. Howev- er, since you command, Iwill implicitlyobey. The stag, roused from his lair, shakes his dappled sides ; tosses his beamy head ; and, conscious of superior agility, seems to defy the gathering storm- You see, speaking of poetry, I have caught something of the po- etical strain. Asp. This enlivened manner excites my eagerness, and makes me more desirous to hear the sequel. Ther. First, he has recourse to stratagem, and evasive shifts. He plunges into the copse ; darts across the glade, and wheels about in doubling mazes, as though he would pursue even the foe he avoids. The full- mouthed pack unravel all his windings, and drive him from his wily arts. Now he betakes himself to flight, and confides in his speed. He bursts through the woods, bounds over the lawns, and leaves the lagging beagles far behind. The beagles, slow but sure, trace his steps through woods, through lawns, through half the extended forest : Unwearied, still unwearied, they urge their ardent way, and gain upon the alarmed object of their pursuit. Again he flies, flies with redoubled swift- ness ; shoots down the steep ; strains up the hill; and takes shelter in the inmost recess of some sequestered grove. The sagacious hounds hang, with greedy nostrils, on the scent. They recover, by indefatigable as- siduity, the ground they had lost. Up they come a third time ; and, joining in a ge- neral peal of vengeance, hurry the affrighted animal from his short concealment- Perplexed, and in the utmost distress, he killing ordinance, and bind us down under a i seeks the numerous herd. He would lose sentence of death. But, rightly improved himself, and elude his pursuers, amidst the Arabian proverb speaks, " ofi a wave of the sea," which will not only fail to support, but will certainly swallow up the unadvised and rash depender. No, Theron ; rather than the divine law should lose its honours, Sodom and Gomor- fah were laid in ashes; the ancient world was destroyed with a deluge ; the present frame of nature is destined to the flames, and all its unholy inhabitants will be condemned to hell. Nay, rather than the least tittle should pass unaccomplished, its curse has been executed on God's own Son, and all its injunctions have been fulfilled in the per- son of Jesus Christ. Ther. As I dare not confide in the mo- dern provisionary salvo, so neither can I ac- cede to your severe and terrifying notions. The laws of a wise and beneficent governor are calculated for the good of his subjects. What good, what advantage can accrue to us, from receiving such a sentence, and pos- sessing such convictions ? Asp. Though I might mention many ad- vantages, I shall content myself with select- ing one, which is not only valuable in itself, but the introduction to every spiritual bless- ing. When, by the instrumentality of the law, and the illumination of the Spirit, we are brought under such convictions, then we are taught to see our danger ; then we are made to feel our misery ; and then we shall no longer sleep in security, but solicitously look out for deliverance, and gladly accept the sovereign remedy. Ther. The law, according to your repre- sentation, is intended to accuse me — to con- vict me — to condemn me. So it becomes, instead of a salutary, a killing system. Asp- " The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life." 2 Cor. iii. 6. If we adhere to the literal sense, without attending to the spiritual design ; if we regard only the pre- cept and the sanction as they stand in them- selves, and neither consider nor improve them as acting in subserviency to the Medi- ator's righteousness ; they are doubtless a \ — Hold ! let me proceed no farther with the argument multitude of his fellows. But they, uncon- j cerned for a brother's woe, shun the miser- Youare a sportsman, Theron, and delight | able creature, or expel him from the selfish in the manly recreations of the field ; you must therefore have read that fine poem, which so elegantly describes your favourite diversion. Tlier. The Chase, I suppose you mean. Asp- The same. Do you remember the large description of the royal stag chase ? Ther. Perfectly well. It is not a week since I perused the whole passage, and with as much pleasure as if it had been entirely new. Asp. Then you can give me a summary of the ngrewabic narrative. rcle. Abandoned by his associates, and haunted with apprehensions of approaching ruin, he trembles at every leaf that shakes. He starts ; he springs ; and wild, and swift as the wind, flies he knows not where, yet pours all his soul in flight. Vain, vain are his efforts ! The horrid cry, lately lessened, thickens upon the gale, and thunders in his ear. Now the poor breathless victim is full in view : his sprightliness forsakes him ; his agility is spent- See how he toils in yonder valley with faultering limbs and a hobbling gait I The sight of their game quickens the DIALOGUE IX. 249 resent age, is peculiarly needful to be inculcated, I am inclined to acquiesce in the common rendering. Asp. Again, Theron ! must we never lay aside the weapons of controversy ? — You put me in mind of the resolute Athe- nian, who, having fought with distinguished bravery on the field of Marathon, pur- sued the vanquished Persians to their fleet. At that very instant, a galley full of the enemy's troops was putting oft" to sea. De- termined, if possible, to prevent their es- cape, he laid hold of the vessel with his right hand, which was no sooner fixed, than chopped off by the sailors. The warrior, not at all discouraged, seized it with his left. When that also was cutaway, he fas- tened his teeth in its side ; and never quitted his gripe, till he resigned his breath.* Ther. I have been considering the case of imputed righteousness, and am by no means satisfied as to the propriety of the jihrase, or the truth of the doctrine, especi- ally in the sense which you espouse. Ob- jections arise, more substantial and weighty than any that have hitherto been urged ; and which, if I mistake not, you will find it a more difficult task to answer. Asp. I must do my best- And if my best attempts prove unsuccessful, I shall say, with the gallant Iphicrates, when overpowered by the eloquence of his antagonist, " My adversary is the better actor, but mine is the better play." I say better ; for to you, Theron, I will freely own, what to another person I should not be so willmg to disclose, — That I re- ceive no comfort, but from the habitual belief, and daily application, of this precious doctrine. Whenever I read the most cor- rect and beautiful writings that proceed in the contrary strain, 1 feel my spirits heavy, I find my prospects gloomy, and not one ray of consolation gleams upon my mind. Whereas, much meaner compositions, which breathe the savour of this evangelical unction, seldom fail to quicken my hopes, to brighten my views, and put into my mouth that pious- ly-alert profession of the Psalmist, " 1 will run the way of thy comniaiiilinents, now thou hast set my heart at liberty." Psalm cxix. 32. Though I am far from laying any considerable stress upon this observation, farther still from advancing it into the place of an argument, yet I may be permitted to ■mention it in the confidence and familiai'ity of friendship. * The Athenian's name was Cyna?gyrus. The au- thor who relates this extraordinary story, is Justin. If the reader should think it a rhodomontade, I be- lieve he will not judge amiss. And I promise myself, the same good sense will enable him to distinguish between what is hinted by way of pleasantrv, and what is urged by way of argiunent. 2.^2 THERON AND ASPASIO. Ther. An opinion proposed with so much modesty, and so nearly connected with my Aspasio's comfort, has doubtless a claim to my serious attention. Otherwise, it might possibly provoke my raiUery. For you must know I am no great admirer of inward feel- ings. I cannot think tJiem a very solid me- thod of demonstrating your point. It must be enforced by better reasons, if you would gain it access to my heart. We must place, you say, a dependence upon the Lord Jesus Cluist, in all that he has done and suffered. What he has done and suffered, you add, is our only justifying righteousness ; and to place our dependence on it, is the only method to obtain pardon of our sins, and life eternal. Asp- I have said it, 'I'heron, and I abide by it. Tiiis being the righteousness of God, Ther. Give me leave, before you proceed farther, to propose a query. Does the righ- teousness of God signify the active and passive obedience of Christ? Asp. Righteousness is a conformity to the law, in heart and in life. As the Son of God voluntarily made himself subject to the law, perfectly fulfilled its precepts, and suf- fered to the utmost its penalty ; this, 1 should imagine, furnishes us with the truest and noblest signification of the phrase. Ther. What if I or others should imagine quite the reverse ? Asp. I thank my friend for his admoni- tion. It is indeed unreasonable that my bare imagination should pass for orthodoxy and truth. Let us then inquire after better proof. When the divine name, in the sacred phraseology, is added to a substantive, it expresses some very extraordinai-y property. " The trees of the Lord," Psal. civ. 16, denote those stately and magnificent forests, which the hand of the Most High planted. " The mountains of God,*' are those pro- digiously lajge elevations of the earth, which none but an almighty arm could establish. The righteousness of God likewise means a righteousness of the most supereminent dig- nity ; such as is worthy to be called by his name, and may justly challenge his accept- ance. And where shall we find this, but in the conduct and person of his blessed Son? This has a most unexceptionable claim to the exalted title ; being, as a masterly critic explains the phrase, " a righteousness de- vised by God the Father, from all eternity ; wrought out by God the Son, in the per? son of Jesus Christ ; applied by God the Holy Ghost to the sinner's soul." Ther. This doctrine of yours, if I rightly understand it, would make remission of sins but one half of our justification, and some- ' This is the import of the original □">n'^J>i 1 irl) Psahn xxxvi. verse 7, Hebrew ; verse (5, Kjit,-- •ish. thing else necessaiy in order to obtain etef nal life ; which is just as rational as to sup- pose, that though one cause may expel dark- ness, another must supeiTene in order to introduce light. Asp. The nature of justification, and the nature of condemnation, are two opposites, which will mutually illustrate each other. What is implied in the condemnation of a sinner ? He forfeits eternal life, and is doomed to eternal death. What is includ- ed in the justification of a sinner ? It super- sedes his obligation to punishment, and in- vests him with a title to happiness. In or- der to the first, there must be a remission of sins ; in order to the second, an imputa- tion of righteousness. Both which are de- rived from Christ's mediation in our behalf; and both take place when we are united to that divine head : So that we do not derive them from two different sources, but as- cribe them to one and the same great all- sufficient Cause. Your comparison, though intended to overthrow, I think fully establishes the sen- timent. When yonder bright orb makes his first appearance in the east, what effects are produced ? The shades of night are dispersed, and the light of day is diffused. To what are they owing — Each to a sepa- rate, or both to the same origin ? — Every one's experience will answer the question. Thus, when the " Sun of righteousness" arises in the soul, he brings at once pardon and acceptance. Remission and salvation are under his wings. Both which consti- tute the " heaJing of the nations," Mai. iv. 2. ; and both owe their being to Christ's obedience, embraced as active, and not re- jected as passive. Ther. This, I know, is the fine-spun theory of your systematic divines. But where is their warrant from scripture ? By what authority do they introduce such sub- tle distinctions? Asp. I cannot think the distinction so sub- tle, or the theory so finely spun. To be released from the damnatory sentence, is one thing; to be treated as a righteous person, is evidently another. Absalom was pardoned, when he received a permission to remove from Geshur and dwell at Jeru- salem ; but this was very different from the recommencement of filial duty and parental endearment. 2 Sam. xiv. 21. A rebel may be exempted from the capital punishment which his traitorous practices deserve, with- out being restored to the dignity of his for- mer state, or the rights of a loyal subject. In Christianity likew ise, to be freed from the charge of guilt, and to be regarded as a righteous person, are two several blessings, really distinct in themselves, and often dis- tinguished in scripture. Ther. Where are they distinguished ? in what texts of scripture ? This is what I called for — your scriptural warraTit. Asp. What think you of Job's reply to his censorious friends ? " God forbid that I should justify you." Job. xxvii- 5. That he forgave them, there is no doubt. Yet he could not justify them ; could not allow their reflections to be equitable, or their behaviour charitable. What think you of Solomon's supplica- tion ? " Then hear thou in heaven, and do, and judge thy servants ; condennning the wicked, to bring his way upon his head ; and justifying the righteous, to give him ac- cording to his righteousness." I Kings viii- 32. To condemn, in this passage, evident- ly signifies, to pronounce guilty, and ob- noxious to punishment. By parity of rea- son, to justify, must denote, to pronounce righteous, and entitle to happiness. What says Solomon's father ? " Enter not into judgment with thy servant, O Lord ! for, in thy sight, shall no man living be justified I" Psalm cxliii. 2. A man might be pardoned, if judged according to the tenor of his own obedience. But no man could be declared righteous, in conse- riuence of such a trial : this were absolute- ly and universally impossible- From ail which passages I conclude, that to be justified is different from, is superior to, the bare remission of sin. Thrr. All these instances are derived from the Old Testament ; the New, if I mistake not, speaks another language. Con- sider the case of the penitent publican. What does he request ? " God be merciful to me a sinner!" What does he obtain? " He went down to his house justified." Lukexviii. 13,1+. If, then, the petition and the grant may be dc?emed correspondent, pardon and j ustification must be reckoned equivalent. Asp. The Old and the New Testament are, in their style and contents, exactly cor- respondent. Echo, in yonder cloisters, does not more punctually reverberate the speaker's voice, than those divine books harmonize with each other- Yet it will not follow, from the publican's request and the publican's blessing, that par- don and justification are the same: (July that God's bounty frequently exceeds our prayers, and is larger than our expectations ; or that the blessing which was implored, and the blessing which was vouchsafed, are inseparably connected, and always accom- pany each other. St. Paul mentions "ajustificationof life ;" not barely an exemption from the sentence Of death, but such a justification, as gives a title (Rom. i. 18,) to the reward of life. The words ar(> very emphatical. We shall in- jure the dignity of their meaning, if we un- derslaufl them in a more contracted sense. Towards the close of the same chapter, we DIALOGUE X. 253 have another passage rich with consolation and full to our purpose: " Grace reigneth through righteousness unto eternal life." Rom. v. 21. Here is pointed out the prime source of all our blessings — infinitely free and triumj)hant grace : the meritorious cause — not any works of man, not any qua- lifications of our own, but the perfect right- eousness of our Lord Jesus Christ : the effect or end of all — which is not barely aii absolution from guilt, but an instatement in life ; a life of holy communion with God in this world, to be crowned with an eternal fruition of him in another." Let me produce one text more, which just at this instant occurs to my memory. You will find it in the apostle's defence of himself before Festus and Agrippa. He opens, as it were, his apostolical commis- sion, and repeats the words of his royal Master : " I send thee" to ignorant and en- slaved, guilty and ruined creatures " to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God ; that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among all them which are sanctified by faith that is in me." Acts. xxvi. 18. The great preacher of the Gentiles, or rather the su- preme Lord of all preachers, has distinguish- ed between remission of sins and the inhe- ritance of saints ; between the pardon that delivers from hell, and the justification that entitles to heaven. So that the former does by no means constitute the latter ; but is connected with it, as a link in the same sacred chain ; or included in it, as part of the same glorious whole. T/ier. Admitting your distinction to be proper, is not the satisfaction made by the death of Christ sufficient of itself to obtain both our full pardon, and our final happiness? Asp. Since my friend has started the question, I may venture, with all reverence to the divine counsels, to answer in the ne- gative ; it being necessary that the Re- deemer of men shoidd obey, as well as suf- fer in their stead. For this w^e have the testimony of our Lord himself. " This commandment," says he, " have I received of my Father, that I should lay down my life," (John x. 18-) " Thus it becometh us," adds he in another place, " to fulfil all righteousness." (Matth. iii. 15.) To which his apostle subjoins, that, if we reign in life, it nnist be not oidy through those sufferings which expiate, but also through that right- eousness which merits. (Horn, v- 17.) T/ier. Our Lord's testimony relates only to a positive institution, and is quite foreign to our purj)Ose. I have often been dis- gusted at such strained applications of scrip- ture. The partizans of a system wrest the » Accordingly, < tprnal life is called the hope, not of forgiveness but of righteousness, Gal. v. 6. Aiid it isl)ebtowcd, not barely l)ecause of aljsoliition, but becaiise of righteousness, Rom. viii. Id. 2,54 THERON AND ASPASIO. sacred book. They deal with divine truth, as the tyrant Prociistes served those un- happy creatures who fell into his merciless hands. Is a text too short to suit their design ? Our Procustean expositors can stretch it on the rack, and lengthen its sense. Is it too full to consist with their scheme ? They can lop off a limb, secrete a sentence, or contract the meaning. Is this to reverence the great God ? Is this to treat respectfully his holy word ? Asp. I have been grieved, I assure you, and disgusted at this practice, as well as yourself; a practice not only very irreverent, but very injudicious also. It really prejudices the cause it would unfairly recommend. Such a sup- port is like " a broken tooth, or a foot out of joint," (Prov. xxv. 19.) not only unser- viceable, but hurtful ; an obstruction, rather than a furtherance. However, I am not con- scious of committing any violence on this passage, or of forcing it into my ser- vice. The circumstance you object, rather strengthens than invalidates the conclusion. If it was so requisite for our blessed Me- diator to observe a positive institution, how much more necessary to fuliil those moral precepts, whose obligation is unalterable and everlasting ? Besides, it should be considered whether Christ's sufferings were a complete satisfac- tion to the law. Complete they were with regard to the penalty, not with regard to the precept. A distinction obvious and im- portant. From whence arises the follow- ing argument, which, for once, you will allow me to propose in the logical form. By what alone the law was not satis- fied, by that alone sinners coidd not be jus- tified : By Christ's sufferings alone, the law was not satisfied. Therefore, by Christ's sufferings alone, sinners could not be justified. But when we join the active with the passive obedience of our Lord, the efBcacy of the one, with the perfection of the other, how does our justification stand firm, in the fullest sense of the word. We have all that the law demands, both for our exemp- tion from the curse, and as a title to the blessing. Ther. Does not the scripture ascribe the whole of our salvation to the death of Chiist ? delivering it as a never-to-be-forgotten max- im in Christianity, That " we have redemp- tion through his blood, (Eph. i. 7.) "are brought near through the blood of Christ," (Eph. ii. 13.) nay, that "we are justified," (the very point under debate) " through his blood," (Rom. v. 9.) Would the inspired writer have assigned these various blessings to this one cause, if it had been a price in- adequate to the purchase, or a means insuf- ficient to accomplish the end ? Asp. This part of our Lord's meritorious humiliation is, by a very usual figure, put for the whole. The death of Christ in- cludes, not only his sufferings, but his obe- dience. The shedding of his precious blood was at once the grand instance of his suffering, and the finishing act of his obe- dience. In this view it is considered, and thus it is interpreted, by his own ambassa- dor, who, speaking of his di^^ne Master, says, " He was obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." (Phil. ii. 8.) By the same figure, faith is sometimes said to be a lively, influential persuasion, " that Christ died for our sins," ( 1 Cor. xv, 3.) At other times, it is represented as a firm practical belief, that " God hath raised him from the dead," (Rom. x. 9.) Neither of which can, without the utmost contrarie- ty to the analogy of Scripture, be taken in the exclusive sense. Each act must be un- derstood, not separately, but jointly ; each as implying both, or reciprocally inferring one another. In like manner, when the scripture as- cribes our justification to the death of Christ, we are not to think that it would set aside, but imply his obedience. It is not because his active obedience has no concern in procuring the blessing, but be- cause his bitter passion was the most con- spicuous, and the completing stage of his ever-glorious imdertaking. Then, and not till then, he could truly say, " Father, I have finished the work thou gavest me to do." - (John xvii. 4.) The?: According to your account, then, it should be possible for a man to have all his sins done away, yet not attain to com- plete justification. Wliich is as contrary to sound sense and true diviinty, as to imagine that crookedness may be removed and the object not become straight. Asp. No, Theron. vVccording to my ac- count, it is impossible that the active and passive obedience of our Redeemer should be disjoined. To whomsoever the one is imputed, from him the other is not withheld. They were undivided in Christ the illus- trious head, and they are undivided in their application to his mystical body. As Christ in suffering obeyed, and, in obeying, suffer- ed ; so, whoever receives Christ as an atone- ment, receives him also as a righteousness. This has been observed before ; and if this be real fact, what an inestimably pre- cious gift is the gift of Christ ! Never was the most Sovereign remedy so admirably suited to any malady, as this is adapted to all our wants. In him may we be found, _ living and dying ! How safe, bow happy ■ then ! — Let 'me not weary your patience, ^ if I repeat a passage from our excellent Dr. Lightfoot, which, though artless and re- markably simple, has very much affected DIALOGUE X. my mind, and, I hope will leave some va- luable impression on my friend's. " Jus- tification," says that judicious divine, "is a man's being interested in all Christ's right- eousnes. And if any thing is to be longed for, sure that is to be interested in all Christ's righteousness-" Tlier. You do not weary my patience, neither do you satisfy my doubts. For you take no notice of the absurdity objected, and the comjjarison that enforces it. Afip. Your comparison, my dear friend, is not founded on a parallel case. Neither sense nor philoso])hy find a medium be- tween the removal of crookedness, and the succession of straightness. But reason dis- cerns an apparent, and revelation maintains an important difference, between the par- don of guilt and a title to life. This has already been proved from scri;)ture, and is, to me at least, evident froui the very na- ture of things. For if a king, in favour of some condemned malefactor, revoke the sentence of death, this is one very consider- able act of clemency. But if he pleases to make the pardoned criminal a partaker of his kingdom, or an heir of his crown, this surely is new, and a much higher instance of royal bounty. If you insist upon a similitude, the word of God, which always speaks with consum- mate propriety, will furnish us with one. Zechariah illustrates the doctrine of justifi- cation. He represents the sinner by a per- son arrayed in filthy garments. His par- don is described by taking away this sordid apparel. By which benefit, he ceases to be defiled, yet is he not hereby clothed, yet is he not hereby justified : This is an additional blessing, signified by putting on "change of raiment," (Zech. iii. 4, 5,) and wearing beautifid robes. Here the cir- cumstances tally. The two constituent parts of justification are severally displayed, and strongly marked. Here we have the removal of filth, and the robe of righteous- ness ; that which frees us from being ab- horred, and that which renders us accepted ; which, though distinguishable in themselves, and distinguished by the sacred writer, are always united in the divine donation. Tlier. Tliis notion is founded on a chi- merical covenant, that Christ would tsike upon him the obedience due from man, of which there is not the least intimation in holy scri])ture. Anp. That Christ undertook every thing ne(,'espar}' to redeem lost sinners from guilt and condemnation, every thing necessai'y to ])rocure for attainted rel)els a fresh title to life and glory ; this cannot be reckoned chimerical. This must be as real, as that lost sinners are redeemed, or attainted rebels restored ; every proof of the one proves and establishes the other. This is what we call a covenant, and, from its benign nature, the covenant of grace. Without undertaking this, I see not how our Lord could sustain the character of a surety; nor without fulfilling it, how he could execute the office of a Redeemer. And I believe you yourself will be at a loss to show, with what kind of justice the eter- nal Father could " lay our iniquities," (Isa. liii. 6,) on the innocent Jesus, unless he had consented to be answerable for oiu- guilt. Titer. This is no answer to my objec- tion. I said, and it has been asserted by a very eminent and able pen, that there is no intimation of any such covenant in the whole scriptures. Asp. What then can be the meaning of those remarkable words in the prophecy of Zechariah ? " The counsel of peace shall be between them both."* Here, I think, the covenant is mentioned, and the parties are specified. " The council of peace," if I mistake not, signifies the mysterious and unsearchable contrivance, formed for the recovery of ruined man — formed and carried into execution by the Lord Almighty, or God the Father, and that illustrious per- son who is to " build the temple and bear the glory." A character which none can claim, a task to which none is equal, but the blessed .lesus only. In the 40th psalm, the conditions of the covenant are circumstantially recorded, which were, the incarnation and obedience of the eternal Son : " A body hast thou * Zech. vi. 12, 13. These two verses contain a brief, but very fine description of the Redeemer : of his person, his office, and his glory ; together with ttie alI-c;racious cause, and ever-blessed fruit of our redemption. His person : He is the man ; or, as the Hebrew im- ports, the "real," but at the same time, the "illus- trious man ;" whose name is the branch, being the new origin of a new race: the father of a spiritual seed, wiio are children, not of the flesh, but of the promise. A branch that shall spring, not from a common root, not from any human planting, but " from under liimself," being born of a pure virgin, and by the power of his own Spirit, he shall be both stock anil stem to himself. His oHice : it is to build the temple, the church of the elect which is the house of the living God, in which he dwells, and by whom he is worshipped, laying the foundation of this spiritual edifice in his cross, and cementing it with his blood. Which he shall rule as a king after having redeemed it as a priest : uniting the sacerdotal censer with the regal diadem, and teing a priest upon his throne. Hence proceeds his glory ; for he stands not, like other priests, ofl'ering daily the same oblations; but hav- ing, by one sacrifice, obtained eternal redemption for us, is set down at the right hand of the Majesty on high. What is the cause of these great events ? What, but that most sacred and august convention, the counsel of peace ? which was settled between them both ; between the Lord Jehovah on one hand, and the man whose name is the Branch on the other. Called a council, from the entire consent which ac- tuated each party, and the transcendent wisdom displayed in the whole scheme. " The council of peace," because of its sovereign efficacy to make peace with an offended God, peace in the accusing consitience, peace among people of jarring tempers and discordant principles. 256 THERON AND ASPASIO. prepared me. Lo ! I come to do thy will." (Pleb. X. 3, 7.) The accomplishment of these conditions is alleged and pleaded by our great Mediator, in the introduction to his last solemn prayer. (John xvii.) What he implores, in the process of his supplica- tions, may be looked upon as the recom- pense* decreed him by the Father, and stipulated in this magnificent treaty. Im- plores, did I say? It is very observable, that our Lord makes a demand, rather than a request. The expression is not ej^t* but hka>,f a word of authority, not of sup- plication. He claims what by the Father's engagement, and by his own obedience, was become his unquestionable right. Here are the parties of the covenant, the conditions of the covenant, the performance of the covenant, aiid the reward, ^\■hich, by virtue of such performance, is merited, is claimable, is due. All this, I should ima- gine, amounts to an intimation, and some- what more than an intimation of the cove- najit. Ther. This you call the covenant of grace ; but if we are justified by Christ's fulfilling of the law, we are justified by works. So that, before you can strike out such a way of salvation, you must contra- dict yoiu'self ; and, what is more adventur- ous, you must abolish that fundamental principle of the gospel, " by the works of the law shall no flesh be justified." Asp. We are, I grant it, justified by works. But whose ? The works of Christ, not our own. This is veiy far from contradicting oiu:selves, equally far is it from abolishing what you call the gospel- principle, which, though an undeniable truth, is not an evangelical doctrine ; be- cause it only shows us oiu' miserable state, and the utter impossibility of relieving our- selves. Whereas, nothing is genuine gos- pel, but what speaks comfort, and adminis- ters recovery. Between the covenant of works, and the covenant of grace, this, I apprehend, is the diflference : — By the former, man was in- dispensably bound to obey, in his ov.'n per- son : By the latter, the obedience of his surety is accepted, instead of his own. The righteousness required by both, is not sin- cere, but comjiletc ; not proportioned to the abilities of fallen man, but to the pmi- ty of the law, and the majesty of the Law- giver. By this means, the glory of God, as an awfid sovereign, and the glory of his law, as an inviolable system, are entirely preserved and illustriously displayed. The (salvation of sinners neither clashes M'ith * This recompense is specified and promised in an- other aiithentiocopy 'of the same grand treaty, re- corded. Isaish xlix. 1 — 6. t Not / beg, but / will. John xvii. 24. Sic vnlo, aifjub»u. the truth, nor interferes Avith the justice of the Supreme Legislator. On the contrary, it becomes a faithfid and just procedure of the most high God, to justify " him that belie veth on Jesus." (1 John i. 9.) Ther. When you mak-e this diflference be- tween the two covenants, where is your authority from scripture ? Which of the sacred writers have taught us, that though one demanded personal, the other is content with vicarious obedience ? Asp. Which? The firct three. The most eminent historian, the most enraptur- ed poet, and the most zealous preacher. I need not inform you, that I mean Moses, David, and Paul- The testimony of David has been already recited. Moses gives us a concise, but very instructive account of the second covenant. With whom, according to his representa- tion, was it made ? Not with Adam, or any of his posterity, but with the Lord Jesus Christ, in the room and stead of both. None of the articles are proposed to a poor, impotent, ruined creature ; but the whole is c-onsigned over to the interposing Saviour, significantly described by " the seed of the woman." It is not said, " Thy best en- deavours, O Adam ! thy true repentance and sincere obedience, shall retrieve this fatal miscarriige ; but, " the seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head,'" Gen. iii. 13; the Son of the Most High, by taking thy nature, submitting to thy obli- gations, and sufl"ering death for thy sins, shall fully repair thy loss. Christ, we see, undertook to execute the conditions. Christ was our representative in this great transaction. For which reason he is styled by St. Paul, " the second man," 1 Cor. XV. 48 ; and " the surety of a better covenant," Heb. vii. 22. Our help being laid upon one that is so mighty, upon one that is so faithful, the covenant is said to be " in all things well ordered and sure," 2 Sam. xxiii. 5; admirably well ordered in- deed, for the comfort of the Chiistian, and the security of his salvation. " It is true," may he argue, *' I cannot fulfil the condi- tions, and it is equally true, that this is not required at my hands. The Lord Jesus Christ, of his adorably rich goodness, has performed all that was conditionary ; and has established for me and for his people a valid title to the promises, the privileges, and" Ther. " Has thereby released me from all obligation to duty." Farewell then to our own obedience : No more occasion for any holiness of life. Nay, the sluice is open- ed for an inundation of ungodliness. Fine divinity truly ! Should I not rather say, downright Antinomianism ! Asp. No, my friend, " Christ came not to destroy the law, but to fulfil ;" Mntth. v. DIALOGUE X. 25? 17- H«! lias fulfilled it to the vciy utter- most in his own person. He lias also mer- ited Ibriis those supplies of the Spirit, which iiloiie can enable weak corrupt creatures to yield faithful and acce])table obedience. Though our Lord Jesus died, and wns obe- dient " for the ungodly ;" though he finds us ungodly when he justifies us ; yet he never leaves his people in this abominable state. " On the contrary, he " teaches them to deny all ungodliness and worldly lusts," Tit. ii. 12. Pray, let us consider the tenor of this covenant, since you are so very apprehensive of its consequences- " I will put my laws into their minds, and on their hearts will I write them," Heb. viii. 10. " They skill discern such a beauty and glory in my pre- cepts, as will engage their desires, and win their affections ; so that it shall be no long- er their burden, but their delight, even their meat and drink, to do the will of their Fa- ther in heaven." — This, this is one of the privileges purchased by our great Mediator. And it seems wondrous strange, that the purchase of an estate for you or me, should be reckoned the sure means to deprive us of the possession, or debar us from the en- joyment. How often is this weak surmise urged as an argument ? all whose plausibility is ow- ing to a palpable mistake, or an egregious fallacy ; to a supposed separation of things which are absolutely inseparable — I mean our justification and our sanctification.* You are a philosophei', Theron. Try, if you can separate giavity from the stone, or heat from the fire. If these bodies and their essential properties are indissolubly connect- ed, so are a genuine faith and a conscienti- ous obedience. To suppose them disimited, is as contrary to sound divinity, as it would be contnuy to true philosophy if you should talk of a burning substance that has no warmth, or of a solid substiuice that has no weight. Never therefore, my dear friend, lepeat this stale objection ; never proi>agate this ungrounded f clamour ; nor adopt a • See Isa. xlv. 24 ; 1 Cor. i. 30 ; 1 Cor. vi. 1 1 ; where these blessings walk hand in hand, and never were, never will, never can be parted. t This puts me in mind of what Theodorus replied to I'hilodcs ; who was often insiiiuatitif;, tii.it he preached licentious doctrine, because he enlarged with peculiar assiduity upon fail h in Jesus Christ ; and frequently chose such texts as, " Uclieve in the Lord Jesus, and thou shalt be saved." " I preach salvation by Jesus Christ; and give me leave to ask, whether you know what salvation by Christ means.'" Pniloclcs paused. He began to blush ; would have eluded the question, and decline*! an answer. "No, said Theodorus, " you must per- mit me to insist U])on a reply. Because, if it be a right one, it will justify me and my conduct ; if it be a wrong one, it will prove that you blame you know not what; and have more rea-sdn to inform yoursdf, than to censure others." This disconcerted him still more, upon which The- rdor;is proceeded ; .Salvation by Christ means, not only a tieliverance from the guilt, but also from the cavil which ia altogether ae uiij)hi!ofioi)hical as it is anti -evangelical. T/tcr. We digress from the jwint. My principal objection is not satisfied. I was observing, that, according to yoiu^ manner of stating (he affair, salvation is no longer free, but founded upon works. They tire the works of the law, thotigh Christ performs them. To maintain that \vc are justified by these works, is to con found the difference between the law and the gospel. Asp. Thoiigli we should admit your pre- mises, we cannot acquiesce in your conclu- sion. The same righteousness by which we are justified, is both legtd and evjingelical : Legal, in respect to Christ, who v,-as made under the law, tliat he might obey all its commands : Evangelical, in respect to us, who work not ourselves, but believe in the great Fulfiller of all righteousness. This is much of tlie same nature with that other momentous distinction in divinity — salva- tion is freely tdveti, yet dearly bought : Freely given with regard to us ; dearly bought with regard to Clirist. So we are justified by \\orks, if you look forward to our Surety ; we are justified without works, if you cast a retrospective view on our- selves. Theron was silent. — Aspasio, after a short interval, renewed the discourse. I know not whether my friend is yielding to my arguments, or searching after objections; deliberating uiioii a capitulation, or muster- ing his forces for a fiesh sally. However, let me take this opportuniiy of (hopping a hint, and suggesting a caution. The grand reason which inclines some people to reject this comfortable doctrine lies concealed, if not in an absolute disbe- lief of our Lord's eternal glory and God- head, yet in unsettled apprehensions of it, or an habitual inattention to it. If our Savioiu- was not really God, as some writ- ers, unhappily mistaking themselves, endea- vour to persuade the world, it would be a reasonable practice, and entirely consistent with their scheme, to disavow the imputa- tion of his righteousness : Because, upon such a supposition, his obedience was no more than bounden duty ; in which there could not be the least pretence to merit, and which could be profitable to none but himself. Whereas, if we verily believe him to be the incarnate God, hfs submission to the law becomes an act of \"oluiitary hunii- power of sin. " He gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all ini(|uity ; redeem us from our vain conversation," .as well as deliver us from the wrath to come. Go now, Philoclcs, and tell the world, that by teaching these doctrines, I promote the cause of licentiousness. And you will be just as rational, just a« candid, just as true, as if you .should allirni, that the firemen, by playing the engine, and pouring in water, burnt your house to the ground and laid your furniture in ashes. 258 THERON AND ASPASIO. liation Which circumstance, together witli the iransceiKJeiit dignity of his per- son, render his ohedience, not meritorious only, but inexpressibly and infinitely meri- torious. As the blood of Christ is called God's "own blood," (Acts xx. 28.) so the obe- dience of Christ was performed in the per- son of that adorable Mediator, " wlio is God over all," (Rom. ix. 5.) He acted through the whole course of his life, and suffered death at the last, not merely as a man, but as God-man ; as Jehovah Jesus ; Emmanuel. Let me entreat you to re- member, nay let me entreat you never to forget this all-important article of our faith. And may the Spirit of wisdom give us an understanding to know the weighty, the extensive influence, of so glorious a truth ! Ther. Par be it from me to derogate from the dignity of our Saviour's person, or to depreciate the merits of his mediatorial office. Place them as high as words can reach, exalt them as far as thought can soar, I stedfastly believe you will still fall short, immeasurably short, of their real worth. But this consideration seems to increase the absurdity of your notion : For if Christ's righteousness, his ver\- righteousness be im- puted, then the true believers are altogether as righteous is Christ himself; whereas, if you maintain that his righteousness is im- puted only as to its effects, you will keep clear of this rock. Asp. This, I apprehend, will be like keeping clear of Scylla only to fall foul upon Charybdis. What are the effects of the Mediator's righteousness? Pardon of sin, justification of our jjersons, and the sanctification of our nature. Shall we say, these effects, these benefits are imputed? To talk of their imputation, I think, is an affront to soimd sense ; as, I am sure, to be put off with their imputation, would be a fatal disappointment of our hopes. All these benefits are, not imputed but impart- ed ; they are not reckoned to us, but are really enjoyed by us : ours they are, not barely in the divine estimation, but by pro- per and personal possession. Yet it does by no means follow, that be- lievers are altogether as righteous as Christ himself, unless you can prove, that to be the receiver is, in all respects, the same as to be the author and finisher. (Heb, xii. 2.) The righteousness of Christ arises Avholly from himself, the source of ours subsists in another. Christ's righteousness is origin- ally and absolutely his own ; whereas it is made ours in a way of favour and gracious imputation. Circumstances these, which create a material difference, which yield room for a vast pre-eminence. Ther. But if Christ's perfect obedience be accounted ours, methinks we should have no more need of pardonuig merc}' than Christ himself. Asp. Yes ; because, before this \m]n\- tation, we were sunk in guilt, and dead in sins ; because, after it, we are defective in our duty, and in many things offend. Tlier. Does not this doctrine render the intercession of our Saviour superfluous? What occasion have they for an }\d\ocate with the Father, whose righteousness has neither blemish n.or imperfection ? Asp. They stand in need of an advocate, first, that they may be brought home to "the Repairer of their breaches," (Isaiah Iviii. 12,) and made partakers of his right- eousness by a living faith : next, that their faith may be preserved, notwithstanding all opposition, stedfast and immoveable ; or rather, may be carried on victorious and triumphant, even to the end. Ther. You say, " Christ performed all that was eonditionary ;" then he repented for us, and believed for us. This must be admitted in pursuance of your principles : liut this is so wild a notion, so contrary to reason and scripture, that to mention it is to refute it. Asp. Christ performed whatever was re- quired by the covenant of works, both be- fore it was violated, and after it had been transgi'essed. But neither rei>entance nor faith were comprehended in this institution. It knew nothing of the one, and it would not admit of the other. It was not there- fore necessary, neither indeed was it possi- ble, for oin- spotless and divine Lord to re- pent of sin or believe in a Saviour. But he did unspeakably more, " He put away sin by the sacrifice of himself." (Heb. ix. 26. ) He is himself the Saviour of all the ends of the earth : and he has power to bestow that blessed Spirit, which worketh faith, and produceth repentance. Ther. However, from what you have advanced, this wiU unavoidably follow — That a man is to be justified under the character of a notorious transgressor of the law, and justified under the character of a sinless observer of the law- And what is this but a glaring inconsistency ? Asp. Not at all inconsistent, but abso- lutely needful, if we consider those dis- tinct branches of the divine law, the per- ceptive and the penal ; both which, in case of guilt already contracted, must necessarily be sarisfied. Not at all inconsistent, but perfectly harmonious, if we take in the two constituent parts of justification — the ac- quittance from guilt and a title to life. The former supposes us to be transgressors of the law ; and such the highest saints in the world are. The latter requires us to be observers of the law ; and such must the inheritors of heaven be. Much less is this inconsistent, if we consider believers in DIALOGUE X. S59 (lieir personal and relative oajmcity -, as they are in themselves, and as they are in their Snrety. Notorious transgressors in them- selves, they have a sinless obedience in Christ. The consciousness of that will be an everlasting motive to humility ; the be- lief of this, an inexhaustible source of joy. All this is no more inconsistent than the union of a gloomy contexture and a light- some splendour, in those detached clouds wiiich float amidst the firmament. In themselves, they are a louring and dark col- lection of vapours ; by the impression of the sun-beams, they arc fair and bright as the polished silver. Ther. After all, the imputation taught in scripture is not the imputation of Christ's riiihteousness, but of our own faith. Agreeably to the apostles express declara- tion, " Abraham believed God, and it was imputed to him for righteousness." (Rom. iv. .-J.) A>tp. This objection admits the thing in dispute, though it controverts the way and manner of obtaining it ; admits the necessi- ty of some active, positive righteousness, in order to our justification. In this particu- lar, I am glad to agree with my Theron ; and in this particular, I believe the generality of serious people agree with us both. When- ever their consciences are awakened, and seek to establish the hope of eternal life, they constantly turn their eyes to some righteousness, which they apprehend may, either in whole or in part, answer the de- mands of the law. Some look to their own sincere obedience ; others call in to their succour works of supererogation. My friend would assign this office to his faith. Ther. Is this a proper answer to my ob- jection, Aspasio ? The text is point-blank against your tenet. You do wisely there- fore not to confront, but to elude the evi- dence. Anp. I did not intend it for an answer ; oidy as an occasional observation, which nevertheless has a pretty close connexion with the subject. Neither would I use so mean a subterfuge, as to elude an argument which I could not confute. If my friend had allowed me Icisiu'e to explain myself, this should have been my reply. That a man is not justified by works, is a position most clearly demonstrated, and a doctrine most zealously inculcated by St. Paul. That faith is a work * exerted by the human mind, is equally certain. Un- less, therefore, we would render the apostle inconsistent with himself, we must understand the passage in a qualified sense. Why • So it is called by Him, who knew what was in man, and what were the diflcremes of things ; " This is the work of God, tliat ye hflicye on him whom he hath sent,'' John vi. 29. should we iM3t suffer him to be his ovni in- terpreter ? \\\\y should we not take the nar- rative of his experience for a comment on his doctrine ? He declares, that the ground of his own comfort, the cause of his own justification, was not the grace of faith, but the " righteousness which is of God by faith ;" Phil. iii. 9 ; not the act of believ- ing, but that grand and glorious object of a sinner's belief, " the Loid our righteous- ness." Besides, what was that faith of Abraham to which the apostle refers, and which he proposes as the invariable model of our jus- tification ? It was faith in the promised seed — in Jesus Christ the righteous.* It was a firm persuasion, that this illustrious person should spring from his loins, and be the author of forgiveness, acceptance, and salvation to himself, and to a multitude of believers numberless as the stars of heaven. Let us tread in these steps of the holy pa- triarch, and we shall ascribe little, ascribe nothing to our faith, but all to the infinitely excellent obedience of our Redeemer. Ther. Sure, Aspasio, you will not pre- sume to correct inspiration ! The inspired writer makes no mention of a Redeemer's obedience. He says expressly and positive- ly, " It/' that is, Abraham's faith, and not any thing else, " was counted unto him for righteousness." Asp. True, Theron; as those windows are reckoned, are counted the lights of your house. Why ? Because they illuminate ? No ; but because they afford a passage to the illuminating rays. Through them, the first and best of elements is diffused into all your habitation. So "we are saved by grace through faith," by grace imputing, through faith accepting, the righteousness of Jesus Christ. Grace is the magnificent source of this nobler light, faith is the means of transmitting it into all the faculties of the soul. When oiu- Lord declares to the diseased woman, " Thy faith hath made thee whole," Matth. ix. 22, how are we to understand his words ? That the patient's belief, and not the agency of Christ, wrought the cure ? To suppose this, would be extremely dero- gatory to the power of our great Physician. And if we ascribe justification to the act of believing, this will be equally derogatory to the obedience of our great Mediator. In the former case, Christ and his omnipotent ojieration were all in all. In the latter case, Christ and his infinite merit are all in all. In both cases, faith is the only eye to dis- cern, or the hand to receive, the soveieigu good. I would farther observe, that faith is very particidarly distinguished from the righte- Compave (len. xv. S, C, with Gal. ill. Id. «r 'J60 THERON AND ASPASIO. ousness wliich justifies. We read of the righteousness which is by faith, whiclj is of faith. Rom. ix. 30. Phil. iii. 9. This form of expression puts an apparent di/Terence l)et\veen the evangelical faith and the evan- gelical righteousness ; since whatever is by another, and of another, cannot, without the greatest violence to reason and language, be reckoned that other. — If faith was the cause of our acceptance with God, then we should be justified by a righteousness which is con- fessedly imperfect : For who has ever at- tained to the highest degree of this virtue ? or whose faith is not mixed with an alloy of unbelief? If faith itself was the matter of our justification, I see not how boasting could be excluded ; how the law could be magnified ; or what reason the apostle could have to account all things, but the righte- ousness of Christ, meaner than dross. Phil, iii. 8. Say not, that we presume to correct in- spiration : we only interpret the inspired word in an harmonious consistency with it- self. This sense is agreeable to the pre- vailing doctrine, and to the current language of scripture. To the prevailing doctrine ; wliich is "a believing in him who justifieth the ungodly." Sift and examine this ex- pression, " mm who justifieth." You will find that the work is Christ's ; Christ's and no other's. The Holy Ghost assigns not the least share, not so much as a co-efficien- cy, to any other cause. Faith, therefore, if it presumes to arrogate this exalted pre- rogative, or if it pretends to the least part in this important business, is a sacrilegious usurper. To the current language ; as when God is called our fear ; Gen. xxxi. 42, 53 ; our hope ; Psalm Ixxi. 5. Jer. xiv. 8 ; our joy. Psalm xliii. 4. In these places, the act is undoubtedly put for the object : So, in the passage before us, the act must de- note the object of faith. It is to be under- stood, not absolutely, but as some divines speak, objectively, instrumentally, relatively. Ther. In the name of wonder, what can you mean by this heap of harsh and obscure expressions ? Let me entreat you, Aspasio, to speak in your own style, not in the dialect of Aquinas. I have an irreconcilable aver- sion to these scholastic terms : They are the barbarisms of divinity -. I know but one use they are fitted to serve ; that is, to per- plex and puzzle a cause you cannot main- tain : Somewhat like the liquor which a certain fish, when closely piu-sued, is said to emit, by which the water is darkened, and the foe eluded. Asp. This, Theron, is the meaning of our uncouth phrases : It is not faith itself which justifies ; but that righteousness which faith continuiilly views, which faith delightfully apprehends, and on which it finally termi- nates. To be plainer still ; we iffe justified Ly fiiith, in the same manner as we are fed by the hand, or as we are said to drink of a cup. Neither the hand nor the cup are the cause of our sustenance, but the instru- ments; one of conveying it, the other of receiving it.* If an apostle affirms, " We are justified by faith ;" faith itself declares, "in the Lord I have righteousness." Put these passages together, and you will have the true sense of oiur doctrine, and the true doctrine of the gospel. When Themistocles fled from the malice of his own countrymen, what recommended him to the protection of king Admetus ?— Not his name ; that was obnoxious. — Not his actions ; they had been hostile. — But the person of the young prince, whom the distressed refugee caught up in his arms ; and charged with these credentials, present- ed himself to the royal parent-f So faith recommends to God, and justifies the soul, not for itself or its own worth ; but on ac- count of what it presents, and what it pleads. Titer. Is not this a fanciful distinctio)), and an excessive refinement ? Has it any foundation in scri])ture? Asp. It is implied in almost all the re- presentations of Christ, and all the descrip- tions of faith, which occur in the sacred writings. Christ is likened to clothing; and be- lievers are said to " have put on Christ," Gal. iii. 27. Now it cannot be the act of putting on, that covers our bodies, or keeps them warm ; but the commodious garment which is v.ore — He is compared to bread : " I am the bread of life." John vi. 35. Shall we say, it is the act of eating which strengthens the constitution, and recruits our spirits ? No surely ; but the loud eaten and digested- Christ was typified "oy the " cities of refuge," Num. xxxv. 13, and sin- ners, by the obnoxiou.s manslayer ; who, if he fled to one of those privileged abodes, * Tliough 1 am entirely of Theroii's mind, and can by no means admire our scholastic divines, or tlicir !o,!;ical terms, yet, a remark from Parseus, couchc-ti in this style, is so pertinent to the purpose, and so full an explication of the point, that it would be an injury to the cause, not to make it a part of my notes. And some readers, I apprehend, not much acquaint- ed with this old-fashioned dialect, may be well enough pleased to view a specimen ; may like it, as they do the rust of a medal, merely for its uncouth- ness and antiquity. " Faith justifies," says ray autlior, " not effective- ly, as working an habitual righteousness in us, not materially, as though it were itself the constituent cause of our justification ; but it justifieth objective- ly, as it unprehendeth Christ; and instrumentally, as iplietn his righteousness." t'This, saith Plutarch, was a custom peculiar to that country; \*as reckoned the most solemn method of supplicating favour: and seldom met with a repulse. To wliich I may add, it is a custom that Christians should imitate, in all their addresses to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. When thus used, thus impiovctl, it will never fail of suc- cess. DIALOGUE X. 261 and there remained, was safe. No prose- cution against him could be vahd. He had nothing to fear from the avenger of blood. In this case, was it the bare act of flying that screened the criminal ? By no means. This conveyed him to a place of security. But the place itself was his sanctuary, his asylum, his safeg^iard. Faith is styled a receiving of Christ : " As many as received him, to them gave he i)ower," or granted the privilege, "to be- come the sons of God."(Johni. 12.) The of- fice of faith is, according to this definition, not to contribute its quota, much less to deposit the whole sum, but to take and use the inesti- mable gift. — Faith is called " a looking unto Jesus, Heb. xii. 2. in allusion, I suppose, to the famous expedient provided for the wounded Israelites. Num. xxi. 8- Our crucified Lord was prefigured by the bra- zen serpent ; our guilt by tlie stings of the fiery serpents ; and our faith by looking to the miraculous remedy- Did the healing power, I would ask, reside in the mere act of viewing ? No ; but in the emblem of a dying Saviour, elevated on the pole, and ordained for the recovery of the people. Here all the efficacy was lodged. From hence it was all derived. Tiie action of the eye, like the office of faith, was only to fetch home, and apply the sanative virtue. Once more : faith is represented, as " Liying hold" on God our Saviour ; Isa. xxvii. b ; " leaning" upon our Beloved, Cant viii. 5 ; "cleaving" to the Lord, Acts xi. 23. Please to take notice of yonder vine. Its shoots are weak, and it-i branches are flimsy. Being absolutely unable to sup- port themselves, they are furnished with a very remarkable set of claspers ; which, like so many fingers, lay hold on the ]icgs of the wall, or fasten themselves to the i)oles within their reach. Without such a pro- vision, the boughs must lie prostrate on the ground, .and be exposed to the insults of every foot; whereas, by this kind coiitri- vance of nature, so creejiing a plant will climb into the air and enjoy the breeze ; so feeble a ))lant will stand out the winter, and dt'fy the storms. — An instructive ad- monition to sinners ; and no contemptible illustration of faith, especially in its i)rinci- pal and most distinguishing employ. Thus let us apprehend tlie blessed Jesus, hold us fast by our adored Redeemer, cleave to his ineffable worthiness, as those twining ten- drils, by repeated circumvolutions, adhere to their sid)stanti;d supjjorters ; then shall we rise, by " merits not our own," from the most abject and miserable condition, to a state of everlasting honour and joy- 7'//(?