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A PASTOR'S LEGACY. 
 
• 
 
 PASTOR'S LEGACY 
 
 SERMONS ON PRACTICAL SUBJECTS. 
 
 BY THE LATE 
 
 y 
 
 REV. ERSKINE MASON, D.D., 
 
 PASTOR OF THE BLEBOEER 8TEKET PEESBYTEEIAN" CHCROH, IN THE CITY OF NBW TORE. 
 
 WITH A BRIEF MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR, BY 
 REV. WILLIAM ADAMS, D.D. 
 
 
 .NEW YORK: 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER, 145 NASSAU STREET. 
 1853. 
 
 
8 
 
 oF CONGRESS 
 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by 
 
 CHAELES S K I E In E LI . 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of th? United State? for the Southern District 
 
 of New York. 
 
 Printed by 
 W . BENEDICT 
 201 William Street, 
 
-THESE DISCOURSES 
 
 ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 
 TO 
 
 THE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH AND CONGREGATION 
 IN BLEECKER STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
 FOR WHOSE BENEFIT THEY WERE ORIGINALLY PREPARED 
 
 Bg tg>at fag-tea: 
 
 WHOSE FACE THEY WILL SEE NO MORE, 
 
 BUT WHOSE WORDS 
 
 SPOKEN^. UNTO THEM WHILE HE WAS YET WITH THEM, 
 
 THEY MUST EVER DESIRE TO HOLD 
 
 IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE." 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE, 
 
 The da} 7 before his decease, Dr. Mason expressed the 
 wish that he had selected a few of his discourses, to be 
 bequeathed as a token of affectionate regard for his 
 people. It was then too late for him to undertake the 
 selection. After his death the desire was very generally 
 expressed, and especially by those who had been privi- 
 leged to sit under his ministry, that a permanent form 
 might be given to those thoughts, which had been to so 
 many the source of profit and delight. By some of 
 his professional brethren, it was proposed that his dis- 
 courses should be arranged and published in the form 
 of a System of Divinity. Meanwhile, those who were 
 more immediately interested, were desirous of a less pre- 
 tending volume, containing some of those more practical 
 Sermons, which were still fresh in their remembrance. 
 But who should select them ? and on what principle 
 should they be selected, when all were of such uni- 
 form merit? The feelings of an auditor are not the 
 best criterion of a pulpit performance. The degree of 
 interest felt in one discourse, more than another, may be 
 
Vlll INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 owing to some peculiarity in the bearer's own circum- 
 stances, rather than any extraordinary excellence in the 
 discourse itself. 
 
 The collection of Sermons left by Dr. Mason was large ; 
 and there was no clue to the judgment which their 
 author put upon his own productions, or the principle, 
 according to which, he would have made a selection from 
 them for publication. 
 
 The responsibility of choosing from a thousand manu- 
 scripts, any one of which, for aught that appeared, was nei- 
 ther superior nor inferior to all the rest, was devolved on the 
 liev. Dr. Yan Yechten, of Schenectady, the brother-in-law 
 of Dr. Mason ; and the present volume exhibits the result 
 of his decision. The first Sermon in the collection was the 
 last ever preached by its lamented author, as described 
 in the accompanying Memoir. Full of pathos as were 
 the circumstances in which it was delivered, and as is 
 every sentence which it contains, the reader must not 
 expect to discover in a discourse prepared in the debility 
 of the sick chamber, that march and method of style 
 which characterized the productions of the same author, 
 in the fulness of intellectual and physical strength. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. 
 
 Page 
 
 Death in the Midst of Life . ... 1 
 
 II. 
 
 The Nature and Design of the Crucifixion Scene 15 
 
 nx 
 
 "The Lamb Slain in the Midst of the Throne" 36 
 
 IY. 
 
 Reasons for Embracing the Gospel . . .58 
 
 Y. 
 
 The Guilt of Unbelief 80 
 
 YL 
 Peace in Believing ...... 103 
 
 YII. 
 Peace in Believlng .125 
 
 B 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 YIII. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Supports of Faith amid the Mysteries of Peovi- 
 
 DENCE . . 145 
 
 f 
 
 IX. 
 
 Moses on the Mount 166 
 
 X. 
 
 The Life to Come 186 
 
 XL 
 
 Preparation foe " The Life which is to Come," 
 
 Heaven 206 
 
 XII. 
 The Day of Geace 227 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The !N~atuee of the Atonement . . . .249 
 
 XIY. 
 Extent of toe Atonement .... 2T1 
 
 XY. 
 
 Man Unwilling to be saved .... 294 
 
 XYI. 
 A Stifled Conscience ...... SIT 
 
COXTENTS. XI 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Page 
 
 Resisting- the Spirit 340 
 
 XYIIL 
 
 The Sin against the Holy Ghost . . .363 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Judas Iscahiot ; or, the Consequences of a World- 
 ly Spirit ....... 386 
 
 XX. 
 
 Judas Iscakiot ; os, The Power of Conscience 40? 
 
 XXI. 
 History of Saul 428 
 
 XXH. 
 
 Abused Peiyileges . . . . . .451 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 The life of a Christian minister never can be 
 written. Its incidents may be easily mentioned, 
 for they are few. His parentage, birth, education, 
 conversion, ordination, preaching, illness and death, 
 comprise the whole. The whole? His real life 
 consists not in striking and startling events. When 
 the streams are flushed with the spring-freshet, 
 overflowing the banks and sweeping away the 
 dams and the bridges, the marvel is heralded in 
 every newspaper ; but when the same streams flow 
 quietly along their ordinary channels, making the 
 meadows to smile with verdure, refreshing the roots 
 of the trees and turning the wheels of the mill, 
 they excite no remark, even though their tranquil 
 flow awakens a grateful admiration. Sum up the 
 professional labours of a minister, and give the pro- 
 