-. Some people, I belie\e, would tianlly forbear smiling at tiie pcculiarily of your diction, and might be inclined to call your discourse canting, rather than reason- ing. For my own part, I nmst acknow- ledge, that as all your peculiar phrases are derived from the scriptures, I hear them with reverence, rather than any disposition to sneer. Was my friend delivering a La- tin oration, itwoidd be a sufficient warrant for any of his expressions to prove that they came from the Ciceronian mint : And will it not be, at least, an equally sufficient authority for any modes of speech used in a theological essay, to allege that they bear the stamp of the Bible ? Though I make no objection to your language, I have yet another scruple with regard to your doctrine — Do the ancient fathers adopt or inculcate thisimputed right- eousness ? If it was so imjwrtant an arti- cle of our faith, surely it could not be unknown in those early ages which were so near the apostolical fountain. It would not have been omitted by those zealous preachers, who chose to endure all the ri- gours of persecution rather than renounce their holy profession. Asp. I thmk it were sufficient to answer this question by asking another. Do the apostles, does the holy Spirit of God speak- ing in scripture, inculcate this doctrine, or display this privilege ? If so, we need not be very solicitous for any farther authority. " To the law and to the testimony," (Isa. viii. 20.) is our grand, our final appeal. Amidst all the darkness and uncertainty, which evidently nm through the writings of the best of men, this is our unspeakable happiness, that " we have a more sure word of prophecy, to which we do well to take heed." (2 Pet. i. 19.) However, to be a little more particuhu- : It cannot be expected that we should find many passages in those pious authors, very strong and very explicit upon the point ; because in their days it was not so professedly opposed, and therefore could not be so ex- actly discussed as in the latter ages. Never- theless, they have left enough behind them to avouch the substance of what we assert, " That a man is not justified by any works, duties; or righteousness of his own, but only by faith in Jesus Chiist. " I cannot say that I have charged my memory with their very words, and for that reason must not attempt at jjresent to make any citation. But, when a proper opportunity offers, and their works are before me, I may possibly produce a few of their testimonies. In the mean time, I can mention a set of writers, whose tiltestation will, I imagine, cany as much wi'igiit with my friend, as the united voice of the (ireek and Latin fathers. 77ifr. Who are they ? Asp. Our venerable reformers. The ho- milies composed by those excellent divines, arc as express to my purpose as they are 262 THERON AND ASPASIO. iinexccptionjible in their evidence. This is their language : " The true understand- ing of this doctrine, We be justified freely by faith without works, is not, that this our act to believe, or this our faith in Christ, doth justify us, for that were to count our- selves to be justified by some act or A'irtue that is within ourselves. But the true meaning thereof is, that although we hear God's word, and believe it ; although we have hope and faith, charity and repentance, and do never so many good works ; yet we must renounce the merit of all our virtues and good deeds, as things that be far too weak and insufficient to deserve remission of sin, and our justiiication. We must trust only in God's mercy, and that sacrifice which our High Priest and Saviour Jesus Christ, the Son of God, offered for us upon the cross." The homily su])joins a very opposite il- lustration, which may conclude our discourse with perfect propriety, and I hope with equal efficacy. " So that as St- John Bap- tist, although he were never so virtuous and godly a man, yet in the matter of forgiving sin, he did put the people from him, and appoint them unto Christ, saying thus unto them, " Behold !" yonder is the " Laml) of God, which taketh away the sins of the world," even so, as great and as godly a virtue as the lively faith is, yet it putteth us from itself, andremitteth us unto Christ, for to have only by him remission of sins, or justification. So that our faith in Christ, as it were, saith unto us thus, It is not that I take away your sins, but it is Christ only? and to him only I send you for that purpose, forsaking therein all your good words, thoughts, and works. And only putting your trust in C'hrist."'* Ther. If there be any tolerable sense of the notion under debate, I think it must be imderstood as follows: — Christ's perform- ance of the lawof his mediation, or, in other words, his unsinning obedience to the mo- ral law, and the spotless sacrifice of him- self to the vindictive justice of God ; these are the only valuable considerations on ac- count of which the gracious God restores guilty creatures to a state of acceptance with his divine majesty. Asp. I am far from denying your proposi- tion : I rejoice in the propriety of my The- ron's sentiments. May his faith, which is thus far advanced, be carried on by grace, till it is completed in glory ! That unsin- ning obedience, and that spotless sacrifice, are indeed the oidy valuable, they are also the truly, or rather the infinitely valualile consideration, which has fully merited foi us the remission of sins, and the eiijoyment of life ; and this not only from the gracious, • See the scioiul part of tlie Homily on Salvation. but even from the just, the faithful, the righteous God. But then, they must be imputed, in or- der to furnish us with a claim, and invest us with a right to the purchased privileges. Suppose them not imputed, and what be- comes of our interest in them ? They are like a medicine prepared but not applied. Suppose them imputed, and they lay a firm, an apparent, a rational foimdation, for every pleasing hope, and for every heavenly blessing. Ther. I fear I have acknoAvledged too much. — My thoughts fluctuate. My mind is unsettled. I would not withstand the truth, I would uot disbelieve any doctrine of the gospel. Yet, what shall I say? While I listen to your reasoning, I am half a convert. When I recollect the objections, I revert to my first opinion. Of this, however, I am convinced, that human righteousness is insufficient for our justification. Here your arguments have carried their point. I shall henceforth place my hopes of everlasting happiness, not upon any works of my own, but upon the free- goodness and unbounded beneficence of the Supreme Being, pursuant to that max- im of Scripture, " The gift of God is eter- nal life." Asp. You do right, Theron, to expect eternal life, as the gift of God, not as the wages of your own obediential service. But be pleased to remember, that all the gifts of grace, though perfectly free to sin- ners, are founded upon a grand and ines- timable price paid by their Saviour. Are they entirely absolved from guilt ? It is be- cause Christ gave his life for their ransom ? Are they heard M'ith acceptance when they pray ? It is because their exalted High Priest intercedes in their behalf. — Are they completely justified, and instated in endless bliss ? It is because their Redeemer's con- summate obedience is the glorious equiva- lent for this and every other blessing Therefore, when you mention eternal life as the gift of God, you should not forget to add with the holy a])ostle, " through Jesus Christ our Lord." (Rom. vi. 20.) Well, my Theron, what say you farther ? Is your quiver emptied ? Are your scruples satisfied ? May I interpret this silence as an act of assent ? Ther. Observe how the ranunculuses on yonder gay j)arterre have contracted their spreading tufts, and the tulips have closed their expanded cups, while all the neigh ■ bouring flowers have shut their ivoiy doors, or drawn their velvet curtains. Such is the state of my thoughts. They are all bent inwards, collected in themselves, and jion- dering upon your discourse, which has in- clined WW., before I was aware, to contem- jilate rather than talk. You will excuse my thoughtfulness, Aspasio; or, if it wants DIALOGUE XI. an apology, you mtist bliimc youiself, for, had your reasons been less cogent, my at- tention had been more diseiii.^dtrid. Aap. My dear Tlieron, I shall only wish, in allusion to your own simile, and in the language of the best of books, that these truths may " distil as the dew," upon your mind, (Deut. xxxii. 2,) and "lie all night upon your brajiches." (Job xxix. 1 9. ) This, I am persuaded, is the only way to have all your comforts "green before the sun," and «U your virtues " flourish as an herb :" whereas, under the iiitkien(.-« of any other faith, I am afraid they will be as the garden that is visited with a drought, or as the leaves that are smitten with a blast. 7yier. I shall attentively consider, both your doctrine, and your arguments ; which, that I may execute with more e;i.se, and to better purpose, be pleased to sum u]), ia a few words, the subst^mce of what has j)ass- ed. This done, it will be time to with- draw. The tlowers, yon see, are our moni- tors. They have folded up their robes, and veiled their beauties i A custom which they seldom use till the rising damps ren- der it unsafe for their master to be among them, and the surrounding gloom renders it difficult for his eye to distinguish them. Asp. You could not oblige me more, than by giving me such a conmiand. We tnist for salvation, Not on our own external duties. This were to build our house upon the sand ; which, when the rains descend, when the torrents pour, when the winds blow with tempestuous \ iolence, will certainly fall, and buiy the builder, with all his vain hopes, in irretrievable ruiu. Not on the sincerity of our hearts. This, if opposed to Christ, and made the rival of his merits, will be a " despised broken idol." Despised by the infinitely sublime and majestic Ruler of the world. Broken, with regard to the stress we lay, or the con- fidence we repose, on so deceitful a prop. No more able to stand in the judgment of the great day, than Dagon was able to maintain his station before the ark of the Lord God of Hosts. (1 Sam. v. 3, 4.) Not upon Old' faith. This is often weak, as the rickety child : sometimes quite faint, like a person in a deep swoon ; always im- perfect, like every other performance of ours. Alas ! to what aillicting fears, to what grievous despondency should I, for my pajt, be perpetually liable, if my own faith was the ground of my justification ? Blessed be the Father of mercies ! we have a surer supjiort. Not upon faith, not upon faith, but ui)on its gracious Author, and gloiions object, is the hope of Israel found- ed. Yet, Not ujjon our Lord's righteousness, con- sidered only as juissive ; but upon his ac- 263 tive and passive obedience united: all that he did in conformity to the commands of the law, and all that he suffered, in submis- sion to its penalty. Both which, immense- ly dignified by his divine nature, are a basis for our faith which nothing can shake, are a fomidation for our afhance, which can never be removed. Nothing else, in any creature, or in all worlds, could expiate the least sin. This not only expiates all sin, but gives a title to every blessing — to the blessings of grace and of glory, of evange- lical holiness and everlasting happiness. DIALOGUE XI. Asp. I HAVE often purposed, and as often forgot, to lU'^k my Theron what picture he was so attentively surveying, when I stole unperceived upon him in this favourite ar- bour.* Ther. I was indulging a pensive pleasure, in viewing the ruins and contemplating the fate of Babylon — that renowned and opu- lent city ! once the residence of the Assy- rian monarchs, and capital of one of the gi-eatest empires in the woi'ld. The draught I held in my hand represented some of its remains. And indeed this was the veiy last subject which employed my thoughts. In the morning my son brought me his ob- servations upon the scene, which I have just now been revising. For I frequently set him to exercise his judgment or display his fancy on re- markable passages which occur in history He was lately commissioned to determine a controversy between the illustiious Leoni- das and the less celebrated P;edaretus. This was the point in debate. — Which of them discovered the truest generosity of spirit, and the most heroic love of their coun- try ? The former, who \\illingly sacrificed his life in its defence ? or the latter, who, when he was candidate for a seat among the three hundred, and lost his election, instead of being chagrined or dissatisfied, went home, unfeignedly rejoicing, " that there were found in Sjiarta, three hundred men, more worthy than himself ?" The task of this day was, to give a descriptive pic- ture of those wonderful ruins. Agp. Pray let me have the pleasure of hearing the young gentleman's performance. Thcr. It will be too long, and too j)uer- ile ; tire your patience, and offend your taste. Asp. I do not use to make either of these complaints, when I am entertained with Theron's compositions j and, as the son has so much of his father's genius, I * See Dialogue V. 264 THERON AND ASPASIO. am not at uU apprehensive of any such dis- appointment. We have a most agreeable situation, and more than an hour's leisure : I must therefore repeat my request. Ther. It is true, I have retouched the sketch, wliich may render it somewhat more tolerable. And since you persist in your demand, I will read the paper. Only de- sii'ing some allowance for a little luxuriancy of imagination, which, in young writers it may be advisable to indulge rather than repress, as age and judgment will probably come with the pruning knife, and make the proper retrenchments. I must farther ob- serve, that contrary to the custom which prevails in om- schools, I generally choose to have him express his sentiments in En- glish ; because it is in this language he must communicate his o\vn, and become acquainted with the ideas of others ; be- cause, to acquire some good degree of pro- priety and fluency in this his native tongue, will be incomparably more serviceable, than to speak Latin with the Tarentine elegance, or to write it with the Ciceronian copious- ness. Is this Babylon ? the glory of kingdoms ! the beauty of the Chaldean excellency ! Where once the gorgeous east, with richest hand, Shower'd on her Kings barbaric pearl and gold. How is she fallen ! fallen from the height of magnificence into the abyss of confusion ! What was once the object of universal ad- miration, is now a spectacle of astonish- ment and horror. The palace, where majesty sat enthron- ed, like some terrestrial deity, is a heap of rubbish ; no longer distinguished by an air of superior elegance, but by stronger and more melancholy marks of departed dignity.* WTiere the nobles of that sumptuous court trailed along the marble pavement their robes of purple and embroidery, there the crested snake hisses, or the fierce envenom- ed adder glides. How changed is the hospitable hall, and how disgraced the room of state ! The first afforded a constant and cordial reception to the welcome guests ; in the last the gi-eat king gave audience to his eritigiiig, his ador- ing vassals. Now tliorns overrun the circumference, and " desolation sits in the threshold of them both !" Where are the roofs of ivory, painted v.ith vermillion and adorned with sculpture ? the radiant roofs, whose lamps of burnished silver, pendent in many a blazing row, yielded light as from another sky? Swept from their founda- tions, they lie clotted with defiling dirt, or clasped with tangling briers. Music no longer pours her harmony through the spa- cious and extended apartment ; but the night-owl, nestling in some cleft of the ruins, screams her harsh and portentous dis- sonance. Joy no longer leads up the sprightly dance amidst the lustre of that ar- tificial day ; but the solitary bat flits in si- lent circles, or flaps her sooty wngs. All those gay deUghts, let the sons of sensuality hear the tale, and take warning from the catastrophe ! — all those gay delights are ex- tinguished, like one of their feeblest tapers, which, having illuminated for a while the festive assembly, shone itself to the edges of the exhausted socket, and, in a moment flashed into stench and darkness. The walls, though cemented with bitu- men,* and consolidated into the firmness of a flint, are become like the broken bub- ble. There was a time when the inhabi- tants, confiding in the strength of their bul- warks and the multitude of their towers, looked down with fearless disdain on the army of besiegers. But now the prophet's threatening is most terribly fulfilled : " The fortress of the high fort of thy walls hath he brought down, laid low, and brought to the ground, even to the dust," Isa. xxv. 12. — Where are the gates, the grand and glit- tering gates,t which admitted the triumph- ant hosts, or poiu-ed forth their numerous legions against the day of battle ? Not one trace remains to tell the inquisitive stran- ger, " Here the spacious avenues opened ; here the massy portals rose. Commodious walks, in which the clustering merchants raised the busy hum, and planned the schemes of commerce ; ample streets, in which in- dustry drove the toiling car, or smote the sounding anvil, are shrouded wth matted grass, or buried beneath the rankest weeds. Silence, in both places, a sullen silence reigns ; and inactivity, a death-like inacti- vity slumbers. What is become of those hanging gar- dens, which, for curious contrivance and stupendous workmanship were never equal- led in any nation under heaven ? Terraces that overlooked the tallest houses ! Parterres exalted to the clouds, and opening their flowery beauties in that strange region ! Groves, whose veiy roots were higher than • The walls were built of brick, snd cemented with a glutinous kind of slime, wliich binds more firmly " Bcnj.imui, a .lew of Tiidcla, in his Itinerary, than any moriar, and soon grows harder than the written a'jout ihe ysolated and destroy- solid brass. Hence it is, that when Jehovah pro- ed. Only some rums of i\cbuclia DIALOGUE XI. 265 the tops of the loftiest trees ! — they are now smitten by a dreadful blast. Their beauty is decayed, like u withered leaf. Their verj' being is gone, " like the ehalf of the summer threshing floors, whicli the wind carrieth away, and its place is nowhere found." Dan. ii. 35. What was once the favourite retreat of a queen, and the admi- ration of the whole world, is now a nest for poisonous reptiles, and a kennel for raven- ous beasts. — The traveller, instead of ex- patiating with delight where this pensile paradise flourished, is struck with horror, keeps at a trembling distance, and, surveying the rueful spot, cries out, " Righteous art thou, O Lord, and tnie su-e thy judgments !" Here stands an obelisk, maimed by the stroke of revolving years, like a inountJiin- oak shattered by the flaming bolt. An- other, idl unliinged and quite disjointed, seems to tremble before every blast that blows. There the pyramid,* firm as the solid rock, and stable, one would have thought, as the everlasting hills, wrenched from its mighty base, is tumbled headlong in enormous ruin, and has crushed many a structiure by its fall. — See yonder the tri- um]>h!d arch, which exhibited through its extensive and beautiful bend an advanta- geous view of the firmament. It was once the graceful memorial of some celebrated victory ; it is now converted into a trophy of a very difl'erent kind. Just retaining two uneven, battered, ragged stumps, it serves to recognise the destructive ravages of time. Spires that pierced the clouds, and shot into the skies, are levelled with tlie trodden soil. On pinnacles, to which the strong-winged bird could hardly soar, the grovelling worm crawls, and the sordid snail leaves her slimy tract. Baths that contained the translucent wave, and were so often perfumed with odoriferous un- guents, are choaked with filth : ihe grand colonnade that surrounded them is shiver- ed to pieces, and the elevated dome that covered them is dashed to the ground. The public aqueducts, whidi conveyed cleanliness and health along their crystal currents, are degenerated into a stagnating lake, while croaking vermin swai'm among the weeds, and noisome exhalations steam from the mire. vVugust and stately temples that seemed to affect the neighbourhood of heaven,-j- are sunk to the very dust. — Who can point • Strabo calls the temple of Bclus a I'yramid, lib. 15. t A tower ill the temple of Bclus, and ilcilicaled to his worship, was very hi,>;h. It consisted of eight piles of building erected one above another. It arose to the elevation of six luimlrcd feet perpendicular, and is th(>ii;;lit, by the loirncd Hocliart, to have been part of til It suiicib work which w.is l)i'/;\in wluii the whi'lc earth was of one lani;un;',o; but nii«arricd, or rather was providentiallv ilcfi.itcd, by the confusion o tongurs. In this structure, there were doubtless the spot where the consecrated victim bled, or the sacred fire glowed ? where the sceptcred image lifted its majestic head, or the venerating crowds bowed the sup- pliant knee ?" Degrading are those splen- did vanities, and cast (according to the de- nunciation of the sacredoracles) "to the bats and to the moles." Isa. ii. 20. All is low ; low as the spurious dignity of the idols they complimented; low "as the straw that is trodden down for the dunghiU," Isa. xxv. 10. Sepulchres, the once venerable reposito- ries of the dead, awful mansions destined to everlasting concealment, are cleft and rent asunder. They disclose the horrid se- crets of the pit, and frightfully yawn upon the blasted day. Possibly some ravenous creature liu-ks within, that has already rifled the tomb of its hero, given the putrid bones a new grave, and waits only for the ap- proach of night to repeat his funeral dirge in yells. Inscriptions, designed to perpe- tuate some illustrious character, or eter- nize some heroic deed, are blended in the promiscuous mass. In vain would the pry- ing antiquary search for a legible or consis- tent sentence ; in vain attempt to find the memorable names of a Nebuchadnezzar or a Ninirod. These, though engraven on plates of brass, or cut in blocks of marble, are lost amidst the stupendous lumber, as prints on the unsteady sand are eflfaced when retiuTiing tides smooth the furrowed beach. Here and there a straggling cypress rises, as it were, wth funereal solemnity amidst the waste, f Somewhat like the black plumes nodding over the mournful hearse, they augment the sadness of the scene, and throw a deeper horror on all below- No human voice is heard, nor human face seen, amidst these desolated heaps ; too dreary even for the roam of hoary hermit, or the cell of gloomy monk. Abandoned they are, totally ubaiiduned, to the dominion of soli- tude, or else to the immolested resort of siiapiry monsters, and feathered hags, which stun the midniglit hoiu-s ; these with their importunate shrieks ; those with their exe- crable howls. See to what a despicable, what an ah- horred state, the proudest nionuments of earthly grandeur, and the most costly appa- ratus for ejuthly felicity, may be reduced ! j very strong tr.aces of that arrogant boast, " Let us , bui)d us a city and a tower, whose top may reach to heaven." Gen. xi. 4. j * Alluding to that jirodigioiis inslancf of profusc- I ncss, ostentation and utolalrous madmss, " Tlic gol- j den image set up in the plain of Dura, wlicse height (that is the height of theslalue and ptdislal taken together) was threescore cubits," D.an. iii. 1. t Hauwolf, a (Jerman traveller, who passed that way in the year of our Lord ir>7t, says, " 'I'liiscoun- I try is so dry and lianvn, thai it cnnnot bn tilled, and I so' bare, that I should have douhtol ululher tb.' po- tent Babylon did i.l.tiid there, if I bad not known it by several ancient and delicitc anliise. Ther. Have not many of the ancient worthies been living confutations of your opinion ? wise philosophers, judicious law- givers, and steady ministers of justice ? their desires refined, iheir affections bene- volent, their whole conduct upright. Asp. I cannot forbear wondering, that you should instance in lawgivers and min- isters of justice ; since the vei-y institution of their office presupposes the depravity of mankind. Was human nature agitated by no irregular or vicious inclinations, the bar- rier of laws would be as needless in civil societies, as the vast banks of Holland are needless in our upland counties. But this, you will say, is a digressive observation ; — your question requires a po- sitive answer. And it is easy to answer — that the painting is beyond the life. If my author has been too free with the dark, my friend has been too lavish of the glittering coloms. Those famous men might aim, perhaps, at the excellency you describe. Not one of them came up to the m;irk ; or, suppose they did, tliis woidd not invidi- date my tenet. Ther. This would not invalidate your tenet ! Then demonstratior. carries no con- xdction. Asp. Pray, who is your greatest favour- ite among all the renowned persons of an- tiquity ? Ther. Socrates He stands at the head of the class ; and was, iFidisputably, the wisest and the best of the heathen world. Asp. I think so too. Be pleased, how- ever, to recollect the story of the physiog- nomist, who pretended to discover the dis- position of the mind by the cast of the countenance. The professor of this occult science undertook, you know, to exercise his skill upon Socrates ; and pronoimced him, after an examination of his features, lascivious, passionate and morose. This judgment, so extravagantly wide of the truth, was bringing a storm of ridicide and resentment upon the poor fortune-teller ; when the ingenuous philosopher intei-posed, and owned the description to be exactly true ; that such was his natural temper ; and if his conversation had been of a dif- ferent turn, it was owing to the aids of philosophy. So that, even in your most finished character, there was no innate dig- nity. All was adventitious. TTier. If corruption was derived unto all men, from their forefather Adam, methiiiks all should be equally corrupt. But this is contrary to known fact. Some we see na- turally loving and lovely, gentle in their manners, and subject to no inordinate ap- petites. A'^p. Some persons may be of more com- posed, or, if you please, of less dissolute (Manners, than the generality of otl.'cr ])eo- DIAl.OGUE XI. ■2(i9 jjle. Tliaiiks (o a better tempcratuio of iheir constitution, or a nnore watchl'iil rare in their education. But show ine the un- rej^onentte man, who is subject to no inor- dinate appetites. One vile affection may clieck another, or a sense of decency may hohl the curb upon all. But it is one tiling to have the wild beast in the heart chained ; another, to liave him expelled, or the lion transformed into a lamb. T/ter. Have we not often observed he- roic courage, and a generosity of spirit, where the education has been none of the strictest ? To what can we ascribe these laudable qualities, but to the iiniate virtue and nobleness of the temper, working with- out any auxiliary succours ? Asp. Virtue, Theron, is a complete as- semblage, not some disjointed shreds, of laudable qualities. Those you mention, if not accompanied with the whole circle of amiable accomplishments, are no more to be called virtue, than two or three scattered fragments of an edifice are to be honoured with the appellation of a house. How often are those very persons, with all their forti- tude, slaves to ignoble jileasures, or in bondage to the basest lusts? A most in- fallible indication that they have no uniform generosity nor any real courage. iJesire of fame may prompt to many such acts as dazzle the superficial eye, which yet are far, veiy far from genuine virtue. JZier. Do you then attribute the Grecian politeness, and the high Roman spirit, all the gallant actions of their heroes and ge- nerals, to a desire of fame ? Asp. There is reason to suspect, that they derived theii" origin from some imjjro- j)er motive : And no motive was more art- fully instilled, or more assiduously cherish- ed, than the spirit of ambition. View their crowns, their statues, their triumphal so- lemnities ; read their orators, their histori- ans, their poets. The former were the school, the latter were the masters, to in- culcate this grand lesson. Let us consider the Romans a little more attentively; and not amidst the dregs of their conununity, but in their very best ages, when their re[)ublic subsisted, and their Seipios tlourished. Many great and shining deeds were undoubtedly performed ; but did they spring from a reverential re- gard to the Supreme Being, from obedience to his will or zeal for his honour? If this principle should be thought too refined, did they proceed from a love to their fellow-creatui'es ? In case neither of these motives* actuated their conduct, it • A zenl for the honour of God, and a concern for the good of our ft'llow-crealurcs, are the true sources of virtue. 1 Cor. x. 24, 3\. When our actions (low not from these principles, reason will put a query up- on them, and revelation will cxpunsje them from tnc can never be placed to the account of vir- tue Had benevolence been their leading principle, why such inhumanity to (';ir- tliage? why must that opulent city be laid in ashes, and her numerous citizens be put to the sv,ord ? Were they enemies to m;in- kind, or a nuisance in the world ? You well know, that they were only too industrious, and too powerful ; by which means, they would be in a condition to eclipse the mag- nificence of the Roman name, and dispute the prize of sovereignty witli the Roman state. For this crime — a crime in Ambi- tion's eye absolutely inexcusable — even ( 'a- to's ujiright soul shall doom them to uttc r destruction, and Scipio's gentle hand shall execute the horrid decree. Is this virtue? Does virtue ravage coun- tries, from the mere wantonness of pride or lust of pre-eminence ? I)oes virtue destroy millions of lives, only to aggrandize a par- ticular people, or extend the dominon of some favourite empire ? if this were virtue, Brutus thought too honourably of her char- acter when he termed her an em])ty name. I am sure my Tlieron has jtister notions of things. He need not be informed that true \Trtue, far from personating the rapa- cious harpy, acts as a father to others, as a father to ail ; and like him who is both its pattern and its author, " goes about doing good." Thcr. The most elegant cane, if plung- ed into yonder basin wliile the waters are curled by the breeze, will appear both crooked and coarse. I caimot but think the accusers of Imman nature examine her state with a prejudiced imderstaiuling, which has the same perverse effect upon their judgment as those ruffled wa\es ha\e upon the sight. Or else they contemijlate her condition with a melancholy mind ; which, like a jaundiced eye, gives every oijject a distempered aspect, darkens the cheerftd, discolours the beautiful, and hangs even the sun in mourning. Asp. Rather let this be the comparison to illustrate our point, view the meanest piece of earth through the i)rismatic glass, and it will appear, not beautiful oidy, but perfectly splendid. Remove the delusory medium, and all the sophisticated finery vanishes. The indigo, the orange, the vio- let are gone, and leave nothing to be seen, but a rude unornamented lump of clay. So, if we consider human nature according to the partial representations of self-love, or contemplate it in the fiattering mirror of some popular writings, it may seem re- list of virtues. They may be specious in themselves; they may be cosily to the performer; they may even be serviceable to others; but can no more deserve the title of virtue, than the activity of our fire- men, in extinpuishins the flames on some insured housej can merit the name of chanty. 270 THERON AND ASPASIO. gular, holy, excellent : But, if we behold it under the lipht, the unerring light of re- velation, its fancied charms disappear ; it stands clothed with deformity, and is a spectacle of commiseration, if not of hor- ror. Ther. What reason have you to father such a notion upon the sacred writings ? The sacred writings inform us, that man was made " after the image of God." This, sure, could not be so dishonourable and depraved a pattern as your discourse would insinuate. Asp. Far, very far from a dishonourable pattern ! The image of God is the consum- mate standard of all perfection. In con- formity to this admirable exemplar, our first parents were created ; and in this ad- mirable condition they continued, till, by transgression, they fell — fell from the most holy and happy state, into guilt, con- demnation, and ruin. Therefore when this fatal catastrophe had taken place, the sacred historian varies his syle, and with a re- markable peculiarity, as well as propriety of speech, says " Adam begat a son in his own* (not in the divine) likeness." That eveiy reader may advert to this melancholy, but important truth, it is marked more strongly still, it is enforced by a very em- phatical repetition : " After his own image," Moses adds ( Gen. v. 3. ) ; as contradistin- guished to the image of God, mentioned in a preceding verse. Which expressions are evidently intended to denote the difference between the state in which Adam was cre- ated and Seth was begotten. Ther. Pray let me have a succinct, but full account of this tragical story, since all your orthodox divines lay such a mighty stress upon the doctrine of the fall. Asp. God, having formed the human body out of the ground, animated the struc- ture with a living soul ; and transcribed upon this soul the image of his blessed Self. All was light in the understanding, all was rectitude in the will, and nothing but harmony in the affections. — Man, thus endowed, was placed in the delightful gar- den of Eden, and furnished with every ac- commodation which was necessary to su]5- port his being, or desirable to gratify his senses. He was constituted lord of this lower creation ; and, amidst numberless in- dulgences, received only one — easy — nega- tive command, " not to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil." From this he was to abstain, as a pledge of his sub- jection, and as an exercise of his obedience. Bliss and immortality were to be the re- ward of duty ; misery and death the pun- ♦ This is affirmed, not of Cain, but of Seth, the most excellent of Adam's children, and father of the holy seed. ishment of disobedience : " In the day thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die," ( Gen. ii. 17,) was the sanction of tiie divine law. How equitable ! how gracious the terms ! Yet neither the goodness of God could in- duce him to keep them, nor the authority of God deter him from breaking them. Unreasonably discontented, even with such advantageous circumstances, and presump- tuously aspiring to be like the Most High, he hearkened to the suggestions of the enl spirit. In a word, he violated the precept, and incurred the penalty. God was just, and man was undone. He lost his up- rightness,* became subject to mortality, and, as the nervous original expresses it, " died the death." Ther. Tnie, he became subject to many bodily infirmities, and to the necessity of final dissolution. But what has this sen- tence, or what have these sufferings to do with your notion of universal depravity in the mind ? The death which the Almighty Legislator threatened, can be opposed only to the life which the Almighty Crea- tor gave. Asp. Be it so. — The Creator gave, and man possessed, a life incomparably more excellent than that which the pulse imparts, or the beasts enjoy. He possessed a divine life, which, according to the definition of the apostle, consisted " in knowledge, in righteousness, and tnie holiness." (Eph. iv. 24; Col. iii. 10.) This, which was the distinguishing glory, and the supreme feli- city of his nature — this, alas ! was extinct. His understanding, originally enlightened with \\'isdom, was clouded and overwhelmed with ignorance. — His heart, once filled with religious veneration, and warmed with heavenly love, became alienated from God his Maker. His passions and appetites, instead of moving on in orderly array, ac- cording to the beauteous measures of truth and duty, grew mutinous, shook off the go- vernment of reason, and ran wild into the most lawless extravagancies In a word, the whole moral frame was unhinged, dis- jointed, broken. Ther. What cause have you to suppose, that all this misery was either included in the threatening, or introduced by the fall? Asp. The ignorance of fallen Adam was palpable : witness that absurd attempt to hide himself from the eye of Omniscience among the trees of the garden. — His aver- sion to the all-gracious God was equally plain ; otherwise he would never have fled from his Maker, but rather have hasted, •innocence, that as a veil Had shadow'd them from knowing ill was done, Just confidence, and native righteousness. Milton, b. 9. 1. lOM. DIALOGUE XI. 271 and on tlie wings of (tesire, into tlic place of the divine niiuiifestation. A strange \ariety of di.sorderly jiassioiis* were evidently predominant iu his breast. — Pride, for lie refnses to acknowledge his guilt, tliongh he cannot but own the fact. — Ingratitude, for he obliquely ni)braids the Creator with his gift, as though it had been a sniu-e rather than a blessing : " The woman whom thou gavest me." — Want of natiu'al affection ; for he endeavours to cast all the blame u|)on the weaker vessel, and to ac(|uit his obnoxious self, by impeaching the wife of his l)osoni, — The female crimi- nal acts the same unhumbled part ; neither takes shame to herself, nor gives glory to God, nor jnits up a single petition for par- don. As all these disasters ensued upon the breach of the commandment, they furnish us, I think, with the best key to oi)en the meaning of the prohibitory sanction. They prove, beyond any argimient, that spiritual death, and all its consequences, were c/)ni- j)rehended in the extent of the threaten • ing. Tlier. How could one act of disobe- dience produce such destmctive effects ? erase the fair image of the Godhead, and stamj) the monster, stamp the veiy devil in its stead ? — and so small an act of disobe- dience too ! Asp. The prohibition, if you please, was small, not so the transgression. It was committed against the clearest knowledge of duty, and the strongest obligations to obedience. It argued ingratitude for the richest favours, and imbelief of the most solemn declarations. It was an act of the most horrid presumption in the creature, and of the most impious rebellion against the Creator. As to the smallness, or rather the gentle and benign import of the command, this aggravates beyond measure the crime of disobedience. Alluding to the words once addressed to the Syrian general, we may justly expostulate, " O thou Adam, if thy Lord had bid thee do some great thing, (2 Kings v. 13,) in submission to his high au- thority, and out of gratitude for his un- speakable goodness, oughtest thou not to have done it ? How much more, when he says to thee — Freely eat of all except this « Milton, speaking of the unhappy pair, and des- cribing tlie consequences of their fall, says, Nor only tears Rain'd at their eyes ; but high winds within Began to rise; high passions, anger, hate. Mistrust, suspicion, discord, and shcxjk sore Their inward state of mind ; calm region onrp. And full of peace; now tossed and turbulent ! For, understanding rul'd not, and the will Heard not her lore ! but in subjection now To sensual appetite, who from benesth Usurping over sovereign reason claJm'd Superior swav.— Buufr 9, 1. U3I, single tree. Thousands, tliousands of ho- nours, privileges, and gifts be thine, only one acknowledgment of thy subjection mine ; and that the easiest which thy heait can wisn, or even thy fancy conceive." You ask, how could one act of disobe- dience produce such destructi\e effects ? — I ajiswer, the reality of the fact, in number- less instances of material nature, is plain to a demonstration, while the manner of operation remains an imiienetrable secret. Every child perceives the former, Newton himself is at a loss for the latter. For which reason, I have always thought it bet- ter to believe what God has taught, than attempt to explain what God has concealed. Let us forego this curious, perhaps fruitless inquii-y, and substitute a remark, which na- turally arises from the subject, and may con- siderably edify our minds. T7ier. Edify ! Is it possible to render this dishonourable and afflictive notion edifying ? Can ajiy genei'ous fj-uit spring from such a penurious soil ? Asp. Sampson, I believe, had no expec- tation of finding any thing valuable in the relics of his slain lion ; but, to his agreeable disappointment, " there was honey in the carcase." ( Judg. xiv. 8.) If our doctrine ap- pear ghastly as the one, it may yield a be- nefit sweet as the other. From hence we may learn, (what, when rightly leajrued, is more serviceable than aJl the sciences) the extreme malignity of sin. Wien volcanos open their tremendous jaws, and disgorge a fiery inundation, they confine their fury to a single temtoiy. When fa- mine lifts her mildewed hand, and destroys the supports of animd life, she is content with ruining a kingdom or a nation. When war drenches his sword in blood, or the pestilence impregnates the air with poison, they also, even they observe some limits, and never make the whole compass of na- ture the scene of their ravages. But sin levelled its blow at the whole human race. Sin poured contagion, and spread destnic- tion through all countries and all ages. O/ie single act of sin brought confusion and a curse upon the material, and miseries, in- finite millions of miseries on the rational world. How then shoidd we fear this most pernicious of all evils ! with what careful- ness gufu-d against its insidious idluremcnts ! with what resolution fly from its killing caresses ! T/ier. I must obser\e, that you take for granted what reniiuns to be proved. Foi-, supposing your accoiuit tnie with regard to Adam, yet how does tlus affect his chil (b-en? Wiy must all his posterity be con- taminated because their forefather has plav- ed the prodigid ? Such a hea\7 charge against the whole body of mankind will not be admitted w itJiout veiy cogent proofs. 272 THERON AND ASPASIO. Asp. The proofs are cogent ; perhaps ir- refragable.—Reason ofiers to turn evidence in the case. Reason, in concuiTence with revelation, demands, " Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean ?" (Job. xiv. 4.) If the fountain be polluted, how can the streams be pure ? and if the root is corrupt, it is impossible to conceive how the branches should be sound, or the fruit good.* The scriptural testimonies ai'e almost innumerable. They pour their evidence from every quarter, and constitute not two or three only, but a whole cloud of witnesses. " God made man upright," says the royal preacher ; the human nature, in its primi- tive state, was without any wrong bias ; but at and ever since the first transgres- sion, they hav^e found out and foUowed many perverse inventions, (Eccl. vii- '29.) Tlier. I do not deny but multitudes of people, seduced by bad example, or betrayed by their own inadvertency, have departed from the rule of duty ; have, as the wise man affirms, tried many foolish experiments to acquire happiness, and devised as many idle excuses for their folly. But this is no such irrefragable proof that they were ori- ginally bad : It only implies, that, not tak- ing proper head to their ways, they warped from their native uprightness. As yonder tidips, though perfectly beautiful at present, if not attended with the necessary cultiva- tion, will degenerate into homely flowers, and at length be no better than tawdry weeds. Asp. No, my friend. Iniquity is not an adventitious thing, caught from example, or contracted by carelessness. These may in- crease, but these do not occasion the moral malady. A sinful disposition is as early as our being, the very mould in which all our faculties are cast. David bears very express testimony to this humbling truth : "Behold!" (He sets his N. B. upon the passage. It is a sad but certain fact; such as should never depart from my memorj', nor ever be omitted in my confessions : and is much to be regarded by every reader : ) " I was shapen in wickedness, and in sin did my mother conceive me," (Psal. li. 5.) As though he had said, " Alas, Lord, this crime, though extremely horrid, is but a little part of my guilt. I have not only sin- ned in practice, but I am totally and univer- sally corrupt in my very nature-" • Milton has anticipated Theron's objection ; and In Adam's soliloquy, very judiciously solved it. Ah ! why should all mankind, For one man's fault thus guiltless be condemn'd, If guiltless but from me what can proceed But all corrupt, both body and mmd deprav'd : Not to do only, but to will the same With me ? How can they acquitted stand In sight of God '.—Book 10. 1. U21. This he acknowledges, not to extenuate his offence, but to lay open his excessive vileness. And indeed it is not possible to form a right judgment of ourselves, or to be didy humbled before God, unless we add the depravation of our nature to the trans- gressions of our life. Just as it is impos- sible to discern what monstrous and vora- cious anim-als lie bid in the ocean, if we only glance an eye upon the surface of the waters. Ther. This, you know, was written by the royal penitent under the pangs of seveie re- morse. Does not a sense of his enormous iniquity, together with the apprehension of di^-ine wrath, make his hand sliake, and lead him to aggravate features ? Or, suppose it were true of the adulterous king, is it equally applicable to others, who have es- caped such gross pollutions. Asp. It is no exaggerating draught, but a faithful delineation, and exactly represents every child of Adam. It was wTitten with the utmost deliberation ; and tlierefore is introduced witli that call for peculiar atten- tion, " Behold !" And though David was scandalously criminal in his intrigue with the wife of Uriah, yet, the general tenor of his life was not only in'eproacliable, but exemplary. Who so zealous for the house of his God, or so devoted an admirer of the di%nne word ? His heart was an altai', ever flaming with heavenly love ; and his tongue a trumpet, to sound the praises of Jehovah through all generations. And if lie had reason to make his abasing confession, who is the person that can think himself ag- grieved by sharing in the imputation? One of our most eminent martyrs," when he heard of any malefactor condemned to suffer an ignominious death, used to lay his hand upon his breast and say, "the sewls of all those villanies which brought that un- happy wretch to the gibbet were sown here. And, if they have not sprung up into the same detestable deeds, unto divine grace, imto divine grace alone be all the glory !" Ther. Your martyrs had honest hearts, but not always the clearest heads. I admire their zeal, and reverence their memories ; but I can no more receive their opinion as an oracle, than I can be persuaded to wor- ship their relics. Asp. I have no intention to palm Popery on my friend, nor any desire to calumniate the human species- If it be disingenuous and sinful to asperse a particular character, bow much more unjustifiable to traduce or.r nature in general. My account, dark and disgustful as it is, stands confirmed by a higher authority than any private opinion. It is conlintied from * Mr. I'radfoid. DIALOGUE XI. 27.3 an universal survey of mankind, taken by the eye of the Creator himself, and left u])on record in the books of revelation. " 'i'he Lord looked down from heaven, upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, and seek afti-r God." What is the result of this grand inquiry ? It must, without all peradventure, be infal- libly true ; because God's inspection is too keen to be eluded, and his judgment too impartial to be biassed. This is the report, made by the infinitely wise Observer — "They are all gone aside, they are ail together be- come filthy* there is none that doeth good, no not one." (Psal. xiv. 2, 3.) Titer. This, I apprehend, is the charac- tT of those besotted creatures, those most egregious of all fools, who say, " There is no God." To them the psalm relates, and to them the abandoned character is appro- priated. They have it, if I may so speak, cum privilegio. Axp. It is meant, rather of practical than of speculative Atheists, who say, not expli- citly with their mouths, but imjtlicitly in their hearts, " There is no God," who live as if there was no all-seeing Eye to take cog- nizance of their present conduct, no Su- preme Judge to call them to a future reckon- ing. And I d-are appeal to yourself, though perhaps the fondest of fathers, whether this instance of "foolishness is not bound up in the hearts of our children 'i"'\ nay, whether it be not natural to us all, both in youth and manhood, to forget our Creator ? In this case, Theron, there is no mono- poly. Your right and mine are too strongly established by experience, and too clearly expressed in the preceding scripture, to ad- mit of any controversy. If there were any that understood — they are all gone out of the way — There is none that doeth good — no not one. Could any conveyancer in Europe have contrived a form of words more fully to ascertain our unhappy title ? Thcr. There may be some texts in scrip- ture which seem to countenance your asser- tion, but these refer to the worst of men, in the worst of times. And can you, with any justice, ascribe the properties of a few reprobates to the whole species ? * The two original words are metaphorical expres- sions taken from wines that are t)ecome sour, and iiieats that are in a state of putrefaction. I believe it isimpos-sibletofind images more strongly expressive of a total depravity, and of the utmost degeneracy. I Prov. xxii. 15. Let none think, tli;it l)y foolish- ness the sacred writer means only those silly tricks, which discover a weakness of iin'derstanding in chil- dren Solomon's fool is not the idiot, hut the sinner ; iin(f ihe folly stijyinatized throughout the I'roverhs, denotes, not a failure in the intellectual, hut in the religious and moral character. The words in this passage are peculiarly forcible. " Koolishness is in the heartj" implanted in the very nature; — sunk deep into the iiimosl faculties: and not only sunk deep, but adheres almost inseparably — is wrapt, lied, and bound, twines like the ivy, and is roolcd like the oak. Asp. This very passage, and .'^ihers of a like import, are adopted by St. Paul, and ap- plied both to Jews and (rentiles, with this professed design, " that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may be foinid guilty before (lod." Rom. iii. 19. NVhich evinces, I should think, beyond all doubt, the universality of its extent. If, to the universality, we add the antiqui- ty of this fact, it will bear the two grand characteristics of truth. Far from being a novel opinion, it was received as a maxim, in the early age of Job : " What is man, that he should pretend to be clean ? and he that i.s born of a woman, that he should presume to be righteous ? Righteous before the infinitely just and holy One! "Behold! he puttetli no trust in his saints," though the m»st ex- alted of all Mitelliirent beings. " Yea, the heavens," those brightest parts of the material creation, " are not clean in his sight. How much more abominable and filthy is man ?"* whodrinketh iniquity. Job XV. li — KJ. though loathsome to Ged, and worse than poison to his own soul ; yet drinketh it like water, without any hesita- tion or the least fear, with an eager and profuse delight. This, you will observe, was alleged in a dispute, carried on with no small vehemency, yet is admitted on all hands as unexception- ably true. Be pleased also to take notice, that the charge is not confined to some very notorious sinners, but is laid against the whole body of mankind. Whatever figure they make, each in his own conceit; they are all described in the words of God, as beings insatiably athirst after evil, from ob- jects that we cannot endure to behold, or cannot behold without abhorrence.f Such is man by nature ! People must have eyes very different from mine, to discern any dignity in this draught. Ther. As to innate dignity, we will let it pass. But this 1 must insist upon — and several writers of the first repute are on my side — That we enter the stage of life in a state of indifference either to good or evil ; That the affections are like a balance nicely poised, and preponderating neither one v\ay nor the other : The whole sotil, like a sheet of fair paper, is equally stisceptibleof straight or crooked lines, and will as readily receive the amiable features of an angel, as the hi- deous deformity of a devil. Asj^. With regard to your first illustra- * The immaculate purity of the blessed God, and the utter depravi'v of fallin ninn, are points of so great importance iii llu' scnpluial system ofdiviiiily, that they are inculi'aicd n'«'0Ta;, may begailiercil from 1 Tim. V. r». where >''>""''"* is translated hnvinaliecn ; and must necessarily refer, not to th« iirwent, but to the past iMmdiliou of the wido-w. 278 THERON AND ASPASIO. (Jer. xxxiii. 6.) And the beginning of our cure is, to be sensible of our disorder. Hence we are taught to be humble. To review the catalogue of our actual trans- gressions, is a mortifying employ. But that which lays the soul in the lowest abase- ment, is the conviction of inbred iniquity. This strikes at the root of human vanity, and cuts asunder the very sinews of self- conceit. Blindness in the understanding, jmpotency in the will, disorder in the affec- tions,— these are not visitants, but inhabi- tants ; * congenial with our frame, and in- grained in our constitution. How then, 0 ! how can we be vain of our moral beauty, who have an hereditary defilement cleaving to all our faculties ? Surely this must ban- ish the Pharisee from our breast, and inspire us with the sentiments of that sincere pen- itent, " Behold, I am vile ! (Job. xl. 4.) ; must teach us the language of the abashed leper, " Unclean ! unclean!" (Lev. xiii. 45.) Ther. I should think it would make us melancholy rather than humble ; serve no other purpose than to introduce an afilictive sense of extreme wretchedness. Asp. Did we intend to rest here, your apprehensions would be just ; but we urge the doctrine of original corruption as a pre- parative for the Redemption of Christ. It is observable, that very few applied to the blessed Jesus in the days of his flesh but the sons and daughters of affliction. The levee of that Prince of Peace was crowded by the lame, the blind, the diseas- ed. These being sensible of distress, and longing for relief, fell as humble supplicants at his feet, while others, who were firm in their health, and gay in their spirits, reject- ed him with contemptuous scorn. When we perceive " the plague of our heart," and feel those worse than ulcerous sores which overspread our nature, we also shall ardent- ly seek to " the Lord our healer." When we find ourselves subject to the curse of the law, in bondage to the tyranny of Satan, and liable to everlasting damnation, then the divine Physician, and the divine Re- deemer will be precious indeed : whereas, if we remain insensible of our misery, the gospel, which is saving health to the contrite soul, will be an unaffecting story to our ears : We may hear it, we may read it, as an amusing narrative ; but shall not re- ceive it as a sovereign remedy. Ther. Not receive the gospel, Aspasio ! 1 hardly understand what you mean. I of- ten study the gospel ; I believe it to be a divine revelation, and endeavour to follow its directions. I look upon it as containing the most refined system of morality ; as en- forcing every virtue, by the strongest roo- * Called therefore »)<"««?« sv S|ao/aMagr(a, <'sin that dwellcth in me," Horn. vii. 17 tives, and recommending all by the most perfect example. Asp. To which you should add — as re- vealing that great Mediator, who has fulfill- ed all righteousness, to effect our justifica- tion ; who has also the fulness of the Spi- rit, to accomplish our regeneration. Oth- erwise, what you mention is infinitely short of the gospel. It brings no glad tidings to fallen creatures. It administers no succour to ruined sinners. It is like writing a copy for the blind, or setting a task to the disa- bled ; which would rather be an insult on their impotence, than a relief of their distress. The first particular I wave at present- Only let me ask your opinion of the last ; which is a grand doctrine, and a very dis- tinguishing privilege of the gospel : I mean the doctrine and the privilege of spi- ritual regeneration ; exclusive of which, all your endeavours to possess virtue, and practise morality, will be no better than endeavours to fly without wings, or to run without feet. While unimpressed with a sense of our original depravity, we shall probably sit down contented with some superficial re- formation, and not aspire after a renewal of the heart. Civility will pass for sanctity, and a temperate disposition for a gracious habit. Why is the new birth, why are all the saving operations of the blessed Spirit, disregarded by some, derided by others ? Because these persons are insensible of their utter inability to all good and of their abject slavery to all evil. Therefore they see no reason for this divine agency, or for that universal change. You also, my dear friend, while unac- quainted with your natural corruption, can- not apprehend either the reasonableness or the necessity of being " renewed in the spirit of your mind," (Eph. iv. 23 ) But when experience has taught you the form- er, you will want no arguments to convince you of the latter. Can creatures who are blind in their understandings, discern the things which belong to their eternal peace ? Can creatures who are dead in sin, exercise the graces or discharge the duties of a Christian life ? Can creatures whose hearts are enmity against God, either delight to do his will here, or be meet for his beatific pre- sence hereafter ? Under the influence of such convictions, that new biifh which the gospel of Christ promises, which the Spirit of God produces, will appear as necessary for your state, and be as welcome to your soul, as these gentle dews are necessary for the languishing herbs, and welcome to the thirsty soil. Ther. The dews, though refreshing to the flowers, may be too chilly for our con- stitutions. And see ! the star of evening, DIALOGUE XII. 270 oy proclaiming the approach of night, has given us a warning to quit our ai'bour. Some other time we must resume this inquiry ; for I am by no means satisfied that your theory agrees with experience. Asp. I fear I have already kept you out too long. Let me just observe as we go in, that the doctrine, however disagreeable in itself, is conducted to an advantageous issue. It is productive of a much more substantial consolation, than history assigns to the great but exiled Marius. When lie fled with his ruined circumstances, to linger out the poor remains of life among the ruins of Carthage, what was his chief support ? " Contemplat- ing," says the historian, " that famous city in the dust, he was the less afllicted with his own downfall." We have not been put off with such cold comforts, such negative benefits. The be- lief of original sin has a tendency to make us humble, to show us our need of Christ, to create in us a hunger and thirst after the renewing influences of his Spirit, and the justifying merit of his righteousness. So that it must be owing to our own perverse - ness, or our own negligence, if we do not levy a tax upon our loss, and rise even by our fall. DIALOGUE XIL The sun was fiercely bright, and the sky without a cloud. Not a breath fanned the woods, nor a gale curled the stream. The fields, exposed to all the fiery beams, were like a glowing hearth. The little birds, overcome by the potent influence, lost, for a while, their tuneful notes. Nothing was heard in the garden but the drowsy hum of bees, and the moan-like buz of winged in- sects. All nature seemed to languish -. The flourishing meads looked sickly : the gayest blossoms began to fade ; the sprightliest ani- mals, if not reposed under some cooling shelter, panted for breath, and hung their drooping heads, amidst the all-surrounding blaze and the unsufferable heat. Aspasio disappeared ever since dinner, and none could tell whither he was gone. Theron, as soon as the tea equipage was removed, took his way to the wood. Desirous of the thickest shade, he hastened to the centre. A ser- pentine walk composed the avenue ; which, after several windings, delivered him into a large circular area, not covered with a Gre- cian or Roman temple, unmeaning imita- tion of pagan idolatry, but surrounded with aged and princely oaks; the coalition of whose branches threw over the grassy plat a mnjestic, rural dome, and their unpierced foliage " imbrowned the noontide hours." In the midst, and elevated on a squiire base, was a statue representing the venerable Elijah on his bended knees, with hands stretched out, and eyes lifted up to heaven. His attitude, his air, his every feature, were a most lively comment on those strong ener- getic expressions of scripture, "take hold on God," (Isa. Ixiv. 7.) " Wrestle with the Almighty;* Pour out your hearts before him," (Psalm Ixii. 8.) On one side of the pedestal were engraven the priests of ]3aal, in frantic emotions calling upon their sense- less deity, and gashing themselves with un- availing wounds. On the other was exhi- bited, in basso-relievo, the adoring Tish- bite's altar j his victim burning with fire from the Lord, even while the water ran from every limb, and overflowed the trench below. A remote cascade tumbled from a craggy rock. The stream, after having wasted its silver foam in a winding progress, straggled into this grand arbom*. Here it just ap- peared gliding down a gentle slope, with a flaunting air, and a prattling noise. Im- pressed, as it were, with the unexpected so- lemnity of the scene, it seemed to check its wanton waves, and turned aside into a more sequestered path. As some heed- less trifler, who bolts unawares into the roy- al presence, stands struck with reverence and iiwe, or retires with precipitance and confusion. The deep gloom, shedding a kind of night even while the sun glared in the sky ; not a whisper stirring among so many millions of leaves ; and all their warbling natives hushed in silence, — the sonorous toll of the distant cascade, and the tinkling chime of the nearer rill, — the profound adoration, and fervent devotion, which lived in the lineaments of the impassioned stone : all these cireum - stances rendered the place prodigiously august and striking. Not much unlike the ancient oratories, where holy people retired from the giddy ring, and the bustling crowd, to ennoble their minds,withsublime contem- plation, where they bid a temporary adieu to the tumultuous world, its gay impertinence and solemn dulness, in order to maintain a more uninterrapted communion with that mighty Being, who " sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof aie as grasshoppers before him.f * Col. iv. 12. ^y^i'/^^'Oi f ■'■"'S ^^naiu^ai:. t Isa. xl. 22. What a noble image is here, and what an exquisitely fine contrast ! God, the great fJod, sitteth on those lofty and immense heavens, which , at an inconceivable distance, surround this pensile globe. From that most sublime and magnificent throne, he looks down upon the inhabitants of the earth, who, in all their pomp and splendotir, amidst all their admired works and boasted acquisitions, are mean and impotent in his sight, — mean and impotent as the poor insects which wander over the parched healh for sustenance,— whichspendall the day in idle insignificant chirpings; and at night lake up their comcmi'tiblc habitation on a blade of grass. 280 THERON AND ASPASIO. Welcome to Theron wns theshiulyliowerj welcome the cool aspect hikI the luusiral flow of the water ; but more welcome than all was the sight of his friend, who lay re- clined at the foot of an oak, with a book half open in his hand, and his eye fixed up- on the statue. Ther. I know not, Aspasio, whether I must make an apology for breaking in upon your retirement ; or call you to an account, for depriving the ladies of your company at the tea-table. Asp. Indeed, Theron, I have been so wuch delighted with the place, with the com- panion in my hand, and the noble ob- ject before me, that I scarce observed how the time stole away. And I flatter myself, if you willtakea seat by myside,and share my entertainment, you will be more inclined to excuse than to aggravate my fault. Ther- Is Tully then (for I observe his name on the volume) your companion ? And can such a devoted admirer of the Bi- ble be so highly charmed with a Heathen classic ? St. Augustine somewhere declares, that though passionately fond, before his con- version, of Tully's writings, yet after that memorable change he could no longer relish those admired compositions ; because they were not sweetened, as he expresses himself, with the melifluous name of Jesus. Asp. I am far from pretending to such an exalted pitch of devotion as that seraphic father attained. I can spend a vacant minute on the delicate odes of Horace, and taste a refined entertainment in Virgil's beautiful poem. But when I hear a sermon, or peruse a religious treatise, which borrows neither dignity nor charms from that amiable and glorious name, I own myself extremely dis- appointed. Without the offices, the merits or the grace of Christ, the sermon and the treatise appear as defective, as a body that is neither adorned with the head nor enlivened with the heart. Ther. I suppose then you cultivate an ac- quaintance with the Grecian and Roman authors, in order to improve your taste, and polish your style. Asp. These, and, I am apt to think, more considerable advantages than these, may be derived from an occasional application to their works. They may serve as so many shades, to set off with heightened lustre the beauty qnd glory of the sacred oracles. While I peruse Plato's ornamented page, or listen to Cicero's flowing periods, I am somewhat like the person who amuses him- self in a gallery of painted flowers. He is pleased with the curious creation of the pen- cil ; but finds none of that delicious ft-agrance, none of those breathing sweets, which meet him in the garden, and regale his sense, from the blooming parterre. So here are bril- liuiitseiitinient^ and a florid diction; di-liwitf touches of wit. and bold strokes of descrip- tioi! : But no discovery of Christ Jesus, no displays of his inefl'able love, no overtures of reconciliation with the blessed God ; no- thing to yield us solid comfort in our pre- sent state, or any joyful expectations with regard to the approactiing eternity. Besides, when I converse with those cele- brated geniuses of antiquity, who were at once the most erroneous and the most judi- cious— the most judicious in their taste of polite literature the most erroneous in their apprehensions of invisible things — they show me, what they never intended, the inexpres- sible need of revelation. They teach me to set a higher value on that inestimable gift. I bless the distinguishing goodness of provi- dence, which has cast my lot," not at Athens, but in Emmanuel's land. I say, with won- der and gratitude, " Why did not my exist- ence commence in those eras of religious dotage ? Why was not my portion confined to those regions of barbarism and delusion ? Why am not I burning incense to idols, pay- ing senseless adoration to sculptured stone, or worshipping, with detestable ceremonies, a set of lascivious, debauched, and scanda- lousf deities ?" — Surely, Theron, from every perusal of those volumes, attended with such a reflection, we shall see the utmost reason to magnify " the tender mercies of our God ; whereby the day-spring from on high hath visited us ;" (Luke i. 78.) and brought us out of darkness into the marvellous light of the gospel. Permit me to mention another benefit which may result from a correspondence with those masterly writers. The streams may lead us to the inexhaustible fountain ; lead us to ad- mire the only wise God our Saviour, who has given such a shining vein of ingen uity to his rational creatures. As I read their works, and am charmed with their beauties, I would frequently reflect — " If the essays of a finite mind, and the compositions of a mortal pen, yield such high satisfaction, what rapturous, what unknown delight must arise from an uninterrupted communion with Infinite Wis- dom ! To stand, not at the feet of Homer, and attend the flights of his elevated imagi- nation ; not in the presence of Socrates, and * Alluding to the story of the philosopher, who used to bless the gods for three privileges; — That he was made not a brute, but a rational creature — That he was born not in barbarous climes, but in Greece— That he lived not in the more uncultivated ages, but in the time, and under the tuition of Socrates. + This, I thmk, gives us the most deplorable and horrid idea of the blindness of our fallen nature. The Heathens, even amidst all thepoliteness of their taste, and notwithstanding their superior advance- ment in the sciences, where liaters of the true God, and robbed him of his honour ; nay, what is un- speakably worse, they paid it to monsters — monsters of lewdness and treachery, vice and immorality. Egregious, sottish, abnost incredible stupidity ! to worship those beings, which deserved univcrsnl al>- liorrence ! to defy those characters, wliich could no- v«r be sulficicntly detested. hoar the dictntes of his sagacious soul ; but to stand in tlie courts of the Lord, and before the throne of the Lamb, there to contemplate, without any interposing veil, the counsels of his unerring providence ; to have the mysteries of his redeeming love laid fully open to our view ; and receive the brightest manifestations of all his amiable, his adorable, his unspeakable attributes ?" Ther. These are advantages truly desira- ble, and equally obvious. Methinks, it sur- prises me that I should never so much as propose them, and grieves me, that I should so long be deprived of them. A view to such very superior improvements will, I hope, render my future intercourse with those favourite authors still more agreeable, and abundantly more beneficial. — But let me ask, what passage was engaging your at- tention this afternoon ? Asp. The great orator's treatise concern- ing the " Nature of the divine Being ;"* that part especially which proves his exist- ence and perfections from the formation of the human body. Ther. And do you not perceive, that he is almost as deficient in the knowledge of his subject, as he is mistaken in his ideas of the Supreme Cause .•' The exquisite con- trivance and inimitable workmanship of the human frame were, in those early ages, but dimly discerned. It was the infancy of an- atomy, when the very professors had scarcely the qualifications of a modern pupil. Many of the received notions were childish, almost all of them supeificial. Ah]}. Will my Theron then entertain me with a more accurate description of this wonderful structure ? Tlier- How could you take occasion, As- pasio, from the hint 1 dropped, to conceive any such expectation ? It is one thing to discover, another to correct, what is amiss. Many spectators can point out an accidental defect in some celebrated statue, or a small indelicacy in some valuable piece of paint- ing, who are absolutely incapable of retouch- ing the one or supplying the other. Asp. Since we are fallen upon this point, you must give me leave to renew and urge my request. 1 shall be extremely glad to hear your remarks upon the subject, especi- ally as you have made this branch of science a part of your amusement, and not without the advantage of anatomical dissections ; whereas 1 have very seldom applied my thoughts to the former, and never had an opportunity of being present at the latter. Let me also observe, that our very situa- tion favours, or rather suggests, such a topic of conversation. All the fine prospects of the country are excluded. We h.ive scarce any thing left but ourselves to contemplate. DIALOGUE Xn. 281 And shall this be the only theme we ne- glect ? Ther. It is somewhat preposterous, I must confess, to pry into the archives of colleges, to ransack the cabinets of the virtuosi, to carry our search through the whole compass of external nature, and at the same time overlook the far more sur- prising curiosities which abound in the com- position of our own bodies — Since you in- sist upon it, my observations, crude and ex- temporaneous as they are, shall submit themselves to your judgment, provided you wdl be content to receive only a few of the outlines, and nothing like a finished draught. Asp. Let me just hint, that the more circumstantial your account is, so much the more welcome will it be to your friend, and so much the more honourable to our com- mon Creator. For I really think, that Ga- len's declaration upon this head is perfectly just ; which I have read in my favourite commentator Beza, and which speaks to the following effect :* — " Such treatises as dis- play the excellencies of the great Creator, compose one of the noblest and most ac- ceptable hymns. To acquaint ourselves with his sublime perfections, and point out to others his infinite power, his unerring wisdom, and his bomidless benignity ; this is a more substantial act of devotion than to slay hecatombs of victims at his altar, or kindle mountains of spices into incense." — ' Theron, after pausing a few minutes, thus resumed the discourse. Ther. When some master builder under takes to erect a magnificent edifice, he begins with the less decorated, but more solid parts — those which are to support, or those which are to contain the rest. This order, if you please, we will follow in considering " the earthly house of our tabernacle." 2 Cor. V. i. First, you have a system of bones, cast into a variety of moulds, enlarged or con- tracted into a variety of sizes. All strong, that they may commodiously bear up the fleshy machine ; yet light, that they may not depress the anim.al with an encumbering load. Bored with an internal cavity, to contain the moistening marrow, and perfo- rated with exceedingly fine ducts, to admit the nourishing vessels. Insensible them- selves, they are covered with a membranef of exquisite sensibility, which warns them of the approach, and secures them from the annoyance, of any injurious friction ; and at the same time preserves the muscular ])arts from being fretted in their action by the hard and rough substance of the bones. Their figures are always most precisely fitted totheir uses. They are generally larger at the extremities than in the midiile, that they » Ue Nr.tura Deorum. • VidK Hez. Annot ail Horn. i. 20. t Ttic iieriosteiim. 282 THERON AND ASPASIO. may be joined more fimnly, and not so easily dislocated. The manner of their articula- tion is truly admirable, and remarkably va- rious ; yet never varied without demonstrat- ing some wise design, and answering some valu;ible end. Frequently, when two are united, the one is nicely rounded and caped with a smooth substance ; the other is scooped into a hollow of the same dimen- sions, to receive the polished knob ; and both are lubricated with an unctuous fluid, to yield the readiest rotation in the socket. The feet compose the firmest and neatest pedestal, infinitely beyond all that statuary or architecture can accomplish ; capable of altering its form, and extending its size, as different circumstances require. Besides performing the office of a pedestal, they contain a set of the nicest springs, which help to place the body in a variety of grace- ful attitudes, and qualify it for a multiplicity of advantageous motions. The undermost part of the heel, and the extremity of the sole, are shod with a tough, insensible, si- newy substance. This we may call a kind of natural sandal : It never wears out, never wants repair, and always prevents that un- due compression of the vessels which the weight of the body, in walking or standing, might otherwise occasion. The legs and thighs are like substantial and stately co- lumns ;" articulated in such a manner, that they administer most commodiously to the act of walking, yet obstruct not the easy posture of sitting. The legs swell out to- wards the top, with a gentle projection ; and are wrought off towards the bottom with neat diminutions ; which variation lessens their bulk,, at the same time that it increases their beauty. The ribs, turned into a regular arch, are gently moveable, for the act of respiration. They form a secure lodgment for the lungs and the heart, which being some of the most distinguished and important organs of life, have their residence fortified by this strong semicircular rampart.f The back- bone is intended, not only to strengthen the body, and sustain its most capacious store- rooms, but also to bring down that commu- nication of the brain, which is usually term- ed the spinal marrow. As an open channel, it conveys — as a well-closed case, it guards — this vital silver ;f and, by several com- modious outlets, transmits the animating treasure into all the inferior parts. Had it only been large, straight and hollow, it might » styled therefore by the sacred philosopher, " the strong men," Eccl. xii. 3, and compared by the same beautiful writer to pillars of marble. Cant. v. 15. " t " Thou hast fenced me," secured ray Inward and vital parts, " with bones and sinews." Job x. 11 " Crates pectoris," is Virgil's expression. J This is supposed to be the part which Solomon describes by the silver cord, and is indeed like a cord, on accoimt of its shape ; like silver, on account of its colour. Eccl. xii. 6, have served these several purposes, but then the loins must have been inflexible, and every man impaled (not by the executioner, but by nature) on a stake coeval with his existence. To avoid which, it consists of very short bones, closely knit together by intervening cartilages. This peculiarity of structure prevents dislocation, and gives the main pillar of our frame the pliancy of an osier, even while it retains the firmness of an oak. By this means, it is a kind of con> tinued joint, capable of various inflections, without bruising the soft medullary sub- stance which fills its cavity, without inter- cepting the nervous fluid which is to be de- tached from this grand reservoir, or dimin- ishing that strength which is necessary to support all the upper stories. A formation so very peculiar in any other of the solids, must have been attended with great incon- veniences : here it is unspeakably service- able— is, both for workmanship and situa- tion, a master-piece of creating skill never enough to be admired. The arms, pendent on either side, are exactly proportioned to each other, that the equilibrium of the structure may not be dis- concerted. These being the guards which defend,* and the ministers which serve the whole body, are fitted for the most diversi- fied and extensive operations ; firm with bone, yet not weighty with flesh, and capa- ble of performing, with singular expedition and ease, all manner of useful motions. They bend inwards, and turn outwards ; they rise upwards, and stoop downwards ; they wheel about, and throw themselves into whatever direction we please. To these are annexed the hands, and all termi- nated by the fingers ; which are not, like the arms, of the same length, and of an equal bigness, but in both respects different, which gives them a more graceful appearance, and a much greater degree of usefulness. Were they all flesh, they would be comparatively impotent; were they one entire bone, they would be utterly inflexible ; but consisting of various little bones, and a multitude of muscles, what shape can they not assume ? what service can they not perform ? Being placed at the end of the arm, the sphere of their action is exceedingly enlarged. This advantageous situation realizes the fable of Briareus, and renders a pair of hands as serviceable as an hundred. The extremities of the fingers are an assemblage of fine ten- dinous fibres, most acutely sensible, j- which. • Called in Solomon's figurative but elegant sketch of anatomy, " the keepers of the house." Eccl. xii. 3. t So very acute is the sensibility of these parts, that I am informed it furnishes the tribunal of the Inquisition with one of the most refined expedients in the art of torture. A strong quill, sharpened by the penknife, and dipped in some infiammaljle li- quor, is thrust deep between the nail and the finger DIALOGUE XII. 283 notwithstanding the delicacy of their tex- ture, are destined to almost incessant em- ploy, and frequently exercised among rug- ged objects. For this reason, they are over- laid with the nails, a sort of horny expan- sion, which, like a ferule, hinders the flesh from being ungracefully flattened ; and like a sheath preserves the tender parts from in- jurious impressions. In the ministry of the hands and activity of the fingers, we possess a case of the finest instruments, or a collection of the noblest utensils qualifying us for the execution of every work which the projecting genius can devise, or the lavish fancy crave. To these we are obliged for the beautiful statues, which have often entertained our eyes in yonder solitary walks ; and even for that melodious trumpet, which now addresses our ears from the summer-house on the fish- pond. These raise the lofty column, and turn the spacious arch. These swell the majestic dome, and adjust the commodious apartment. Architecture, with all her striking beauties, and all her rich benefits, is the creation of the human hand. Yield- ing to the strength of the hand, the tallest firs fall to the ground, and the largest oaks descend from the mountains. Fashioned by the dexterity of the hand, they accom- modate the sailor with a floating warehouse ; and circulate, from Britain to Japan, the productions of nature and the improvements of art. Obedient to the human hand, metals ascend from their subterranean beds, and compose the most substantial parts of that curious machine,* which transmits far and near, to the monarch's palace, and to the peasant's hut, such treasures of wisdom and knowledge, " as the gold and crystal cannot equal." Job xxviii- 17. Among the Egyptians, the hand was the symbol of strength ; among the Romans it was an emblem of fidelity ; and I think it may, among all nations, be looked upon as the ensign of authority, it is the original and the universal sceptre ; that which not only represents, but ascertains, our dominion over all the elements, and over every crea- ture. Though providence has not given us the strength of the horse, the swiftness of the grey-hound, or the sagacious scent of the spaniel, yet, directed by the understand- ing, and enabled by the hand, we can sub- ject them to our will, turn them to our ad- vantage, and, in this sense, make them all our own. These hands, (surprising to re- late!) these short hands, have found out a When the quill has cut its way through the shivering nerves, ami stands planted like a dagger, amidst the gushing blood, some barbarous hand sets fire to the extremity. The keen point, the slow dame, and both in the seat of the most lively sensation, put tjie mi- serable sutl'erer to the most excruciating pain. • The printiug-press. way, whereby they can dive to the bottom of the ocean, can penetrate the bowels of the earth, and reach from shore to shore. These feeble hands can manage the wings of the wind, can arm themselves with the rage of the fire, and press into their service the for- cible impetuosity of the waters. How emi- nent is the dignity, how extensive the agen- cy of the hand ! It would require more eloquence than your orator possessed to dis- play the former, and more pages than your book contains, to describe the latter. How greatly then are we indebted to our indul- gent Creator for accommodating us with this noble, this distinguishing, this invalua- ble member ! Above all is the head, a majestic dome, designed for the residence of the brain. It is framed in exact conformity to this impor- tant purpose ; ample, to receive it, strong to uphold it, and firm to defend it. As the head resembles the general's tent in an ar- my, or the monarch's palace in a city, it has a commimication established with all, even the most inferior and remote parts of the system ; has outlets and avenues, for the ready dispatch of couriers to all quarters, and for the reception of speedy intelligence on every inteiesting occasion. It is furnish- ed with lodgments, wherein to post centi- nels of various characters, and appointed for various ofiices. To expedite their opera- tions, whether they are employed in recon- noitring what passes without, or examining what claims admittance within, the whole turns upon a curious pivot, most nicely con- trived to afford the largest and freest cir- cumvolutions. This stately capital is screened from heat, defended from cold, and, at the same time, very much beautified, by a copious growth of hair, which flows down from the parted forelock in decent curls, and hangs mantling on the cheeks, clustering on the shotilderfe. A decoration incomparably more delicate than any or all the orders of architecture can supply, and so perfectly light, that it no way encumbers or incommodes the wearer. While many animals creep on the ground, while all of them are prone in their posture or their aspect, the attitude of man is erect, which is by far the most graceful, has an air of dignity, and besjjeaks superiority. It is by far the most commodious ; fits us for the prosecution of every grand scheme, and facilitates the success of all our extensive designs. It is likewise attended with the greatest safety, being, if not less than any other position exposed to dangers, yet more happily contrived to repel or avoid them. ^^sj). May it not likewise be intended to remind us of our exalted original, and our sublime end : Our original, which was the breath of the Almighty, and the spirit of '284 THERON AND ASPASIO. the Most High ; our end, which is not the soil we tread on, or any of its low produc- tions, but the heaven of heavens, and the "' things that are above-" But not to divert from our subject, which, in my friend's manner of handling it, is as entertaining as it is instructive : — The bones (to carry on your own allusion) are only the rafters, the beams, the shell of the living edifice. You have raised the walls, and laid the floors ; you have made the proper divisions, and left the necessary apertures. But in every finished house the roof is co- vered, and the rooms are wainscotted. The sashes are hung, and the doors turn upon their hinges. The grates are fixed and the stairs ascend. Within, the lodgings are furnished ; without, the front is ornament- ed. All is rendered commodious for do- mestic use, and graceful to the external view. Ther. This likewise is executed by the great, the divine Artificer. Here are liga- ments ; a tough and strong arrangement of fibres, to unite the several limbs, and render what would otherwise be a disjointed un- wieldy jumble, a well-compacted and self- manai,'eable system. Membranes, or thin and flexible tunicles appointed to inwrap the fleshy parts, to form a connexion be- tween some, and make a separation between others.* Arteries, the rivers of our little world,f or the aqueducts of the organized metropo- lis, some of which ascend to the head, others spread themselves over the shoulders ; some extend to the arms, some descend to the feet, and striking out, as they go, into num- berless smaller canals, visit the streets, the alleys, and every individual apartment of the vital city ; These being wide at their origin, and lessening as they branch themselves, check the rapid impetus of the blood. To sustain this shock, they are endued with uncommon strength ; by performing this service, they oblige the crimson current to pass into the narrowest defiles, and distri- bute itself into all quarters. The blood thrown from the heart dilates the arteries, and their own elastic force contracts them. Ey which means, they vibrate in proper jiliices, very perceivably against the finger ; bring advices of the utmost importance to the physician ; and very much assist him, both in discovering the nature of diseases, and i»rescril)ing for their respective cures. Tlie larger arteries, wherever the body is formed for incurvation, are situate on the bending side ; lest being stretched to an * The intestines are fastened to each other by the mcscnlery. The breast is divided into two ca- vities l>y the " mediastinum." Both which are reck- oned among the membranes. t A liuiL.'in body was called by the anc'ents the "microcosm," thai is, a little world, or the world in miniature. improper length by the inflection, their di- mensions should be lessened, and the cir- culating fluid retarded. They are not, like several of the considerable veins, laid so near the surface, as to be protrusive of the skin, but are deposited to a proper depth in the flesh. This situation renders them more secure from external injuries. It conceals likewise those starts and resilitions of the pulse, which, if apparent, would discompose the most sedate, and disfigure the most comely countenance. Could we cast our eye upon the river which runs through the neighbouring meadow, we might observe several mills intersecting the stream. The waters, at those places, if not entirely stop- ped, drain away very slowly. In conse- quence of this obstruction, the lower chan- nels would be sunk dry, and the upper ones swelled into a flood. To obviate both these inconveniences, low shots are provided, which carrying ofi' the surcharge, prevent a glut above, and supply the banks below. In those parts of the body, which are most liable to pressure, much the same expedient takes place. The arteries inosculate, or, breaking into a new track, they fetch a little circuit, in order to return and communicate again with the main road. So that, if any obstacle blocks up or straitens the direct passage, the current, by diverting to this new channel, eludes the impediment, main- tains an uninterrupted flow, and soon re- gains its wonted course. Veins are appointed to receive the blood from the arteries, and re-convey it to the heart. Small at their rise, and enlarging as they advance, they are void of any pulsa- tion. In these, the pressure of the circu- lating fluid is not near so forcible as in the arterial tubes ; for which reason, their tex- ture is considerably slighter. Such an ex- act economist is nature, even amidst all her liberality !* In many of these canals, the current, though winding continually and acquiring a proportionable increase of gra- vity, is obliged to push its way against the perpendicular. By which circumstance it is exposed to the hazard of falling back, and overloading the vessels, if not of supressing the animal motion. For a security against this danger, valves are interposed at proper distances, which are no hinderance to the regular passage, but prevent the reflux, sus- tain the augmented weight, and facilitate a progress to the grand receptacle. This auxiliary contrivance comes in, where the blood is constrained to climb ; but is dis- missed where the steep ascent ceases, and such a precaution would be needless. * A parallel instance of frugality is observable in the arteries, whose coats are spun thinner, as the iliametcr of the vessels becomes smaller, and the pressure of the blood weaker DIALOGUE XIl. 265 Here are glands, whose office it is to fil- trate the passing fluid. Each of these glands is an assemblage of vessels, eom])Iicated and intervolved with seeming confusion, but with perfect regularity. As some kind of sieves transmit the dust, and retain the com ; others bolt out the meal, and hold back the bran ; so some of these glandulous strainers ckaw off the finest, others the gross- est parts of the blood. Some, like the dis- tiller's alembic, sublimate ;* others, like the common sewers, defecate. f Each forms a secretion far more curious than the most admired operations of chemistiy; yet idl necessary for the support of life, or condu- cive to the comfort of the animal. Muscles wove in nature's nicest loom ; composed of the slenderest fibres, yet endued with in- credible strength ; fashioned after a variety of patterns, but all in the highest taste for elegance,conveniency, and usefulness. These, with their tendons annexed, constitute the instruments of motion. The former, con- tracting their substance, operate somewhat like the pulley in mechanics. The latter, resembling the cord, are fastened to a bone, or some partition of flesh ; and, following the muscular contraction, actuate the part into which they are inserted. This, and all their functions, they execute, not like a slug- gish beast of biu-den, but quick as thelight- iiing. Nerves, surprisingly minute tubes — derived from the brain, and permeated by an exquisitely subtile fluid, which, gliding into the muscles, sets them on work — dif- fuses the power of sensation tlii'ough the body ; or, returning upon any impression from without, gives all needful intelligence to the soul. Vesicles, distended wth an unctuous matter, in some places, compose a Boft cushion^ for nature, in other ])laces, they fill up her vacuities, and smooth the inequalities of the flesh. Inwardly, they supple the several movements of the active machine ; outwardly, they render its ap- pearance plump, well proportioned, and gracefid. The skin, like a curious surtout,§ exactly fitted, is superinduced over the whole, form- * The glandulous substance of the brain, which secretes the animal spirits. f The liver and kidneys. The former of which se- parates the gall, the latter drains off a fluid, which, being sufficiently known, need not be named. I could wish, it had not been so explicitly and coarsely men- tioned in our translation of the best of books, but that we had rendered the original, in 1 Kings xiv. 1(1. " Every male;" in Isaiah, xxxvi. 12. " Katand drink their own excrements." tThe cjilf of theleg for instance, whose large collec- tion of muscles, intermingled with fat, is of singular service to those important bones. It tlaiiks and forti- fiesthem like a strong bastion. It supjuirls and che- rishes them like a soft pillow. And what is no less pleasing to observe, i t acconnnodates and defends them on that very side, where they most frc(p)ently rc«t their weight, and where they are leastcapable of being guarded by the eye. § " Thou hast clothed me with skin and flesh." Job X. 11. ed of the most delicate net-work, whose meshes* are minute, and whose threadst are multiplied even to a prodigy. The meshes so minute, that nothing passes thfti, which is discernible by the eye ; tliotigh they discharge every moment myriads and myriads of superfluous incumbrances from the body. The steam, arising from the warm business transacted within, is carried off by these real, though imperceptible funnels,^ which constitutes what we usually call in- sensible perspiration. The threads so mul- tiplied, that neither the point of the small- est needle, nor the incomparably nicer spear of a gnat, nor even the invisible lancet of a flea, can pierce any single part, without causing an uneasy sensation, and a suffusion of blood ; consequently, without wounding, even by so small a puncture, both a nerve and a vein.§ The veins, either pei"vading or lying pa- rallel with this fine transparent coat, beauti- fy the human structure ; those parts espe- ciidly, which are most conspicuous, and in- tended for public view. The pliant wnst, and the taper arm, they variegate with an inlay of living sapphire. — They spread ver- milion over the lips,|| and plant roses in the cheeks, while the eye, tinged with glossy jet, or sparkling with the blue of heaven, is fixed in an orb of polished crystal. In- somuch that the earthly tabernacle exhibits the nicest proportions and richest graces ; * The pores of the cuticula. + Thenervous fibres, andother vessels of the cutis. Nature is somewhat like Solomon's virtuous woman, " who is not afraid of the snow for her household, because her household are clothed in scarlet;" or, as it may be rendered, are clothed " with pairs," have two coats a-piece, Prov. xxxi.21. (See Gen. vi. 19. 2(1, where the word occurs in this signification). The body also is accommodated with a double covering. The outennost is that soft whitish tegument, which rises in the pustule of a blister. The innermost is that reddish anti exquisitely tender part, which appears when the blister is broke, and the dead skin taken off. The first is void of sejise, and intended to screen the second, not only from the stroke of injuries, but even from the impressions of the air, which, mild as it may feel to the sheathed, would be too rough and sharp for the naked nerves. There seems to be an allusion to this particular in that reinarkable expression, " Skin for skin," Job. ii. 4. " skin even unto skin," the very inmost skin, which camiot be taken away without the greatest loss, and se- verest pain. Yet even this loss a man would suffer, this pain he would endure in order to preserve precious life. t Theje are somewhere prettily styled cutaneous chimneys, and no wonder they are imperceptible, if, as Mr. Lewenhoeck affimis, a single grain of sand will cover no less than 12.5,00(1. § A blood-vessel at least. Compared with these ves- sels, the fine filmy threads, which, on some bright au- tumnal morning, float in the air, or hang on the stub- ble, must be large as a bell-rone, or bulky as a cable. Such tubes, one would think, would burst at every breath we draw, or even break with their own fineness. Vet they are tlieconduit-pipes, which convey the vital fluid from and to the grand reservoir. And so exquisite, so admirable is their texture, that they will outlast the strength of lead, or the heart of oak,— these wearing .T way, those growing stronger by use. II " Thy liyis are like a thread of scarlet," Cant. iv. .'I. Like a thread, for their delicate shape; like a thread of scarlet for their colour. 286 THERON AND ASPASIO, such nice proportions as afford the most correct model for statuary : such rich graces, a.s the canvass never bore, as painting imi- tutcs in vain. Asp. How just in itself, and how perti- nent to our purpose, is that well-known ac- knowledgment of the sacred and royal ana- tomist; " I am curiously wTOiight!"" " There is a variety, a regidarity, and an elegance, in the texture of my body ; in the formation and arrangement of these bones and muscles, these veins and arteries ; — resembling, shall I say ? — rather infinitely sui-passing the most costly and admired pieces of embroid- ery." It is one of the finest similitudes which the whole circle of polite arts coidd afford. Yet eveiy comparison, fetched from the per- formances of mankind, must necessarily de- base the noble subject. All the enrichments which the needle can give, or the most splen- did silks receive, are rude, are coarse, are mere sackcloth, when set in opposition to the exquisite delicacy of the fleshly web. As, indeed, all the celebrated palaces, am- phitheatres, temples, which ever adomed the most magnificent cities in the world, are but a heap of confusion, if compared with the symmetry and beauty of the bodily fabric. And, what is beyond measure marvellous, all these wonders of mechanism and deco- ration arose, not from the purer elements, not from the more refined parts of the crea- tion, but from the dust of the ground, f How easily, Theron, can that stupendous Artificer renew our hearts, and transform oui' souls into his owii image, who could raise such delicate and stately edifices from particles — despicable particles of the trodden soil ! I coidd not forbear interposing this re- mark ; because it tends to manifest our Cre- ator's glory, to encourage om" hopes, and strengthen our faith ; otherwnse I should be angi-y with myself for interrupting yom' dis- course. Pray go on with your description of the animal economy ; only let me ob- seiTe, that such a course of incessant action must exhaust the fluids, must waste the so- lids ; and, unless both are supplied with proper recruits, must gradually weaken, and at length totally destroy the machine. Tfier. For this reason, it is furnished with the organs, and endued with the pow- ers of nutrition. — Teeth, the foremost thin and sharp, fitted to bite asunder the food, or cut J off such a portion as the mouth can * The original signifies " finely wrought," or " ele- gantly flourished with a needle." The translation adopted by our liturgy is, in this place, flat and inex- pressive. The English word fashioned has just the same inferiority to the beautiful Hebrew phrase, as the badge tacked upon some poor pensioner's coat has to the star embroidered on a nobleman s breast. Psal. cxxxix. 14. t " The Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground." Gen. ii. 7. :j: Called therefore, " incisive." conveniently manage ; the hindermost broad and strong, indented like the surface of a millstone,* with small cavities, and jagged with little asperities, which qualify them to grind in pieces whatever is transmitted to their operation. Were the teeth, bke our other bones, covered with the usual mem- brane, the act of chewing would always oc- casion great imeasiness ; and, when any hard substance is eaten, might even lacerate the tender tegument. Were they left without any sort of covering, they would suffer from the inclemencies of the air, and be liable to the penetration of liquors : In which case, they must soon become soft and in)fit for service, or be corrupted, and entirely perish. To guard against these disadvantages, they are curiously glazed, or overlaid with a neat enamel, as white as ivory, and harder than the bone itself; which renders them an or- nament to the mouth,-f secures them from various injiuies, and exempts them from pain in the office of mastication. As the rims and cushions of a billiard- table keep the ball from flying off, and send it back into the green area for repeated es- says of skill ; so the lips prevent the food from slipping out of the mouth, and, assist- ed by the tongue, retiun it to the renewed attrition of the grinders. While the lips, in concert with the cheeks, are employed in this work, their motion compresses the cir- cinnjacent glands ; and, from innumerable little orifices, a thin pellucid liquor exudes, which moistens the attenuated food, and prepares it for more easy digestion. When the mouth remains inactive, these fountains of spittle are, in a manner, closed. But when it is exercised, either in speaking or eating, their moisture then being pecidiarly necessary, they never fail to give out a suf- ficient quantity. When the soldier charges his carbine, the cartridge could not make its way to the bot- tom without the protrusion of the rammer.^ ♦ styled accordingly, " molares." — We find nei- ther of these kinds in the new-born babe. As milk is, for a considerable time, its appointed food, teeth would be of no service to the infant itself. As it is to press the tender nipple for this milky sustenance, teeth would be painful and prejudicial to the nurse. Therefore, nature has postponed the formation of these fine implements, till they become both necessa- ry and beneficial. t This ornamental furniture of the mouth is, in the grand oriental manner, described by Solomon : " Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep, that are even shorn, which come up from the washing." Cant. iv. 2. Growing, not single like the nose; not in pairs like the eyes; but in rows considerably numerous, like a flock. None rising higher than the other ; none standing unduly prominent beyond another ; but all set as true as if they were ranged by the compass ; and making as regular an appearance as the flocks that are even shorn. They are clean also as the fleeces which have no spot, and white as the colour of the purest wool, like the flocks just come up from the washing. i This and the other similitudes, are undoubtedly too mean for the noble occasion. Neither do they, in every circumstance, (piadrate with the functions de- scribed. The motion of the muscles, which minister to the act of deglutition, is dillbrent from the per- DIALOGUE XII. 287 Neither would the food, which wo receive at the mouth, descend by tlie force of its own weight, througli a uturow and clammy channel, into the stomach. To effectuate therefore, and expedite its passage, muscles both strait and circular are provided. The former enlarge the cavity of the throat, and afford a more easy admittance ; the latter, closing behind the descending aliment, press it downwards, and finish the deglutition. Before the food enters the gullet, it must of necessity pass over the orifice of the wind- pipe ; consequently, must be in very immi- nent danger of falling upon the lungs ; which would, if not entirely obstnict the breath, yet occasion violent coughing,* and great inconveniences. To obviate this evil, the all-foreseeing Contriver has placed a move- able lid, or hunga cartilaginous draw-bridge,t which, when any the smallest particle of food advances to enter the stomach, is pull- ed dolvn and shut close ; but the very mo- ment the morsel is swidlowed, it is set loose and stands open. By this twofold artifice, the importiuit passage is always baiTed and made sure against any noxious approaches, yet is always left free for the necessary ac- cession of air, and commodious for the piu'- poses of respiration. When the maltster prepares his grain for the transmutations of the brew-house, he suffers it to lie several hours steeping in the cistern, before it is fit to be spread upon the floor, or dried on the kiln. The meat and drink likewise must remain a consider- able time in the stomach before they are of a proper consistence and tcmperatiu^e, either for the tender coats, or the delicate opera- tion of the bowels. For which purpose, that great receiver is made strong to bear, capacious to hold, and so curiously contrived as to lay a temporary embargo J upon its con- tents. Here they are lodged in the very centre of warmth, and concocted by the most kindly combination of heat and humi- pendicular protrusion of the rammer ; and it is men- tioned only to demonstrate the necessity of somepro- pelHng force, in order to convey the aliment into the proper receptacle. When we descant upon a subject of such extensive contrivance, and such finished ]ierfection, as the liu- man structure, it is scarce possible to find similitudes that will correspond in all particulars, or tliat can rise to the dignity of the original. V'et if they tend, in any toleral)le degree, to explain its fonnation, to display its uses, and render its wonderful economy somewhat more intelligible, perhaps they may be al- lowed to take place. I hope it will be remembered, that Theron speaks not as an adept in the science, l)ut as one whose high- est pretensions are, to admire the work, and adore the Artificer. Which acknowledginent may entitle him to some candid indulgence, in case he should ofl'end against the precise anatomical exactness either of sen- timent or expression. • This is what we experience when, in eating or drinking, any thing goes (as it is commonly, and not improperly said) the wrong way. t Called the "epiglottis." i Which is quite contrary to the economy of the pillet, though they are not only contiguous to each other, but a continuation of the same tube. dity. Here they are saturated with other fermenting or dikitiiig juices, and are knead- ed, as it were, by the motion of the stomach, and compression of the neighbouring parts. So that every, the minutest fragment is se- I)arated ; the whole is reduced to a tenuity, abundantly finer than the exactest grinding could effect ; and all is worked up into the smoothest most nicely-mixed ptdp imagin- able. From hence it is dislodged by a gent- ly-acting force, and passes by a gradual tran- sition into the cavity of the intestines. Near the entrance, punctual as a porter in his lodge, waits the gall-bladder,* ready to transfuse its acrimonious but salutary juices, on the advancing fdiment ; which dissolve its remaining viscidities ; scoiu* the passage of the intestines, and keep all its fine apertures clear. This bag, as the stomach fills, is elevated by the distension ; as the stomach empties, is proportionably depressed. The former posture brings on adischarge, the latter occasions a suppression of the bile. It is furnished also with a valve of a very peculiar, but most convenient form,f through which the detersive liquid cannot hastily pour, but must gently ooze. Admirable construction, which, without any care or consciousness of ours, prohibits an immoder- ate effusion, yet ascertains the needful supply. Sufficiently charged with this ad\'entitious fluid, the nutritive mass pursues its way through the intestines, whose wonderful meanders are incomparably more curious than the mazes of the Dtedalean labyrinth. They are actuated with a \\'orm-like or undulatory motion, J which protrudes the received ali- ment, and forces its fine milky particles in- to the lacteal vessels. These are a series of the most delicate strainers, ranged in countless midtitudes all along the sides of the winding passage, each so nicely fram- ed as to admit the neutrimental balmy juices, and reject the gross excrementitious dregs. Had the intestines been straight and short, the food might have gone thi-ough them, without resigning a suflicient quantity of its nourishing particles. Therefore, this grand- est of all the vital ducts is artfully convolv- ed, and greatly extended, to afford nature an opportunity of sifting more thoroughly whatever passes, and of detaining whatever may serve her purposes. Lest such lengths of entrails should be entangled among them- selves, or be cumbrous to the wearer, they are packed into the neatest folds, and lie within a narrow compass. They are at least six times longcr§ than the body which * The gall-bladder is situate ui)on the lower margin of the liver; and to secrete the bilious juice, is sup- posed to be the principal use of tliat largest of glands. t A spiral form. t Styled vermicular or peristaltic. § According to thiscalculation, they must measure, in a pretty tall m.an, more than thirty-six feet. The substance of the bowels, though thin to a delicacy, is 288 THERON AND ASPASiO. tontairis them ; yet are they lodged, not crowded, in a part, not in the whole region of the lower belly ; and, amidst this small space, have sufficient room to execute the nicest and mostimportantfunctions. Though the alimentary substance can never mistake its way, yet it may, through some accidental impediment, attempt to return backward. In this case a valve intervenes, and renders \vhat would be extremely pernicious, almost always impracticable. As the whole proceeds in this serpentine course, it is perpetually sending off detachments of nutritious juices. In consequence of which, it would lose its soft temperature ; might become rugged, and pain the tender parts ; perhaps be hindered from sliding on to its final exit. To prevent such an obstruction, glands are posted in proper places,* and discharge a lubricating tiiiid, which aids the progress of the mass, and renews the secretion of the chyle, till all that remains of the one is clean drawn off, and the other — But here you must ex- cuse me, and, for my neglect of farther par- ticularity, yom- author shall make an apo- logy : " Quemadmodum autem reliquiae cibi depellantiu", turn astringentibus se intestinis, turn relaxantibus, baud sane difficile dictu est ; sed tamen prsetereundem est, ne quid habeat injucunditatis oratio."f The ciiyle, drawn off by all the secretory orifices, is carried along millions of the finest ducts,* and lodged in several commodious cells. § Asa traveller, by baiting upon the road, and taking proper refreshment, is bet- ter qualified to pursue his joumey ; so the chyle, diverting to those little inns, is mix- ed with a thin, diluting, watery substance, which renders it more apt to flow, and more fit for use. From hence it is conveyed to one common receptacle, || and mounts tlu^ough a perpendicular tube. When pro- vision or ammunition is transmitted to an army, it generally passes under an escoit of able troops. As this is the immediate sup- port, and principal nourishment of the whole strong to a wonder. The skin of an ox gut, I am told will endure the blows of the gold-beater's hanuiner for many months, nay, for several years. * In the bowels which lie nearest the stomach, these glands are smaller or fewer ; because, in those parts, the aliment is copiously furnished with moisture; whereas, in the bowels which are more remote from the stomach, and receive the food drained of a con- siderable quantity of its chyle, the lubricating glands are either multiplied or enlarged. A mo;t admirable provision ! apparently diversified according to the several changes of the aliment, yet exactly adapted to the exigencies of the animal. I Cicero de Nnt. Dear. t Fine indeed ! since their orifices, through which they admit the chyle, are not discoverable even by the very best microscopes. To this prodigiously-nice constructure it is owing, that nothing enters the sub- stance of the blood, but what is smaller than the smallest arteries in the system ; and thereby fitteti to l)ass through (he finest capillary vessels, without c.using any obstruction. § The glands of (he mesentery. II The " reccptaculum chyli ;" a reservatory placed near the left UieUiey system, its conveyance is guarded and ascer- tained with peculiar caution. The jx-rpcn- dicular tube, not having sufficient force of its own, is laid contiguous to the great ar- teiy ; whose strong pulsation drives on the creeping fluid, enables it to overcome the steep ascent, and unload its precious trea- sure at the very door of the heart Here it enters the trunk of a large vein, most con- veniently opened for its reception -. It enters in a slanting or oblique direction. By this method of approach, it avoids thwarting, and coincides with the purple stream ; which, instead of obstructing its admission, expe- dites its passage, and instead of being a bar to exclude it, becomes a vehicle to waft it. — Its entrance is farther secured by a valve, admirably constructed, and most happily si- tuate ; which shuts the aperture against the refluent blood, in case it should offer to ob- trude itself, but opens a free, safe, and easy avenue, to introduce this mUk ; this manna of natiu-e. The blood, through every stage of its am- ple circuit, having sustained great expenses ; being laid under contribution by eveiy gland in the whole system, and having sup- plied myriads of the capillary vessels \^'ith matter for insensible perspiration, must be very much impoverished; but is most oppor- timely recruited by this accession of chyle Yet though recruited, it is not refined. In its present crude state, it is absolutely imqua- lified to perform the Altai tour, or carry on the animal functions : Therefore, by a grand apparatus of muscular fibres it is wafted in- to the lungs, and pours a thousand thousand rills into either lobe. — In the cells the spongy cells of this amazing laboratory, it imbibes the influences of the external air ; its heterogeneous parts are thoroughly in- corporated, and its whole substance is made cool, smooth, and florid. — Thus improved, thus exalted, it is transmitted to the left ventricle of the heart ; a strong, active, in- defatigable* muscle, placed in the verj' cen- tre of the system. Impelled by this beat- ing engine, part shoots upward, and sweeps with a bounding impetus into the head. There it impregnates the prolific fields of the brain, and forms those subtile spirituous dews,f which impart strength to every nerve. ♦ Indefatigable. — This is a very distinguishing, and no less amazing property of the heart. The large muscles of the arm, or the much larger of the thigh, are soon wearied. A day's labour, or a day's journey, will exhaust their strength. Butthemusclewhich con- stitutes the heart works through whole weeks, whole months, whole years, and never becomes weaiy ; is equally a stranger to intermission and fatigue. t These are what we call the animal spirits: and it is generally supposed, that sensation is caused by the undulatory motion of this nervous fluid ; thoiigh some imagine it is performed by the vibratory motion of the nerves themselves.— Others think, th:-.t liciihcr of these ojiiniom will comport witli the texture of those fine tubes, or with the nature of the duid thi'y contain.— It is, I Ivelievc, oneof thcscniyslcriwin t!ie material world, whichm.Ty reconcile thinking and un- DIALOGUE XII. 289" and communicate motion to every limb. — Part flows downward, rolls the reeking cur- rent through all the lower quarters, and dispenses the nutrimental stores even to the meanest member and the minutest vessel. Observe how the stately Thames and the rapid Rhine refresh the forests and the groves, water the towns, which crowd their banks, and make the meadows they inter- sect laugh and sing. So, only with an in- comparably richer fluid, and with infinitely more numerous streams, this human river laves the several regions of the body, trans- fusing vigour and propagating health through the whole. But how shall a stream, divided into my- riads of channels, and pervading innumera- ble tracts, how shall this be brought b.ack again to its source ? Should any portion, like your lake-waters after a land-flood, de- viate from their course, or be unable to re- turn— putrefaction would take place, a nui- sance would arise, death might ensue. Therefore the all-wise Creator has connec- ted the extremity of the arteries with the beginning of the veins : So that the same force which darts the crimson wave through the former, drives it through the latter. Thus it is reconducted, without the least extravasation, to the great salient cistern.* There, played off afresh, it renews and per- petuates the vital functions. Where two opposite currents would be in danger of clashing, a fibrous excrescence inteq)oses,t which, like a projecting pier, breaks the stroke of each,, and throws both into their proper receptacle. When the wafture is to be speedy, the chaimels either forbear to wind in their course,! or to les- sen in their dim.ensions.§ When the pro- gress is to be retarded, the tubes are twined into various convolutions, || or their diame- ter is contracted into a narrower size Modelled by these judicious ndes, guarded by these wise precautions, the living flood never discontinues its interchangeable tide ; but, night and day, whether we sleep or prejudiced minds to the mysteries of the Christian revelation. Why should any one wonder to find some doctrines in the Bible that surpass the reach of hu- rnan understanding, when there are so many opera- tions inthelxidy confessedly and absolutely inexplica- ble by the most acute anatomist ? t Solomon makes use of this similitude.—" Or ever the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern." Eccl. xii.6. The two ventricles of the heart, replenished with blood, are fitly represented by a cistern; and the contractile forceof their fibres acts like the water-wheel in hy- draulics. The pitcher, which receives the water at the sprinp-heail, and conveys it away for the owner's service, may prolrably signify the aorta, and the pul- monary artery ; whose functions correspond with the uses of such a vessel. i In the point where the streams form the vena cava and vpna nscrtidens meet. J In the great artery, that descends to the feet. § In every interval, between all the ramifications. n In the vessels which carry the blond to thcbrain : which form the viscous secretions; and indeed which consctitute all the glands. wake, still perseveres to sally briskly through the arteries, and return softly through the Ins. Such astonishing expedients are used to elaborate the chyle, to blend it with the blood, and to distribute both through the body ; by means of which the animal con- stitution is maintained. In youth its bulk is increased ; in age its decays are repaired ; and it is kept in tenantable condition for the soul during the space of seventy or eighty years. These are a few, and but a very few, in- stances of that contrivance, regularity, and beauty, which are observable in the human frame. Attentive inquirers discover deep- er footsteps of design, and more refined strokes of skill ; discover them not only in the grand and most distinguished parts, but in every limb and in every organ ; I may venture to add, in every fibre that is extend- ed, and in every globule* that flows. Asp. What a various, but uniform sys- tem, is the body ! I see the greatest midti- plicity of parts, yet the most perfect har- mony subsists between them all. No one hinders, but each assists, the operation of another ; and all conspire to the benefit and preservation of the whole. Most judicious- ly has the great apostle touched this sub- ject, and most happily applied it, to illus- trate the reasonableness and enforce the practice, both of personal and social duties, of private content and public concord. See 1 Cor. xii. 12, &c. " The body," he observes, " is not one member, but many ;' to each of which some peculiar and needful office is assigned : So that the foot, though placed in the lowest order, and destined to serve on the very ground, has no reason to reckon itself a worthless outcast ; or to say, " because I am not the head, I am not of the body." Neither has the head, in its exalted station, and amidst its honourable functions, any cause to despise the inferior limbs ; or to say, with contempt and self-sufficiency, " I have no need of you." If there were no feet what would become of the locomotive faculty ? or how could the body convey it- self from one place to another ? If there were no hands, what should we do for the instruments of action ? or how could the animal frame be defended and accommodat- ed ? — Nay, the parts, " which seem to be less honourable" are necessary. Even those which form the sediments, or throw oflf" the dregs, are of the last importance to life and its comforts. Should those be obstructed in their action, the most raging torment en- « The extreme minuteness of the globules, which form the red part of our blood, is one exemplifica- tion of this remark ; if, as Mr Lewenhoeck computes every globule be liTi.OtKl times smaller than the small- est gram of sand. U 290 THERON i\ND ASPASIO. sues ; Stould the obstmction continue, death is the inevitable consequence. — By this %vise adjustment " there is no schism in the body ;" no separate or interfering ends are pursued by the members ; but the safe- ty and support of each are the one undivided care of all. Thus should it be among men, and among Christians, in the civil community, and in the Catholic church. There is in both a subordination of persons, but a con- catenation of interests. For which reason, a general agreement shoidd take place, and a mutual subserviency to each other's wel- fare. The meanest have no cause to be dissatisfied with their condition ; but to ac- quiesce in the unerring disposal of Provi- dence, and cheerfully contribute their share to the common good. The highest should condescend to men of low estate, and main- tain a regard to the well-being of the poorest, as that which is intimately connected with their own. In a word, each should feel a tender concern for all ; rejoicing in their liappiness, and studying to establish it; sympathizing with their miseries, and en- deavouring to heal them. I am sure my Theron will be pleased with this fine comparison used by the apostle, and adapted to purposes at once so noble and so benevolent ; especially as it receives ad- ditional propriety and force from his own observations. But I have one more inquiry to make. Your system, though organized, though endiied with a principal of motion, and fur- nished with the powers of nutrition, is still aestitute of sense. The creation abounds with objects fitted to yield the most refined entertainment : The sun impurples the robes of morning, and stars bespangle the curtains of night : Flowers of silver whiteness, and of golden lustre, enamel the ground : Fruits of all radiant hues, and of every delicious uiste, hang amiably dangling on the boughs. "Airs also, vernal airs, Brcathin;; the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves." But we hear of no capacities formed for the enjoyment of these various delights ; without which, the breath of fields must aOsc its reviving fragrance, the whispering grove must degenerate into sullen silence, and nature's book of knowledge, all fair and instructive, be no better than a vast un- meaning blank. Ther. Therefore the great Creator, pro- fusely gracious to mankind, has made us a present, an inestimable present, of the senses, to be the inlet of iimumerable plea- sures, and the means of administering the most valuable advantages. High in the head, bright and conspicuous as a stai- in the brow of evening, is placed tl.o eye. In this elevated situation, like a ccntinel posted in his watch-tower, it com- mands the most enlarged prospect Con- sisting only of simple fluids, enclosed in thin tunicles, it conveys to our apprehension all the graces of blooming nature, and all the glories of the visible heavens. How pro- digiously wonderful that an image of the hugest mountains, and a transcript of the most diversified landscapes, shall enter the smallest circlet of the pupil ? How surpris- ingly artful, that the rays of light, like an inimitable pencil, shoidd paint on the optic nerves, paint, in an instant of time, paint in their truest colours and exactest linea- ments, every species of external objects ? The eye is so terider, that a slight acci- dent, scarce perceivable by some other parts of the body, woidd be very injurious to its delicate frame. It is guarded therefore with remarkable circumspection, and the most solicitous care — with a care evidently proportioned to its nice texture and exten- sive usefulness. It is intrenched deep in the head, and bamcadoed on every side with a strong fortification of bones. As the incursion of the smallest fly woidd in- commode the polished surfixce, it is farther defended by two substantial curtains, hung on a most slender cartilaginous rod, which secure it not barely from blows, and from any hurtful attrition, but also from eveiy troublesome annoyance. In sleep, when there is no occasion to exercise the sense, but an absolute necessity to protect the or- gan, these curtains spontaneously close, and never fail to lie shut. At any time they will fly together with a motion quick as the alarm of fear ; I had almost said, quicker than thought itself. At all times they are lined with an extremely fine sponge,* wet with its own native dews, which lubricate the eyeball, oil, as it were, its wheels, and fit it for a course of unwearied activity. At the end of this skinny mantlet, (if I may use the military style,) is planted a range of bristly palisadoes,f which keep out the least mote, ward oif even the straggling atom, and moderate the otherwise too potent im- pressions of the sunbeams.^ t Theglandulalachrymalisand its ducts, opening on the inner part of the eyelid, and secreting the fluid, which Theron calls its oil, because it irrigates the eyeball, and facilitates its motion. t The hairs, which arise upon the extremities of the eyelash, grow only toa certain convenient length, and never stand in need of cutting. They are not flaccid and pendulous, like those of the head ; but still' and prominent, like bristles. The first sort would be troublesome, the last is beneficial. Add to this, that their points stand out of the way, those of the upper eyelid being bent upwards, and those of the lower downwards. So nice is nature, even in such small matters. t The incessant, the more than fatherly care, which the Lord God Almighty takes of his people, is repre- sented in scripture by this extraordinary provision made for the security of the eye : which is one of the finest images that fancy can form, and one of Oie most DIALOGUE XII. 291 The brows are a kind of natural pent- j house, thatched and arched with cinious wreaths of hair. The thatch is intended to divert the sweat from trickhng into the eyes, and offending them with its brine. The arches are so finely coloured, and so elegantly turned, that they set off the white- ness of the forehead, and bestow additional grace on the whole countenance. Because, in our waking hours, there is almost an in- cessant call for those little orbs, they run upon a set of the finest casters, rolling up- wards or downwards, to the right hand or to the left, with the utmost speed and with equal ease ; which circumstance, added to the flexibility of the neck, renders our two eyes as useful, as if the whole body, like the living creatures in St. John's vision, was " full of eyes before and behind." (Rev. iv. 6.) The ear consists of an outward porch and inner rooms, with tools of the most ad- mirable contrivance and finished workman- ship. The contrivance and the workman- ship incomparably nicer than the designs of Palladio, or the architecture of Solomon's temple, though the former were drawn from the magnificent monuments of Rome, though the latter was built in the taste of heaven. Yea, so consummately nice is the structure of this organ, that God, the only wise God, is not ashamed to be called its artificer, " He that planted the ear," (Psal. xciv. 9.) is to be found among the titles of the exalted Jehovah. In one very remark- able peculiarity, this minute fabric resem- bles that sacred edifice, the porch being loftier* than any other part of the building. The porch I call that semicircular lodge which stands somewhat prominent from the liead, and is — not soft and sinking as flesh, lest it should absorb the sound rather than promote the repercussion ; not hard and stubborn as bone, lest it .should occasion painful inconveniences, when we repose ourselves on either side ; but of a cartila- ginous substance, covered with a tight ex- pansion of skin, and wrought into irregular bends and hollows, which, like circling hills, or surrounding rocky shores, collect the wandering undulations of the air, and trans- mit them, with a vigorous impulse, to th-i finely stretched membrane of the tympa- num.-f- The avenue, or narrow entry, is consolatory truths that faith can believe. " He kept him as the ai>|ile of his eye." Deut. xxxii. 10. "He that touchotn yovi, toucheth the .ijiple of his eye." Zech. ii. !). The reader will easily see that the com- parison, every way beautiful, is carried to the highest pitch of energy and beauty by the sacred writers. Not barely tlie eye, liiit the apple or pupil of the eye; the tenderost part even of the most tender member. t Compare 1 Kings vi. 2, with 2 Chron. iii. 4. t So called, because it resembles a drum, both in figure and use; being.", fine skin, expanded upon a circle of tones, and over a polished reverberating ca- vity. It is allectcd by tlie vibration? o( the external secured from the insinuating attempts of little insects, by a morass (shall I say ?) of bitter and viscous matter; disgustful to their taste, and embarrassing to their feet. The hammer and the anvil, the stirrup and the drum, the winding labyrinths,* and the sounding galleries ; these and other pieces of mechanism, all instrumental to the power of hearing, are beyond aU description cu- rious. Amazingly nice must be the forma- tion, and inconceivably exact the tension of the auditory nerves ; since they correspond with the smallest tremors of the atmosphere, and easily distinguish their most subtile vari- ations. With the gentle gales that fan us, or even with the ruder blasts that assault us, these delicate strings are but little affect- ed ; whereas they are perfect unisons with those fine, those significant agitations of the air, which the acutest touch is unable to discern. These living chords, tuned by an almighty hand, and diffused through the echoing isles, and sonorous cells — these re- ceive the impressions of sound, and propa- gate them to the brain : Thesef give exist- tence to the charms of music, and recipro- cate the rational entertainments of discourse. These treat my Aspasio with the melody of the woodland choirs, and afford me the su- perior pleasure of my friend's conversation. The eye perceives only the objects that are before it, whereas the ear warns us of transactions that pass above us, behind us, all around us. The eye is useless amidst the gloom of night, and cannot carry its ob- servation through the bolted door, or the closed window-shutter ; but the ear admits her intelligence through the darkest me- dium, and the minutest cranny. The eye is upon duty only in our waking hours; but the ear is always expanded, and always accessible ; a courier which never tires, a centry ever in his box. To secure a re- soiurce, in case any misfortune shoidd dis- air, as the covering of the war-drum is by the impres. sions of the stick. It is also furnished with braces, which strain or relax it at pleasure, and accommodate its tension either to loud or languid sounds. * Of this kind is the audala lingua, " Lingua figuratrix verborum, opisexiiue loquelae." Ant. Lncret. t The articulating tongue is called " our glory." Psal. Ivii. 8. And such indeed it is when devoted to . these purposes. It is then a distinction, not only of mail from the brutal herd, but of the righteous from the congregation of the ungodly. It is then like choice silver, or a tree of life. " Who would not bless for this the gift of speech. And in the tongue's bBiitlicence be rich r" 294 THERON AND ASPASIO. cave roof, which serves as a sounding-board to the voice ; giving it much the same ad- ditional vigour and giace as the shell of a violin adds to the language of the strings. Wise, wonderfully wise and eminently gracious, is the regulation both of spontane- ous and involuntary motion. Was this re- gulation reversed, what deplorable inconve- niencies would take place ; nay, what una- voidable ruin must ensue ! Deplorable in- conveniencies ; if the discharges of the bowels, or evacuations of the bladder, were quite independent on our leave. Unavoid- able ruin ; if the action of the heart requir- ed the co-operation of oiu' thoughts, or the business of respiration waited for the con- currence of our will. The wiU, in some cases, has not so much as a single vote ; in others, she determines and commands like an absolute sovereign : Nor is there a monarch upon earth so punc- tually obeyed, as this queen of the human system. If she but intimate her pleasure, the spirits run, they fly to execute her or- ders ; to stretch the arm, or close the hand ; to furrow the brow with frowns, or dimple the cheek with smiles. How easily, as well as punctually, are these orders carried into execution ! To turn the screw, or work the lever, is laborious and wearisome : But we move the vertebrae, with all their append- ent chambers ; we advance the leg, with the whole incumbent body ; we rise from our seat ; we spring from* the ground ; and though much force is exerted, though a very considerable weight is raised, we meet with no difficulty, we complain of no fatigue. That all this should be effected, without any toil, and by a bare act of the will, is very surprising : But that these motions should be made, renewed, continued, even while we remain entirely ignorant of the manner in which they are performed, is be- yond measure astonishing. Who can play so much as a single tune upon the spinnet, without learning the difference of the keys, or studying the nidiments of music ? Im- possible ! Yet the mind of man touches every spring of the human machine with the most masterly skill, though she knows no- thing at all concerning the nature of her implements, or the process of her operations. We walk, we lun, we leap : we throw oiu:- selves into a variety of postiu-es, and perform a multitude of motions ; yet are utterly un- able,to say, which nerve should be active, which muscle should swell, or which tendon approximate. Put a German flute into the hand even of a sensible person, without a master to instruct him, he is at a loss to make the instrument speak ; m\ich less is he able to sink and soften the sound, to exalt and ex- tend it, just as he pleases : Yet we arc self- taught in the method of forming, regulating. and varying the voice. Naturally, and mtb unpremeditated fluency, we give it the lan- guishing cadence of sorrow, or the sprightly airs of joy ; the low faultering accents of fear, or the elevated tone tmd rapid sallies of anger. The eye of a nistic, who has no notion of optics, or any of its laws, shall lengthen and shorten its axis, dilate and contract its pupil, without the least hesitation, and with the utmost propriety ; adapting itself, even with mathematical exactness, to the parti- cular distance of objects, and the different degrees of light : By which means, it per- forms some of the most curious experiments in the improved Newtonian philosophy, without the least knowledge of the science, or so much as any consciousness of its own dexterity. I can never sufficiently admire this mul- tiplicity of animated organs ; their finished form, and their faultless order. Yet I must confess myself struck with greater admira- tion at the power, the tnily mysterious pow- er and sway, which the soul exercises over them. Ten thousand reins are put into her hand : she is not acquainted with their office, their use or their name ; she has not learned so much as to distinguish one from another ; nevertheless she manages all, con- ducts all, without the least perplexity, or the least irregularity ; rather with a promp- titude, a consistency, and a speed, which nothing else can equal ! Upon the whole — great reason had Eu- ripides to call the human body, 'Sofa TtKrovo; xaXov TToiHiXfiX, I believe, the preceding observations will justify us, if we give a fuller meaning to the poet, and translate his words — " the infinite- ly varied, and inimitably fine workmanship of a great, supreme, unerring Artist." Or, as Virgil speaks, with a pertinency and a spirit which epitomises all I have said, and expresses all I would say, this bodQy struc- ture is indeed — " non enarrabile textum."* Asp. " Wonderfully," I perceive, " and fearfully are we made," (Psalm cxxxix. 14.) Made of such complicated parts ; each so correctly fashioned, and all so exactly ar- ranged ;f every one executing such ciu'ious functions, and many of them operating in so mysterious a manner, as may justly ren- der us a wonder to ourselves. Since health * That is, a structure, not barely correct, or highly finished, but (as Theron has elsewhere expressed it) " beyond description curious." t St. Paul's language on tlie subject, is exceedingly beautiful and expressive, "Zwa^/^oXoynfi-^viv xa.i o'v/nfiifiix-^of/.ivov. Eph. iv. 16. The several parts most nicely adapted to each other, and most perfectly harmonizing with the whole. All associated with that propriety, and connected with that firmness, which are the very foundation of symmetry, vigour, and agility. DIALOGUE XII. 2f)5 depends upon such a numerous assemblage of moving organs ; since a single secretion stopped may destroy the salutary tempera- ture of the fluids; or a single wheel clogged m.iy put an end to the vital motion of the solids ; with what " holy fear should we pass the time of our sojourning here below," ( Pet. i. 17.) tnisting, for continual preser- vation, not merely on our own care, but on that omnipotent hand which formed the ad- mirable machine ; that the same hand which formed it, may superintend its agency, and support its being. When we consider the extensive contriv- ance and delicate mechanism— what plans of geometry have been laid ; what opera- tions of chemistry are performed ; in a word, what miracles of art and elegance are exe- cuted, in order to furnish us with the neces- sary recruits, and the several delights of life ; — is there not abundant reason to cry out,with the same inspired writer, " How dear are thy counsels imto me, O God !" " Thy counsels of creating wisdom ! .thou hast not been sparing, but even lavish of thy indulgent designs. Thou hast omitted no expedient which might establish my ease, enlarge my comforts, and promote, yea, com- plete my bodily happiness !" And is not this a most endearing obligation " to glori- fy the blessed God, with our bodies, as well as with our spirits?" (1 Cor. vi. 20.) Ther. " Our spirits !" Ay ; What is this mansion of flesh, though so exfpiisitely wrought, compared with the noble and immortal inhabitant which resides with- in? That intellectual Being ; Those thoughts, which wander through eternity ! Milton. This consideration inclines me to think, that if the casket be so highly polished, the jewel cannot be so excessively coarse as my Aspasio's doctrine of original corruption sup- poses. Asp. I perceive your aim, Theron ; but must beg leave at present to decline all overtui'cs for a dispute. If my arguments have failed, your description has answered its end. I cannot suffer my thoughts to be diverted from a subject which is so very en- gaging, yet so rarely discussed. I have such •A strong desire to recollect and retain what has been observed, that even your conversa- tion will at this juncture lose its relish. Here, therefore, I put a period to our dis- course, and must break away from your company, in order to ruminate and digest my notions in some sequestered lonely walk. Unless you will permit me, before I retire, to make one remark. And let it not startle my friend if I venture to say, that, amidst all his curious observations, he has forgot the princij)al circumstance of honour and excellence which dignifies the human body. Ther. I have omitted matiy fine and ad- mirable properties I confess. But sure I have not forgot the principal and most dis- tinguishing. Asp. You need not be displeased with yourself. It argues no defect in your disser- tation. The circumstances I hiive in my view could never be discovered by following the dissecting knife. It is leanied, not from Cheselden's draughts, or the tables of Al- binus, but from the word of revelation. — What I mean is this : the human body was exalted to a most intimate and personal union with the eternal Son of God. He who decorated the heaven with stars, and crowned the stars with lustre, " he vouch- safed to be made flesh," (John. i. 14.) " and was found in fashion as a man," (Phil. ii. 8.) Nay, this is even now the apjiarel of that di\'ine and adorable Person. He is clothed with our nature ; he wears our very limbs, and appears in the dress of humanity, even at the right hand of God, and at the head of all the heavenly hosts. What think you of another privilege, mentioned by the apostle ? " Your bodies are the temple of the Holy Ghost," (1 Cor. vi. 19.) Not your souls only, but your very bodies are the shrine in which " the liigh and holy One that inhabitcth eternity," condescends to dwell. He who sitteth be- tween the cherubim, and walketh in the circuit of the skies, is pleased to sanctify these earthly tenements for his own habita- tion. And is not this a much grander em- bellishment than all their matchless con- trivance and masterly workmanship ? Just as the rod which budded, and the manna which was miraculously preserved ; the sa- cred oracle of Urim and Thummim, with the cloud of glory covering the mercy-seat ; were a much higher distinction to Solomon's temple, than the most heightened beauties of architecture. Nor must I omit the dignity, the trans- cendent and amazing dignity, which is re- served for these systems of flesh at the re- surrection of the just. They will then be refined and improved into the most perfect state, and the most beauteous form ; surpassing whatever is resplendent and amiable in the most ornamental appearances of material nature. They will be purer than the un- si)otted firmament ; brighter than the lustre of the stars ; and, which exceeds all paral- lel, which comprehends all perfection, they will "be made like inito Christ's glorious body," ( Phil. iii. 21.) like that incompar- ably-glorious body which the blessed Jesus wears in his celestial kingdom, and on his trium]ihanl throne- When we add all these magnificent pre- rogatives which are revealed in scri])ture, to all those inimitable niceties which are (li.splayed by anatomists, what thankfulness. 296 THERON AND ASPASIO what admii'ation, can equal sueh a profu- k of this con- stitution. Titer. I should certainly think it very miich distempered. Asp. Without the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, our souls turn every occur- rence into an increase of their sinful depra- vity. Our very table is a snare, and instead of exciting us to gratitude, is a provocative to gluttony. How difficult is it, when we flow in plenty, not to be elated ; when we are oppressed with poverty, not to repine ? Have we business in the world ? it cumbers our thoughts, or tempts us to avarice : Have we no business to manage ? we sink into sloth, and settle on the lees of voluptuous- ness. If our schemes are prosperous, it is odds but they attach us to the interests of time : If they prove unsuccessful, we too often are chagrined with the disappointment, and sin against meekness. Even the holy commandment, instead of restraining sin, or producing obedience, irritates the inbred de- pravity, and renders it more restless, more impetuous, more ungovernable, Rom. vii. 8. Those very things which shoidd have been for our welfare, (so malignant and raging is our corruption !) are converted into an oc- casion of falling. Ther. The will is under no necessity of misemploying her powers. She is free to act in this manner or in that ; and if a spend- thrift, is not a slave. Asp. In actions which relate to the ani- mal economy the will is unquestionably free. She can contract the forehead into a frown, or expand it with a smile. In the ordinary divine persuasion. Prov. i. 24, 25.— "The host of heaven, whom they have loved, and whom they have served, and after whom they have walked, and whom they have sought, and whom they have worshipped." What a heap of expressions : significantly describing that impetuous ardour, which no prohibitions can re- strain; and that insatiable avidity, which never knows when to say, it is enough. Jer. viii. 2. If I beg leave to add another example of this kind, it is chiefly for the sake of clearing up an obscure passage in the Psalms; which seems to have been mistaken by the authors of both our versions.— Da- vid, to set forth the barbarous assiduity of bis perse^ mistaken by the authors of both our versions.- forth the barbarous assiduil cutors, says, " They wander up and down." 'They pry into every corner ; they search the city, and exa- mine the country: not for meat; which in this con- nexion is a sense quite foreign to the subject, ami very jejune indeed ; but to devour, to devour me the destined victim of their rage. And if they arc not satisfied, if they cannot compa.ss their design by day, will they grudge ? No ; but they will continue all night, in the prosecution of their purpo.se. Neither cold nor darkness can retard them : neither hardships nor dangers can divert them ; but their attcm|)ls are as indefatigable as their malice is implacable. I'salm lix. 15. 304 THERON AND ASPASIO. affairs of life, she is under no control. We can undertake or decline a journey, carry on or discontinue an employ, just as we please. In the outward acts of religion also, the will is her own mistress. We can read the word of God, or go to the place of divine wor- ship, without any extraordinary aid from above But, in matters which are more in- timately connected with our salvation, the case is different. Here, as our liturgy ex- presses it, " we are tied and bound with the chain of our sins." Would you have a person delight himself in the Lord, take pleasure in devotion, set his affections on things above ? — All this is both his duty and his happiness. But alas ! he is alienated from the life of God ; his inclinations gravitate quite the contrary way ; his will is in the condition of that distressed woman, who was "bowed down with a spi- rit of intirmity, and could in no ^vise lift up herself." Luke xii. 11. Corruption, like a strong .bias, influences, or rather like a heavy mountain oppresses his mind. Neither can he shake off the propensity, or struggle away from the load, until grace, almighty grace, interposes for his release, — " Where the spirit of the Lord is, there," and there alone, '• is liberty," 2 Cor. iii. 17, that sa- cred and glorious liberty, which is not the common privilege of all men, but the high prerogative of the children of God. Would you haye a person apply to the great Redeemer — apply with a real ardour of desire, as Bartimaeus of old, or the Syro- phoenician mother ? — His will is like the withered arm, cannot stretch forth itself to the all-gracious Saviour ; cannot hunger and thirst after his everlasting righteousness and Ther. Are we slaves then ? Will Chris- tianity send us to seek our brethren in the mines or in the galleys ? Asp. Christianity does not send but find us there : There, or in a worse slaverj'. " — It is doubtless a most abject state, to wear the yoke, and truckle in chains. Yet such, I apprehend, is the state of our minds by nature. To prove this, we need not go down to the lowest ranks of life. " These," you might say with the prophet, " are poor ; these are foolish ; they have not knovtni the way of the Lord, nor the judgment of their God" — I will get me therefore to the great men," Jer. v. 4, 3, and examine their dis- position. Have you not known persons of the greatest intrepidity, and firmest resolution, hurried away by their lusts, as " a rolling thing before the whirlwind ?" Isa. xvii. 13. Perhaps they were bold enough to face dan- ger, and defy the sword in the field of bat- tle ; yet were no more able to withstand the wanton allurements of beauty, or the soft solicitations of pleasure, than the moth can forbear fluttering about the flame, even though it singes her wings, and is scorching her to death. Others, possessed of a re- fined imagination, disdain the gross indulg- encies of sensuality ; yet are slaves to their own domineering passions. They are blown into the most intemperate rage, and pushed on to the most extravagant actions, by every little ruffling accident. They see the mean- ness which such an ungovemable spirit ar- gues ; they feel the misery which such in^ temal tempests create : nay, they resolve to suppress the impetuosity of their temper t yet are borne away by the torrent, and upon infinite merit, till the Saviour himself speaks I the very first provocation, are as furiously power into the enfeebled, the perverted fa- culty.— If you think otherwise, try the ex- periment. Persuade men to this necessary practice. Urge the most weighty arguments ; devise the most pathetic expostulations ; let zeal summon all her force, and rhetoric em- ploy all her art. Without being a prophet, I dare venture to foretell the issue. Dis- appointments, repeated disappointments, will convince you that our divine Master knew what he said when he solemnly declared, " No man can come to me, except the Fa- ther, which hath sent me, draw him.* John vi. 44. Our church, in conformity to this and other scriptures, has taught us to pray, " Turn thou us, O good Lord," for nothing but thy omnipotent agency is capable of do- ing it, " and so we shall be turned." « It is not said the Father drives, but draws : not by violent, irrational, compulsive means ; but by clear conviction, sweet persuasion, and inducements suit- ed to a reasonable being. Those are the cords of a beast ; these of a man. So that we are not acted upon as clock-work, or influenced as mere machines, but " made willing in the day of his power." Psal, ex. 3. resentful as ever. Will you call these per- sons free, because their task-masters and their tyrants are lodged within ?t because the fetters are forged, not for the meaner but for the immortal part of their nature ? Ther. Let us pass to the affections- These are to the soul what wings are to the eagle, or sails to the ship. These always stand ready to receive the gales of interest, and to spring at the signal of reason. • St. Paul says of Christians, and reckons himseli in the number, that naturally they served (not oia- xovistris but lovXivovTis, were absolute slaves to) " diverse lusts and pleasures." Tit. iii. 3. The whole verse is very remarkable, and nothing can be more apposite to Aspasio's purpose. It shows us, what they were by nature, who through grace became livir\g images of the blessed God. This mortifying doctrine is often acknowledged by our church : Thus bepins one of her public supplica- tions, " Almighty God, who alone canst order the unruly wills and affections of sinful man." It seems we cannot determine our own wills, nor regulate our own affections. What is this but bondage ? t Inordinate desires And upstart passions catch the government From reason, and to servitude reduce Man till then free. DIAI 0(;UK XIII. 305 proportioned to tlie bullast, what advantagt- will accrue, either to the animal or to the vessel ? The one, will probably be over- set in the voyage, the other will lie grovel- ling on the ground. Tlier. Desire seems to be first, which " opens the mouth, or moves the wing, or peeps." Isa. x. 14. Desire is active as a flame, and ever in pursuit of happiness. Asp. What if your flame, instead of shooting upwards, should point its inveited spires to the earth ? Would not this be strange, and a sign of great disorder ? — God is the centre of peifection, and the source of felicity. All that is amiable in itself, is comprehended in God. All that is benefi- cial to us, proceeds from God. Do our desires uniformly tend to this superexcel- lent Being? Do our wishes terminate in the enjoyment of his ever-glorious Majesty? Alas ! we are naturally estranged from him. We covet no communion with him. We are wedded to trifles, and dote upon vanity ; but to God we say — it is evidently the lan- guage of our conduct — " Depart from us ? we desire not the knowledge of thy ways." Jobxxi. 14. If desire is the first-born among the affec- tions, observe it in children. There it ap- pears in its dawn, and has most iji pure na- ture- See how those flies, exulting in the sunny gleam, vibrate with all the rapidity of motion their little wings:* Su prompt auti expedite are the desires of children to any corrupting diversion. See how sluggishly that snail, crawling forth amidst the refresh- ing moisture, drags her slow length along : So dull, if not reluctant, are the dispositions of our children to any improving exercise- Rewards will hardly win them to the latter ; the rod can hartlly deter them from the for- mer : And none, none but God, " by his special grace preventing them, can put into their minds goud desires. ""f Is our love under better regulation ? How easily are we captivated with a fair complexion and graceful form, especially when set off with the decorations of dress ; but how little affected with the beauty of internal character, with the ornaments of virtue, and the graces of Christianity ! Can it be supposed, that the pulse of the soul beats regularly, when tlieie is such a pas- sionate fondness for fading embellishments, and such a cold indifference for the most substantial endowments ? How ready are we to be enamoured with well proportioned clay, often to our apparent prejudice, some- times to our utter ruin ? yet how backward • The wings of a fly are supposed to have the quickest motion of any material substance which lives. Ami if they make, as naturalints imagine, some hundreds of vibrations in a second of time, I lliink there can be no coinpctilion in ihe case. t Collect for Easter-day. to love that infinitely loving and lovely Re- deemer, who would die himself rather than we should become a prey to death ! Tin- der we are, perfect tii.der to the sparks of irrational and dissolute affection ; harder than adament, colder than ice, to this hea- veidy flame. Tlier. If our love is blind, our fear has not lost her eyes- Fear is quick of apprehen- sion ; and instead of being stupidly insen- sible, is ready to " rise up at the voice of a bird." Eccl. xii. 4- Asp. The passion of fear is sufficiently active, but deplorably misajiplied. We fear the reproach of men. But are we alarmed at the view of that everlasting shame which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall pour upon the ungodly? We shudder at the drawn dagger, and stand appalled at the headlong precipice: But how often have we defied the sword of almighty vengeance, and sported upon the brink of irretrievable perdition ? Sin is the most pernicious of all evils. Sin violates the divine command, and jn'o- \okes the divine Majesty. Sin oflers de- spite to the blessed Spirit, and tramples up- on the blood of Jesus. For sin, the trans- gressor is banished fiom the blissful presence of God, and doomed to dwell with inex- tinguishable burnings. Do we dread this grand destroyer of our happiness ? dread it more than any calamities, more than all plagues ? — Take one of those fine may- dukes, which glow with so beautifid a scar- let on yonder espalier -. Offer it to the black- Inrd that serenades us from the neighbour- ing elm. The creature, though fond of the dainty, will fly from our hand, as hastily as from a levelled fowling-piece. He suspects a design upon his liberty ; and therefore will endure any extremity, will even starve to death, rather than taste the most tempting delicacy in such hazardous circumstances. Aie we equally fearful of an infinitely great- er danger ? Do we fly, with equal solici- tude, from the delusive but destructive wiles of sin ? Alas ! do we not too often swallow the bait, even when we plainly discover the fatal hook ? Do we not snatch the forbid- den fruit, though conscience remonstrates, though God prohibits, though death eternal threatens. Titer. Conscience, then, according to your own account, has escaped the general shipwreck- Conscience is God's vicegerent in the soul, and executes her oflice faithful- ly. Even the Gentiles "show tlie work of the law written in their hearts, their con- science also bearing witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another."* Rom. ii. l.'i. Asp. If there be any remains of the di- vine image, perhajis they arc to be found in the conscience. Uut even this is not ex- 30G THERON AND ASPASIO. empt from the common ruin. — Consider its light. It is like a dim taper, feebly glim- mering, and serving only to make the dark- ness visible. Or, if it discovers any thing. It is an obscme something, we know not what, which instead of informing tantalizes us; and instead of guiding bewilders us, as false and delusory lights on the shore put a cheat upon the mariner, and lead him on to ruin.* — Consider its operations. It is either dumb or dead, or both. Dumb ; or else how vehemently would it upbraid us for our shocking ingratitude to the supreme omni- potent Benefactor ? how loudly would it in- veigh against our stupid neglect of spiritual interests, and eternal ages ? Dead ; other- wise how keenly would it smart when gash- ed with wounds — numerous as our repeated violations of the divine law, deep as the hor- rid aggravations of our various iniquities ? Ther. Do you call this an answer to my objection, Aspasio ? If it be an answer, it resembles, in point of satisfactory evidence, the light which you ascribe unto the con- science. Asp. The Gentiles, you allege, show tlie work, but not the love of the law, written on their hearts. Some leading notices of right and v/rong they have, some specula- tive strictures of good and evil ; but without a real abhorrence of the one, or a cordial delight in the other : which, far from enno- bling their nature, far from vindicating their practice, argues the exceeding depravity of the former, and renders the latter absolutely without excuse. No ; you say, conscience excuses the heathens. Rather, their conscience bears witness to the equity of the law, while their thoughts make some weak apology for the tenor of their conduct. This is far from acquitting, far from justifying them. Be- sides, these weak attempts to excuse are always founded on ignorance. Did they know themselves, their duty, or their God, conscience would, without the least hesita- tion, bring in her verdict Guilty. The apos- tle assures us that till faith, which is a divine principle, takes place in our breasts, " both the mind and conscience are defiled : Tit. i. 15 : here and elsewhere very plainly inti- mating, that the conscience is evil, and ever will be evil, till it is "sprinkled with the blood of Christ." Heb. x. 22. It accuses some, I acknowledge, and it ought to accuse, yea, to condemn all. But * This seems to have been the case with the bulk of the Heathen world. Conscience arraigned, and found them guilty. This put them upon practising their abommable, sometimes their inhuman idolatries. Nay, this mduced them to give the most scandalous and impious misrepresentations of the Deity. That they might sheath the sting of conscience, and find some salvo for their own iniquities, they made even the objects of their worship the patrons and the pre- cedents of their favourite vices. even here it evidences itself to be corrupt, for its accusations are sometimes erroneous, and no better than false witnesses, sometimes partial,* and suborned by appetite ; and very, very often ineffectual. Nay, when they do take eftect, they produce no fruit that is truly good. They work not a genuine hu- miliation, or an unfeigned repentance ; but either a slavish dread of God as a severe judge, or hatred of him as an inexorable enemy. Ther. Hatred of God ! Astonishing im- piety ! Is it possible for the human heart to admit such enormous, almost incredible wickedness ? Asp. You may well be astonished. The-- ron ; and God may justly demand ; " What iniquity have my people found in me, that they are gone far from me, and have walked after vanity ?" Jer. ii. 5. " I created you out of nothing, and endowed you with an immortal soul. Asa father, I have provided for you : As a nurse, I have cherished you. I have consigned over to your possession the earth, and the fulness thereof. All my crea- tures do you service, and even my angels minister unto your good Do you desire greater demonstrations of my love ? I have given what was dearer to me than all angels, than all worlds : I have given my son from my bosom, to die in your stead. Would you have farther evidences of my tender, my distinguished regard ? Behold ! I touch the mountains, and they smoke : I look upon the earth, and it trembles : I cast even the princes of heaven, when they break my law, into chains of darkness. But to you, O men, I condescend to act as a supplicant ! Though highly injured, and horribly affront- ed, I beseech you, again and again I beseech you, to be reconciled." To hatef such a God, is indeed the most detestable impiety. Yet man, foolish man, practises this impiety, whenever, for the sake of a vile lust, an ignoble pleasure, or an un- ruly passion, he transgresses the command of his Creator. Shall I exemplify the doctrine in another of the affections ? Ther. In truth, Aspasio, I begin to be sick of the subject. If human nature is so ulcerated, the less you touch it the better. However, let us not quite omit the irascible appetite. • Partial^-otherwise, how could the most celebrat- ed among the ancient heroes applaud and practise that execrable unnatural crime, self-murder ? How could their first-rate historians extol and almost consecrate that diabolical principle of action, pride ? And how could their ablest teachers of morality, not only tole- rate, but establish the error, by neglecting to find so much as a name for that amiable virtue, humility. t Hatred of God is so shocking an expression, that one would almost wish never to hear or read it. But it occurs in our unerring book ; is too often exem- plified in common life ; and is engraven, by corrupt nature, on every human heart. See Horn. i. 30; Exod, XX. 5; John xv. 26; Rom, viii. 7- DIALOGUE XIII. 307 Axp. Of this we h?ve already taken a side view : if you choose to see it in full propor- tion, make your observation on Fervidus. Fervidus comes home in a rage. His cheeks are pale and his lips quiver with ex- cess of passion. Though he can hardly speak, he vows revenge, and utters impre- cations. What is the cause of all this wondrous ferment ? A neighbour, it seems, has dropt some reflecting hint, or a servant has blundered in some trifling message. Such usage, Fervidus says, is intolerable, and such negligence impardoiiable. This same Fervidus has offered innumerable af- fronts to his Maker, he has most scanda- lously neglected the will of his almighty Lkerl are certainly proud. Shall T ad'J, without oflFence, if we fancy our minds to he clear from the weeds of vanity, and our thoughts free from the workings of self admiration, it is a most pregnant symptom, that we are overrun with the former, abandoned to the latter, and blinded by both. Pride was the first sin that found entrance into our nature, and it is perhaps the last that will be expelled. What are all our afflictions, but a remedy provided for this inveterate disease ; intended to " hide pride from man." Job xxxiii. 17. What is the institution of the gospel, but a battery erect- ed against this stronghold of Satan ; or- dained lo " cast down every high imagina- tion." 2 Cor. X. 4, 3. Though that remedy is often applied, though this battery is con- tinually playing, yet the peccant humour is not entirely purged off, nor the elatement of spirit totally subdued, till mortality is swallowed up of life. Pride is the sin which most easily besets us. " Who can say, I have made my heart clean," Prov. xx. 9, from this iniquity ? It defiles our duties, and intermingles itself with our very virtues. It starts up, I know not how, in our most solemn hours and our most sacred employs. The good Hezekiah, whose prayers were more powerful than all the forces of Sennacherib, was not proof against the wiles of this subtile sorceress. 2 Chron. xxxii. 25. Even the great apostle, who had been caught up into the third hea- vens, was in danger of being pufled up with pride ; in such great danger, that it was necessary to put a lancet into the gathering tumour ; or, as he himself expresses it, to fix a " thorn into his flesh, and permit the messenger of Satan to buflet him." 2 Cor. xii. 7. How pathetically is this corruption la- mented, and how truly described by "a sweet singer of our Israel !" But pride, that busy sin, Spoils all that I perform ; * Cursed jiride ! that creejis securely in. And swells a haughty worm. Thy glories I abate. Or praise thee with design; Part of thy favours I forget. Or think the merit mine. The very songs I frame Are faithless to thy cause; And steal the honours of thy name. To build their own applause Watt's Hoy. I.yr. Titer. Now, I presume you have given the ast touches to your distorted portrait. Asp. There are other disagreeable and shocking features ; but these I shall cast into shades, or hide under a veil. One par- ticular you must allow me to add, which, like a sullen air in the countenance, throws aggravated horror over the whole : I mean, an incru'.ation to be fonil uf our slavery. In other instances, the " captive exile hasteth to be loosed." Isa. li li. But bore we prefer bondage to freedom, and are loath to leave our prison Of this, our back- wardness to self-examination is both a con- sequence and a proof. Self-examination, under the agency of the Spirit, would open a window in our dungeon ; would show us our wretched condition, and teach us to sigh for deliverance. Why have we such a dis- like of reproof ? Because we hug our chains, and choose darkness rather than light. Reproof is more grating than the harshest discord, though it tends to dissolve the en- chantment, and rescue us from the tyranny of sin ; while flattery, which abets the de- lusion, and strengthens the spell, is music to our ears. Is not our reason, which should arraign and condemn every irregularity, fm- ward to invent excuses, and to spare the fa- vourite folly ? Reason, which should nn- sheath the dagger, super-induces the mask ; and, instead of striking at the heart of our vices, screens them under the cover of some plausible names. A wicked habit is called a human infirmity, ensnaring diversions pass for innocentamusements, a revengeful dispo- sition is termed spirit, gallaniry, and honour. Thus our reason (if, when so egregiously perverted, it deserves the name) is inge- nious to obstruct our recovery, and rivets on the shackles which our passions have form- ed.' This the eternal Wisdom foresaw, and therefore uttered that tender expostulation, " How long, ye simple ones, will ye love simplicity, and scorners delight in their scorn- ing, and fools hate knowledge ?" Even the inestimably precious knowledge of an all- atoning and completely justifying Saviour; who preaches, who has purchased, and who works deliverance — preaches in his word, has purchased by his blood, and « oiks by his Spirit, deliverance for the captives, the wretched captives of ignorance, sin, and death. This I take to be the most flagrant and deplorable effect of human depravity — our aversion to the doctrine, the privileges, the grace of the gospel. Beware, dear The- ron, lest you prove my point by — shall I speak it ? would you suspect it ? — your own practice- Zealous as 1 am for my tenets, I should be sorry, extremely sorry, to hava such a demonstration of their truth. Ther. You are highly obliging, Aspasio, to single me out for your evidence. Yet why should the honour be appropriated to myself? It belongs, upon the foot of the pre- ceding calculation, not to your friend only, • I'orhnps this is what our Lord means, when de- veloping the human heart, and discovering its latent enormities, he closes the dark account with ecp^o ■ i/vjt, foiilLshnc.s.i: implying that stupidity which has no sense of it.s inisory: that ))ervcrsrn''ss wliich has no inclination for a recovery . both which render nil the other evils far more inveterate, Mark vii. 'J2. 310 THERON AND ASPASIO. but to the whole species. If you was aim- j and gloomy temper suited that sequestered ing at none but the licentious and aban- bower; because the memorable adventure doned, you would have none to oppose i there represented, is with me a favouricepor- you but persons of that character. Your arrows of satire would then be rightly level- led, and might be serviceable to mankind ; whereas, to put all in the black list, to mark all with the villain's brand— this can never be Christian charity, this is insufferable censoriousness. Asp. Let me beseech you, Theron, not to misapprehend my design. I speak not as 3 malevolent satirist, but would imitate the faithful physician. I am opening the sore, that it may admit the healing balm ; and should I perform the operation with an efivenomed instrument? My soul abhors the thought I must entreat you likewise to remember the distinction between a state of nature and a state of grace. We are all naturally evil. Such we should for ever con- tinue, did not a supernatural power inter- vene ; making some to differ, both from their original selves, and from the generality of their neighbours. Are they refined in their temper, and reformed in their life ? T grant it. But then it is the influence of the sanctifying Spirit, which purges away their dross, yet not without leaving some alloy. Tker. Here, Aspasio you certainly strain the bow, till it breaks ; since scripture it- self celebrates some persons as absolutely perfect. \Vhat says Moses, the inspired historian ? " Noah was perfect in his ge- neration." Gen. vi. 9. M^hat says the God of Moses, who can neither deceive nor be deceived ? " Job was a perfect man and an upright." Job. i. L consequently their nature must be entirely cleansed from this hereditary defilement ; and their charac- ter confutes your derogatory representa- tions of mankind. Asp. Those eminent saints were perfect ; that is, they were sanctified throughout, sanctified in all their faculties; no one grace of religion was lacking. As in the new- born infant there is a human creature com- plete ; no constituent part of the vital frame IS wanting ; though each is tender, all are very feeble, and none arrived at the full size. They were upright. This word seems to be explanatory of the preceding; and signifies an unfeigned desire, joined with a hearty endeavour, to obey the whole will of God ; excluding not all defect, but all reigning hypocrisy, and willful remissness. — The interpretation, thus limited, is of a piece with their conduct. If stretched to a higher pitch, it is evidently inconsistent with the narrative of their lives. Pray, what was yo-ar motive for decorat- ing the syls-an retirement (which sheltered us ypFterday) witii the statue of Elijah ? T/ter. Because I thought liis solitary life tion of sacred history. Are we pleased with spirited and delicate railery ? Nothing exceeds his pungent sar- casm on the stupid and despicable dupes of idolatry. Every sentence is keen as a razor, &nd pointed as a dagger, yet wears the ap- pearance of the most courtly complaisance. We may truly say, in the beautiful language of the Psalmist, " His words are smoother than oil, and yet be they very swords !"* Are we delighted with instances of mag- nanimity? A single prophet, unsupported by any human aid, maintains the cause of truth against the king, his grandees, and hundreds of the apostate priests. He ven- tures to stake all his credit, to risk his very life, and (what was dearer to him than per- sonal credit, or bodily hfe) the honour of the true God, and interests of his holy reli- gion ; to risk all on the immediate inter- position of a most surprising miracle. Do we admire the triumphs of faith ? His faith was in a manner omnipotent. He prays, and torrents of fire descend from the sky, to devour his adversaries, 2 Kings i. 10. He prays ligain, and the sluices of hea- ven are shut ; there is neither dew nor rain for several years, 1 Kings xvii. 1. A third time he prays, and the windows from on high are opened : abundance of showers water the earth, (Jam. v, 17, 18.) On an- other occasion he presents his supplications, and God makes his feet like harts' feet, in- somuch that an aged prophet outruns the royal chariot, (1 Kings xviii. 46-) Asp. I commend your taste, Theron ; and am particularly pleased with the reasons of your choice. But do not _you remember, that even the wonder-working Ti^hbite failed in his resignation, and failed in his faith ? Eminent as he was for mortification, he gave way to unreasonable discontent ; and, though a champion for the living God, he yielded to unbelieving fear.f " The man Moses was very meek, above all the men which were upon the face of the earth, Num. xii. 3 ; yet he, even he was provoked in his spirit, and spake unadvisedly with his lips," Psal. * 1 Kin<;s xviii. 27. " And it came to pass at noon, that Elijah mocked them, and said. Cry aloud, for he is a God. Either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he is in a journey, or peradveuture he sleepeth, and must be awaked." t Elias, or rather Elijah, " was a man subject to like passions as we are," James v. 17. Ujion wliich passage an eminent commentator makes the following remark ; " This probably is said with respect to his fear and discontent, manifested, 1 Kings xix. 3, 4. OfionTTaCya must, I think, imply a state liable to the irregular workings of passion ; not free from the sin- ful infirmities of nature. Otherwise, it is an instance foreign to the iiurpose, does by no means answer the end designed ; which is to encourage the heart, and strengthen the faith, evc.i of frail, corrupt, ollciiding crciit\>rcs. bee verse 10. DIALOGUE XIII. cvi. 33. Was not Peter the hero amony our Lord's followers ? Yet he trembles, more than trembles, at the shaking of a leaf, he denies his divine Master, scared by the voice of a woman. Look wherever we will, we find proofs of human depravity, reigning uncontrolled in some, making frequent insurrection in all. It is written in our own hearts, by the pen of experience ; the fingerof observation points it out in the practice of others — even in the ])ractice of those who have been saints of the first rank, and of the highest endowments. Yet they were defective ; — defective too, in that very quality which was their |distin- guishing gift, in which they particularly ex- celled. Ther. While we are talking, the day has insensibly stole itself away, and left us sur- rounded with twilight : which is a sort of lustre intermingled with darkness ; no part wholly lucid, no part wholly obscure. An emblem, according to your representation, of the renewed soul and its imperfect holi- ness. Asp. A very just one. Even where the gospel shines still there is an incurrent gloom of corruption. Ignorance mixes itself with our knowledge ; unbelief cleaves to our faith : Nor is our purity free from all con- tamination. The prophet Zechariah, fortell- ing the establishment of the gospel kingdom, and describing the slate of its spiritual sub- jects, says, " It shall come to pass in that day, that the light shall not be clear nor dark."" This, as to its literal sense, we now see exemplified in the circumambient atmos- phere. With regard to its spiritual meaning, every true believer feels it accomplished in his own breast. Ther. While you are so vehement in de- crying all human attainments, consider, Aspasio, whether you do not check and dispirit us in the pursuit of exalted virtue. Asp. I suppose you never expected to be such an adept in geometry as Archimedes, nor so profound an astronomer as Newton ; yet this did not check your application to the study of mathematics, or the contemplation of the heavens. Your brother, the merchant, I presinne, has no prospect of amjissing the wealth of a Croesu^ or the immense treasures of a Kouli-Khan ; yet this does not dispirit him in prosecuting the business which brings him butli opulence and honour. However, Theron, so long as you deny the im[)utati()n of Christ's righteousness, I must acknowledge you act a consistent jiart in being zealous fur the perfection of person- al obedience. You ought cither to acquire * Zech. xvi. fi. 1 Cor. xiii. 9. " For we know in part." Perhaps this declaration of the .npostlc may be a key to the prophet's meaning. However, it is a suiBcicnt confirmation of Aspasio's sentiment. 311 the one, or to accept the other : Thcrcrore I shall produce no more arguments for your discouragement ; but shall comprise the whole of my answer in the motto to an Irish nobleman's arms — Try. Or, if this be too concise, I will subjoin, with a very little al- teration, the words of a king ; " When yoti have attained what you pursue, bring me word again, that I may go and possess it also," Matth. ii. 8. Titer. According to your account, the most advanced and established Christians are but like a company of invalids. Does not this extremely derogate from the honour of our Lord, considered as the i'hysician of souls ? It seems to make a mere nothing of sanctification, and would swallow U]) Christ the King in Christ the Priest. Asp. Invalids they are ;* and such will continue till they are dismissed fiom this great infirmary, and admitted into that holy, happy, blessed world, where " the irdiabi- tants shall no more say, I am, either in soul or in body, sick." Isa. xxxiii. 24. If the cure was never to be comi)leted, this doubtless would be dishonourable to our almighty Physician. But the spiritual recovery, begun on earth, and advancing through time, will be perfected in heaven, and prolonged to eternity. Does this make a mere nothuig of sanctification ? No ; but it makes room for a continual progress, and affords cause for continual humiliation. It reserves a most exalted prerogative for the heavenly state and beatific vision ; and per- petually reminds us of a most important truth, — That our present blessedness con- sists, not in being free from all sin, but in having no sin imputed to us. Psalm xxxii. 2. This imperfection of our obedience, in- stead of confounding, maintains a proper distinction between Christ the King, and Christ the Priest : whereas, if we were pei- fect in piety, the priestly ofiice, with regard to us, would be superseded. What need of an intercessor to recommend our prayers ? what occasion for an high priest to " bear * Not the best of men lament their ignorance of the divine perfections, their slowness of heart to be- lieve the divine promises, ane mimic at tern pis of liuman art: But we everywiiere, l)chold the grand and masterly exertions of divine power. No theatre erects its narrow stage, surrounds it with puny rows of ascending seatB, or adorns it with a shifting series of gor . geous scenery: But fields extend their ample area, at first lightly clad with a scarf of springing green, then deeply planted with an arrangement of spindling stalks ; as a few more weeks advance, covered with a profu- sion of bearded or husky grain; at last, richly laden with a harvest of yellow i)!enty. "Meadows disclose their beautiful bo- som ; yield a soft and fertile lap for the luxuriant herbage, and suckle myriads of the fairest, gayest flowers ; which, without any vain ostentation, or expensive finery, outvie each other in all the elegance of dress. Groves of various leaf, arrayed in freshest verdure, and liberal of their reviving shade, rise in amiable, in noble prospect all around. Droves of sturdy oxen, strong for labour, or fat for the shambles; herds of sleeky kine with milk in their udders, and violets in their nostrils; flocks of well fleeced sheep, with their snowy lambkins, frisking at their side — these compose the living machinery. Boundless tracts of bending azure, varnish- ed with inimitable delicacy, and hung with starry lamps or irradiated with solar lustre, from the stately ceiling ; while the early breezes, and the evening gales, charged with no unwholesome vapours, breeding no pes- tilential taint, but fanning the humid buds, and waving their odoriferous wings, dispense a thousand sweets, mingled with the most sovereign supports of health. And is not this school of industry, this magazine of plenty, incomparably more delightful, as well as infinitely less dangerous, than those gaudy temples of profuseness and de- bauchery, where sin and ruin wear the mask of pleasure, where Belial is daily or nightly worshipped with what his votaries call mo- dish recreation, and genteel amusement ? " Here indeed is no tuneful voice to melt in strains of amorous anguish, and transfuse the sickening fondness to the hearer's breast: No skilful arrist, to inform the lute with musical enchantment, to strike infectious melody from the viol, and sooth aw^ay the resolution and activity of_ virtue in wan- ton desires or voluptuous indolence. But the plains bleat, the mountains low, and the hollow circling rocks echo with the univer- sal song. Every valley re-murmurs to the fall of silver fountains, or the liquid lapse of gurgling rills. Birds, musicians ever beau- teous, ever gay, perched on a thousand boughs, play a thousand sprightly and har- monious airs. •' Charmed, therefore, with the fi.nest views, lulled with the softest sounds, and treated with the richest odours, what can D ASPvVSIO. be wanting to complete the delight .' Here is every entertainment for the eye, the most refined gratifications for the ear, and a per- petual banquet for the smell, without any in- sidious decoy, for the integrity of our con- duct, or even for the purity of our fancy. " O ye blooming walks and flowery lawns, surrounded with dewy landscapes ! how of- ten have patriots and heroes laid aside the burden of power, and stole away from the glare of grandeur, to enjoy themselves in your composed retreats !* Ye mossy couch- es, and fragrant bowers, skirted with cool- ing cascades ! how many illustrious person- ages, after all their glorious toil for the pub- lic good, have sought an honourable and welcome repose in your downy lap ?f Ye venerable oaks and solemn groves ; woods that whisper to the quivering gale, cliffs that overhang the darkened flood ! who can num- ber the sages and saints, that have devoted the day to study, or resigned a vacant hour to healthy exercise, beneath your sylvan por- ticoes and waving arches ? that, far from the dull impertinence of man, have listened to the instructive voice of God, and contem- plated the works of his adorable hand amidst your moss-grown cells and rocky shades ? How inelegant, or how insensible is the mind, which has no awakened lively relish for these sweet recesses, and their exquisite beauties !" But whither am I carried ? Is not this rural enthusiasm ? I find myself talking to trees, and forget the momentous question, which waits for our decision. Here, then, let my rhapsody end, and my inquiry pro- ceed Does it betray a want of true deli- cacy, to be insensible of nature's charms ? My Aspasio thinks, it argues as wrong a taste in practical divinity, not to acquiesce in the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ. To this doctrine I have been always ex- tremely averse. I set myself to oppose it with objections, drawn from the reason of things, and from various passages of scrip- ture ; to all which my friend replied. And though I was scarcely convinced, yet I was silenced by his answers. I pleaded for the insufficiency of our sin- cere obedience, especially when accompa- nied with repentance, and recommended by the merits of Christ. Neither was this at- tempt successful : His arguments, some- what like the flaming sword planted at the entrance of paradise, " turned every way ;" Gen. iii. 24 ; and precluded all access to life on the foot of our own duty. » " Mihi me reddentis agelli,"— says Ho- race of his little country-seat. t Virgil was so smitten with the amiableness of these scenes, that he assigns them as an habitation for happy spirits, in the regions of Ely»ium. . " Lucis habitamus opacis, Riparumque toros, et prata reccntia rivis Incolimns." DIALOGUE XiV. 31 5 I At lejigth, Aspasio quittud the defensive, and attacked me in his turn. He explained the precepts, and enforced the threatenings of the divine law. So exact its tenor, that it demands a perfect and persevering confor- mity to every injunction. So extensive its authority, that it reaches the iimiost tiunights, and requires obedience, not barely in the ac- tions of life, but the very intentions of the heart. So inexorable its severity, that it condemns every the smallest olfence, and curses every the least oll'ender. This remonhtranceiiad some of the terror, and almost all the efl'ect of a masked bat- tery. It was quite unexpected, and alarm- ed me considerably. To push his advan- tage, he enlarged upon the infinite purity of God : A God, glorious in holiness, who cannot look upon evil with any connivance, or without the utmost abhorrence ; before whom the heavens are unclean, and who will in no wise clear the guilty. To complete his victory, he played off the doctrine of original guilt, and original de- pravity : That, besides the imputation of Adam's apostacy, besides the commission of numberless iniquities, we were born in sin ; are, by nature, enmity against God ; in all our faculties 'corrupt ; in eveiy imagina tion evil ; and, even when renewed* by grace, are still, still tainted with some base remains of the old leprosy. After all, he bid me consider — what fruits must spring from such a nature? how they must appear when compared with such a law ? wh;it they must deserve when tried before such a God ? These, I must con- fess, are very weighty and startling queries. If these representations are true, the face of human affairs carries a most gloomy aspect; or rathei", a most dreadful storm is hanging over the children of men. Aspasio urges me to lly, with^-ut any delay, to the covert of Cin-ist's meritorious obedience. This, he says, was wrought out in my name, and in my stead; this will be admitted both at the throne of grace, and the bar of judgment, as my justifying righteousness. This, he adds, opens a way, on God's part, fur the largest emanations, and most honour- able exercise of mercy. On man's part, it fonntis a title to pardon, to life and every spiritual blessing. This doctrine, especially * " Even when renewed." — For a display of this im- portant truth, and a remedy against this stubborn evil, let me refer the reader to a little treatise published by Dr. Owen, and entitled, " The Nature, Power, Deceit, and I'revalencyof the Remainders of Indewelling Sin in rielievers." The author's pen is indeed a dissecting knife, poes deep into this subject, and lays open this plngiie of llic heart. Like a workman that need not be.'shanipd, he demonstrates his point, from the un- crrini; word of God, ind the acknowledged experience of Christians. Like a compassionate as well as able physician, he all alone prescribes the proper antidote; nay, he shows how the poison may be so over-ru'ed by ilivinc grace, and so maniged by the watchful patient, as to become medicinal, salutary, and coiulucivc to llie most bcnelicial purposes. in such a connexion, begins to put on a more recommending appearance. My pre- judices are really wearing away. I am al- most a convert. Aspasio overheard the close of these reflec- tions. Unwilling to interrupt his friend in so serious an inquiry, and desirous to observe the issue of so interesting a debate, he had hitherto concealed himself. But, thinking this a favourable minute, he stepped forward and said, — Asp. Almost ! and why not altogether a convert? What should hinder my dear The- ron from submitting to so rational a scheme, with the most entire acquiescence ? What should hinder him from embracing so com« fortable a doctrine with the utmost compla- cency ? Why should he not subscribe, both with hand and heart, that divine decree? " Their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord," (Isa liv. 17.) Tker. If, by this doctrine, the claims of the law are answered — if the perfections of God are glorified — if the interests of morali- ty are secured — I must acknowledge, it will be more worthy of acceptance than I could once have imagined. Af:p. And if these points are not gained, gained too in the most eminent manner, 1 solemnly declare, that I will never plead for imputed righteousness more. But the claims of the law are all answer- ed : For there is nothing in its sacred in- junctions, which Christ did not perform ; and nothing in its awfid threatenings which Christ did not sustain. He fulfilled all its precepts, by an unspotted purity of heart, and the most perfect integrity of life. He ex- hausted its whole curse, when he hung upon the cross, abandoned by his Father, and a bleedingvictim for the sinsofhis people. This obedience brings higher honour to the divine law, than it could have received from the un- interrupted duty of Adam, and all his poste- rity in all their generations. The perfections of God which were dis- honoured by our rebellion, are glorified. He appears, by this method of justification, in- conceivably rich in showing mercy, yet steady, inflexibly steady, in executing ven- geance- The sceptre of grace, and the sword of justice, have each its due exercise, each its full scope. The holiness of the divine nature, and the dignity of the divine go- vernment, are not only maintained, but most magnificently displayed. Indeed it is the peculiar excellence of this wonderful ex- pedient, that it renders all the divine attri- butes supremely venerable, and supremely amiable. Ther. But are the interests of morality secured? — This is what I am strongly in- clined to doubt. "And, to say the truth, this is ii;)w my principal objection to your scheme. 316 THERON AND ASPASIO. ^xp- I shall never Itlame my friend for be- ing vigilant and jealous over the interests of morality. If our doctrine had a malignant aspect on true morality, I would give my voice against it, and use all my endeavours to suppress it : But it is formed with every tendency to awaken tlie utmost dread of sin, and affect us with the warmest sense of our Creator's love. And is not that the strong- est barrier against the encroachments of vice? Is not this the sweetest inducement to the practice of virtue ? 1 am glad to find, that a jealousy for the interests of morality is the chief obstacle in the way of your assent ; because I am per- suaded, it is much of the same nature with those forbidding and mistaken apprehensions \>hich our ancestors entertained concerning the ocean. They looked upon it as an un- surmountable obstruction to universal so- ciety : whereas it is, in fact, the very cement of society; the only means of accomplishing a general intercourse, and the great highway to all the nations of the earth. What is here affirmed may, on some future occasion, be proved. At present let me desire you to imagine, rather may the blessed Spirit enable you to believe, that your sins are ex- piated through the death of Jesus Christ — that a righteousness is given you, by virtue of which you may have free and welcome one principle of piety, adds to every other motive, the endearing engagements of gra- titude and the winning persuasives of love. Nay, I verily believe, that multitudes in the gay and licentious world are held fast in the fatal snare, by their ignorance of this sweet, alluring, consolatory truth. They find themselves deeply obnoxious to divine justice, and feel themselves strongly bound with the chains of sensuality. They think it is impossible to clear the enormous score of their guilt ; impossible to deliver them- selves from the confirmed dominion of sin ; Therefore, like desperate debtors, they *ii(li' every serious thought ; lest a consciousness of their long arrears, and a prospect of the dreadful reckoning, should " torment them before the time." Matt. viii. 29. But if they were informed, that the in- finitely-merciful Son of God has undertaken to redeem such undone and helpless sinners ; that he has thoroughly expiated the most horrid transgressions, and procured, even for ungodly wretches, all the needful supplies of strengthening grace ; that, instead of be- ing prohibited, they are invited to partake, freely to partake, of these unspeakable bless- ings ; were they acquainted with these glnd tidings of the gospel, surely they v.'ould burst their chains, and spiing to liberty. These truths, if once revealed in t'.eir hearts, access to God, the merit of which you may would, of all considerations, be most effec- plead for obtaining all the blessings of time and eternity. Then let me ask, will this alie- nate your affections from your Almighty Benefactor? will this irritate evil concupis- cence, or send you to carnal gratifications in quest of happiness. Quite the reverse- When this faith is wrought in your heart, nothing will be so powerful to produce holy love and wilhng obedience, to exalt your desires and enable you to overcome the world. What says the apostle ? " I through the law am dead lo the law. Gal. ii. 29. Be- ing made to understand its spirituality and perfection, I have no longer any hope of justification from my own conformity to its precepts. Did this prompt him, did this embolden him to neglect or violate his duty? Hear the sacred writer's own declaration ; — I am released from the rigour and bondage of the law; I am directed to Christ for righteousness and salvation ; " that I may live unto God ;" that my whole life may be devoted to his honour, who has brought me into a state so delightful, into a liberty so glorious. Ther. This liberty, I am afraid, will be of very little service to the licentious and gay world Asp. I shall be in no pain even for the gay world, if once they cordially receive this grace, and are vitally influenced by this doc- trine ; which, far from dissolving the least obligation to obedience, or weakening any tual to "make them free." John viii. 3?. What shall I say more to obtain my Theron's approbation ? Shall I point out and plead the most illustrious precedents ? — God the Father is well pleascJ with this righteousness of our Redeemer. He ex- presses his complacency by the most em- phatical words : '* Behold my servant whom I uphold ; mine elect, in whom my soul delighteth." Isaiah xlii. 1. In Christ and his righteousness, God is not only pleased but "delighted; his "very soul," every perfection of the Godhead, with ineffable satisfaction, rests and acquiesces in them. -- I said ineffable; for he has declared this, i:i a manner superior to all the energy of 1h;i- guage, by raising our crucified Surety fiorn the dead, by exalting him to the heaven oi heavens, and placing him at his own ri^-'i!; hand in glory. Our Lord Jesus Christ is well pleased. He esteems it his honour to shine forth as the everlasting righteousness uf his peopU : It is the brightest jewel of his medialoiial crown. In this he '' sees of the travnil of h:s soul, and is satisfied :" accounting b rrs(M fully recompensed for all the labours of hislife, and all the sorrows of his death, when sin- ners are washed from their guilt in his blood, and presented faultless by his obedience- The Holy Spirit is equally pleased with this great transaction, and its noble effc( ts. It is liis peculiar office, and favourite eiii])K>y, DIALOGUE XIV. ^n to convince tlie world of llicir Saviour's righteousness: not only tliat his nature was spotlessly pure, and his conversation perfect- ly holy ; but that from l)oth results a rijrhf- eousness of infinite dignity and everlastingerti cacy ; sufficient, throughout all ages suHici ent, for the acceptance and salvation of the most unworthy creatures. Since then this method of acceptance and salvation is excellent and glorious in the eyes of the most adorable Trinity ; sincr- it magnifies the law, and yields the most exalted honour to its divine Author ; since it makes ample provision for the holiness of a corrupt, and the happiness of a ruined world ; why should my friend any lonprr dislike it, oppose it, or treat it with a cold inditference ? Surely all these grand recom- mendations are enough to overrule any little objections which may arise from the siis])icions of timidity, or may be started by the artifices of sophistry. T/iir. I know not how it is, Arpasio ; but 1 cannot reconcile myself to this doc- trine of imputed righteousness, notwith- standing all the pains you have taken to make me a convert. Asp. The disappointment is mine, but the loss is yours, Theron. However, let me entreat you not to reject my sentiments absolutely, nortocondemn them prematurely. Suppose it possible, at least, that they may be true, and weigh them in an even balance. Learn wisdom from your Aspasio's folly. I was once exactly in your situation ; saw things in your light, and through your me- dium. Conversing, I well remember, with a de- vout, but plain person, our discourse hap- pened to turn upon that solemn admonition; " If any man will come after me, let him deny himself." Matth. xvi. 2i<- I was ha- ranguing upon the import and extent of the du^y ; showing, that merely to forbear the infamous action, is little. We must deny admittance, deny entertainment at least, to the evil imagination ; and quench even the enkindling spark of irregular desire. When I had shot a random bolt, my honest friend replied, " There is another instance of self- denial, to which this injunction extends, and which is of very great moment in the Christian religion : I mean, the instance of renouncing our own strength, and our own righteousness ; not leaning on that for holiness, not relying on this for justification." I *hought the old man, I must confess, lit- tle better than a supeistitious flotard ; and wondered at (what I then fancied) the motley mixture of piety and oddity in his notions. But now I discern sense, solidity, and truth in his observation.* Now I perceive, that we ourselves arc often the dreamers, when we im igine others to be fast asleep. Ti'icr- I shall not forget your caution, and will endeavour to avoid the rock on which my Aspasio struck, but happil)', it seems, escaped shipwreck. You may lik(!wise as- sure yourself, that upon a subject of exceed- ing great and eternal consequence, I shall not fail to use the most attentive and im- partial consideration. An indolent snpine- ness or a bigotted obstinacy, in this great cri- sis of nfiiiirs, would be of all errors the most inexcusable, and must prove of all miscar- riages the most fatal. Asp. But still you cannot reconcile your- self. And no wonder. For this way of salvation runs directly coimter to the stream of corrupt nature. It puzzles our reason, and offends our pride What? shall we not v.'ork, but " believe unto righteous- ness?" Rom. X. 10. Shall we receive all freely, and reckon ourselves no better than unprofitable servants ? This is a method to which we should never submit ; this is a proposal which we should always spurn, vve:e not our sentiments rectified, and our hearts new-moulded, by sovereign grace. Let me remind you of a little incident which you must have read in the Grecian history. A certain stranger came, one day, to dine with some Lacedemonians. They, you know, always sat down at a public ta- ble, and were content with the plainest food. The gentleman, accustomed to higher eating, could not forbear ex])ressing his disgust at the homel y provision. Sir, said the cook. Milton thougUl the same, othervasc he would ne- you do not make use of the sauce. What do you mean ? replied the guest. You do not use hard exercise ; nor habituate your- self to long abstinence, nor bring a sharpened appetite to the meal — And you, my dear friend, lam apprehensive, have not the sauce, have not the proper preparative for this salu- tary doctrine, which is indeed the bread of life, and the very marrow of the gospel. Ther. What pre])arative ? A.sp. A sense of your great depravity, your extreme guilt, and your utterly undone condition. — While desti'ute of these con- victions, our souls will be like the full sto- mach, that loathes even the honey-comb. So long as these corivictions arc slight, and hover only in the imagination, we shall be like Gallio,* listless, indifferent, and " vor have put those words into the mouth of a divine spe,aker. Thy merit Imputed shall ab,so!ve them, who renounce Their own, both riijhtcous and unrighteous, deeds And live in thee transplanted, and from thee Receive new life. — Uoufc iii. 1. 2r,'0. » Acts xviii. 17. A late commentator, of distin- Ruished cmmencc, lias attempted to vindicate Gallio's conduct: mul would represent it as an amiable in- stance of prudence and moderation. According to my apprehension, this IJ oman gover- nor acted a part both irrelicious and unjust. Inc/i- giout, beciusc he refused to hear the apostle's defence,, 318 THERON AND ASPASIO. the principle from which your actions flow ; whether from the steady habitual love of God, or from some rambling impulse, and a customary propensity to please yourself. Minute down your sins of omission ; how frequently you neglect to glorify your Crea- tor, to edify your fellow-creatures, and to improve yourself in knowledge and holiness. Observe the frame of your spirit in religious duties — with what reluctance they are un- dertaken, and with what indevotion perform- ed ; with how many wanderings of thought, and how much dullness of desire : how of- ten, in the common affairs of life, you feel the inordinate sallies of passion, the work- ings of evil concupiscence, or the intrusion of foolish imaginations. Register those secret faults, to which none but your own conscience is privy, and which none but the all-seeing eye discerns. Often review these interesting memoirs. Fre- quently contemplate yourself in this faithful mirror. An artist some time ago took a sur- vey of your estate, drew the form and mea- sured the dimensions of each enclosure, pic- tured out every hedge, and scarce omitted a single tree that grew upon the premises. Act thus with your will, your understanding, your affections. These are your noble in- ternal demesne, of which none but yourself can be a competent surveyor. Titer. It is unreasonable and preposterous, I must acknowledge, to be minutely exact in meaner matters, and use no accuracy of inspection in the most momentous affairs ; to have a correct draught of our lands, which are a transient inheritance, and no map of that everlasting possession — the soul. Asp. Gratify me then, my dear Theroii, in this particular. As I purpose to set out very early in the morning, 1 shall insist u]ion it that you do not rise before your usual time in order to compliment my departure. But I now make it my last wish, and my parting requi'st, that you will for some months at least keep a diary. You have wondered at my opinion con- cerning the corruption of our nature, and (he insufficiencyof our own righteousness. This may seem strange, this may a])pear shocking, to a mind unacquainted with itself. But when you have searched your heart by this probe — when you have felt the pulse of your soul by self-examination — then you will be better able to judge of my sentiments, and enter into the reasons of my faith. By this means we shall also discover the .. . ' • f. • 1 ^- ■ ,io „(• sins that most easily beset us, which most then an nmocent person, afterwards a disciple ot . i i ■ -i a i,„fH„ „„.. Christ, (1 Cor. i. 1.) to be so illegally treated, and frequently elude our Vigilance, and battle our resolution. We shall learn how to post our guard, when to exercise the strictest watch, and where to direct the artillery of prayer. In a word, we shall learn, better than from ten thousand volumes, to knew ourselves : a knowledge which was supposed by the an- for none of these things." But when they are deep and penetrate the heart, then the righteousness of a Redeemer will be sweety tasteful, and inviting, as myrrh and frankin- cense to the smell, as milk and honey to the palate, as gold and treasures to the ruined bankrupt. Titer. What method would you advise me to use, in order to get these convictions impressed on my heart ? Asp. Endeavour to understand God's holy law. Consider how pure, how exten- sive, how sublimely perfect it is. Then judge of your spiritual state, not from the flatter- ing suggestions of self-love, nor from the de- fective examples of your fellow-creatures, but by this unerring standard of the sanctu- ary. Above all, beseech the God and Fa- ther of our Lord Jesus Christ to send his enlightening Spirit into your soul. For in- deed, without the enlightening influences of the S])irit, we may have the divine law in our own hand, we may comprehend its gram- matical meaning, yet be like blind Bartimeus under the meridian sun. It is the blessed Spirit alone who can rend the veil of igno- rance from our minds, and show us either " the wonderful things of God's law," or the glorious mysteries of his gospel. In this sense, our polite poet* speaks a truth, as singularly important, as it is elegantly ex- pressed : He from thick films shall purge the visual ray. And on the sightless eye-ball pour the day.— Popk's Mestiah. V/ill you give me leave to propose another expedient, which I believe may be consider- ably serviceable in this particular case, — which I am assured will be greatly advan- tageous in many other respects ? 71icr. Backward as I am to adopt your doctrine, I am no enemy to my own inter- est; therefore shall not only give you leave to propose, but give you thanks for commu- nicating so valuable an advice. Asp. It is, in reality, none of mine. It was long ago recommended by your old ac- quaintance Horace.f It consists in kee|)ing a diary. Compile a secret history of your heart and conduct. Take notice of the manner in which your time is spent, and of the strain which runs through your discourse ; how often the former is lost in trifles, how often the latter evaporates in vanity. Attend to wTiich was the most likely means of his conversion and salvation. Unjust, because he permitted Sosthene; outrageously abused, without interposing for his rescue. » Mr. Pope, in his cliarming poem styled the Mes- siah. f " Ule velut fidis arcana sodalibus dim Credebat libris; neque si male cesserat usquam llecurrens alio, neijue si bene: quo sit, ut omnia Votiva patcat veluti descripta tabella Vita ienis."— HoKAT. Sat. LETTER I. 319 ciciit philovioplicrs, to descend from heaven ; and wliicli, I hi'lieve, our Christian divines will alli;\v, has a happy tendency to lead peojile thither ; because, of all other prepa- ratives, it hcst disposes them for that bless- ed Iledeemer, who is the way, the only way to those blissful mansions. Now I have mentioned a way, let me sup- pose you travelling through an unknown country. You come to a place, where the road divides itself into two equally-inviting parts. You are at a loss which track to jnirsue. V^'hose direction will you choose to follow ? that man's who has passed through neither of them ; that man's who has passed through one of them only; or that man's who has passed and repassed them both? To wait for an answer, would be an affront to your judgment. Only let me observe, that the last is your Aspasio's case. He has travelled long, and proceeded far, even in your path. All that circumspection and assiduity, all that prayer and self denial, all that fasting and alms, and every other means of grace could do, in order to establish a righteousness of his own, has been done ; But to no purpose. lie has also trod every and just taking his leave of our earth. To retard the departing radiance, at least to alleviate the approaching loss, those western clouds catch the rays, and reflect them to our view in a most amusing diversity of co- lours. By this means we enjoy the great luminary in his beams, even when his orb is withdrawn from our sight. — An epistolary correspondence has something of the same nature. Letters may be called the talk of absent friends. By this expedient, they communicate their thoughts, even though countries, kingdoms, or seas intercept their speech. You must therefore promise me this satisfaction ; and let me converse with my Aspasio by the pen, when I can no long- er have an intercouise with him in person, i Asp. You have anticipated me, Theron. Otherwise, what is now my promise would have been my request. I cannot but take notice of another par- ticularity in that magnificent assemblage of clouds. How they varied their appearance, as the lamp of day changed its situation ! A little while ago, these curtains of the sky were streaked with orange, or tinged with amber. Presently, they borrowed the blush step in the way which he recommends to of the rose, or the softened red of the pink his beloved friend. He has made the trial ; can set his probatum est to whatever he ad- vises; and may very truly say, with his divine Master, " We speak that we do know,'' John iii. 11, and testify that we have experienced. Tlier. I am sorry to observe, that the night is coming on, and our conversation almost at an end. My regret is increased, by the consideration of your intended journey. Though business obliges you to depart, it will, I hope, afford you leisure to write. This will be some compensation for the want of your company. Yonder sun is sinking below the horizon. Ere long, they glow with vermilion, or deepen into crimson. Soon succeeds the purple-tinctured robe of majesty ; and as soon (thus transient is all sublunary gran- deur !) gives place to the sable veil of even- ing, or the gloomy pall of night. Such, I trust, will be the issue of my Theron's pre- ssnt apprehensions. All his splendid ideas of human excellency and self-righteousness will become faint, will lose their imaginary lustre, till at length they fade away, and darken into absolute self-abasement. Then the Sun of Righteousness will be amiable, will be desirable, as the beauties of the dawn breaking upon the shades of night. LETTER S. LETTER 1. Aspasio to Theron. Dfau Theron, — I am now at the scat of my worthy friend Camillus, where busi- ness and inclination will fix me for some weeks. This evening we had a most pleasing ramble. I have met with nothing so agreeable since I left your house, and lost your company. The time was just arrived, and the scene was fully o[)eiiC(i, which furnished our great poet with his fine description ; Now was the sun in western cadence low, From noon ; and gentle airs, due at their hour. To fan the earth now waked, and usher in The evening cool. At this juncture, Camillus invited me to tfike the air. We walked several times along a close shady alley, arched with the foliage of filberts. Here, hid from every eye, and the whole world withdrawn from our view, we seemed like monks strolling in THERON AND ASPASIO. 820 their cloisters. Turning short at the end, we enter a parallel range of m:ijeftic and uniformly spreading walnut-trees. This transition was somewhat like advancing, through a 'ow porch, into the aisles of a mag- 11 ficent cathedral. The broad leaf and large trunk of those lordly trees, their very diffu- sive spread, added to their prodigious height, gave them an air of uncommon dignity. It swells the imagination with vast ideas, and entertains us with a romantic kind of de- light, to expatiate amidst such huge columns, and under such superb elevations of living architecture. Quitting our cathedral, we turn once again, and pass into a grand colonnade of oaks ; so regular in their situation, so simi- lar in their size, and so remarkably corres- pondent in every circumstance, that they looked like the twins of nature, not only belonging to the same family, but produced at the same birth- Through these lay a walk, straight, spacious, and gracefully long, far exceeding the last in the extent of its area, though much inferiorin the stateliness of its ceiling. It put me in mind of that di- vine benignity, which has allowed us six (iays for the pro=ecution of our own com- niratively low affairs, and set apart but one i')v thd more immediate attendance on the s'.ihlime exercises of devotion. This walk was covered with the neatest gravel, and not a weed to be seen, nor one s])ire of grass, through the whole extended surface. It stole into a continual ascent, vet so very gradually, that the rise was scarce discernible, either by the searching eye, the toiling feet, or the panting breath. At the extremiby, a handsome summer-house show- ed a flight of steps, and half a Venetian door. The rest of the building was hid by the clustering branches. As soon as we enter the apartment, Ca- millus throws open the left-hand sash, and with it a most enlarged and amiisive pros- pect. The structure appeared situate on the brow of a considerable eminence, whose sides were partly confused and wild with broken rocks, partly shagged and perplexed with thorny shrubs. The spectator is agree- ably surprised to find himself accommodated with so elegant a mansion, on the summit of so rude and ruinous a spot. But how greatly is his surprise and his satisfaction augmented, when he casts his eye forward, and beholds the beautiful meads, which, from the foot of this rugged hill, stretch t hemselves into a space almost unmeasur- alile I Through the midst of this extensive vale, which wris decked with the finest verdure, and replenished with the richest herbage, a river lolled its copious flood — rolled in a thousand serpentine meanders, as though it liud lost Its way in the flowery labyrinth, or made repeated efforts of flowing back to its source, till at last, having wandered more than twice the length of the meadows, hav- ing held a mirror to the aspiring poplars and bending willows, having paid a welcome sa- lute to several ornamented villas, and passed through the arches of two or three curiously pendent bridges, it seemed to meet the sky, and mingle with the horizon. Opposite to the front window, a cascade fell from the adjacent stream. It flashed and foamed along the broad slope, indented with small pits, and jagged with protuberant stones. The current, vexed and embarrass- ed, seemed to rave at the intervening ob- stacles, and forcing its rapid, indignant, so- norous way, struck the ear with a peal of liquid thunder. These fretful waters — let our angry passions observe the admonition, and follow the example — soon were pacified, soon forgot to chide. Collected into a little rivulet, they ran off in calm and silent lapse, till they lost themselves amongst beds of osier and plantations of alder. The river, widening as it flowed, was parted here and there by several little islands ; some tufted with reeds, and the re- sort of swans ; some adorned with stately porticoes and splendid alcoves, the graceful retreats of rural pleasure ; some furnished with green embowering walks, fitted for studious retirement and sedate contempla- tion. On either side of the charming valley, towns and villages lay thick, and looked gay, adding ornament and variety to the scene, and receiving innumerable advantages from the passing wave. The whole recalled to an attentive ob- server's mind that amiable and august spec- tacle, which the Syrian soothsayer could not behold without a rapture of delight : Numb, xxiii- 7 : " From the top of the rocks I see the tribes of Jehovah, and from the hills I behold the habitations of his chosen people. How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob ! and ( hy tabernacles, O Israel ! As the valleys are they spread forth, as gardens by the river's side ; as trees of exquisite fragrance,* which the Lord hath planted ; as cedars of stateliest growth, flourishing beside the waters." We had but just looked about us when a messenger came for Camillus. As he was called to settle some private affairs, 1 chose to stviy in this inviting retreat ; and deter- mined to make myself amends for the loss of Camillus' company, by beginning a corres- * Numb. xxiv. 5. 6. It is well known that the ori- ginal word is used 'n the sacred writings, to denote either a delightful perfume, Prov. vii. 17, or that aro- matic plant which produces it. Cint. iv. 14. For which reason, I think it very justifiable to render the expression, "trees of exquisite fragrance," and am persuaded it will be far more intelligible to tl'.egeuci- ality.of readers, thau " trees of iign-alocs." LETTER I. 321 pontlence with my Thcron. Wo have pen, ink, nnd paper, in all our rural retirements, that if any thing is started in discourse, or occurs in meditation, worthy to be remem- bered, it may immediately be committed to writing. I could not but observe to my friend, that, fine as the })rospect appeared, there was one decoration wanting ; if some grand deformi- ty may be called a decoration. The ridges of a bleak and barren mountain, or the skirts of a sun-burnt tawny heath, would give additional liveliness to the ornamented parts of the landscape, and make their beau- ties strike with double vigour. This also, by showing us what wretched abodes and inhospitable quarters might have fallen to our share, would awaken in our hearts a more fervent gratitude to the Supreme Dis- poser of things ; who has cast our " lot in a fairer ground, and given us a more goodly heritage." So, a proper knowledge of the divine law ■ — of its sublime perfections and rigorous sanction — joined with a conviction of our own extreme deficiency and manifold trans- gressions ; — all this would endear the blessed Jesus to our affections, and powerfully re- commend his righteousness to our desires. The remainder of tliis epistle, therefore, shiili turn upon some instances of duty en- joined in that sacred system : by which it may be highly useful to examine our con- fhiet and sift our hearts ; in which, I believe, we have all fallen short, and are all become guilty ; from which, we may learn the im- perfection of our best services, and see the inexpressible need of a better righteousness tlian oiu" own. The knowledge of God is the foundation of all vital religion, and indeed is the con- summation of human happiness. It is not only matter of present duty, but the very essence of our future bliss : " This is life eternal, to know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." John xvii. 3. Yet, important and obligato- ry as it is, are we not very defective in this (liviiu» science ? Have we duly acquainted ourselves with the marvellous excellencies of tile Lord Jehovah? his uncontrollable pow- er, and all-comprehending wisdom ; his un- bounded goodness, and unwearied patience ; his immaculate holiness, and inflexible jus- tice ; his never-failing faithfulness, and in- violable veracity ? Have we, according to the direction of our inspired tutor, pursued this sacred study on our knees? James i. ."j ; and sought this most noble of all intel- 'eittsal endowments, not merely from books, but ])riricipally at the throne of grace ? Have we sougiit it, like that ancient Jew- ish student, with an early ai)plication, and wi'.h incessant assiduity; even "from the (lower till the grape was ripe? Eccl. li. 1,';, Is that scanty i-ay of knowledge, which perhaps has forced itself through our ori- ginal darkness, operative on our affections ? " Have we loved the Lord our God with all our heart ?"— " This is the first and great commandment !" Matth. xxii. 38. Have we constantly entertained the most magnifi- cent and honourable thoughts of his sublime perfections ? Is our esteem for this im- mensely great and most blessed Being, high, su])erlative, matchless ? somewhat like that expressed by the Psalmist, " Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth that I desire in comparison of thee," Psalm Ixxiii. 25. Have we been affection- ately concerned for his glory, and zealous to advance his holy religion ? troubled, very sensibly tioubled, when our Maker's honour has been tramjjled in the dust, by licentious tongues, or flagitious deeds ? Have we made it our ruling care to ap- prove the whole of our life, and the most secret transactions of our breast, to his all- seeing eye ? resolved, deliberately resolved to sacrifice, not only our darling lusts, but even our most valuable interests, whenever they stand in competition with the good Ijleasure of his will ? In a word, as the hart panteth after the water-brooks, with such vehement and inextinguishable ardour have we thirsted after— a brighter manifestation of his divine attributes — some sweeter as- surances of his special love — and an eveiv increasing conformity to his holy image? Such was the temper of those excellent men, who are characterised in the scriptures of truth as children of the Highest, and pat- terns for our imitatioii. This is their lan- guage : " The desire of our soul is unto thy name, and to the remembrance of thee. With my soul have I desired thee in the night ; yea, with my spirit within me will I seek thee early."* Isa. xxvi. 8, 9. Neither is such warmth of love, and fervour of de- sire, any needless or extravagant pitch of devotion : but a reasonable service, indis- pensably due, from all intelligent creatures, to the great author of their being; in whom all possible perfections, with the utmost ex altation and dignity, reside: from whom all manner of blessings, in the most copious and never-failing comnnmications, flow. When we receive from an absent i'riend rich and repeated presents; casks of gener- »We can hardly tell which to admire most, the I)eauty of the description, or the piety of the peison.s. I have desired, and not with inactive wishes, but such as prompt to vigorous ciKlcavoiirs. I will seek thee- and early, with the most vigilant ap])lication, and un- wearied assiduity. The emphasis is very much in- creased, by the addition of lluse lively wiirda, " with my soul, yea, with my whole spirit;" with the whole bent and sway of my artections, and with the steady invariable determination of my julher peojileare sunk and lost in profound repose. Thus will 1 seek thee, with a zeal— early as the risii)<;— constant as the returniiiij till. 832 THERON AND ASPASIO. ous wine, or jars of delicious fruit, we feel ourselves enkindled into a grateful affection. We honour, we love the person, who allows us such a distinguished place in his heart ; and expresses bis cordial regard, by such a series of active and tender benevolence. The blessed God is a friend to us all, infinitely powerful, and equally munificent. We are the constant objects of his more than friend- ly, of his parental cares. Every passing mo- ment is a messenger of his patience, and charged with some token of his bounty. For our sake, he has difl^used blessings over all the face of the earth, and commanded every element to concur in ministering to our ac- commodation. He has not only adapted his benefits to our several wants ; but has given them a diversification, large as the scope of our wishes ; and an enrichment, far beyond all that our fancy could conceive. Profuse liberaUty ! yet small and scanty, compared with his most adorable benignity in Christ Jesus. What, if God, wiling to manifest the superabundant riches of his kindness, had znaae bare the arm of his omnipotence, and struck a most miracidous road through the surges of the ocean, to afford us a safe passage? — if, to accommodate us in our travels, he had brought watei's out of the flinty rock ; and bid the ravens bring meat to our hands, bid the winds convey niaima to oiu' doors ? — if, to furnish us wit!) a com- modious settlement, hehad dethroned mighty kings, dispossessed populous nations, and made the walls of impregnable cities lall to the ground? — if, to further the dispatch of our business, or' facilitate the conquest of our enemies, he had arrested the sun in liis meridian career, and laid an embargo u])on the moon setting out on her nightly tuiu- ? In short, if, to promote our welfare, lie had suspended the powers, and controlled the laws of universal nature ; bad wrought all the miracles exhibited in the land of l-'gypt, or recorded in the volumes of inspiration ; — should we not think ourselves under the most inviolable engagements to love the Lord our God, " who had done so great things for us ?" to love him unfeignedly and ardently; to love him with a supreme affec- tion, far above every other amiable object ? Yet we have greater, incomparably greater obligations to our almighty Benefactor. ;For Chear, O heavens ! wonder, O earth ! and let eternity dwell upon the stupendous truth !) " God spared not his Son — his own Son" — his transcendently glorious and divinely ex- cellent Son — but delivered him up to the deepest humiliation, and to the most ac- cursed death, for us men, and our salvation." O, Theron ! have we been impressed with woiider, at the contemplation of this good- ness ? Have our hearts glowed with grati- tude, under a sense of these mercies ? Surely no man need be convicted of any other crime at the great tribunal than insensibility of such love, and ingratitude for such fa- vours. This, without the accession of hor- rid impieties, is enough to leave him abso- lutely inexcusable. This is enough to prove him one of the most disingenuous and de- testable of creatures. Have we exercised ourselves in frequent thanksgiving ? Many are the exhortations to this honourable duty. " Praise thy God, O Zion," Psalm cxlvii. 12, " praise him for his mighty acts ;" Psalm cl. 2 ; " praise him according to his excellent greatness."* Innumerable are the incitements to abound in this pleasant service. Every comfort has a voice, and cries in the ear of reason, " O that men would therefore praise the Lord for his goodness !" Every deliverance en- forces the address, and furnishes fresh ma- terials for the heavenly employ. The man after God's own heart declares, as an invit- ing example for our piactice, " I will bless the Lord at all times ; his praise shall con- tinually be in my month."' Psalm xxxiv. 1. " Yea, as long as I have any being, I will sing praises unto my God," Psalm cxlvi. 2. Ijuleed, when we consider the inexhaustibly rich bounty of God our Creator, and the in- conceivably tender mercy of God our Re- deemer, it is both strange and deplorable that the love of God is not always prevail- ing in our lieaits, and the language of praise ever flowing fioui our lips. I will not suppose our character so irre- ligious, that we have neglected the daily worsliij) of (Jod, either in our closet or in our family : But have we prayed with that profoinul reverential awe, which is due to the high and lofty One, " who inhabiteth eternity ?" Have we made our sup])lications with that fervent importunity which may, in some measiu'e, correspond with the ex- treme indigence of our state, and the invalu- able worth of the blessings we crave ? Plave our petitions been attended with that steady affiance, which may glorify the goodness, the power, the vei'acity of the Lord ? may evi- dently declare that he " is rich in mercy to all that call upon him;" Rom. x. 12; that he is the Lord Jehovah, in whom is ever- lasting strength ;" Isa. xxvi. 4 ; " that he is the God of truth, and faithful for ever." Deut. xxxii. 4. We call him Father ; but have we trusted in him with that unsuspect- * Among these exhortations, we may rank that beautiful and devout address to God, Psalm xxii. 3. Thou that inhabitest — light inaccessible, shall 1 say ? the regions of immensity, or the ages of eternity ? No, but what is a more exalted character — the praises of Israel : finely signifying that praise is a most ac- ceptable sacrifice, to which the divine Majesty at- tends with the greatest delight; intimating also, that the exercise of praise should not be an occasional thing, like a transient visit to a stranger's house; but a daily and almost unintermitted service, like the «tateprehen.sions, concern- ing the treasures of his liberality, and the bowels of his i)ity ; rating them even lower than our parents, our friends, or our own ? Have we been careful to carry the spirit of our prayers into ourordinary conversation, and waited at the door, as well as approach- ed to the throne of grace? — Amidst the in- tervals of our solemn devotions, have we cultivated an ejaculatory intercourse with heaven ? How highly would the aaibitious courtier prize, and how frequently would he use a privy key, which should give him, at all hours, free admittance to his sovereign. This key of admittance, only to an infinite- ly more exalted Potentate, we all possess in the practice of mental aspirations to God. It is certainly the noblest employ, and will be the richest improvement of our thoughts, to send them in such short embassies to the King of kings ; and to derive, by such occa- sional sallies of faith* a renewed supply ♦ We have, in Scripture, very remarkable instances of the success which has attended ejaculatory prayer. Observe Nehemiah : He stands before Ahasuerus, ap- prehensive of the monarch's displeasure, yet desirous to solicit him in behalf of Jerusalem. To be delivered from his fears, and to obtain his desires, what method does he use ? The mean and servile arts of flattery ? No; but the manly and devout expedient of prayer. I prayed, says the patriot, to the God of heaven. — We cannot suppose, that he fell on his knees, or spoke with his lips, while he continued in the royal presence. But he darted up his soul in silent supplication ; which supplication pierced the clouds, reached the eternal thn.liK, aiul rLturiied not again till a blessing was sent; such as totally nvertLil the wrath he dreaded, and pro- cured fa^'our and assistance much larger than he ex- pected. Neh. ii. 4. When David heard that Ahithophel, the ablest po- litician in his kingdom, was revolted to Absalom ; sen- sible what a loss his affairs had sustained, and what an advantage the rebellious ))arty had acquired, he betook himself to his Ood. He staid not for an opportunity of retirement, but insUuitly and upon the spot cried, " () Lord, I pray Hue, turn the counsel of Ahithophel into foolishms, !" — A short address, but very effica- cious. He who (lisaiipointeth the devices of the craf- ty, sent a spirit of infatuation among the rebels; and inclined them to reject the advice of that judicious statesman. Which false step brought upon their hor- rid enterprise the ruin it deserved, and chagrined the wretched traitor, even to rage, frenzy, and suicide. 2 Sam. XV. ,31 ; xvii. 23. Ainyntor, at a memorable period of his life, was under great distress of conscience, and harassed by violent temptali.m persuaded, the Pharisee in our breasts, like the man unfurnished with the wedding garment, must be struck dumb; must be covered with confusion. Is our hearts warm with brotherly love ? Good manners will put expressions of civility into our mouths ; but has a power from on high implanted the royal law of charity in our breasts ? The character of a gentleman n.-rjiiires a deportment accessible, obliging, and courteous ; has the spirit of Chi'istiani- voked ? Are we much more willing to be reconciled than to foment displeasure, and prosecute revenge ? In a word, do we " love our enemies ; bless them that curse us ; do good to them that hate us ; and pray for them that despitefully use us and persecute us ?" Matt. v. 44. Without this loving and lovely disposition, we abide, says the apostle, in death, 1 John iii. 14, are destitute of spiritual, and have no title to eternal life.* Let me add — are all our graces, and all our works " clothed with humility ?" This should be the dress in which they severally appear, as well as the bond of connexion which unites them all. Do we maintain a very low opinion of our own accomplish- ments, and " in honour prefer others to ourselves ?" Rom. xii. 10 ; habituiilly sen- sible that we are less than the least of the divine mercies, and the veiy cbiefest of sin- ners ? I might easily have branched out the preceding subjects into a much greater va- * What manner of love is this ? How disintere.';t- ed I how extensive ! how triumiih.iiit ! Must not all the bo tstetl benevolence of the philosoiiher anil the moralist strike sail to this evangelical charity ? Must not both moralistand philosopher acknowlcdt,e the necessity of a divine operation, thus to enlarge, exalt, and refine their social affections .' KETTEH II. 025 riety of interrogatory articles. But I in- tend only to present you with a specimen. Vour own meditations will enlarge tlie sketch, and supply what is defective. Only let me beg of you, my dear friend, to try your state by this touchstone ; to prove your conduct by this standard. And may the Father of lights give you an under- standing to discern the exact purity and sublime perfection of his holy law ! Have you lived in the uninterru])ted ob- servance of all these duties ; avoiding what- ever is forbidden, and obeying whatever is commanded? Your outward l)ehaviour, I know, has been free from notorious viola- tions ; but has your inward temper been jireserved from all ungodly motions, and from every irregular desire ? Is there no enmity in your heart to any of the precepts, nor any backwardness, nor any failure in performing each and every injunction ? When you put these questions to your- self, remember, that if you fail in one ])oint,, or in any degree, you are guilty of all, James ii. 10. If your conformity be not persevering as well as perfect, you incur the penalty, and are abandoned to the curse. Gal. iii. 10. You stand charged, be- fore the Judge of the world, with all the guilt of all your sins, both original and ac- tual ; and there is not one circumstance, nor one aggravation, of any of your iniqui- ties, overlooked or forgotten — uidess, re- nouncing all your personal performances, you ))]ace your whole affiance on a Saviour's atonement, and a Saviour's righteousness. I think you will not dans to put the issue of your everlasting state upon the former footing, which is not only hazardous, but nuist be inevitably ruinous. You will in- finitely rather choose to acknowledge yoiir- .self a poor insolvent, and plead the un- searchable ri(;hes of your Redeemer's obe- dience. To those who believe, the law, though : trict, is not terrible ; because, be its pre- cepts of holiness ever so extensive, they 1 ave been most comjdetely fulfilled by their gloiious Surety. He its jienal sanctions ever so rigorous, they have been satisfied to the utmost by their great IMediator. lU'lievers, therefore, may make their boast of their adorable Sjjonsor ; they " may sit under his shadow with great delight," Cant. ii. 3 ; while the thunderings of Mount Sinai, and idl the tenors of the legal dis- pi-nsation, tend only to increase and quick- en the refreshing sense of their safety. Just as the possessor of a plentiful estate, in some peaceful and prosperous country, rejjoses himself under the shade of his vine, or the shelter of his fig-tree ; and hearing of ilie wars which embroil, or the plagues which depopulate other nations, tastes, with auguientcd relish, his own felicity. Let me dose with the afPcctionate and emphatical wish of an inspired epistolary writer — " That the Lord of peace may give," my dear Theron, " peace — always by all means!" 2 Tliess. iii. 16. Then I shall think my wishes are accomplishing, and this blessing is at the door, when he sees the ])urity of the divine law — sees the depravity of his own nature — and the im- possibility of being justified without an in- terest in the great Alediator's righteous- ness ; that righteousness which, as it is tl;e only hope and the constant joy, is there- fore the darling theme, of Your ever faithful ASPASIO. P. S. Sliidl I abridge the preceding let- ter, and contract the \\Iiole into those two great commandments which made the first awakening impressions on my ov\'n mind ? " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart ; thou shalt love thy neigh- bour as thyself." Amazing ! said your As])asio. Are these the commands of God? as obligatory as the prohibition of adultery, or the observation of the Sab- bath ? Then has my whole life been a contiiuial act of disobedience. Not a day, no, nor an holy this text? Can it be intended to discredit the <|iialincalions of thcuj)rifiht? Is it not rather a brand set iijion the works of the wicked; wliose very sacrifices are an abomination to the Lord ? Or, a rebuke given to the specious performahces of the hypocrite; who is pre- cise in the form, but destitute of the power of godli- ness ? Or, may it not refer to ritual observances; in contradistinction to moral duties and spiritual ac- complishments? I'he disparaging character must not, I think, be confined to ritual observances ; because it is expressly saiil, (ill uiti- riffhteotisnesse.'!, including every kind of religious duty : Neithercanit be appropriated to the formal hypocrite, much less to the notoriously wick- ed ; because, those very persons, who are the subject of this assertion, declare, in the context, "Lord, we are thy people, thou art our Father, we shall be saved." So that it seems intended to stain tlie pride of all human glory. Besides, the prophet speaks of himself: We are all as an unclean thing; which, however strange or un- reasonable it may seem, is the very same charge to which hepleadsguiltyinanother place; "Woe is me! I am undone ! for I am a man of unclean lips !" Not that he was defiled with any gross pollutions; nay, he was a saint of the most distinguished lustre, but his eyes had seen the King, the Lord of hosts. He was under the clear manifestations of a God, glorious in holiness, indexible in justice, and infinite in all perfections. Amidst these manifestations, the impu- rity of his heart and nature were not only apparent, but glaring ; overwhelmed him with abashment, and, till Christ was applied in atype, (Isa.vi.7>) filled him with terror. In such circumstances, and under such views, all our moral virtues and evangelical graces, all our exer- risesof devoticm, and acts of charity, will appear both defective and polluted : by no means proportioned to the demands of the law, nor sufficient for our recom- mendation to the Supreme Lawgiver; no more than a few tattered rags can claim the character or ner- forin the services of a complete suit ; no more tnan a few filthy rags are fit to dress the bride for her nup- tials, or the courtier for a birthnight. Hut there is a righteousness — bics-scd be divine grace! — s)i()tlessly pure and c onMiMiniiitely excciU'nt; a righleoiisne.-s Wliiili aiisuers.ill th.u tlif Creator rc- <|uircs, and supplies all that the creature needs. To prove this momentous point, and to display this un- speakable gift, is the detiijjn of the following sheets. that, in expecting justilic.ilion from theliiw. 1 was resting the welfare of my immortal soul, not on the foundation of a rock, but on the point of a dagger. I was going to the decisive tribunal, flushed with the falsest hopes, and charged with a set of glittering sins ; going, like poor deluded Uriah, 2 Sam. xi. 14, 15, not with any valid cie- dentials, but with " the ministration of death," 2 Cor. iii. 9, in my hand. Though I camiot but acknowledge the arrogance of these pretensions, yet loath, very loath, is my pride to renounce the pleasing absurdity. Self-love has searched, and searched again, for something excellent. It would fain make a better ap])earance, and can hartlly brook the humiliiitioii of implor- ing all sub Jorma pauperis.* With what re- luctance is a sinner brought to confess him- self sinful in every duty, sinful in every ca- pacity? Strange perveiseness ! But the charge is undem'able. However utiwilling, I must plead guilty. " Thou art weighed in the balances, and foimd wanting," Han. V. 27, is evidently written on all I am, all I have, all I do. And if I am thus defec- tive, even in my own estimation ; if I iim utterly condemned at the bar of my owtt conscience, " what then shall I do, when God riseth up ? and when he visiteth, what shall I answer him ? Job xxxi. 11. I now see the necessity of an imputed righteousness. Without some such object for my trust, I am undone- I long, there- fore, to hear your arguments in its behalf. And I must declare to you, if it can l>e sa- tisfactorily proved from the scriptiu'es, it is the most comfortable doctrine in the world, and worthy of all acceptation. A letter upon this subject would be a singtdar favour, and, I hope, an equal bless- ing, to your obliged and affectionate Theuon. LETTER III. ASPASIO TO TUKUON. Dear Theuon, — Though all your let- ters give me pleasure, none was ever so highly pleasing as your last. I look upon it with the same secret joy, as when a com- passionate j)hysiciau observes some very favourable syinptoms in the crisis of a be- loved patient's distem])er. What you ask, I shall, without any far- ther preface, attempt to execute. If my at-- tempt proves satisfactory to your judgment, I am sure it will be the most likely means * This is under the character of a pool destitute, or as a bcgger sues for h;s alms. 328 THERON AND ASPASIO. of healing your conscience, and calming your fears. When we perceive the odious depravity of our nature ; when we discern the hoiTible iniquity of our lives, and are sensible of that tremendous wrath and ever- lasting vengeance which are due to such guiltj' creatures ; then nothing can be found that will speak effectual peace, nothing that will administer solid comfort, but only the vicarious sufferings and the imputed righte- ousness of Jesus Christ. To this purpose speaks one of the wisest and best of spiritual guides ; " Has sin abounded ?" as undoubtedly it has, in our heart and our life ; " grace has much more abounded," in the obedience and the merits of our Redeemer. Nay, "has sin reigned?" exerted its malignant power in the most ex- tensive and most destructive manner, ren- dering us subject unto death, both tempor- al and eternal ? " Even so has grace reign- ed ;" exerted its benign efficacy, and in a manner yet more triumphant ; not only res- cuing us from guilt and ruin, but restoring us to everlasting life and glory ; and all this through the righteousness, the complete meritorious righteousness, brought in -" by Jesus Christ our Lord." Rom. v. 21. You inquire after the proofs of this im- puted righteousness. From a multitude I shall select a few ; sufficient, I hope, to make it appear, that this is the declared doc- trine of our chiu'ch, and the avowed belief of her most eminent divines ; that it is co- piously revealed through the whole Scrip- tures, revealed in many express passages, and deducible from a variety of instructive similitudes. Hear the language of our Common Prayer, in a very affecting and solemn ad- dress to the Almighty ! " We do not pre- sume to come to this thy table, O merciful Lord, tnisting in our own righteousness." If we may not, if we dare not, rely on our own righteousness when we approach the eucharistic table, much less may we depend upon it when we are summoned to the de- cisive tribunal. Should you ask, on what we are to depend ? The exhortation to the communion furnishes an answer ; " On the meritorious death and passion of Christ, whereby alone we obtain remission of sins, and are made partakers of the kingdom of heaven." The Collect appointed for the festival of circumcision, has this remarkable introduc- tion ; " Almighty God, whose blessed Son was obedient to the law for man." In what sense, or with what propriety, can this be affirmed, unless Christ's perfect obedience be referable to us^ and accepted instead of ours ? On any other interpretation, ' I should think he was obedient, not for man, but for himself. Should the artful critic give some other turn to these passages, it will avail him l)ut little ; because the church, her own best expositor, has explained the meaning of such phrases, and put the matter beyond all doubt. In her eleventh article she says, " We are accounted righteous before God, only for the merits of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." The doctrine relating to pardon of sin had been stated in a preced- ing article. This displays the method whereby sinners may appear righteous in the eye of God and in the court of heaven, so as to recover the divine favour and obtain a title to eternal bliss. This is done, not by any native righteousness, not by any acquired righteousness, but by an imputed righteousness. Were we justified by either of the former methods, it would not have been said, we are accounted, but we are righteous. They are so far from constitut- ing our reconciling and justifying righteous- ness, that they have no share in it, contri- bute nothing towards it, are totally excluded from it. We are accounted righteous, and accepted as such, only (mark the expression) only through the meritorious obedience, and propitiating blood of our great Mediator. The Homilies are, if it be possible, still more explicit and more cogent. In the Ho- mily concerning the salvation of mankind, we read the following words ; " The apostle toucheth three things, which must go together in our justification : On God's part, his great mercy and grace : On Christ's part, the satisfaction of God's justice, or the price of our redemption, by the offering of his body, and the shedding of his blood, with fulfilling of the law perfectly : On our part, true and lively faith in the merits of Jesus Christ, which yet is not ours, but by God's working in us." You see, according to the judgment of our venerable reformers, not only the offering of Christ's body, and shed- ding of Christ's blood, but also his perfect fulfilling of the law, are the adequate price of oiu' redemption. All these act conjoint- ly ; they sweetly harmonize in the great and glorious work. To suppose their disunion, is a doctrinal mistake, somewhat like that practical error of the Papists, in severing the sacramental wine from the sacramental bread ; administering to the laity the sym- bols of the slaughtered body, but mthhold- ing the symbols of the streaming blood. There are other clauses in the same Ho- mily, which set the seal of the chiurch to our sentiments. I shall content myself with transcribing one from the conclusion. " Christ," says that form of sound words, " is the righteousness of all them that do truly believe. Fie, for them, paid their ran- som by his death. He, for them, fulfilled the law in his life. So that now, in him, and by him, every true Christian may be called a fulfilkr ci' t!ie law ; forasmuch as LETTER III. 329 tliat wliicli tlieir infirmity lacked, Christ's rigliteousiicss hath .su])plicd." This aiitlio- rity is as clear, as the doctrine authorized is comfortable. May the former sway our j.udgment ! may the latter cheer our hearts ! The Homily on Christ's nativity informs the reader, that the design of our Lord's incarnation was — " to give light unto the world, and call sinners to repentance ; to fullil the law for us, and become the i)ropi- tiation for our sins ; to cast out the ])rincc of this world, and destroy the ivorks of the devil." We have all broke the law ; we are all miable to keep the law ; therefore the blessed Jesus fulfilled the law ; fulfilled it in each and every of its demands ; fulfilled it in the highest degree of perfection ; and what is of all considerations most delightful, fiiliilled it for us. His obedience took the place of what we were obliged to perform under the covenant of works ; and is not only tiie meritorious, but also the constitu ent cause of our justification. So that, if there be any worthiness in our Lord's most holy nature, any merit in his exercise of the sublimest virtues, completed by his submission to the most ignominious sufferings and tormenting death, then, ac- cording to this standard-system of orthodox divinity, these are the ground, these are the substance of a sinner's justification. And, according to the dictates of the most unbi- assed reason, they are the best, the surest ground that can either be wished or ima- gined. Does it not from the preceding quotations a])i)t'ar, that the doctrine of justification, through the imputed righteousness of our Redeemer, is far from being disclaimed by tlie established church? I am sorry, but constrained to own, that we rarely find any consideralde strictures of this great evange- lical pectdiarity in our modern theological discourses. Yet there have been preachers of the highest repute for learning, for judg- ment, and for piety, who professedly main- tained this grand truth of the gospel. The devout Bishop Beveridge, in his " Private Tiioughts," has left upon record the following very remarkable acknowledg- ifi'iit, which, if it suited his state of eminent holniess, cannot be too humbling, my dear Tlitron, for your lijjs and for mine. " I do not remember, neither do I believe, that I ever prayed, in all my lifetime, with that reverence, or heard with that attention, or leceived the sacrament with that faith, or did any work with that jjure heart and single eye, as I ought to have done. Insomuch, that I look upon all my righteousness l)ut as filthy rags ; and it is in the robes only of the righteousness of the Son of (Jod, that I dare ap])ear before tlie IMajesty of iicaven." The fervent and allcctionate L'i.'ihnp lioj)- kins* speaks in perfect consonance with his brother of St. Asaph. " The law was given us, not that we slioidd seek justifica- tion by the observance of it, but finding it impossible to be justified by fulfilling it, we should thereby be driven to (Christ's righte- ousness, who hath both fulfilled it in him- self, and satisfied for our transgressing of it ; and therefore saith the apostle, " The law was a schoolmaster to bring us to Christ, that we may be justified by faith." To this end it was promulgated, that seeing the \ strictness of its precepts, the rigour of its threatenings, and withal being convinced of our impotence to fulfil its commands, we might be urged, by its terrors, to fly to Christ, and find that righteousness in him which may answer all the demands of the law." Bishop Reynolds,! styled by his contem- poraries, and not without reason, " a walk- ing library," bears his testimony in the fol- lowing words : " Christ as our surety paid our debt, underwent the curse due to our sins, and bare them all in his own body on the tree ; became subject to the law for us, and rej)resentatively in our stead fulfilled all the righteousness the law required, active and passive. For sin being once commit- ed, there must be a double act of justifica- tion ; the suffering of the curse, and the fulfilling of righteousness anew. The one, a satisfaction for the injury we have done to God as our Judge ; the other, the perform- ance of a service which we owe unto him as our Makei'-" To this illustrious triumvirate, let me join Bishop Davenant, who for his great abilities, and unquestionable rntcgrity, was a]>pointed one of our religious plenipotentia- ries at the renowned Synod of Dort. In his very valuable exposition of the epistle to the Colossians, he wrtes to this effect : " Ye are complete in Christ. Ye are furnished, in that all-sufficient Redeemer, with whatever is requisite to everlasting salvation. With wisdom ; since it is the consummation of this noble endowment, to know Christ, and him crucified. With righteousness ; because he has perfectly sa- tisfied the law,J and thoroughly expiated * See his Sermon on John vii. 19. t See his treatise, entitled, the Life of Christ, which, as well as all his other works, abound with striking sentiments, have much elegance of diction, a copious variety of learning, and a lively animating spirit of evangelical piety. t In this respect ]irincipally (says our author, en- larging upon the text) are believers complete ; because, though destitute of any righteousness that may pro- perly be called their own, Christ has graciously en- riched them with his. r'irf. Davknant !« epist. ad CitloKs. cap. ii. com. 10. Let me beg leave to intim.ite, that this exposition of the epistle to the Colossians, for perspicuity of style, and accuracy of method, for judgment in dis- ci rning, and lidelity in representing the apostle's nuaumi,', for strength of argument in refuting errors, and felicity of invention in deilucing practical doc- trines, tending both totheestablishment of faith, and the ctiUivation of holiness— is, I think, infcricrtono 1)30 THE RON AND ASPASJO. our guilt. With sanctification ; because his Spirit, dwelling in our hearts, mortifies our corrupt affections, and renews the soul after the image of its Creator." Let me bring up the rear with a testi- mony, which for clearness, solidity, and a full representation of the evangelical doc- trine, might very justly have claimed a place in the van. It is taken from an author, whom the general consent of our nation has distinguished with the title of "judicious." The judicious Hooker, in a treatise on jus- tification, says — " It is a childish cavil our adversaries so greatly please themselves with, exclaiming, that we tread all Christian virtues under our feet, because we teach, that faith alone justifieth. Whereas, by this speech, we never meant to exclude either hope or charity from being always joined as inseparable mates with faith in the man that is justified ; or works from being added, as necessary duties, required of every justified man ; but to show, that faith is the only hand which putteth on Christ to justifica- tion ; and Christ the only garment which, being so put on, covereth tlie shame of our defiled nature, hideth the imperfec- tion of our worlds, and prescrveth us blame- less in the sight of God : before whom, otherwise, tlie weakness of our faith were cause sufficient to make us culpable, yea, to shut us out of the kingdom of heaven, where nothing that is not absolute can enter." You will allow the sagacious Bishoj) Sanderson* to sum up the evidence ; or ra- ther, to make an important remark on the whole of the controversy. That great light of the church, both in casuistical and })rac- tical divinity, observes — " The tidings of a Redeemer must be blessed and welcome nevi's, to those that are sensible of their own poverty, and take it of grace." Our eagle- eyed divine penetrates into the true cause of the prevailing averseness to this evangeli- cal doctrine. It is founded on the state of the heart, more than upon any force of ar- gument. People are but little, if at all, sensible of their spiritual and moral indi- gence ; of the defects which depreciate, and the defilements which sully, whatever they have, and whatever they do. Nay, strong- ly tinctured with pride, they wouhl be them- selves the Alpha, and suffer the blessed Jesus to be no more than the Omega, in procuring their eternal salvation. There- fore they can hardly be reconciled to the humbling character of an eleemosynary; one who lives wholly upon the alms of the gospel, and is dependent upon grace for his all. WTiereas, was this grand obstacle once writinijof the kind; ami richly deserves to be read, to be studied, to be imit,^led by our young divines. • See his bermou on Isa. liii, 3. removed; were men convinced of sin, of exceeding sinfulness in their worst estate, and of remaining sinfulness in their best ; they would soon be " convinced of righte- ousness," John xvi. 8, of the absolute ne- cessity and inestimable worth of a Redeem- er's righteousness. They would no longer dispute against it, but cordially receive it ; entirely rely on it ; and adore the goodness, the transcendent and unutterable goodness of God, in providing it. I think, in one of our conferences, I un- dertook to produce my vouchers from the ancient fathers. Let me now subjoin two or three attestations of this kind. From one of which you will perceive, that those early writers had a considerable degree of clearness upon the point. From the other you will see, that far from rejecting the doctrine, they embrace it with delight and rapture. — And if you will admit of the last, you cannot be startled at any thing which I shall advance upon the subject. Let me only premise, in general, that if those au- thors are not so copious and explicit with regard to the imputation of active righte- ousness, they abound in pas.sages which ennce the substitution of Christ in our stead : passages which disclaim all dejien- dence on any duties of our own, and fix tiie hopes of a believer entirely u])on the me- rits of his Saviour. AVheii this is tiie case, I am very little solicitous about any ])arti- cular forms of expression ; and far from being angry, even though the woids wiiich I think most significant are not retained. Clemens — an intimate acquaintance of St. Paul's, and whose " name was in the book of life," Phil iv. 3, in his truly excel- lent epistle to the Corinthians, assures that people ,* we are not, in any lesjject, or in any degree, justified by ourselves, but wholly by Jesus Christ ; " not by our own wisdom or prudence," which could never find out the way ; " not by the piety of our hearts, or works of righteousness performed in our lives," which could never be suffi- cient for the purpose ; " but by faith;" the one invariable method, " by which the Al- mighty Sovereign has justified all" his j)eo- ple, " ever since the world began." Justin, who was first a Gentile jihiloso- pher, then an eminent Christian, and at hist a martyr for the truth, speaks more fully io the point ;t — " What else could cover "oar Tl^a;, i^y'di/J " in the Lord have I right- eousness and strength." Isaiah xlv. 24. Please to observe, Theron, it is not said, in my own works, in my own repentance, no, nor in my own faith, " but in the Lord .lesus have I righteousness ;" righteousness for justification, and strength for sanctifica- tion ; an imputed righteousness, to procure my acceptance ; an imi>arted strength, to produce my holiness : the first constituting my title to the everlasting inheritance, the last forming my personal preparation for its enjoyment. " Surely," which expresses a firm persuasion, and an inishaken affiance. " Only," which denotes an utter renuiu-ia- tion of all other confidence, and excludes every other ground of hope. " Righteous . nesses,"* the original is in the plural number ; which seems to be used, not without an im- portant design, to enlarge the significancy of the word, and make it correspond with the richness of the blessing ; so that it may imply the fulness and the supereminent ex- cellency of this gift of grace ; as comi)re- hending whatevei-, either of suffering or obe- dience, is requisite to the justification of sinners. Insomuch that, in the Lord Jesus Christ, and his all-perfect righteousness, the seed of Israel shall not only be justified, but rejoice ; and not only confide, but glory, Isa. xlv. 23. What he had just nowasserted, he exem- plifies in his own, and in the person of every true believer. " I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my God ; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, Isa. Ixi. 10. True be- lievers are compared, in one of our sacred eclogues, to " a company of horses in Pha- roah's chariot ;" Cant, i- 9 ; to horses, than which no animal is more stately and grace- ful ; to Egyptian horses, which were the best and com])letest then in the world ; to those in Pharaoh's chariot, which doubt- less were a choice set, selected fiom thou, sands, and finest where all were fine. Here, methinks, I see the comparison realized. Christians, endued with such a spirit as • mpiy parallel to which, both in construc- tion and signification, is the phrase used by -St. John ,\i'ai fiizra, "ev. xix. 0. " The fine linen is the rifjhtciiusness tjiroperly, the righteousnesses) of tlie 336 THERON AND ASPASIO. breatlies in tliis animated text, are like a collection of those giilliiiit and majestic steeds — not destined to low drudgeiy, but appointed to run in the royal chariot ; all life, full of fire, champing the bit, and eager for the chase. Nothing can more beauti- fully describe a state of exultation and ar- dour, than the preceding similitude, or the following words -. " I will rejoice ; I will- greatly rejoice ; my very soul, and all that is within me, shall be joyfi'l in my God." Wherefore ? Because he hath clothed me, undone sinner as I am, with the garments of salvation ; because he hath covered me, defective as all my services are, with the robe of righteousness ; a robe, which hides every sin that, in thought, word, or deed, I have committed ; a robe, which screens from the sword of justice, the curse of the law, and all the vengeance my iniquities have deserved ; a robe, which adorns and dignifies my soul, renders it fairer than the moon, clear as the sun, and meet for the in- heritance of saints in light. Having represented this righteousness, in a variety of grand and charming views, the prophet farther characterises it, as the un- alterable and never-failing origin of our jus- tification and happiness. This he displays by a train of images, bold and sublime to the last degree. " Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath ; for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment ; but my salvation shall be for ever, a!id my righteousness shall not be abolished." Isa. li. 6. Observe the vast dimensions, and the firm foundations, both of the upper and the lower world, how strong, how steadfast they all appear ! Yet these, indissoluble as they may seem, shall perish. This majestic globe, on which mountains rise, and oceans roll, shall lose its beautiful gloss ; and be laid aside, like a decayed useless garment. Even that more majestic concave, in which stars are fixed, and planets revolve, shall be deprived of its very superior lustre ; and va- nish away like the dissolving smoke. Whereas, " my salvation," with all the spi- ritual and heavenly blessings included in it, shall subsist and flourish for ever : " And my righteousness," which is the meritorious cause of all, shall be an immoveable founda- tion for repose and happiness. In short, whether there be moral virtues, they shall be found wanting ; whether there be Chris- tian graces, they shall prove ineffectual ; but my conformity to the law, and my obe- dience unto death, neither need addition, nor admit of change : they are all-sufficient in their merit, and in their virtue everlasting. When day arisen on our benighted he- misphere, it bleaks and spreads by a gra- dual increase — furuiiiiu', lli^t the grey twi- light, next the blushing morn, then the shining light, till all is heightened into the blaze and glow of noon. When spring revisits our wintry clime, she also ad- vancce by gentle degrees ; first swells the bud and protrudes the gem, then expands the leaf, and unfolds the blossom : the face of things is continually changing for the bet- ter, and nature shows herself, almost every hour, in some new and more engaging dress. This leisurely process renders the strong ef- fulgence of the celestial orb more supporta- ble, and the lovely expansions of the vegeta- ble creation more observable. So progressive and increasing are the dis- plays of Jesus Christ exhibited in the Scrip- tures, whose appearance is unspeakably more delightful to the soul than the emanations of orient light are to the eye, or the entertain- ments of the vernal season to our other senses. The gloom of fallen Adam was alleviated by a ray fro'vi this Sun of Kighte- ousness. Abraham and the patriarchs saw afar off the blessed Jesus, " as the morning spread upon the mountains, Joel ii. 2. The psalmist and the prophets beheld his nearer approaches, like the sun upon the point of rising. To the apostles and evangelists, he arose in perfect lustre and complete beauty. The grace and the ])rivileges which dawned under other dispensations of religion, are brought even to meridian light by the gospel. This I mention, just to intimate what you may expect from a following letter. In the mean time, let us attend to the prophet Daniel. He records a message from heaven, which is _more clearly descrip- tive of this great evangelical blessing than all the foregoing texts. He had been under much distress, and in great perplexity ; af- flicted for his own and his countrymen's sins ; anxious for the welftire of the chosen nation, and the prosperity of true religion ; when an angel was despatched to the holy mourner with this most cheering news, which, received by faith, is the richest balm to a wounded conscience, and the only remedy for a guilty «orld : " Seventy weeks are de- termined upon thy people, and upon thy holy city ; to finish the transgression, and make an end of sin ; to make reconciliation for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righ- teousness." Dan. ix. 21. This prophecy relates to the Messiah. It foretells that, in the fulness of time, he should " finish the transgression ;" restrain and suppress the power of corruption, by purifying to himself a peculiar people ; — should " make an end of sin ;" by sealing up or secreting its guilt, and totally abolishing its condemning power; — should " make reconciliation for iniquity," by sustaining the vengeance due to sinners, and fully satisfying the divine justice for all tlicii oflences ; — should not barely publibh, LETTER IV. 337 but accomplish and '' bring in rigliteous- ness ;"* that it may be presented both to God and man : to God, for the roparatioii of his violated law; to man, for the justifi- cation of his obnoxious person : — That this righteousness should be everlasting; not such as may be compared to the morning'- cloud, which passetli away ; or to the earl)' dew, which is soon dried up ; l)ut such as will outlast the hills, on which the latter shines ; and outlast the skies through which the former sails : A righteousness, whose merits extend to every period, and every ac- tion of our lives ; and when once made ours by imputation, remains, and will remain our unalienable property. To this all the saints, who in ancient generations pleased God, owe their acceptance ; on this, all the chil- dren of men who in future ages hope for his mercy, must rely ; by this the whole assem- bly of .'lie blessed will be invariably and eternally precious in his sight. Exalted character ! Can it be applicable to any thing less than the righteousness of the incarnate God? Surely none can imagine that Da- niel would speak in such a magnificent strain of any human righteousness, since, in this very chapter, he professedly depreciates him- self, his fellow-saints, and all human per- formances whatever. I forgot, in the proper place, to consult the projjhet Jeremiah. Let us now refer ourselves to his determination. Celebrating the Saviour of Judah and Israel, he says, " This is his name, whereby he shall be called, The Lord our Righteousness ;" a determination so clear and satisfactory, as not to leave, one would almost conclude, any room for appeal. Should the sense of the passage be questioned, 1 think there cannot be a more authentic explication, than the preceding extracts from Isaiah and Daniel. And having the unanimous at- testation of two inspired penmen, we may venture to abide by such authority, even in opposition to some respectable names. In the verse immediately foregoing, the essen- tial holiness of the Redeemer is displayed, under the character of the righteous branch. The sanctity which he will impart to his subjects, is intimated by his " executing judgment and justice in the earth."' In the clause we have (juoted, his imputed righte- ousness is foretold and promised. Thus the several sentences are distinct ; the descrip- tion of the Saviour is com})lete ; and he ap- ))ears perfectly suited to the exigencies of a wretched world ; in their worst estate " K^2nV> ^ think, must signify more than to ptiblhli or preach. Had this been all that the angt'l was com- missioned to declare, ^isi' 37, or Tl):^, would probably have been used. Tlie word implies such a In-ingini; in, (the original is the same) as when Abel brought his sacrifice to the altar for the divine acceptance, and F.sau brouglit his venison into the chamber, for his father's use. Gen. iv. 4, xxvii. 31. enslaved to Satan, and in their best falling short of the glory of God. This, therefore, I take to be the grand and extensive mean- ing of the prophet : the righteous Lord ; not barely, the Lord who infuses righte- ousness into sinful souls ; but the incar- nate Jehovah,* Jer. xxiii. 5, 6, whose mediatorial righteousness is, by an act of gracious imputation, ours, to ail the intents of justification and salvation ; ours, as much ours, for these blessed purposes, as if we had wrought it out each in his own person. Foreseeing and contemplating these bless- ings, the enraptured Zechaiiah cries out, " Rejoice greatly. Odaughterof Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem : behold, thy King cometh unto thee ; he is just and hav- ing salvation, lowly and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt, the foal of an ass," Zech. ix. 9. He addresses himself to Zion and Je- rusalem, to the ecclesiastical and civil com- munity. Persons of all ranks, and of every character, are exhorted to " rejoice ;" to re- joice "greatly;" nay, to express the joy of their heart, by loud hallelujahs, and tri- umphant exclamations. What is the cause of this general delight ? what can fill both church and state with such high satisfac- tion ? " Thy King cometh unto thee ;" even that glorious King who rules in heaven, and rules in the heart ; whose service is free- dom, and whose laws are love. " He is just," divinely righteous in his nature, and he cometh to fulfil all righteousness in thy stead. " Having salvation ;" hereby pro- curing salvation for his people ; deliverance from sin, from death and hell ; from every evil thou deservest, and from every misery thou fearest. That none may be discour- aged, and none deterred, from applying to this Prince of Peace, he is, amidst all the honours of his sovereignty, " lowly ; does not abhor the basest, will not despise the meanest; to the poor his gospel is preached, and for the guilty his benefits are intended. As an emblem, as a proof of this most amiable and condescending goodness, " he will ride ;" not like the conquerors of old, in a triumphal chariot, or oii a richly ca- parisoned steed ; but upon the most mean and despicable of all animals, "an ass;" nay, what is still more desj)icable, on a rude undisciplined " colt, the" wayward "foal oi an ass."-f In these golden, infinitely better th.in golden verses, are characterised the divine and human na- tures of Christ, together with his mediatorial olBce. The divine nature, in that he enjoys the honours of the Godhead, and possesses the incommunicable name Jehovah. The human nature, in that he was to be raised up unto David, and spring as a branch from his root. The mediatorial otrice, in that he is the righteousness of his people, and the salvation of sinners. t Because profane scoffers have presumed to ri- dicule this lery remarkable incident of our Lord's life, some interpreters of note have endeavoured to rescue it from tneir abusive attempts, by observing, "That the eastern asses are much larger and more 338 THERON AND ASPASIO. And HOW, since my Theron confesses himself to be miserable, and poor and naked; since the eyes of his understanding are en- lightened to see the impurity of liis heart, the imperfection of his righteousness, and that he is in himself a lost undone siinier ; what advice, cheering and salutary, shall I suRgest ? O ! let him listen to an Adviser infinitely more able and compassionate ; listen to Him who is the Ancient of days, and the wisdom of God : " I counsel thee," says the blessed Jesus, " to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich : and white raiment, that thou mayest be clothed." Rev. iii. 18. Gold! wh^t can this denote, but all those spiritual treasures which are hid in Christ? which are in mea- sure unsearchable, in value inestimable, in duration eternal. " White raiment !" Sure- ly this must signify the righteousness of our Redeemer, which is all purity, and all per- fection ; which clothes the soul, as a most suitable and commodious garment ; which covers every deformity and every sin ; and presents the believer, free from shame and free from blemish, before the throne of the Majesty in the heavens. This, to use the delicate language and amiable images of Isaiah — this doctrine, embraced by a realizing faith, is the only pillow of rest, " wherewith we may cause the weary and heavy laden soul to find re- pose ;" and this is the sovereign cordial jire- pared by infinite mercy for the refreshm.ent of anxious and desponding transgressors- graceful than ours ; that patriarchs and judges thought at no disgrace to ri;le upon them. This observation has, 1 fear, more of false delicacy, than of real truth, or Christian simplicity. In the patriarchal ages, I acknowledge, peisjns of high distinction thought it DO dishonour in their journeys and processions, to appear on this animal. But I very much question, whether the same fashion subsisted, or the same way of thinking prevailed, in the reign of TiberiusCicsar. See James iii. 3. Nay, 1 am strongly inclined to sus- pect, that this plain primitive custom was superseded, even in the days of Zechariah. P'or long before this time I find, that Solomon had four thousand stalls of horses for his char. ots, and twe.ve thou and horse- men ; and that horses were brought to him out of Egypt, and divers other countries, 1 Kings iv. 26, x. 2U, ■2i). From this period, it is probable, none l)ut the poor and inferior sort of people rode upon asses. When Isaiah propliesied, the land was full of horses, Isaiah ii. 7- Under the Persian monarchy, when Zechaiiah flourished, horses were in still greater re- pute. Well, therefore, might the prophet say, with wonder and delight, lowly, and riding upon an ass! Was it a mean attitude ? exceedingly mean, mean even to contempt, I make no scruple to grant it : nay. I make my boast of it ! It is for the honour of our Lord's condescension, it is for the utttr confusion of all world- ly pomp and grandeur, and it is for the unspeakable comfort of my sinful soul. Most charming humility, most endearing gentlenesi ! " He who rideth upon .he heavens as it were upon ahorse, and maketh the clouds his chariot, to atone for my pride, and to en- O ! let us not be in the number of those proud and refractory creatures, who, though they infinitely needed, "yet would not hear" the gracious news, Isaiah xxviii. 12, nor re- ceive the imspeakable benefit. In this re- spect, and in this most eminently, is that other saying of the sublime teacher true ; " The Lord of hosts shall be for a crown of glory, and for a diadem of beauty, to the residue of his people. Isa. xxviii. 5. Shall we tear from our temples, or reject with disdain, this unfading and heavenly orna- ment, in order to substitute a mean and tawdry chajilet of our own. Let me add a pertinent passage from one of our celebrated dramatic writers, which, if proper in his sense, will be incomparably more so, according to our manner of appli- cation : -It were contemning. With impious self-sufficient arrogance'. This bounty of our God, not to accept. With every mark of honour, such a gift. I might proceed to urge this expostulation of the poet, as I might easily have multiplied my quotations from holy writ, J.'ut, stu- dious of brevity, I leave both, without fur- ther enlargement, to your own meditation, ^'ct, more studious of my friend's happiness. I cannot conclude without wishing him an interest, a clear and established interest, in this everlasting righteousness of Christ. For so, and so only, can he have " everlast- ing consolation, and good hope through grace." — I am, my dear Theron, Inviolably yours, ASPASIO. P.S. — Opposite to the room in which 1 write, is a most agreeable prospect of the gardens and the fields ; these, covered with herbage, and loaded with corn ; those, adorned with flowers and abounding with esculents ; all appearing with so florid and so beautiful an aspect, that they really seem, in conformity to the Psalmist's descriptioti, even to " laugh and sing." Let me just ob- serve, that all these fine scenes, all these rich productions, sprung — from what ? From the dissolution of the respective seeds. The seeds planted by the gardener, anditlie grain sowed by the husbandman, first pe- rished in the ground, and then the copious increase arose. Much in the same manner a true fa!th in Christ and his righteousness arises — from what ? From the ruins of self-sufticiency, and the death of personal excellency- Let e therefore entreat my Theron still to courage my hope, disdained not m the days of lus t^l^(. tlie [j,a,y i^y h,s coimsellor ; stdl to flesh, to ride upon an ass. , .u j ■,. c u;^ ..^t,-,r-a They who would dignify this action, any otherwise keep an eye on the depravity ot his nature, than from its evei-to-be-admired abasement, seem to jj,j(J tj^e rniscarriages of his life. The more have forgot Len the stable and the manger. Thev who , . .i „„ j„„„l,, „-o fool r>iii- are otTended at this circumstance, and asham'ed to clearly we see, the more deep y \\ e tee oui own their Lord ni his deep humiliation, have but guilt and our misery, the more highly shall we very imperfectly learned the apostle's lesson, "God L„|„„ ,l„ ^u„^,^„no r.f nni- blp«sprl .^iiretv (orbid that I should glory, saveiu the cross of Christ ^*'"P '"^ obedience ot oui hlesseu Ouiety. .esus, my Loiil." I III such a heart faith will flourish as a rose, LETTER V. and lift up its head like a cedar in Lebanon. To such a soul the great Redeemer's right- eousness will be welcome, as waters to the thirsty soil, or as rivers in the sandy desert. 339 LETTER V. ASPASIO TO TlIEUON. Dear Theron, — Give me leave to re- late an uncommon accident which happen- ed a little while ago in this neighbourhood, and of which I myself was a spectator. The day was the Sabbath ; the place aj)- propriated to divine worship was the scene of this remarkable affair. A boy came running into the church breathless and trembling. He told, but in a low voice, those who stood near, that a press-gang* was advancing to besiege the doors, and arrest the sailors. An alarm was immediately taken. The seamen, with muchhurry,and no less anxiety, began to shift for themselves. The rest of the congrega- tion, perceiving an unusual stir, were struck with surprise. A whisper of inquiry ran from seat to seat, which increased by de- grees into a confused murmur. No one could inform his neighbour, therefore every one was left to solve the appearance from the suggestions of a timorous imagination. Some suspected the town was on fire : some were apprehensive of an invasion from the Spaniards : others looked up, and looked round, to see if the walls were not giving way, and the roof falling upon their heads. In a few moments the consternation be- came general. The men stood like statues, in silent amazement, and unavailing per- plexity. The women shrieked aloud ; fell into fits; sunk to the ground in a swoon. Nothing was seen but wild disorder ; no- thing heard but tumultuous clamour. Drown- ed was the preacher's voice. Had he and inconceivable astonisnment must seize the guilty conscience, when the hand of the Almighty shall open those unparalleled scenes of wonder, desolation, and horror .' when the trumpet shall sound — the dead arise — the world be in flames — the Judge on the throne — and all mankind at the bar ! " The trumpet shall sound," 1 Cor. xv. 52, says the prophetic teacher. And how startling, how stupendous the summons ! Nothing equal to it, nothing like it, was ever heard through all the regions of the universe, or all the revolutions of time. When conflicting armies have discharged the bellowing artillery of war, or when vic- torious armies have shouted for joy of the conquest, the seas and shores have rung, the mountains and plains have echoed. But the shout of the archangel and the trump of God will resound from pole to pole ; will pierce the centre, and shake the pillars of heaven. Stronger, stranger still ! it will penetrate even the deepest recesses of the tomb. It will pour its amazing thunder into all those abodes of silence. The dead, the very dead, shall hear. When the trumpet has sounded, " the dead shall arise." In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the graves open, the monumental ))iles are cleft asunder, and the nations under ground start into day. What an immense harvest of men and women, springing up from the caverns of the earth, and the depths of the sea ! Stand awhile, my soul, and consider the wonderful spec- tacle— Adam formed in Paradise, and the babe horn but yesterday; the earliest ages and latest generations, meet upon the same level. Jews and Gentiles, Greeks and Barbarians, people of all climes and lan- guages, unite in the promiscuous throng. Here, those vast armies, which like swarms of locusts covered countries, which with an irresistible s\^■eep overrun empires — hear they all appear, and here they all are lost — lost like the small drop of a bucket, when spoke in thunder, his message would scarce plunged into the unfiithomable and Ijound- nave been regarded. To have gone on with his work, amidst such a prodigious fer- ment, had been like arguing with a whirl- wind, or talking to a tempest- This brought to my mind that great tre- mendous day, when the heavens will pass a\\ay, when the earth will"be dissolved, and all its inhabitants receive their final doom. If at such incitlents of very inferior dread our hearts are ready to fail, what unknown * The reader, it is hoped, will excuse whatever may appear low, or savour of the plebeian, in any of these circumstances. If Aspasio had set himself to , i i • i invent the description of a jianic, he would probably and unreprovable" in the presence of the less ocean. O the multitudes ! the multi- tudes which these eyes shall survey, when God " calleth the heavens from above, and the earth, that he may judge his peo- ple!" What shame must flush the guilty cheek ! what anguish wound the polluted breast ! to have all their filthy practices, and infamous tenipeis, exposed before this in- numerable crowd of witnesses ! — Fly, my Theron ; and fly, my soul ; instantly let us fly, earnestly let us fly, to the purifying blood of Jesus ; that all our sins maybe blotted out ; that we may be found " unblamable have formed it upon some more raised and gnified assembled world, and what is infinilcly more incident. Uut as this was a real matter of tact, whuh i ■ i ■ i /• i • lately happened in one of our seaport towns, truth, to be revered, III the bight oi the omnipotent even in a plain dress, may possibly bono less accepta- ble than hction tricked up with the most splendid , embellishments. j God. When tho swarm issues, the hive will 340 THERON AN burn': There is no more need of this habi- table globe. The elect have fought the good fight, and finished their course : The wicked have been tritd, and found incorrigi- ble. The important drama is ended, every actor has performed his part ; now, there- fore, the scenes are taken down, and the stage is demolished. " Wo be to the earth, and to the works thereof!" Its streams are turned into pitch, its dust into brimstone^ and the breath of the Almighty, like a tor- rent of fire, enkindles the whole. See ! see how the conflagration rages, spreads, prevails over all ! The forests are in a blaze, and the mountains are wrapt in fiame. Cities, kingdoms, continents sink in the burning deluge. London, Britain, Europe, are no more. Through all the receptacles of wa- ter, through all the tracts of land, through the whole extent of air, nothing is discerni- ble, but one vast, prodigious, fiery ruin Where now are the treasures of the covet- ous ? where the possessions of the mighty ? where the delights of the voluptuary ? — How wise, how happy are they, whose por- tion is lodged in heavenly mansions ! their " inheritance is incorruptible and imdefiled ;" such as the last fire cannot reach, nor the dissolution of nature impair. But see ! the azure vault cleaves ; the expanse of heaven is rolled back like a scroll ; and the Judge, the Judge appears ! " He Cometh," cries a mighty seraph, the herald of his approach, "he cometh to judge the world in righteousness, and minister true judgment unto the people !" He cometh, not as formerly in the habit of a servant, but clad with uncreated glory, and magnificently attended with the armies of heaven. Angels and archangels stand before him, and ten thousand times ten thousand of those celes- tial spirits minister unto him. Behold him, ye faithful followers of the Lamb ; and won- der and love ! This is he who bore all your iniquities on the ignominious cross : This is he who fulfilled all righteousness for the justification of your persons. — Behold him, ye despisers of his grace, and wonder, and perish ! This is he whose merciful over- tures you have contemned, and on whose precious blood you have trampled. The great white throne, Rev. xx. 11, be- yond description august and formidable, is erected. The King of heaven, the Lord of glory, takes his seat on the dreadful tribunal. Mercy on his right hand displays the olive- branch of peace, and holds forth the crown of righteousness : Justice on his left poises the impartial scale, and unsheaths the sword of vengeance ; while wisdom and holiness, brighter than tea thousand suns, beam in his divine aspect. What are all the preced- ing events to this new scene of dignity and awe ? The peals of thunder, sounding in the archangel's trumpet ; the blaze of a burn- D ASPASIO. ng world, and the strong convulsions of ex- piring nature ; the umiumbered myriads o( human creatures, starting into instantaneous existence, and thronging the astonished skies ; all these seem familiar incidents, compared with the appearance of the incar- nate Jehovah. Amazement, more than amazement, is all around- Terror and glory unite in their extremes. From the sight oi his majestic eye, from the insupportable splendours of his face, the earth itself, and the very " heavens flee away." Rev. xx. 11. How then ? Oh, how shall the ungodly stand ? stand in his angry presence, and draw near to this consuming fire ! Yet draw near they must, and take tlieiv trial, their decisive trial, at his righteous bar. Every action comes under examination ; for each idle word they must give account. Not so much as a secret thought escapes this exact scrutiny. How shall the crimi- nals, the impenitent criminals, either conceal their guilt or elude the sentence ? They have to do with a sagacity too keen to be deceived, with a power too strong to be re- sisted, and (O ! terrible, terrible considera- tion !) with a severity of most just displea- sure, that will never relent, never be entreated more. What ghastly despair lowers on their pale looks ! M'hat racking agonies rend their distracted hearst ! The bloody axe and the torturing wheel are ease, are down, compared with their prodigious wo. And (O holy Cod !) wonderful in thy doings ! fearful in thyjudgments, even this prodigious wo is the gentlest of visitations, compared with that indignation and wrath which are hanging over their guilty heads, which are even now falling on all the sons of re- bellion, which will plunge them deep in aggravated and endless destruction. And is there a last day ? and must there come A sure, a fix'd irrevocable doom ? Surely then, to use the words of a pious prelate,* it should be " the main care of our lives and deaths, what shall give us peace and acceptation before the dreadful tribunal of God. What but righteousness ? What righteousness, or whose ? Ours, or Christ's ? Ours, in the inherent graces wrought in us, in the holy works wrought by us? or Christ's, in his most perfect obe- dience and meritorious satisfaction, wrought for us, and applied to us ? The Popish faction is for the former : we Protestants are for the latter. God is as direct on our side as his word can-make him ; everywhere blazoning the defects of our own righteous- ness, everywhere extolling the perfect obe- dience of our Redemer's." " Behold !" says the everlasting King, " I lay in Zion for a foundation, a stone ; a tried stone, a precious corner-stone, a ' Bishop Hall. LETTER V. sere foutKlation : lie tliat believeth, shall not niiike haste," Isa. xxviii. 16. As this text contains so noble a display of our Sa- viour's consummate ability for his great work ; as it is admirably calculated to pre- serve the mind from distressing fears, and to settle it in a steady tranquillity ; you will give me leave to touch it cursorily with my pen, just as I should descant upon it in conversation, was I now sitting in one of your agreeable arbours, and enjoying your more agreeable company. How beautiful the gradation ! how lively the description ! and how very important the practical imi)rov(!ment ; or, I might say, the inscription, which is engraven on this wonderful stone. — " Behold !" Intended to rouse and fix our most attentive regard, '{"he God of heaven speaks. He speaks, ;mrl every syllable is balm ; every sentence is rich with consolation. If ever, therefore, we have ears to hear, let it be to this Speaker, and on this occasion. " A stone." — Every thing else is sliding sand, is yielding air, is a breaking bubble. Wealth will prove a vain shadow, honour a>n empty breath, pleasure a delusory dream, our own righteousness a spider's web. If on these we rely, disappointment must en- sue, and shame be inevitable. Nothing but Christ, nothing but Christ, can stably sup- port our spiritu;d interests, and realize our expectations of true hniijiiness. And, bless- ed be the divine goodness ! he is, for this purpose, not a stone only, but " A tried stone." — Tried, in the days of his humanity, by all the vehemence of temp- tations, and all the weight of afllictions ; yet, like gold from the furnace, rendered more shining and illustrious by the fiery scrutiny. Tried, under the capacity of a Saviour, by millions and millions of depraved, wretched, and ruined creatm'es, who have always found him perfec-tly able, and as perfectly willing, to expiate the most enormous guilt — to de- liver from the most in^■eterate corruptions — and save, to the very uttermost, all that come unto God through him. " A corner stone." — Which not only sustains, but unites the edifice, incorporat- ing both Jews and Gentiles, believers of various languages, and manifold denomina- tions— here, in one harmonious bond of brotherly love — hereafter, in one common participation of eternal joy. " A precious stone." — More precious than rubies ; the ])earl of great price, and the desire of all nations. — Precious, with regard to the divine dignity of his peison, and the unequalled excellency of his media- torial offices. In these, and in all respects, greater than Jonah — wiser than Solomon — fairer than all the children of men — chiefest among ten thousand — and to the awakened 341 altogether sinner, or enlightened believer, lovely." Cant. v. 16. " A sure foundation." — Such as no pres- sure can shake ; equal, more than equal to every weight, even to sin, the heaviest load in the world. " The Rock of Ages," such as never has failed, never will fail, those humble penitents who cast their burden upon the Lord Redeemer ! who roll* all their guilt, and fix their whole hopes, on this immoveable basis ; or, as the origi- nal words may be rendered, " a founda- tion ! a foundation !" There is a fine spirit of vehemency in the sentence, thus under- stood. It speaks the language of exultation, and expresses an important discovery. That which mankind infinitely want ; that which multitudes seek, and find not ; it is here ! it is here ! This, this is the foundation for their pardon, their peace, their eternal fe- licity. " Whosoever believeth," though pressed with adversities, or surrounded by dangers, •'shall not make haste :"f but, free from tumultuous and perplexing thoughts, preserv- ed from rash and precipitate steps, he shall possess his soul in patience ; knowing the sufficiency of those merits, and the fidelity of that grace, on which he has reposed his con- fidence, shall quietly, and without perturba- tion, wait for an expected end. And not only amidst the perilous or disastrous changes of life, but even in the day of ever- lasting judgment, such persons shall stand with boldness. They shall look up to the grand Arbitrator — look round on all the solemnity of his appearance — look forward to the unalterable sentence — and neither feel anxiety, nor fear damnation. Such, in that day of terrors, shall be seen To face the tliunders with a godlike mien. * Roll. — This is the exact sense of the sacred phrase, mrr^ t'J^ t'D- l-sal. xxii. !!; xxxvii. 5. Prov. xvi. .'i. I am not ignorant, that some people have presumed to censure, and many have been sliy of us- ing this bold and vii;ori'Us metaphor : which never- theless appears to me, of all others, the most just, the most significant, and therefore the most truly beau- tiful. t " Shall not make haste." This metaphorical ex pression, tliough it might be rery intelligible to a Hebrew, is, to an English reader, like some fine pic- ture placed in a disadvantageous light. We may pos- sibly illustrate the prophet's meaning, and exemplify his assertion, if we compare the conduct of Moses with that of the Israelites, on viewing the fatal catas- trophe of Dathaii and Abiram. When the earth trembled under their feet, when the ground opened its horrid jaws, when the prcsumpluous sinners went down alive into the pit, when the tremendous chasm closed upon the screaming wretches; the children of Israel, it is written, " fled at the cry of tluin, fled in wild and hasty confusion ; forthey said, Icsl iheearth swallow us up also." Hut Moses, who denounced the dreadful doom, Moses, who was sure of the divine ])rotcction ! Moses made no such precipitate or dis- orderly haste. I le stood calm and composed ; saw the whole alarming transaction, without any uneasy emotions of fear, or any unnecessary attempts to es- cape. So that his behaviour seems to be a clear and apposite comment on Isaiah's phrase. See Wumt) xvu 342 THERON AND ASPASIO. The planets drop ; their thouglits are fix'd above : The centre shakes : their hearts disdain to move. This portion of Scripture, which I hope will both delight and edify my friend, recalls our attention to the subject of my present letter — to those propitiatory sufferings, and that justifying righteousness, which, imput- ed to sinners, are the ground of their com- fort, and the bulwark of their security. And what say the writers of the New Tes- tament upon this point? they, whose under- standings were opened by the " Wonderful Counsellor," to discern the meaning of the ancient oracles ; who must therefore be the most competent judges of their true import, and our surest guides in settling their sense. Do they patronize our interpretation of the prophets ? do they set their seal to the au- thenticity of our doctrine ? St. Luke, in his ecclesiastical history, has preserved this weighty declaration of the apostles : " We believe, that through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be saved even as they. Acts. xv. 11. Here the thing is implied. — St. Peter, in the in- troduction to one of his theological epistles, thus addresses his happy correspondents -. " To them that have obtained like precious faith, in the righteousness* of our God and Saviour Jesus Christ." 2 Pet. i. 1. Here the point is expressly asserted. — With equal clearness is the doctrine delivered by Matthew the evangelist : " Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness." Matt. vi. S3. What can the " kingdom of God" mean ? An experience of the power, and an enjoyment of the privileges of the gospel. What are we to understand by " his righteousness ?" Surely, the right- eousness which is worthy of this grand ap- pellation, and peculiar to that blessed insti- tution. Would we learn what is the great and dis- tinguishing peculiarity of the gospel ? St. Paul informs us : " Therein the righteous- ness of God is revealed, from faith to faith." As this text leads us into the Epistle to the Romans ; as this epistle is, for the proprie- ty of its method, as well as for the impor- tance of its doctrine, singularly excellent ; it may not be amiss to examine its struc- ture, and inquire into its design. The apostle writes to a promiscuous peo- ple, who had been converted, partly from Judaism, partly from Gentilism. His aim is, to strike at the very root of their former errors respectively — to turn them wholly to the superabundant grace of God, and esta- blish them solely on the all-sufficient merits of Christ. The Gentiles were, for the most part, grossly ignorant of God, and stupidly negli- gent of invisible interests. If any among them had a sense of I'eligion, their virtues, they imagined, 'were meritorious of all that the Deity could bestow. If they fell into sin, sin they supposed might easily be obliterat- ed by repentance, or compensated by a train of sacrifices." A few of their judi- cious sages taught, that the most probable means of securing the divine favour, was a sincere reformation of life. The Jews, it is well known, placed a mighty dependence on their affinity to Abra- ham, and the covenant made with their fa- thers, on their adherence to the letter of the moral law, and their scrupulous per- formance of ceremonial institutions ; Gen- tiles and Jews agreeing in this mistake, that they looked for the pardon of guilt, and the attainment of happiness, from some services done, or some qualities acquired by them- selves. Against these errors the zealous apostle draws his pen. He enters the lists like a true champion of Christ, in the most spirit- ed and heroic manner imaginable. " I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ ;" for, however it may be deemed foolishness by the polite Greeks, or prove a stumbling- block to the carnal Jews, " it is the power of God unto salvation," Rom. i. 1 6, it is the grand instrument, which he has ordained for this blessed purpose, and which he will certainly crown with the desired success. Whence has the gospel this very peculiar power ? because therein a righteousness is revealed, a true and perfect righteousness, which obliterates all guilt, and furnishes a solid title to eternal life. What righteous- ness is this ? the righteousness, not of man but of God ; which was promised by God in the scriptures, was introduced by God in the person of his Son, and on account of its • The phrase is I'/a'Tiv sv dixaieiruvvi. Ifweretani the common translation, it proves another very mo- mentous truth : "that the righteousness of our God, even of our Saviour Jesus Clirist," is the one merito- rious procuriuR (aiise of all spiritual blessings; of faith, as well as of fruition; of grace, as well as of Rlory. * See Witsii Animadversiones Irencia;, cap. 7 — A choice little piece of polemical divinity ; perhaps the very best that is extant ; in which the most im- portant controversies are fairly stated, accurately dis- cussed, and judiciously determined, with a perspicui- ty of sense, and a solidity of reasoning exceeded by nothing but the remarkable conciseness, and the still more remarkable candour of the sentiments. The Oeconomia Fcederum, written by the same hand, is a body of divinity, in its method so well di- gested, in its doctrines so truly evangelical, and (what is not very usual with our systematic writers,) in its language so refined and elegant, in its manner so affec- tionate and animating, that I would venture to re- commend it to every young student of divinity. I would not scruple to risk all my reputation upon the merits of this performance; and I cannot but lamen it, as one of my greatest losses, that I was not sooner acquainted with this most excellent author. All whose works have such a delicacy of com posit ion, and such a sweet savour of holiness, that I know not any comparison more proper to represent their true char- acter, than the golden pot which had manna ; and was outwardly, bright with burnished gold, inwardly rich with heavenly food. LETTER V. 343 consummate excelleiicj', is both acceptable and available in his sight. This righteousness is " from faith to faith," Rom. i. 17; held forth, as it were, by a promising God, and apprehended by a believing soul, who first gives a firm assent to the gospel — then cordially accepts its blessings, from a conviction that the doc- trine is true, passes to a persuasion that the privileges are his own. When this is ef- fected, a foundation is laid for all happiness, 8 principle is wrought, to produce all holi- ness. But why was it requisite that such a righteousness should be provided by God, and revealed in the gospel? Because both Gentile and Jew neither possessed, nor could attain, any righteousness of their own ; and this righteousness, though so ab- solutely necessary for their fallen state, was infinitely remote from all human apprehen- sions. The latter assertion is self-evident ; the former is particularly demonstrated. — First, with regard to the Gentiles; the gener- ality of whom were abandoned to the most scandalous excesses ; and they who had es- caped the grosser pollutions, fell short in the duties of natural religion. Next, with regard to the .Jews ; many of whom lived in open violation of the external command- ment ; and not one of them acted up to the internal purity required by the Mosaic precepts. From which premises this conclu- sion is deduced — that each of them had trangressed even their own rule of action ; that all of them were, on this account, utterly inexcusable : theiefore by the works of the law, whether dictated by reason or flelivered by Moses, " no mortal can be jus- tified, Rom. iii. 20, in the sight of God. Lest any should imagine, that righteous- ness may be obtained, if not by a conformi- ty to the law of nature, or the law of Moses, yet by an observation of evangelical ordi- nances, he farther declares, that sinners are justified freely, without any regard to their own endowments, "through the redemp- tion, the complete redemption of Jesus Christ, Rom. iii. 24-, after such a manner, as may lay them low in humiliation, even while it exalts them to the kingdom of hea- ven ; after such a manner, as may bring life and salvation to their souls, while all the glory reverts to God the Father, and his Son Jesus Christ. In the prosecution of this very momen- tous subject, our sacred disputant removes the contrary, "we establish the law,"* Rom. iii. 31 ; not only as we receive it for a rule of life, but as we expect no salvation without a proper, without a perfect conformity to its injunctions. How can this be effected ? by qualifying its sense, and softening it into an easier system ? This were to vacate the law, to deprive it of its honours ; and hinder it from attaining the due end, either of obedience or condemnation. No ; but we establish the law, by believing in that great Mediator, who has obeyed its every precept, sustained its whole penality, and satisfied all its re- quirements in their utmost extent. Farther to corroborate his scheme, he proves it from the renowned examples of Abraham and David- The instance of Abraham is so clear, that it \^ants no com- ment : Any paraphrase would rather ob- scure, than illustrate it. The other, derived from the testimony of the Psalmist, may ad- mit the commentator's tool ; yet not to hammer it into a new form, but only to clear away the rubbish; to rescue it from misrepre- sentation, and place it in a true light. " Even as David descri!)eth the blessedness of the man, to whom God imputeth right- eousness without works, saying, Blessed are they, whose mnighteousness is forgiven, and whose sins are covered : Blessed is the man to whom the Lord will not impute sin." Rom. iv- 6. 7. Here is imputation assert- ed— the imputation of righteousness — of righteousness without works ; without any respect to, or any co-operation from any kind of human works. It is a blessing vouchsafed to the ungodly; not founded on a freedom from sin, but procuring a remission of its guilt. Some, I know, have attempted to re- solve all the force of this passage into an ar- gument for the sameness of pardon and jus- tification ; whereas the apostle undertakes to prove, not that forgiveness and justifica- tion are indentically the same, but that both are absolutely free- To maintain which posi- tion he argues : " This doctrine is as true, as it is comfortable. It agrees with the ex- perience, and has received the attestation of David. When he speaks of the blessed and ha])py man, he describes him, not as an innocent, but guilty person ; not as having any claim to the divine favour, on account of deserving performances, or recommend- ing properties j but as owing all his accep- tance to that sovereign grace, which for- gives iniquities and blots out sin. Such is the case with regard to that evangelical jus- Jin objection which is as common as it is | tification which we preach ; even as it is, plausible. " Do we make void the law in the manner of its vouchsafement perfect- through faith ?" Do we render it a vain in- | ly similar to the blessedness celebrated by stitution, such as never has been, never will the Psalmist." The apostle's eye is not so be fulfilled ? " God forbid !" This were a directly upon the nature of the privilege, as flagrant dishonour to the divine Legislator [ upon the freeness with which it is granted : and his holv commandments ; such ;is we : — : .— t— , , , 11,1'^,., , /-v An incontcstiblc inoof tliat the anostic treats of would abhor, rather than connteiianee. 'Jn ; ti,e „i„,-..,l )-i„. 344 THERON AND ASPASIO. Nor can any infer from the tenor of his rea- soning, that to be forgiven, is the same as to be justified; only that both are acts of infinitely rich mercy, designed for sinners ; promised to sinners, bestowed on sinners ; who have nothing, nothing of their own, either to boast or to plead. In thp fifth chapter, from verse the twelfth to the end, the sacred penman points out the cause, and explains the method of jus- tification : Of which this is the sum — That Christ, in pursuance of the covenant of grace, fulfilled all righteousness in the stead of his people : That this righteousness being per- formed for them, is imputed to them : That by virtue of this gracious imputation they are absolved from guilt and entitled to bliss ; as thoroughly absolved, and as fully entitled, as if in their own persons they had under- gone the expiatory sufferings and yielded the meritorious obedience. I.est it should seem strange in the opinion of a Jew or a Gentile, to hear of being justified by the righteous- ness of another, the wary apostle urges a parallel case, recorded in the Jewish revela- tion, but ratified by universal experience ;* namely, our being condemned for the un- righteousness of another. In this respect, he observes, Adam was a type of our Lord, or " a figure of him that was to come." Rom. v. II. The relation is the same, but the effect is happily reversed. Adam the head of his posterity ; Christ the head of his people. Adam's sin was imputed to all his natural descendants ; Christ's righteous- ness is imputed to all his spiritual offspring. Adam's transgression brought death into the world, and all our wo ; Christ's obedience brings life, and all our happiness.f The whole closes with this very obvious and no less weighty inference : " Therefore, as by the offence of one, judgment came upon all men to condemnation ; even so, by the righ- teousness of one, the free gift came upon all men unto justification of life.' Rom. v. 18. I do not recollect any other similitude which the apostle so minutely sifts, and so copiously unfolds. He explains it, he ap- plies it, he resumes it, he dwells upon it, and scarcely knows how to desist from it. I am sure you will not blame me if I imi- tate the sacred author, revert to the subject, and quote another passage from the same paragraph. " Much more shall they who receive abundance of grace, and of the gift of righteousness, reign in life by one, Jesus Christ. Rom. v. 1 7. Here I am ready to think, the inspired writer puts a difference between the two grand blessings purchased * By the pains and death which infants in every na- ■ tion endure, which are unquestionably punishments, and to which they are dooraed by the righteous judg- ment of God, t " -As the sin of Adam," says Bengelius, " without any concurrence of the sins wliich we ourselves respec- tively connnit, occasioned our ruin; so the righteous- npss of Christ, abstracted from all coiisideration of our jicr6!)!i;il obedience, juocures our recovery." by Emanuel — remission and righteousness. For who are the persons which receive abun- dance of grace ? They, I apprehend, that, having simied much, have much forgiven. Who are the persons which receive abun- dance of the gift of righteousness ? They that, having in their own conduct wrought out none which will bear the test of God's impartial scrutiny, have one placed to their account which the all-seeing eye of heaven approves. However, whether the distinc- tion I have ventured to propose be fanciful or substantial, of this I am persuaded, that the gift of righteousness* must signify a righteousness not originally their own, but another's ; not what they themselves have acquired, but what was fulfilled by their Surety ; and is, by an act of heavenly in- dulgence, consigned over to them. Accord- ingly it is represented, not as a work, but as a gift ; and those who are interested in it are styled, not workers, but receivers. I should but faintly copy the apostolic example, if I did not once again avail myself of this important topic. Suffer me, there- fore, to transcribe one more verse from this admirable chapter. " As by the disobedi- ence of one man, many were made sinners ; so by the obedience of one, shall many be made righteous." Rom. v. 19. The "diso- bedience of one," is the disobedience of Adam, his actual transgression of the divine law. Hereby " many were made sinners ;" sinners in such a sense as to become ob- noxious unto condemnation and death. All this, I think, is, from the apostle's own words, indisputable. And if we would pre- serve the propriety of his antithesis, or the force of his reasoning, we must allow, that the obedience of one is the obedience of Christ ; his actual and complete perform- ance of the whole law. Hereby " many are made righteous ;" righteous in such a sense, as to be released from condemnation, and vested with a title to life eternal. How clear and easy is this meaning ! how just and regular this argumentation ! What subtilty of evasion must be used, to give a dilferent turn to the instructive text ! I This is the most consistent sense in which I can understand Rom. viii. 5. " That the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit :" That the righteousness requir- : ed by the holy, but broken law, might be : thoroughly accomplished ; accomplished by ' our public Representative, and in our hu- 1 * I cannot but wonder at the assertion of a late 1 writer, who roundly declares, " That thereisnotone word in this whole chapter relating to the antecedent ! obedience of Christ's life, but expressing only his pass- I ive obedience." Must then this group of expressions j — }i>taiO''Viiri — ciKaiajU,a. — umKOft — be confined barely to the sufferings of our Lord ? To put such a sense upon the words of the apostle, is. according to my apprehension, not to hear his voice, but to gag his mouth ; not to acquiesce in the sacred oracles, but to uialvc Ihciu speak our own meaning. LKTTEll V. 345 man nature ; so as to be deemed, in point of legal estimation, fulfilled for us and by us.* This, I say, is most consistent with the tenor of St. Paul's arguing, and with the exact import of his language — With the tenor of his arguing ; for he undertakes to demon- strate the impossibility of our justification by any personal conformity to the law ; whereas, if we could satisfy its .penalty, and obey its precepts, or, in other words, fulfil its righteousness, this impossibility would cease.— .With the exact import of his lan- guage ; for the original phrase denotes not a sincere, but a complete obedience ; not what we are enabled to perform, but what the law has a right to demand ; which every one must acknowledge, is not fulfilled in any mere man since the fall, but was fulfill- ed by Jesus Christ for our good and in our stead. This interpretation preserves the sentences distinct, and makes a very natural introduction for the following clause, where the persons interested in this privilege are described by their fruits, " who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit;" imply- ing, that justification and sanctification aie like the ever-corresponding motion of our eyes, inseparable concomitants ; and we vainly pretend to the former, if we continue destitute of the latter. We have produced positive proofs of our doctrine : we have heard an apostle declar- ing the assured happiness and complete jus- tification of true believers. Let us now ob- serve the same sagacious judge of men and things discovering the danger of those self- justiciaries who reject the Redeemer's right- eousness. He is filled with the darkest apprehen- sions, concerning his brethren the Jews. He is impressed with melancholy presages, relating to their eternal state. Rom. ix. 2. What was the cause of this tender solici- tude? Had they cast off all religion, and given themselves over to gross immoralities ? On the contrary, they were worshippers of the true God ; and had, in their way, not only a regard, but a zeal for his honour. Rom. X. '2. Wherefore, then, does this compassionate father in Israel feel the same trembling uneasiness for hh kinsmen accord- ing to the flesh, as Eli felt for the endan- gered ark ? Himself assigns the reason : Because " they, being ignorant of God's righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves to the righteousness of God," Rom. X. 3. Not knowing that immaculate holiness, which the perfect nature, and equally perfect law of the most high God require ; being wilfully ignorant of that con- » It is remarked by a judiciouscritic and very val- uable expositor, that the preiiositioii «» somctiines signifies by or /or, and is so translated. Matt. v. ."M ; Heb. i. 1. See Dr. Guyse's Exposition of the New Testament. summate obedience, which an incarnate God vouchsafed to perform for the justification of his people ; thty sedulously, but foolishly endeavoured to establish their own right- eousness ; to make it, scanty and decrepit as it was, the basis of their liojjes. Thus were they resting their everlasting all on a bottom, not precarious only, but irreparably ruinous. A boundless eternity the fabric : yet they build (wonder, O heavens !) on the foam of the waters ! and (w hich added stub- bornness to their folly) in avowed contempt of that strong and sure fomidation, laid by God's own hand in Zion. For this the good apostle was afilicted with "great hea- viness and continual sorrow." For this he made the prophet's pathetic complaint his own : " O that my head were waters, and my eyes a fountain of tears, that I might be- wail day and night," Jer. ix. 1, the incorri- gible perverseness of my people ! " For my people have committed two evils," in not thankfully submitting to the righteousness of God, " they have forsaken the fountain of living waters," in attempting to establish their own righteousness, " they have hewed themselves out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water." Jer ii. 13. Having showed their fatal error, he strengthens his representation by displaying the happy success of the Gentiles. " What shall we say then ?" This, however impro- bable it may seem, we confidently affirm, " That the Gentiles, who followed not after righteousness," who had no knowledge of it, and no concern about it ; even " they have attained to righteousness."* Strange as- sertion ! how is this possible ? Doubtless, the righteousness which they attained, could not be any personal righteousness ; of this they were totally destitute. Instead of practising moral virtues, or religious duties, they were immersed in sensuality, and aban- doned to idolatry. It must therefore be the evangelical, the imputed righteousness, "even that which was wrought by Christ, and is received by faith. "f Israel, in the mean time, the nominal Is- rael, who with great pretensions to sanctity, and many costly oblations, " followed after * Surely, this must signify more than " attaining to the profession of a religion, whereby they may be justified and saved. To this multitudes attain, who continue as the prophet speaks, "stout hearted and far from righteousness: whoi derive no real benefit from their profession ; but are rendered utterly inex- cusable, and liable to more aggravated conaeiuna- tion. t Surely the righteousness, which is by faith, cannot consist "m humbly committing the soul to Christ in the way that he hath appointed." According tojthis notion, the justifying righteousness would spring from ourselves — would be constituted by an act of our own, and not by the perfect obedience of our Lord. I am sorry to see this, and the preceding interpreta- tion, in the works of an expositor, who.se learning I admire, whose piety I reverence, and whose memory I honour. Vet I must say on this occasion, with one of the ancient philosophers, " Amicus, I'lato, amicus Socrate?, sed niagis arnica, Veritas." 346 the law of righteousness, hath not attained to the law of righteousness." " Attained !" they have done nothing less- They are fal- len vastly short of it ; they are pronounced guilty by it ; they stand condemned before it.* Wherefore did they so grossly mis- take, and so greviously miscarry ^ Be- cause they forsook the good old way, in which Abraham, David, and their pious ancestors walked. They adopted a new scheme ; and would fain have substituted their own, instead of relying on a Saviour's righteousness. I'hey sought for justifica- tion, not " by faith," but as it were " by the works of the law," Rom. ix. 30, 31, 32. A method which their fathers knew not ; which their God ordained not ; and which proved, as it always will prove, not only abortive but destructive. At this stone they stumbled, on this rock they split. Let their rum be a way-mark, and the apostle's obser- vation a light-house to my Theron. Our zealous writer tries every expedient : He mingles hope with terror. Having point- ed out the rock on which the Israelites suffered shipwreck, he directs us to the haven in which sinners may cast anchor and find safety. He gives us a fine descrip- tive view of the Christian's complete hap- piness. He opens (if I may continue the metaphor) a free and ample port for perishing souls ; not formed by a neck of land or a ridge of mountains, but by a mag- nificent chain of spiritual blessings ; all proceeding from, and terminating in, that precious corner-stone, Jesus Christ, " who of God is made unto us wisdom and right- eousness, and sanctification, and redemption," I Cor. i. 30; "wisdom," to enlighten our ignorant minds; " righteousness, "-j- to jus- tify our guilty persons; " sanctification, '"-t* to renew our depraved natures ; " redemp- tion," to rescue us from all evil, and render us, both in body and soul, perfectly and eternally happy. Let it be remarked, how carefully our inspired writer sets aside all sufficiency, as well as all merit, in man. * This, 1 apprehend, is the purport of the apostle's speech, wlien he tells us, that his countrymen " had not attained luito the law of righteousness." He uses the figure fniaa-ic, and means more than he express- es. Somewhat like the prophet in the close of this chapter whoassures the believers in Jesus, " they shall not be ashamed," that is, " they shall be encouraged, emboldened, established." t "Righteousness and sanctification;" the former imputed, the latter inherent. This preserves a distinc- tion between the noble articles, and assigns to each a gr.ind share in the economy of salvation. To say, that if one of the blessings is communicated in the same manner, seems to be cavilling, rather than argu- ing; because the subjects are of a different nature,!and therefore must be enjoyed in a different way. The «;ocoa tree is, to the American, food and clothing, a habitation and domestic utensils: but must we suppose it administering to all those uses in one and the same unvaried method ? Bec^iusein one respect it is eaten, in aiiother it is wore, must it be thus applied in all ? I believe, the illiterate savage who enjoys the several gifts need not be taught the absurdity of such a sup- position. THERON AND ASPASIO. He represents the wliole of our salvation, both in its procurement and application, as a work of freest grace. Christ is, and not we ourselves, the author of this glorious restoration, the cause of this great felicity. He is made all this unto us. How ? Not by our own resolution and strength ; but of God, by the agency of his mighty power and blessed Spirit. He shows us the all- sufficient fulness of Christ. He brings us by ardent longings to Christ. He implants us into Christ, and makes us partakers of his merits. In the process of the same epistle, the sacred penman enumerates the constituent parts of that great salvation which the Son of God has procured for ruined sinners. " But ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified, in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God," 1 Cor. vi. 11. '' Ye are washed ;" cleans- ed from the filth, and discharged from the guilt of all your inicjuities. " Ye are sanc- tified ;" delivered from the death of sin, and endued with a living principle of holiness. " Ye are justified ;" restored to a state of acceptance with God, and invested with a title to eternal glory. All which inestima- ble prerogatives are conferred upon the true believer, " in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ," in consideration of his aton- ing blood and meritorious righteousness. " By the Spirit of our God ;" through the efficacy of his operation, revealing Christ, and working faith in the heart. Some gentlemen have talked of a new remedial law ; \\ liereas the apostle declares, " that Christ is the end of the" old, the unalterable, the Mosaic " law, for righte- ousness to every one that believeth," Rom. X. 4. Follow the course of a river, it will constantly lead you to the ocean. Trace the veins of the body, they invariably unite in the heart. Mark likewise the tendency of the law, it no less constantly and invaria- bly conducts you to Christ, as the centre of its views, and the consummation of its demands. The moral law aims at discov- ering our guilt, and demonstrating our in- expressible need of a Saviour. The cere- monial points him out as suffering in our stead, making reconciliation for iniquity, and purging away every defilement with his blood. They both direct the wretched transgressor to renounce himself, and fly to the Redeemer, who alone has paid that perfect obedience, and brought in that ever- lasting righteousness, which the sinner wants, and the law exacts ; who is there- fore the only proper accomplishment of the one, and the only suitable supply for the other. What is the grand design of the whole scriptures ? St. Paul, displaying their sub- lime origin, and enumerating the gracious LETTl-JK V 347 purposes they are intended to scivc, writes thus : " All scripture is given by inspira- tion of God ; and is profitable for doctrine," to declare and establish religions truth ; " for reproof," to convince of sin, and to refute error; " for* correction," or renova- tion of the heart and reformation of the life ; " for instruction in righteousness," in that righteousness which could never have been learned from any other book, and in which alone sinful men may appear with comfort before their God. , •», We ha\e seen the principal scope of the law and the leading design of the scrip- tures ; let us add one inquiry more. What is the chief office of the Spirit ? If all these coincide, and uniformly terminate in the imputed righteousness of Christ, we have a confirmation of its reality and excellence, great as man can desire, I had almost said, great as God can impart. What says our Lord upon this point? " When he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he shall convince! the world of sin, of righteousness, and of judg- ment. Of sin, because they believe not on me ; of righteousness, because 1 go to my Father, and ye see me no more ; of judg- ment, because the prince of this world is judged," John xvi. 8 — 11. Is it possible for words to be more weighty and compre- hensive? Here is a summary of Christian faith, and of Christian holiness. Not that superficial holiness which is patched up of devotional forms, and goes no farther than external performances ; but tliat which is vital, and springs from the heart ; con- sists in power, not in mere profession ; whose praise, if not of men who are smit- ten with pompous outsides, is sure to be of God, who distinguishes the things which are excellent. " He shall convince the world of sin," of original and actual sin, the sin of their na- ture, as well as the sin of their life, the sin of their best deeds, no less than the sin of their criminal commissions and blamable omissions. Above all, of their sinning against the sovereign, the only remedy, by unbelief, "because they believe not on me." He shall convince " of righteousness," of the divine Redeemer's righteousness, which the foregoing conviction must render pecu- liarly welcome ; convince them, that it was wrought out in behalf of disobedient and defective mortals ; that it is absolutely per- fect, and suflicient to justify even the most tuigodly. Of all which, an incontestible proof is given, by his resurrection from the dead, his triumphant ascension into heaven, ♦ 2 Tim. iii. 1(5. Hjos iTavo^iluriv. t " He shall convince," seems to be the most pro- per translation of ii.iy^tt, as it implies the sure suc- cess which attcMids the operation of the divine Spirit. Wan may reprove, and no conviction ensue; wliere- aslhat .Minighty Agent not only reproves, but reproves with )>ower; so as to determine the judgment, and sv.ay the afTcclions. and sitting at the right hand of his Father: " Because I go to my Father, and ye see me no more."* He shall convince "of judgment." Those who are humbled imder a sense of guilt, and justified through an im- puted righteousness, shall be taught by hap- py experience, that the prince of this world is condemned and dethroned in their hearts, that their souls are rescued from the tyran- ny of Satan, are made victorious over their corruptions, and restored to the liberty, the glorious liberty, of the children of God. You wonder, perhaps, that I have not strengthened my cause by any quotation from the Epistle to the (Jalatians. What I design, my dear Theron, is not to accu- mulate, but to select arguments. However, that I may not disappoint an expectation so reasonable, I proceed to lay before you a very nervous passage from that masterful piece of sacred controversy. Only let me just observe, that the epistle was written to persons who had embraced Christianity, and professed an afiiarice in Christ ; but ^^'Ould fain have joined circumcision, would fain have superadded their own religious du- ties to the merits of their Saviour, in order to constitute, at least, some part of their justifying righteousness. Against which error, the vigilant and indefatigable assertor of " the truth as it is in Jesus," remon- strates : " We who are Jews by natme, and not sinners of the Gentiles, knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law,f but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law; for by the works of the law shall no flesh be justi- fied," Gal. ii. 15, 16. "We who aieJews by nature,'' the descendants of Abraham, and God's peculiar people, have the tables of his law, and the ordinances of his wor- ship; we who in point of privileges are greatly superior to the Gentile nations, and have all possible advantages for establishing (if such a thing were practicable) a righte- ousness of our own, what have we done ? " We have believed on Jesus Christ ;" we have renounced ourselves, disclaimed what- ever is our own, and depended wholly on the righteousness of Christ. For what end ? That by this "faith in Christ," which re- ceives his righteousness, pleads his righte- * For if the work had been imperfect in any de- gree, our Redeemer, instead of taking up his stated and final residence in the regions of glory, must have descended a^ain into this inferior world, to complete what was deficient. \ Observable, very observable, is the zeal of our apostle in this determined stand against the inostspe- cious, and therefore the most dangerous encroach- ments of error. To express hisardent corjcern for the truth and purity of the gospel, the works of the law arc menticmednolcss than three times, by the apostle, and as often excluded from the alT'air of justification. Thefaith of Christ likewise isthrice inculcated, and as often asserted to be the onlv method of becoming righteous before Hod. 848 THERON AND ASPASIO. ousness, and presents nothing but his righte- ousness before the throne, " we might be justified." What motive has induced us to this practice ? A firm persuasion, that by " the works of the law," by sincere obe- dience, or personal holiness, " no man liv- ing has been, and no man living can be, justified before God." Are you tired, Theron ? have I fatigued your attention, instead of convincing your judgment? I will not harbour such a sus- picion. It is pleasing to converse with those who have travelled into foreign coun- tries, and seen the wonders of creation. We hearken to their narratives with de- light. Every new adventure whets our curiosity, rather than palls our appetite. Must it not then afford a more sublime sa- tisfaction to be entertained with the dis- courses of a person, who had not, indeed, sailed round the world, but made a journey to the third heavens? who had been admitted into the paradise of God, and heard things of infinite importance, and unutterable dig- nity ? This was the privilege of that in- comparable man, whose observations and discoveries I have been presenting to my friend. And I promise myself, he will not complain of weariness, if I enrich my epistle with one or two more of those glorious truths. " God hath made him to be sin for us who knew no sin, that we might," not be put into a capacity of acquiring a righteousness of our own, but "be made the righteousness of God in him," 2 Cor. v. 21. In this text thedouble imputationof our sin to Christ, and of Christ's righteousness to us, is most emphatically taught and most charmingly contrasted. Most emphatically taught: For we are said, not barely to be righteous, but to be made right- eousness itself; and not righteousness only, but (which is the utmost that language can reach) the righteousness of God. Most charmingly contrasted : For one cannot but ask, in what manner Christ was made sin ? In the very same manner we are made right- eousness. Christ knew no actual sin ; yet upon his mediatorial interposition on our be- half, he was treated by divine justice as a sinful person- We likewise are destitute of all legal righteousness, yet upon our receiv- ing Christ, and believing in his name, we are regarded by the divine Majesty as right- eous creatures. This, therefore, cannot, in either case, be intrinsically, but must be, in both instances, imputatively. Gracious, di- vinely-gracious exchange ! pregnant with amazing goodness, and rich with inestima- ble benefits. The incessant triumph of the strong and sovereign consolation of the weak believer. Cease your exultation, cries one, and come down from your altitudes. The term used in this verse denotes, not so properly tin, as an offering for sin This is a mere supposal, which I may as reasonably deny as another affirm. Since the word occurs much more frequently in the former signifi- cation than in the latter ; and since, by giving it the latter signification in the passage before us, we very much impair, if not totally destroy, the apostle's beautiful antithesis. However, not to contend, but to allow the remark ; I borrow my reply from a brave old champion* for the truths of the gospel : " This text,'' says he, " invincibly proveth, that we are not justified in God's sight by righteousness inherent in us, but by the righteousness of Christ im[)uted to us through faith." After which he adds, what I make my answer to the objection, " that Christ was made sin for us, because he was a sacrifice for sin, we must confess; but there- fore was he a sacrifice for sin, because our sin was imputed to him, and punished in him," The poor delinquents under the Mosaic dis- pensation, who brought their sin-oftering to the altar of the Lord, were directed to lay their hand on the devoted beast ; signify- ing, by this usage, the transferring of guilt from the offerer to the sacrifice. Conforma- bly to the import of this ceremony, Christ assumed our demerit ; like a true piacular victim, suffered the punishment which we had deserved ; and which, without such a commutation, we must have uridergone. So that our Lord's being made a sin-offer- ing for us, does by no means invalidate, but very much confirm our doctrine. It ne- cessarily implies the translation of our ini- quity to his ])erson ; and, on the principles of analogy, must infer the imputation of his righteousness to our souls. One passage more permit me to trans- cribe into my paper, and, at the same time to wish that it may be written on both our hearts ; wiitten not with ink and pen, no, nor with the point of a diamond, but with the fingerofthelivingGod. " Yea, doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord ; for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in him ; not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God through faith." Phil. iii. 8. 9. Be pleased to observe, that in this con- fession of faith, and with reference to the case of justification, theapostle renounces all * See Dr. Fulk's annotation on the place, in that valuable piece of ancient controversy and criticism, " The Examination of the Khemi'sh Testament." Which, though not altogether so elesant and refined in the language, nor so delicate and genteel in the manner, as might be wished, is nevertheless full of sound divinity, weighty arguments, and important observations.— Would the young stiulent be taught to discover the very sinews of Popery, and be enabled to give an effectual blow to that complication of er- rors, I scarce know a treatise bettor calculated for t.'ie iiuvjiosc. LETTER V. '.U9 lliose acts of supposed righteousness which wereiintecedeiit to his conversion. Nor does lie repudiate them only, but all those more ex- cellent services by which he was so eminently distinguished, even after his attachment to Christ, and engagement in the Christian min- istry. As though he should say, " The privi- lege of being a Hebrew by birth ; the preroga- tive of being a Pharisee by profession ; to- gether with a behadoiir exemplary, and a reputation unblamable ; all these, which were once reckoned my highest gain, as soon as I became acquainted with the glorious perfections of Christ, ' I counted* loss for him.' And now, tliough I have been a dis- ciple many years ; have walked in all holy conversation and godliness ; have endured for my divine INIaster's name tribulations above measure ; have laboured more abun- dantly, and more successfully, than all the apostles ; yet even these, and all other at- tainments, of what kind or of what date so- ever, I counti" but loss, for the transcendent excellency of Christ Jesus my Lord. ' Yea doubtless ;'i it is my deliberate and stead- fast resolution ; what I have most seriously adopted, and do publicly avow, that, speci- ous as all these acquirements nii'y seem, and valuable as they may be in other respects, I reckon them but dung, that I may win Christ. § They fade into nothing, they dwindle into less than nothing, if set in com- l)etitiori with his matchless obedience ; and were they to supersede my application to his merits, or weaken my reliance on his mediation, they would not be contemptible only, but injurious — irreparably injurious — lose itself." You will ask. If he rejects all his own righteousness, on what are his hopes fixed ? On a foundation, extensive as the obedience of the Redeemer's life and death, unshaken • Hy/iuui, " I have counted." i" H ynftKi, relates to the present time, and com- prehends present attainments, "I do count." — Not some, or the greatest part, but " all things." What? Is a course of sobriety, ami the exercise of morality, to be reckoned as dung ? All things, says the apostle. What? Is our most elevated devotion, and enlarged obedience to be degraded at this monstrous rate ? AH things, says the apustle. This is his invariable reply. And we may venture to affirm, that he had the miiid of Christ. :t T'9ri\a]is aXXa. /i/ivrnvys may Ix! translated, "but truly." .\sif he had said, " But why should I men- tion any nu;re particulars ? In tiuth, I count all things," etc. § ^itt XsioT V — Six tu VTTl '-X,"'^ ''""' ^,""'- Tot Kf^S'/trn — plainly imply this comparativeor rela- tive sense. Virtues, which arc the fruits of tlie .Spirit, and labours, which are a blessing to mankind, nmst not be reckoned absolutely or in all respects despica- ble; but only in a limited and (lualined acceptation : (lespical)le not in tlremsclves, but as comiiared with the divinely perfect righteousness of Christ, or as re- ferred to the infinitely important article of justifica- tion. That .\spasio, in this whole paragraph, speaks the sense of our church, will appear from the following extract : — " For the apostle, .St. Paul, saith, llcdoth glory in what? In the contom|it, of hisownrighteous- ness,and that he looketh for the righteousness of God by faith."— Homi/y ofSalmtion, part 2. as the dignity of his eternal power and God- head. They are fixed on " the righteous- ness which is of God ;" the righteousness which God the Father, in unsearchaljle wis- dom, provided ; and which God the Son, in unutterable goodness wrought. Do you in- quire how he came to be invested with this righteousness ? The answer is ready and satisfactory. It was by the application of the divine Spirit, and the instrumentality of faith. Lest any should imagine that this faith might be substituted instead of his own obedience to the law, he puts an apparent diflerence between the righteousness which justifies, and the faith by which it is receiv- ed ; not the righteousness which consists in, but is " through the faith of Christ." To show the great importance of this distinc- tion, how earnestly he insisted upon it as a preacher, how much it tended to his conso- lation as a Christian, he repeats the senti- ment, he reinculcates the doctrine, " the righteousness which is of God by faith." AVill you now, Theron, or shall I, poor unprofitable creatures, presume to rely on any performances or any accomplishments of our own, when that distinguished saint, — a perfect prodigy of gifts, of gnices, and of zeal, — indefatigable in labours, unconquera- ble by afiiictions, and of whose usefulness there is neither nieasin-e nor end ; — when he denies himself in every view, depreciates all, disavows all, and makes mention of no- thing but the incomparable righteousness of his " obedient, dying, interceding Savioiu' ?" What shall I say more ? Shall I attempt to play the rhetorician, and borrow the in- sinuating arts of persuasion ? This, after all the cogent testimonies produced, and all the great authorities urged, would be a need- less parade. When our pen is a simbeam, there is but little occasion to dip it in oil. Instead of such an attempt, give me leave to make a frank and honest confes- sion. I woidd conceal nothing from my friend. He should have a sash to my breast : throw it up at his pleasure ; and see till that passes within. — Though I never hud any temptation to that pernicious set of errors, which passes under the character of Socin- ianism, yet I had many searcliings of heart, and much solicitous inquiry, how far we are indebted to Christ's active righteousness. Thoroughly persuaded, that " other founda- tion can no man lay, save that whi(di is laid, even Jesus Christ," 1 Cor. iii. 11, and that " there is no other name give,n under heaven, whereby men can be saved " Acts iv. 12, yet, whether we were not to confine our believing regirds to a dying Saviour, was matter of considerable doubt. At first, I was inclined to acquiesce in the af- tij-mative. After long consideration and many prayers, my faitli fixed upon the whole of Christ's mediatorial undcrtakinL' ; which SfSe THERON AND ASPASIO. begun m his spontaneous submission to I venly message ; that which constitntes the the law, was carried on through all his me- vitals of their system, and is the very soul ritorious life, and issued in his atoning; of their religion. On which account, the death. This is now the basis of ray con- whole gospel is denominated from it, and fidenee, and the bulwark of my happftness. styled " the ministration of righteousness." Hither I fly ; here I rest ; as the dove, af- I was farther connnced, that this way of ter her wearisome and fruitless rovings, re- salvation magnifies, beyond compare, the turned to Noah, and rested in the ark. This scheme first recommended itself to my affections, as making the most ample provision for the security and repose of a guilty conscience ; which, when alarmed by the accusations of sin, is very appre- hensive of its condition ; and will not be comforted, till every scruple is satisfied, and all the obstructions to its peace are re- moved. Thus I reasoned with myself; " Though there is undoubtedly something to be said for the other side of the ques- tion, yet this is evidently the safest me- thod. And, in an affair of infinite conse- quence, who would not prefer the safest expedient ? Should the righteousness of Jesus Christ be indispensably requisite as a wedding-garment, what will they do, when the great immortal King appears, who have refused to accept it ? whereas, should it not prove so absolutely necessary, yet such a dependence can never obstruct our salvation. It can never be charged upon us as an article of contumacy or per- verseness, that we thought too meanly of our own, too magnificently of our Lord's obedience. So that, let the die turn either way, we are exposed to no hazard. This scheme takes in all that the other systems comprehend, and abundantly more. In this 1 find no defect, no flaw, no shadow of insufliciency. It is somewhat like the perfect cube, which, wherever it may be thrown, or however it may fall, is sure to settle upon its base. Supposing, therefore, the important beam shoidd hang in equili- brium with respect to argument, these cir- cumstances cast into the scale may very justly be allowed to turn the balance." Upon a more attentive examination of the subject, I perceived, that this is the doctrine of our national church ; is en- forced by the attestation of our ablest di- vines ; and has been in all ages the conso- lation of the most eminent saints : That it is the genuine sense of scripture, and not some inferior or subordinate point, inciden- tally touched upon by tlie inspired writers, but the smn and i«ilistance* of their hea- * This doctrine nms through St. Paul's writings, like a goUlen warp. While privileges, blessings, and evangelical duties are like a woof, (if I may allude to the ornaments of the sanctuary,) of blue, of purple, of scarlet, and indeed of every pleasant colour. 'I'he righteousness of God, Horn i. 1/. The righteousness from God, I'hil. iii. Ki. Righteousness by faith, Romiii. 22. Kighteousness of faith, Rom. iv. II. Righteousness without the law, Rom. iii. 21. Right- eousness without works, Kom. iv. 6. Righteousness in the blood of Christ, Rom. v. !). Righteousness by the obedience of Christ, Rom. v. 19. Righteousness divine law ; is no less honourable to all the divine attributes ; and exhibits the ever- blessed Mediator in the most illustrious and the most delightful view. All these con- siderations, under the influence of the eter- nal Spirit, have determined my judgment, and established my faith. So that, I trust, neither the subtilties of wit, nor the sneers of ridicule, ncr any other artifice, shall ever be able to separate me from the grace and righteousness which are in Jesus Christ. Let me now, by way of conclusion, re- view that awfid subject which introduced the letter. Let me suppose the Judge, who " is at the door," actually come ; the great and terrible day, which is hasting for- ward, really commenced Hark ! the trumpet sounds the universal summons. The living are struck with a death-like as- totiishment j the dead start from their silent abodes. See, the whole earth takes fire ; the sun is turned into darkness ; and the stars fall from their spheres ! Behold, the Lord Jesus ccincs with myriads of his angels ! The judgment is set, and the books are opened. Observe those exemplary Christians, whose sentiments I have been collecting. They renounce themselves, and rely on their glorious Surety. Methinks I hear them say, each as they quit their beds of dust : " I will go forth from the grave in thy strength, O blessed Jesus ; and at the de- cisive tribunal will make mention of thy righteousness only." At the same time will you, Theron, or shall I, stand forth and declare, before the innumerable multi- tude of anxious sinners and adoring seraphs, " Let those jjusillanimous creatures fly for refuge to their Saviour's righteousness. We will confide in works, in accomplishments of our own. We are the men who ha\e per- sonally kept the divine law, and want no supposititious obedience from another. Let the eye that glances through immensity, and penetrates the recesses of the heart ; let that holy and omniscient eye, examine our temper, and sift our conduct. We are bold to risk our souls, and all their immortal in- terests, on the issue of such a scrutiny." Perhaps, your mind is impressed with this solemn scene, and your thoughts recoil at such daring presumption. If so, it will be proper for me to withdraw, and leave you to your own meditations. At such mo- not our own, Phil. iii. !)• God, Rom. iv. 6, 10, 22. Righteousness imputed by LETTER VI. 351 ments to obtnide on your oompanv, would render me the troublesome und officious, rather than The respectful and affectionate ASPASIO. LETTER VL Theron to Aspasio. Dear Aspasio. — The last evening was one of the finest 1 ever saw. According to my custom, I made an excursion into the open fields, and wanted nothing to com])lete the satisfaction, but my friend's company. I could not but observe how much your im- proving conversation heightened the charms of nature. When religion applied philoso- phy, every thing was instructive, as well as pleasing. Not a breeze swept over the plains, to clear the sky and cool the air, but it tended also to disperse our doubts, and enlivenour faith in the supreme all-sufficient good. Not a cloud tinged the firmament with radiant colours, or amused the sight with romantic shapes, but we beheld a pic- ture of the present world — of its fading ac- quisitions and fantastic joys — in the mimic forms and the transitory scene. Even the weakest of the insect tribe, that skim the air in sportive silence, addressed us with the strongest incitements, and gave us the loud- est calls to be active in our day, and useful in our generation. They cried, at least when you lent them your tongue, Such is vain life, an idle flight of days, A still delusive round of sirklyjoys ; A scene of little care-;, and Iriiiins passions, If not ennobled by the deeds of virtue. How often, at the approach of sober eve, have we stole along the cloisters of a se- questered bower, attentive to the tale of some querulous current, that seemed to be struck with horror at the awful gloom, and complained with heavier murmurs, as it passed under the blackening shades, and along the root-obstructed channel ! Or else, far from the babbling brook, and softly tread- ing the grassy path, we listened to the nightingale's song; while every gale held its breath, and all the leaves forbore their motion, that they might neither drown nor interrupt the melodious wo. P'rom both which pensive strains, you endeavoured to temper and chastise the exuberant gaiety of my spirits. You convinced me, that true joy is a serious thing, is the child of sedate thought, not the spawn of intemperate mirth ; nursed, not by the sallies of disso- lute merriment, but by the exercise of serene contemplation. Sometimes, at the gladsome return of morn, we have ascended an airy eminence, and hailed the new-born day ; and followed.. with our delighted eye, the mazes of some glittering stream. Here, rushing with im- petuous fury from the mountain's side, foaming over the rifted rocks, and roaring down the craggy steep ; impatient, as it were, to get free from such rugged paths, and mingle with the beauties of the lower vale : There, slackening its headlong ca- reer, and smoothing its eddies into an even flow : While, deep embosomed in the ver- dant mead, it glides through the cherished and smiling herbage ; sometimes lost amidst closing willows ; sometimes emerging with fresh beauty from the leafy covert ; always roving with an air of amorous complacency, as though it woidd caress the fringed banks, and flowery glebe. Reminded by this wa- tery monitor, of that constancy and vigour with which the affections should move to- wards the great centre of happiness, Christ Jesus ; of that determined ardour with which we shoidd break through the entan- glements of temptation, and obstacles of the world, in order to reach our everlasting rest ; and of the mighty difference between the turbulent, the frothy, the precipitate gratifications of vice, and the calm, the sub- stantial, the permanent delights of religion. Or else, with eager view, we have sur- veyed the extensive prospect, and wandered over all the magnificence of things — an end- less variety of graceful objects and delight- ful scenes ! each soliciting our chief regard ; every one worthy of our whole attention ; all conspiring to touch the heart with a min- gled transport of wonder, of gratitude, and of joy. So that we have returned from our rural expedition, not as the spendthrift from the gaming table, cursing his stars, and rav- ing at his ill luck, gulled out of his money, and the derided du])e of sharpers ; not as the libertine from the house of wantonness, surfeited with a rank debauch, dogged by shame, goaded by remorse, with a thousand recent poisons tingling in his veins. But we returned as ships ofeommerce from the gold- en continent, or the spicy islands, with new accessions of sublime improvement and so- lid pleasure ; with a deeper veneration for the Almighty Creator ; with a warmer sense of his imspeakable favours ; and with a more inflamed desire " to knov/ him now by faith, and after this life to have the fruilion of his glorious Godhead." Sometimes, with an agreeable relaxation, we have transferred our cares from the wel- fare of the nation to the flourishing of the farm ; and instead of enacting regulations for the civil community, we have planned schemes for the; cultivation of our ground and the prosperity of our cattle. Instead of attending to the course of fleets, and the destination of armies, we have directed the plough where to rend the grassy turf, or taught the honeysuclde to wind round the 852 TIIERON AND ASPASIO- arbour, aim llie jessamine to climb upon the wall. Instead of interposing our friendly offices to reconcile contending kingdoms, we have formed a treaty of coalition between the stranger scion, and the adopting tree ; and, by the remarkable melioration of the ensuing fiiiit, demonstrated (would contend- ing empires regard the precedent !) what ad- vantages flow from pacific measures and an amicable union. Instead of unravelling the labyrinths of state, and tracing the finesses of foreign courts, we have made ourselves acquainted with the politics of nature, and observed how wonderfully, how mysterious ]y, that great projectress acts. In this place she rears a vast trunk, and unfolds a mul- tiplicity of branches from one small berry. She qualifies, by her amazing operations, a few contemptible acorns, that were former- ly carried in a child's lap, to bear the British thunder round the globe, and secure to our island the sovereignty of the ocean. In an- other place she produces, from a dry grain, " first the green blade ; then the turgid ear ; afterwards the full grown and ri])ened corn in the ear," Mark iv. 28 ; repaying, with exact punctuality, and with lavish usury, the husbandman's toil, and the husbandman's loan ; causing, by a most surprising resurrec- tion, the death of one seed to be fruitful in the birth of hundreds. But I forget your caution, Aspasio ; for- get how kindly you have checked me, when I have been haranguing upon, I know not what, powers and v^'orks of natiu"e ; whereas it is God who " worketh hitherto," John V, 17, who to this day exerts, and to the end of time will exert, that secret but unre- mitted energy, which is the life of this ma- jestic system, and the cause of all its stu- pendous operiitions. Let this show you how much I want my guide, my philoso- pher, and friend. "Without his prompting aid, my genius is dull, my reflections are awkward ; and my religious improvements jejune ; somewhat like the bungling imita- tions of the tool, compared with the mas- terly effects of vegetation. However, I will proceed ; yet not from any view of inform- ing my Aspasio, but only to draw a bill upon his pen, and lay ,him under an obli- gation to enrich me with another letter upon the grand and excellent subject of his last. _ Art is dim-sighted in her plans, and de- fective even in her most elaborate essays. But Nature, or rather Nature's sublime Au- thor, is indeed a designer, and " a workman that need not be ashamed." 2 Tim. ii. 15. His eye strikes out ten thousand elegant models, and his touch executes all with in- imitable perfection. What an admirable specimen is here of the divine skill and of the divine goodness ! This terraqueous globe is intended not only for a place of habita- tion, but for a storehouse of conveniences. If we examine the several apartments of our great abode, if we take a general inven- tory of our common goods, we shall find the utmost reason to be charmed with the displays, both of nice economy, and of boundless profusion. Observe the surface of this universal messuage. The ground, coarse as it may seem, and trodden by eveiy foot, is never- theless the laboratory where the most exqui- site operations are performed ; the shop, if I may so speak, where the finest manufac- tures are wrought. Tliough a multitude of generations have ah\'ays been accommodat- ed, and though a multitude of nations are daily supplied by its liberalities, it still con- tinues inexhausted — is a resource that never fails, a magazine never to be drained. The unevenness of the ground, far from being a blemish or a defect, heightens its beauty, and augments its usefidness. Here it is scooped into deep and sheltered vales, almost constantly covei'ed with a spontane- ous growth of verdure, which, all tender and succulent, composes an easy couch, and yields the most agreeable fodder for the va- rious tribes of cattle. There it is extended into a wide, open, cham.paign country, which, annually replenished with the husbandman's seed, shoots into a copious harvest; a har- vest, not only of that principal wheat whicli is the staff' of our life, and strengthens our. heart, but of the " appointed barley," Isaiah xxviii. 25, and various other sorts of grain, ■^vhich yield an excellent food for our ani- mals, and either enable them to despatch our dnidgeiy, or else fatten their flesh for our tables. The furrows, obedient to the will of man, vary their produce. They bring forth a crop of tall, flexile, slender plants,* whose thin filmy coat, dried, attenuated, and skill- fully manufactured, transforms itself into some of the most necessary accommodations of life, and genteelest embellishments of so- ciety. It is wove into ample volumes of cloth, which, fixed to the mast, gi\-es wings to our shij)s, and wafts them to the extre- mities of the ocean. It is twisted into vast lengths of cordage, which add nerves to the crane, and lend sinews to the pi'.lley ; or else, adhering to the anchor, they fasten the ves- sel even on the fluctuating element, and se- cure its station even amidst driving tem- pests. It furnishes the duchess with her costly head-dres.s, and delicately fine ruffles. No less strong than neat, it supplies the ploughman with his coarse frock, and the sailor with his clumsy trowsers. Its fibres, artfidly arranged by the operations of the loom, cover oui- tables with a graceful ele- gance, and surround our bodies with a cher- Flax analicnip. LETTER VI. 853 Lshmg -warmth. On this the painter spreads the colours which enchant the eye ; in this the merchant packs the wares which enrich the world. Yonder the hills, like a grand amphitheatre, arise. Amphitheatre ! All the pompous works of Roman magnificence are less than mole-banks, are mere cockle-shells, com- pared with those majestic elevations of the earth. Some clad with mantling vines ; Bome crowned with towering cedars ; some ragged with misshapen rocks, or yawning with subterraneous dens, whose rough and inaccessible crags, whose hideous and gloomy .cavities, are not only a continual refuge for the wild goats, but have often proved an asylum to persecuted merit,* and a safeguard to the most valuable lives. At a greater distance, the mountains lift their frozen brows, or penetrate the clouds with their aspiring peaks. Their frozen brows arrest the roving, and condense the rarified vapours. Their caverned bowels collect the dripping treasures, and send them abroad in gradual commimications by trick- ling springs ; while their steep sides preci- pitiite the watery stores, rolling them on with such a forcible impulse,f that they never intermit their unwearied course till they have swept through the most exten- sive climes, and regained their native seas. The vineyard swells into a profusion of clusters, some tinged with the deepest pur- ple, and delicately clouded with azure ; some clad with a whitish transparent skin, which shows the tempting kernels, lodged in lus- cious nectar. The vine requires a strong reflection of the sunbeams, and a very large proportion of warmth. How commodiously do the hills and mountains minister to this j)urpose ! May we not call those vast decli- vities the garden-walls of nature ? which, far more effectually than the most costly glasses, or most artful green-houses, con- centrate the solar heat, and complete the ma- turity of the grape, distending it with liquor * To David from .'^aul's malice ; to Elijah from Jezebel's vengeance; to many of the primitive Christ- ians from the rage of persecutin;; emperors ; ' ' They wanilcreil in deserts and in mountains, in dens and caves of the earth." Het). xi. ;ill. + It is observed, that the largest rivers in the world, those which roll the heaviest Ijurden of waters, and perform the most extensivecircuit through the nations, generally take their rise from the mountains. The Rhine, the Rhone, and the Po, all descend from the Alps. The Tigris lierives its rapid flood from the everlasting snows and steep ridges of Niphates. And to mention no more instances, the river Amazones, which pours itself througli a multitude of provinces, and waters near eighteen hundred leagues of land, has its urn in the caverns, and its impetus from the pre- cipices of that immense range of hills, the Andes. If the reader is inclined to see the origin and forma- tion of rivers described in all the sublimity of dic- tion, and with all the gr.aces of poetry, he may find this entertainment in Mr. Thomson's autumn, line 7ai, last edit. Amazing Scene ! behold the glooms disclose, I see the rivers in their infant beds I Deep, deep 1 hear them, lab'ring to get free, &c. of the finest scent, the mo.^t agreeable relish, and the most exalted qualities ! such as dis- sipate sadness, and inspire vivacity ; sucli as make glad the heart of man, and most sweetly prompt both his gratitude and his duty to the munificent Giver. I grieve and I blush for my fellow-creatures, that any should abuse this indulgence of heaven, that any should turn so valuable a gift of God into an instrument of sin — turn the most exhilar- ating of cordials into poison, madness, and death. The kitchen-garden presents us with a new train of benefits. In its blooming or- naments, what unaffected beauty ! In its culinary productions, what diversified riches ! It ripens a multitude of nutrimental esculents, and almost an equal abundance of medicinal herbs, distributing refreshments to the healthy and administering remedies to the sick. The orchard, all fair and ruddy, and bowing down beneath its own delicious burden, gives us a fresh demonstration of our Creator's kind- ness ; regales us first with all the delicacies of summer-fruits ; next, with the more last- ing succession of autumnal dainties. What is nature but a series of wonders, and a fund of delights ! That such a variety of fruits, so beautifully coloured, so elegant- ly shaped, and so charmingly flavoured, should arise from the earth, than which no- thing is more insipid, sordid, and despicable, I am struck -with pleasing astonishment at the cause of these fine effects, and no less surprised at the manner of bringing them in- to existence. I take a walk in my garden, er a turn through my orchard, in the month of December : There stand several logs of wood fastened to the ground. They are erect, indeed, and .shapely, but without either sense or motion : No himian hand will touch them, no human aid will succour them ; yet, in alittletime theyare beautified with blossoms, they are covered with leaves, and at last are loaded with mellow treasures, with the downy peach and the poli.shed j)lumb ; with the musky apicrot, and the jtiicy pear, with the cherry, and its coral pendents, glowing through lattices of green ; Beneath her ample leaf, the luscious fig. I have wondered at the structure of my watch ; wondered more at the description of the silk-mills ; most of all at the account of those prodigious engines invented by Ar- chimedes. But what are all the inventions of all the geometricians and mechanics in the world, compared with these inconceiv- ably nice automata* of nature ! These self- operating machines des])atch their business with a punctuality that never mistakes, with • Automata, or self- operating machines; not meant to set aside the supcrintendency of Providence, but only to exclude th« co-operation of man. •J .A 854 THERON AND ASPASIO. a dexterity that cannot be equalled. In spring they clothe themselves with such un- studied, but exquisite finery, as far exceeds the embroidery of the needle, or the labours of the loom. In autumn, they present us with such a collation of sweetmeats, and such blandishments of taste, as surpass all that the most critical luxury could prepare, or the most lavish fancy imagine. So that those coarse and senseless logs first decorate the divine creation, then perform the hon- ours of the table. If, amidst these ordinary productions of the earth, God appears so " great in coun- sel, and mighty in work," Jer. xxxii. 19, what may we expect to see in the palaces of heaven, in the hierarchies of angels, and in that wonderful Redeemer who is, beyond all other objects, beyond all other manifes- tations, the " wisdom of God, and the pow- er of God?" I Cor. i. 24. The forest rears myriads of massy bodies, which, though neither gay with blossoms, nor rich with fruit, supply us \vith timber of various kinds, and of every desirable quality. But who shair cultivate such huge trees, diffused over so vast a space? The toil were endless. See, therefore, the all-wise and ever-gracious ordination of Providence. They are so constituted, that they have no need of the spade and the praning-knife. N&y, the little cares of man would diminish, rather than augment their dignity and their usefulness. The more they are neglected, the better they thrive, the more wildly grand and magnificent they grow. When felled by the axe, they are sawed into beams, and sustain the roofs of our houses ; they are fashioned into carriages, and sei-ve for the conveyance of the heaviest loads. Their substance so pliant, that they yield to the chisel of the turner, and are smoothed by the plane of the joiner; are wrought into the nicest diminutions of shape, and compose some of the finest branches of household furniture. Their texture so so- lid, that they form the most important parts of those mighty engines which, adapting themselves to the play of mechanic powers, despatch moie work in a single hour than could otherwise be accomplished in many days. At the same time, their pressure is so light that they float upon the waters, and glide along the surface, almost with as much agility as the finny fry glance through the deep. Thus, while they impart magnifi- cence to architecture, and bestow number- less conveniencies on the family, they con- stitute the very basis of navigation, and give expedition, give being, to commerce. ^ Amidst the inaccessible depths of the forests, a habitation is assigned for those ravenous beasts, whose appearance would be frightful, and their neighbourhood dan- gerous to mankind. Here the sternly ma- jestic lion rouses himself from his de!t, stalks through the midnight shades, and awes the savage herd with his roar. Here the fiery tiger springs upon his prey, and the gloomy bear trains up her whelps. Here the swift leopard ranges, and the grim wolf prowls, and both in quest of murder and blood. Were these horrid animals to dwell in our fields, what havoc would they make ? what consternation would they spread ? But they voluntarily bury them- selves in the deepest recesses of the desert ; while the ox, the horse, and the serviceable quadrupeds, live under our inspection, and keep \vithin our call ; profiting us as much by their presence, as the others oblige us by their absence. If at any time those shaggy monsters make an excursion into the habitable world, it is when man retires to his chamber, and sleeps in security. The sun, which invites other creatures abroad, gives them the sig- nal to retreat. " The sun ariseth, and they get them away, and lay them down in their dens." Psalm civ. 22. Strange ! that the orient light, which is so pleasing to us, should strike such terror on them ! shoidd, more effectually than a legion of guards, put them all to flight, and clear the country of those formidable enemies ! If we turn~our thoughts to the atmos- phere, we find a most curious and exquisite apparatus of air, which, because no object of our sight, is seldom observed, and little regarded ; - yet is a source of innumerable advantages ; and all these advantages (which is almost incredible) are fetched from the very jaws of ruin. My meanuig may be obscure, therefore I explain myself. We live plunged, if I may so speak, in an ocean of air, whose pressure, upon a per- son of moderate size, is equal to the weight of twenty thousand pounds. Tremendous consideration ! Should the ceiling of a room, or the roof of a house, fall upon us with half that force, what destructive effects must ensue ! Such a force would infallibly drive the breath from our lungs, or break every bone in our bodies. Yet so admirably has the divine wisdom contrived this aerial fluid, and so nicely counterpoised its dread- ful power, that we receive not the slightest hurt — we suffer no manner of inconveni- ence— we even enjoy the load. Instead of being as a mountain on our loins, it is like wings to our feet, or like sinews to our limbs. Is not this common ordination of Prondence, thus considered, somewhat like the miracle of the burning bush, whose ten- der and combustible substance, though ir the midst of flames, was neither consumed nor injured ? Exod. iii. 2. Is it not almost as marvellous as the prodigy of the three Hebrew youths, who walked in the fiery furnace without having a hair of their heads LETTER VI. 355 singed, or so much as tlie smell of fire pass- ing on their garments ? Dan. iiL 27. Sure- ly we have reason to say unto God, " O ! how terrible," yet how beneficent, " art thou in thy works. " The air, though too weak to support our flight, is a thoroughfare for innumerable wings. Here the whole commonwealth of birds take up their abode. Here they lodge and expatiate beyond the reach of their ad- versaries. Were they to run upon the earth, they would be exposed to ten thousand dan- gers, without proper strength to resist them, or sufficient speed to escape them ; whereas, by mounting the skies, and " lifting them- selves up on high, they are secure from peril ; they scorn the horse and his rider." Job xxxix. 18. Some of them perching upon the boughs, others soaring amidst the firmament, entertain us with their notes ; which are musical and agreeable when heard at this convenient distance, but would be noisy and importunate, if brought neai-er to our eare. Here many of those feathered families reside, which yield us a delicious treat, yet give us no trouble, put us to no expense, and, till the moment we want them, are wholly out of our way. The air, commissioned by its all-bounti- ful Author, charges itself with the adminis- tration of several offices, which are perfectly obliging, and no less serviceable to mankind. Co-operating with our lungs, it ventilates the blood, and refines our fluids. It quali- fies and attempers the vital warmth, pro- motes and exalts the animal secretions Many days we might live, or even whole months, without the light of the sun, or the glimmering of a star ; whereas, if we are deprived, only for a few minutes, of this aerial support, we sicken, we faint, we die. The same universal nurse has a considera- ble share in cherishing the several tribes of plants. It helps to transfuse vegetable vigour into the trunk of the oak, and a blooming gaiety into the spread of the rose. The air undertakes to convey to our nos- trils the extremely subtile effluvia which transpke from odoriferous bodies. Those detached particles are so imperceptibly small, that they would elude the most careful hand, or escape the nicest eye. But this trusty depositary receives and escorts the invisible vagrants, without losing so much as a single atom : entertaining us, by tliis means, with the delightful scTisations which arise from the fragrance of fiowers ; and admoiiisliing us, by the transmission of the offensive smells, to withdraw from an unwholesome situation, or beware of any pernicious food. The air, by its undulating motion, con- ducts to our ear all the diversities of sound, and thereby discharges the duty of a most seasonable and fiiithfid monitor. As I walk across the streets of London, with my eye engaged on other objects, a dray, per- haps, with all its load, is driving down di- rectly upon me; or, as I ride along the road, musing and unapprehensive, a chariot and six is whirling on, with a rapid career, at the heels of my horse. The air, like a vi- gilant friend in pain for my welfare, imme- diately takes the alarm ; and, while the dan- ger is at a considerable distance, despatches a courier to advertise me of the approaching mischief. It even thunders in my ear ; and with a clamorous but kind importunity, urges to be upon my guard, and provide for my safety. The air wafts to our sense the modu- lations of music, and the more agreeable en- tertainments of refined conversation. When Myrtilla strikes the silver stiings, and teaches the willing harjjsicord to warble with her Creator's praise; when her sacred sonata warms the heart with devotion, and wings our desire to heaven : — when Cleora tunes her song, or the nightingale imitates her enchanting voice ; when she heightens eveiy melodious note with her adored Re- deemer's , name ; and so smooths her charming tones, so breathes her rapturous soul, "that God's own ear listens debghted :" when wisdom takes its seat on Mitio's tongue, and flows in perspicuous periods and instructive truths, amidst the chosen circle of his acquaintance ; — when benevo- lence, associated with persuasion, dwell on Nicander's lips, and plead the cause of in- jured innocence or oppressed virtue : when goodness, leagued with happiness, accom- pany Eusebius into the pulpit, and reclaim the bbertine from the slavery of his vices, disengage the infidel from the fascina- ation of his prejudices, and so afl'ectionate- ly, so pathetically invite the whole audience to partake the unequalled joys of pure reli- gion ; — in all these cases, the air distributes every musical variation with the utmost ex- actness, and delivers the speaker's message with the most punctual fidelity ! Whereas without this internuncio, all would be sul- len and unmeaning silence. We should lose both the pleasure and the profit ; neither be charmed with the harmonious, nor improved by the articulate accents. Tlie bieezcs of the air, when vague and unconfined, are so vcjy gentle, that they sport with tlic most inoflfensive wantonness amidst Oi)hclia's locks, and scarce disajust a single curl. But, when collected and ap- I)licd by the contrivance; of man, tliey act with such prodigious force, as is sufii'cient to whirl round the hugcst wheels, tliough clogged with the most encumbering loads ; They make the ponderous millstones mova as swiftly as the dancer's heel, and the massy beams play as nimbly as the musi- cian's finger. If we climb in sjjcculation the higher re- 336 THERON AND ASPASIO. giong, we find an endless succession of clouds, fe d by evaporations from the ocean. The cloud s themselves are a kind of ocean, suspended in the air with amazing skill, They travel in detached parties, and in the quality of itinerant cisterns, round all the terrestrial globe. They fructify, by proper communications of moisture, the spacious pastures of the wealthy, and gladden, with no less liberal showers, the cottager's little spot. Nay, so condescending is the benignity of their great Proprietor, that they " satisfy the desolate and waste ground ; and cause, even in the most uncultivated wilds, the bud of the tender herb to spring forth," Job xxxviii. 27, that the natives of the lonely desert, those savage herds which know no master's stall, may nevertheless ex- perience the care, and rejoice in the boimty of an all-supporting parent. 1^ How wonderful ! that the water, which is much denser and far heavier than the air, should rise into it, make its way through it, and take a station in the very uppermost regions of it ! This, one would imagine, were almost as impossible as for the rivers to run back to their source. Yet Provi- dence has contrived a way to render it not only practicable, but matter of continual oc- currence. How wonderful ! that pendent lakes shoidd be diffused, or fluent mountains heap- ed over our heads ; and both sustained in the thiimest parts of the atmosphere ? We little think of that surprismg expedient, which, without conduits of stone, or vessels of brass, keeps such loads of water in a buoyant state. Job and Elihu considered this, and were struck with holy admiration. "Dost thou know the balancings of the clouds ?" how such ponderous bodies are made to hang with an even poise, and hover like the lightest down ? " These are the wondrous works of him who is perfect in knowledge," Job xxxvii. 16. "Hebindeth up the waters in his thick clouds, and the cloud," though nothing is more loose and fluid, becomes, by his almighty order, strong and tenacious as casks of iron : it " is not rent," Job xxvi. 8, under all the weight. When the sluices are opened, and the wa- ters descend, we might reasonably suspect that they should burst forth in cataracts, or pour out themselves in torrents. Whereas, instead of such a disorderly and precipitate effusion, which would be infinitely perni- cious, they coalesce into globules, and are dispensed in gentle showers. They are of- ten attenuated into the smallness of a hair,* they spread themselves, as if they were • The Hebrew words, which convey the idea of gentle rain, signify a portion of water, made small as a hair, or divided into millions of parts, Deut. xxxii .2. stjained through the orifices of the finest watering-pot, and form those " small drops of rain, which the clouds distil upon man abundantly," Job xxxvi. 28. Thus, instead of drowning the earth, and sweeping away its fmits, they cherish universal nature, and in conformity to the practice of their great Master, distiibute their humid stores to men, to animals and vegetables, " as they are able to bear them," Mark iv. 33. Besides the reservoirs of water, here are cantoned various parts of winds, mild or fierce, gentle or boisterous, furnished with breezy wings, to fan the glowing firmament, and diffuse refreshment on a fainting world ; or else fitted to act as an universal besom, and, by sweeping the chambers of the at- mosphere, to preserve the fine aerial fluid free from feculencies. Without this whole- some agency of the winds, the air would stagnate, become putrid, and siu-round us, in the literal sense of the words, "with darkness that might be felt." Exod. x. 21. London, Paris, and all the great cities in the world, instead of being the seats of ele- gance, would degenerate into sinks of cor- ruption. At sea, the winds swell the mariner's sails, and speed his course along the watery way ; speed it far more effectually than a theusand rowers, bending to their strokes, and tugging at the oar. By land, they per- form the office of an immense seedman, and scatter abroad the reproductive principles of a midtitude of plants, which, though the staff of life to many animals, are too small for the management, or too mean for the attention of man. " He bringeth the winds out of his treasuries," Psalm cxxxv. 7, is a very just observation, whether it relate to God's absolute and unconti'oUable dominion over this most potent meteor, or to its wel- come and salutary influence on aU the face of natiu^e. Here are lightnings stationed. Though dormant at present, they are in act to spring, and launch the livid flame, whenever their piercing flash is necessary to destroy the sidphureous vapoiu's, or dislodge any other noxious matter which might be prejudicial to the delicate temperatiure of the ether, and obsciure its more crystalline transparency. Above all is situate a radiant and majestic orb, which enlightens the tracts, cheers the inhabitants, and colours all the productions of this habitable globe. While the air, by a singular address in managing the rays, amplifies their usefidness, its reflecting pow- er* augments that heat, which is the life of • The air is a curious cover, which, without op- pressing the inhabitants of the earth with any per- ceivable weight, confines, reflects, and thereby in- creases the vivifying heat of the sun. The air in- creases this kindly heat, much in the same manner as our garments by day, or bedclothes by night, give LETTER VI. 357 nature, its refrfictinjzf power pro'/ongs that sj)lendoiir which is the beauty of the crea- tion. These emanations of light, though formed of inactive matter, yet (astonishing Jipparatus of iUmighty wisdom !) are refined almost to the subtilty of spirit, and are scarce inferior even to thought in speed. By which means they spread themselves, with a kind of instantaneous swiftness, through the circumference of a whole hem- isphere ; and though they fill, wherever tliey pervade, yet they straiten no place, embarrass no one, encumber nothing. These give the diamond its brilliancy, and the velvet its gloss : to these, the cheer- ful eye is obliged for its lively sparkle, and the modest cheek for its rosy blush. These, attending the judicious touches of the pen- cil, bid the drapery flow, and the embodied figure arise ; bid the countenance wear the calm serenity of thought, or be agitated with the wild transports of passion — Without this circumstance of colour, we should want all the entertainments of vision, and be at a loss to distinguish one thing from another. We should hesitate to pronounce, and must take a little journey to determhie, whether yonder enclosure contains a piece of pastur- :ige, or a plot of arable land. We should question, and could not very expeditiously resolve, whether the next person we meet be a soldier in his regimentals, or a swain in his holiday-suit ; a bride in her ornaments, or a widow in her weeds. But colour, like a particular livery, characterises the class to which every individual belongs. It is the label which indicates, upon the first inspec- tion, its respective quality. It is the ticket wliich guides our choice, and directs our hand.' additional warmth to our bodies. Whereas, when tlie aerial vestment grows thin, or, to sjieak more l>hilosophically, when the air becomes less in quanti- ty, and more attenuated in quality, the solar warmth is very sensibly diminished. Travellers on the lofty mountains of America sometimes experience, to their torritjle cost, the truth of this observation. Though the clime, at the foot of those i)rodigious hills, is liot and sultry, yet, on their summits, the cold rages with such excessive severity, that it is no unusual calamity, for the horse and his rider to be frozen to death. We have, therefore, great reason to bless the Supreme Disposer of things, for placing us in the commodious concavity, or rather, under the cherish- ing wings of an atmosphere. * This, 1 believe, suggests the true sense of those noble metaphors used by the divine speaker: " It is turned as clay to the seal, and they stand as a gar- ment ;" — It, the earth and all its productions, receive from the rising sun both colour and beauty ; just as the soft clay and the melting wax receive an elegant impression from the seal. — "They (the morning and the day-spring, mentioned in a preceding verse,) stand as a garment ;" they act the part of a magnifi- cent and universal clothmg : give all visible, objects their comely aspect and graceful distinctions. Job xxxviii. 14. What bold and fine images are here. The sea had been described as an infant, changeable, froward, and impetuous, with thick darkness for its swaddling- banrt. Tlie light is represented as an handmaid, at- tending to dress the creation; and executing the Creator's orders, with a punctuality that never fails, with a speed that cannot be c;hted Master resent the uiikindness ? Did he refuse to admit an excuse for their neglect ? yea, he made their excuse, and that the most tender and gracious imaginable : " The spirit is willing but the tiesh is weak." Matth. xxvi. 41. When his enemies had nailed him to the cross, as the basest slave and most flagitious malefactor; when they were glutting their malice with his torments and blood, and spared not to revile him even in his last expiring agonies ; far, very far from being exasperated, this Hero of heaven repaid all their contempt and barbarity with the most fervent and effectual supplications in their behalf: " Father, forgive them," was his prayer ; " for they know not what they do," was his plea. Luke xxiii. Si. Nor was his resignation less exemplary than his meekness. He went out to meet aiUictions, when they came in his Father's name, and commissioned from his Father's hand. He gave, without the least reluct- ance, his back to the smiters, " and hid not his face from shame and spitting." Though his soul, his very soul, was penetrated with the keenest sensations of anguish, yet no impatient thought discomposed his mind, no murmuring word forced its way from his lips. " Father, not my will, but thine be done," Luke xxii. 42, was his language, when the sorrows of death compassed him, and pains inexpressibly severer than the pains of dissolution, came upon him. " When they gaped upon him with their mouth, and smote him upon the cheek re- proachfully : When his face was foul with spitting, and on his eyelids was the shadow of death : When God delivered him to the ungodly, and turned him over into the hands of the wicked : Yea, when the Almighty set him for the mark of his arrows, and brake him with breach upon breach : When the weapons of his wrath cleft his very reins asunder, and poured his gall upon tlie earth :"• — Amidst all this exquisite dis- tress, he sinned not by the least irregidar perturbation ; but bowed his head, and du- tifully kissed the divine rod, and cordially blessed his very murderers. Thus (lid the whale choir of active and passive virtues abound and shine in our Lord ; abound with the richest variety, and shine with the highest lustre, infinitely sur- passing that curious assemblage of costly gems which studded the Aaronic breast- plate, Exod. xxviii. 17 — 20. and, as far as * These traRical images are borrowed from the book ot Job, who was an cmhiciit type of a suircriiif; Saviour ; and though they arc the very cior|Ufiice of Wo, they do not cxai;ccrate, they cannot express that inconceivable anguish wliich wrung a bloody sweat from our blessed ISlastcr's body, and forced from his lips that melancholy exclamation—" My soul is sorrowful— exceeding sorrowful— sorrowful e\ en unto dcaih." SecJobxvi. earthly things can represent heaveidy, typi- fied the splendour and perfection of our Re- deemer's righteousness. In all this, he acted and suffered as God's righteous servant, and as his people's right- eous surety. By all this, he fulfilled every jot and tittle of the divine law ; nay, he more than fulfilled, he magnified it- Hegavo it (if I may apply the most beautiful allusion that ever was used, to the most momentous subject that ever was discussed) " good mea- sure pressed down, and shaken together, and running over." Luke vi. 38. He defied the most vigilant of his ene- mies to convince him of sin. A more ma- lignant, a far more sagacious adversary than the Scribes and Pharisees, could detect no blemish in our Lord Jesus. " The prince of this world," that infernal tyrant who had deceived and enslaved all the nations of the earth, " came and found nothing in him," John xiv. 30, not the least corruption in his nature, not the least defect in his obe- dience. " He hath done all things well," Maik vii. 37. was the general acclamation of all mankind ; or, as the words may be render- ed, " he hath done all things finely and gracefully (xaXa;,) with every circumstance that can constitute the propriety and digni- ty, the utility and beauty of action. " 1 have glorified thee on earth," John xvii. 4, was his own profession before the most high God. I have glorified thee in all that I acted, in all that I uttered, in all that I suffered. I have displayed the magnifi- cence of thy Majesty, the riches of thy grace, and the honour of all thy attributes. Inso- much, that " whoso seeth me, seeth the Fa- ther," John xii. 45 : whoever is properly acquainted with my person and my work of redemption, sees the invisible, and knows the incomprehensible Deity; sees his venerable, his amiable, his adorable perfections, in the clearest mirror, and in the brightest light. God also, who is the supreme standard, and unerring judge of excellency, bore his testimony to our blessed Mediator. He spoke it once, yea twice, and with a voice from heaven. In the constitution of the ma- terial world, when it came forth from the Creator's hand. Omniscience itself could discern no flaw. Neither could Justice itself, upon the strictest inquiry, discover any fail- ure in the obedience of our Surety. As, therefore, it was said concerning the works of creation, " They are all very good," Gen. i. 31, so it was said concerning our Saviour, and by the same Almighty Majesty, " In him I am well pleased." Matth. iii. 17. You took notice, and very justly, how much the productions of nature exceed and eclijise the attempts of human skill. We are pkased with the performances of the painter ; but do they equal the native blush 364 THERON AND ASPASIO. of the rose, or the artless glow of a pea- blossom ? We are charmed with a fine piece of enammelling ; but is it fit to be compar- ed with the natural polish of a thousand shells which are formed in the ocean, or a thousand seeds which spring from the earth ? We admire the virtues of the ancient saints, men " that were honoured in their genera- tions and the glory of their times, Eccles. xlv. 7. We admire the meekness of Moses, and the magnanimity of Elijah ; the exalted piety of Isaiah, and the enlarged wisdom of Daniel ; the active spirit of Joshua, and the passive graces of Jeremiah. But what pro- portion, put them all together — what propor- tion do they all bear to his obedience, "who is gone into heaven, angels and authorities and powers being made subject unto him," 1 Pet. iii. 22. " who is called the Holy One and the Just," AcFs iii. 14. not only by way of emphasis, but by way of exclusion ; be- cause no person is worthy of the character, no duties deserve to be mentioned, when Christ and his merits are under considera- tion. If then we talk of merit, what merit must there be in such immaculate sanctity of soul, and such exemplary holiness of conduct ; such ardent zeal for God, and such com- passionate good-will to men ; such consum- mate worthiness and extensive usefulness ; such as \vere utterly unknown before, have been absolutely unequalled since, and never will, nor can be paralleled throughout all ages ! — O my Theron ! what is the drop of a bucket to the unfathomable waves of the ocean ? What is a grain of sand to the un- measurable dimensions of the universe ? What is an hour or a moment to the end- less revolutions of eternity ? Such are all human endowments, and all human attain- ments, compared with his righteousness, who is " fairer than the children of men," Psal. xlv. 2. " the chiefest among ten thou- sand, Cant. V. 10. ; " and who receiveth not the Spirit by measure," John iii. 34. Think not, that what I have written is the language of rant. It is a paraphrase, though, I must confess, but a scanty para- phrase, on David's practice and David's faith. " My mouth shall show forth thy righteousness and thy salvation all the day, for I know not the numbers thereof," Psal. Ixxi. 15.* The glorious righteousness of Christ, and the great salvation obtained thereby, he declares shall be the chosen, the principal subject of his discourse. And not on a Sabbath only, but on every day of the week, of the year of his life. And not barely at the stated retunis of solemn de- votion, but in every social interview, and " all the day long." Why will he thus dwell, perpetually and invariably dwell on this darling theme ? Because " he knew no end thereof. It is impossible to mea- sure the value, or exhaust the fulness of these blessings. The righteousness is un- speakable, the salvation is everlasting. To compute the duration of the one, numbers fail ; to describe the excellency of the other, words are at a loss. And is this righteousness designed for us ? Is this to be our wedding-dress, this our beau- tiful array, when we enter the regions of eternity ? Unspeakable privilege ! Is this what God has provided to supply, more than supply, our loss in Adam? Boundless benig- nity ! Shall we be treated by the Judge of the world as if we had performed all this un- sinning and perfect obedience ? Well might the prophet cry out, like one lost in aston- ishment " How great is his goodness ? Is not your heart enamoured, my dear Theron, with a view of this incomprehcHsibly rich grace ? What so excellent, what so comfort- able, what so desirable, as this gift of a Sa- viour's righteousness ! Though delineated by this feeble pen, methinks it has dignity and glory enough to captivate our hearts, and fire our affections ; fire them with ar- dent and inextinguishable desires after a personal interest and property in it. O ! may the eternal Spirit reveal our Redeemer's righteousness, in all its heavenly beauty and divine lustre ! Then, I am sure, we shall esteem it above every thing ; we shall re- gard it as the " one thing needful :" we shall count all things, in comparison of it, worth- less as chaif and empty as the wind. • 1 cannot but observe, that righteousness and sal- vation are frequently connected by the author of the rsalms, and by the prophet Isaiah, in order to in- timate that the one is founded on the other; the latter derives its origin from the former. There can be no dalvation without a righteousness, a real, proper, law- fulfilling righteousness. At the same time, I am sen- sible, that the word righteousness may signify God's goodness in making, and faithfulness in pertorming his promises unto David. .Salvation may likewise denote the delivery of that afflicted hero from all his persecutors, and his establishment on the throne of Israel. But, if we should coufine the sense to these narrow limits, how comfortless the favour even to David himself, considered asan immortal being ! How much more insignificant to us and others, on whom the ends of the world are come ! And how very unworthy of that infinite God, who is the Father of the spirits of all flesh; who sees at one view whatever is or has been, or shall exist ; who therefore, when he speaks, speaks to all his children in every period of time, and in every nation under heaven. As much as a tutor, when delivering his lectures, addresses himself to all his pupils, whether they sit at his right hand or his left, before him or on every side. Whereas, if righteousness signifies the meritorioui obedience of Christ, and salvation implies the bene- fits of his redemption, the sense is no longer shrivel- led, impoverished, and mean; but rich, august, and magnificent. It pours consolation among all people, kindredsand tongues. It is worthy of that God, who seeth the things, and regardeth the persons, which are not as though they were. It comports exactly with that revelation in which Christ is the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, the sum total. This note is already too long, otherwise I should take leave to gratify my inclination, and give a sanc- tion to my sentiment, by transcribing VitruJga s ex- position of Isa. xiv. U. LETTER VIII. 86S To an immortal and fallen soul every thing else is empty as the wind ; but here siimers may " suck and be satisfied with this breast of consolation ;" yea, thousands and thousands of millions may " milk out, and be delighted with the abundance of its glo- ry." Isa. Ixvi. 11. Here we shall find the doctrine of supererogation no longer a chi- mera, but a delightful reality. Here in- deed is an immense surplusage, an inexhaus- tible fund of merit," sufficient to enrich a whole world of indigent and miserable crea- tures ; sufficient to make their cup run over with a superabundant fulness of peace and joy, so long as time shall last, and when time shall be no more. For, to use the apos- tle's weighty argument, " If, by one man's offence death reigned by one ; much more they which receive abundance of grace, and of the gift of righteousness, shall reign in life by one, Jesus Christ." Rom. v. 17. If, one offence, committed by one mere man, made all his posterity chargeable with guilt, and liable to death ; how much more shall the manifold instances of our divine Re- deemer's obedience ; of his long, uninter- rupted, consummate righteousness ; — how much more shall they absolve all his people from condemnation and punishment, and entitle them to the honours and joys of immortality ! Which will appear in a clearer light, if, to the perfection of his obedience, we add the majesty of his person. A proper sub- ject this for some future letter. — In the mean time, let me desire my friend, the friend of my bosom, to contemplate our Lord Jesus under that lovely and august character, " Glorious in holiness." Exod. \v. 11. And, for my part, I will notecase to pray, that a sense of this supereminently grand and precious righteousness may be written on my Theron's heart. On those living tables, may it be like figures cut on a rock of solid marble, or inscribed on the bark of a growing tree ; be lasting in its duration as the former, and spreading in its influence as the latter. It will then be a sure proof, that his name is written in the book of life ; and it shall then be a pleasing pattern for the affection, the gratitude, and the friend- ship of his AsPASio. P. S — You give a most astonishing ac- count of the pressure of the atmosphere. Astonishing, indeed ! that we should be * Yet here is no rich fund, (as a learned writer as- serts) no fund at all, for the Pope's treasury of meri- torious supereroRating actions ; unless Christ and the Pope are to be placed unon the same footing ; unless the inett'ably excellent ol)edience of a divine Redeem- er, and the miserably defective duties of sinful men, are to be deemed emially valuable. .Since this will hardly be admitted by Protestiuits, I l)elieve, Aspa- sio may safely call the obedience of Christ, " the true 8upereri>Hation ;" as Mr. Ambrose has called the blood of Christ, " the true purgatory." continually surrounded, continually over- whelmed, with such a tremendous load, and not be crushed to death ; no, nor be sen- sible of the least weight. This, I think, may serve to represent the state of a sinner unavvakened from carnal security. Loads, more than mountainous loads of guilt, are upon his soul, and he perceives not the bur- den. For this reason, he is under no ap- prehensions of the vengeance and fiery in- dignation which he deserves ; he has no superlative esteem for the atonement and merits of the Redeemer, which alone can deliver him from the wrath to come. But if once his conscience feels, what his lips, perhaps, have often repeated, " We do ear- nestly repent us of these our misdoings, the remembrance of them is grievous unto us, the burden of them is inloleral;le ; then how will he prize such a text, " The Lord laid on Christ the iniquity of us all !" How will he long for an interest in the Lamb of God, " which taketh away the sin of the world !" Then that Jesus who has " finish . ed the transgression, and brought in everlast- ing righteousness," will be all his salvation, and all his desire. LETTER VIII. AsPASio TO Theiiox. Dear Theron, — I have just been read- ing that exquisitely fine piece of sacred his- tory, the life of Joseph : a history filled with surprising incidents and unexpected revolutions ; adorned with the most heroic instances of triumphant virtue, both amidst all the allurements of temptation and under the pressures of affliction ; animated with such tender and pathetic, such melting and alarming touches of natural eloquence, as every reader must feel, and every true critic will iidmire. When I came to that remarkable injunc- tion with which the generous viceroy dis- missed his brethren, " Ye shall tell my Father of all my glory in Egypt," Gen. xlv. 13 J — I paused — I pondered— I was struck. Certainly this was enjoined, not by way of ostentation, but on accoimt of the pleasure, which he knew it would yield the good old patriarch. Was it some kind prompting angel, or the voice of gratitude and devotion, that whispered in my ear, " Should not the children of men likewise tell one another of all the glory,* which » To see the glory of Christ, is the grand blessinif which our Lord solicits and demands for his disciples" in his last solemn intercession, Johnxvii.24. Jt is that which will complete the blessedness of heaven, and fill Its inhabitaiit.s with joy uiis)>eakable and glo- rious. Surely then we should endeavour to antici- pate, in some dcyrce, that celestial bliss, and habitu. 366 THERON AND ASPASIO. their Redeemer possesses in heaven and on earth ? Will not this afford them the su- blimest pleasure here, and be a source of the most refined satisfaction for ever and ever ?" Though I had almost determined to write no more, till you could make a demand upon the foot of value received, willingly I re- cede from my intended resolution, and obey this pleasing hint. But "who can declare the noble acts of the Lord Jesus Christ, or show forth all his praise ?" — However, if I may but lisp out his adorable name, and present my friend with a glimpse, or a broken view of his divine perfections, even this will be desirable and delightful ; far more desirable and delightful than to be- hold Rome in its magnificence, St. Paul in the pulpit, or King Solomon on his throne.* I Let me take the lark for my pattern ; which, as I was lately returning from an evening ramble, attracted my observation. Warbling her Creator's praise, she mounted in the serene sky. Still she warbled, and still she mounted, as though she meant to carry her tribute of harmony unto the very gates of heaven. Having reached at last her highest elevation, and perceiving her- self at an immense distance from the starry mansions, she dropped on a sudden to the earth, and discontinued at once both to sing and to soar. Now the morning appears, and is awakening the world, our little song- ster retunes her throat, and re-exerts her wings. As I have endeavoured, very im- perfectly endeavoured, to strike out a sha- dowy draught of our Lord's complete obe- dience ; I would, though unequal to the task, once more resume my pen, and attempt i^nothing like a display, but only a faint sketch of his essential dignity. First let me observe, that for some time past we have been visited with the most uncomfortable weather, dewless nights and sultry days. The firmament was more like a glowing furnace than the region of refresh- ing rain. The earth lay parched with thirst, and chapped with heat. The meadows were drained of their humidity, and all the flowers hung their fading heads. The streams, which used to flow parallel with the verdant margin, abandoned their banks, and sunk diminished and discoloured, to the bottom of their oozy channels. Nature in general seemed to be resigning the " robe of beauty for the garment of heaviness." Drought was in all our borders, and famine we feared was not far behind. Though clouds of dust obscured the air, tarnished the hedges, and almost smothered the tra- atc our souls to this sacred exercise, which will be our business ami our reward to endlesfe ages. * These, if I remember riRht, are the tliree tilings which St. Augustine declared, would, of all others, most eininentlyfiralify liis curiosity. veller, yet not one cloud of fleecy white ap- peared, to variegate the blue expanse, or give us hopes of a reviving shower.* It reminded me of that awful threatening, denounced by Moses on a wicked people : " The heaven, that is over thy head, shall be brass : and the earth, that is imder thee, shall be iron." Deut. xxviii. 23. It made me apprehensive of that terrible state which the prophet so emphatically describes : " The field is wasted, and the land mourn- eth. The seed is rotten under the clods, and the harvest perisheth. The garners are laid desolate, and the barns are broken down. The new wine is dried up, the oil languisheth, and all the trees of the field are withered. How do the beasts groan ! The herds of cattle are perplexed ; yea, the flocks of sheep are made desolate : Because the riv- ers of waters are dried up, and the fire hath devoured the pastures of the wilderness." Joel i. 10, &c. But, blessed be the divine Providence, our fears are vanished, and a most joyful change has taken place. The Lord hath " sent a gracious rain upon his inheritance, and refreshed it when it was weary." Psalm Ixviii- 9. Yesterday, in the afternoon, the wind, shifting to the south, roused the dormant clouds, and brought some of those agreea- able strangers on its wings. At first they came sailing in small, and thin, and scatter- ed parties. Anon, the flying squadrons ad- vanced in larger detachments, more closely wedged, and more deeply laden ; till at last, the great rendezvous completed, they form- ed into a body of such depth, and extended their wings with such a sweep, as darkened the sun, and overspread the whole hemis- phere. Just at the close of day, the gales which escorted the spongy treasures retired, and consigned their charge to the disposal of a profound calm. Not a breeze shook the most tremulous leaf : Not a curl ruftled the smooth expansive lake : All things were still, as in attentive expectation. The earth seemed to gasp after the hovering moisture. Natui'e, with her suppliant tribes, in express- ive pleading silence, solicited the falling fruitfulness, nor pleaded long, nor solicited in vain. The showers, gentle, soft and balmy, de- scend. The vessels of heaven unload their precious freight, and enrich the penurious glebe- Through all the night, the liquid sweetness, incomparably more beneficial than trickling silver, distils ; shedding herbs, and * At such a juncture, how pertinent is the question proposed by the Almighty Majesty ? Job xx»viii. 37, 38. Who can number, muster, or arrange the clouds in wisdom, so as to have them ready at hand on any emergency ? And who can empty those bot- tles of heaven, in copious but seasonable cfTusions upon the earth ! when, as in the case described atxivo, the dust of the roads is attenuated into powder, and the clods of the valky are glued fast tugellier ? LETTER VIII. 867 fruits, and flowers, — Now the sun, mild and refulgent, issues through the portals of the east. Pleased, as it were, to have emerged from the late aggravated darkness, he looks abroad with peculiar gaiety and the most en- gaging splendours- He looks through the disburdened air, and finds a gladdened world, that wants nothing but his all-cheering beams, to render its satisfaction complete. The glory comes ! — Hail to thy rising ray, Great lamp of light, and second source of day ! Who robe the world, each nipping gale remove, Treat e\ ery sense, and beam creating love. — KiBKPATRICK. At his auspicious approach, the freshened mountains lift their heads, and smile. The garden opens its aromatic stores and breathes, as from a fuming altar, balm to the smell, and incense to the skies. The little hills, crowned with springing plenty, clap their hands on every side. The moistened plains, and iniguous valleys, "laugh and sing:" While their waters, lately exhausted, again "are made deep, and their rivers run like oil," Ezek. xxxii. 14. The whole earth, saturated with the bounty of heaven, and flushed with humid life, wears a thousand marks.of gratitude and complacency. Washed by the copious rain, how bright and vivid is the universal ver- dure ! The green carpet below may almost vie with the blue canopy above. The forest, and every tree, burnish their colours, and array themselves in their finest apparel ; which, as on a day of general festivity, is delicately decked with gems — gems of un- sullied lustre, and of genial moisture. From every pasture, and from all the grove, the voice of pleasure and of melody resounds ; while the oflScious zephyrs waft the floating harmony, blended with native perfumes — gently waft them to the senses, and touch the very soul with transport. Could there be a more brilliant appear- ance, or more exuberant demonstrations of joy, even to celebrate the anniversary of na- ture's birth ? With what admirable pro- priety has the Psalmist compared yonder orient sun, in all his sparkling grandeur, to a young exulting "bridegroom," Psal. xix. 5, who comes forth, with every heightened or- nament, from his chamber, to show himself in the most distinguished period of his life, and to receive the blessing which consum- mates his happiness ! This most charming and equally ma- jestic scene recalls to my memory that fine description of the Messiah, extant in the last lovely strains of the Israelitish swan :* — He shall be welcome and salutary, "as * Ijrne.Utish Swan — In allusion to those well known lines of the poet, " Multa Dircapum levat aura cygnum." And not without a reference to the popular notion, that the swan sings the most mclcxiious notes in its last moments. " Fuit ha'c facuiidiseuis quasi cygnea vox."— Tun- Y. the light of the morning ; v/hen the sun ariseth," to chase the malignant shades, and pour day through the reviving world. He shall be as the light of a morning that is most serenely fair, without either storms to disturb, or clouds to obscure the glorious, the delightful dawn. Yea, his appearance shall be " more beautiful," and his influence " more beneficial,* than the clear shining" of that grand luminary, after a night of set- tled gloom, and showers of incessant rain ; when his beams shed animating warmth, and vital lustre, on the tender grass impearl- ed with dews, and on all the green treasures of the teeming earth. As we have already contemplated the blessed Jesus under the amiable character of the Just One, the foregoing passage of Scripture represents him to our faith, in the more majestic quality of the Lord of Glory ; or rather unites the two grandrpeculiarities which render him unparalleled in his per- sonal, and all-sufficient in his mediatorial capacity. Great, unspeakably great and glorious, would our Saviour appear, if we had no other manifestations of his excellency, than those which preceded his mysterious incar- nation. In the ancient scriptures, he stands characterised as the supreme object of God's incfffible complacency ; vested with a glory, prior to the birth of time, or the existence of things ; even " the glory which he had with the Father before the world was." John xvii- 5. He is everywhere exhibited as the ultimate desire of all nations, the sole hope of all the ends of the earth, the seed of inestimable and universal importance, in whom all people, natioiis, and languages, should be blessed. In those royal, or ra- ther divine acts and monuments, he is pub- licly recognised as the Ruler of God's peo- ple ; whose dominion is an everlasting do- minion, and his kingdom from generation to generation. And how august, how venera- ble, is this sovereign ! since it was the highest honour of the most eminent saints, and renowned monarchs,"!" to act as harbin- More beautiful, more beneficial, than the clear shining, 2 Sam. xxiii. 4. — Thus we have ventured to translate, or rather to paraphrase the words HiJia. That the prefix often occurs in the acceptation of comparative pre-eminence, is plain from a very re- markable passage in Psalm xix. 10. Where our in- spired author, quite ravished v/ith the love of the sa- cred oracles, declares, " They are desirable beyond gold, even beyond the droppings of the luiney-comb." If this sense is admitted, we shall havea iinc com- parison, and a grand advance upon it; acknowledging the insuihciency even of the str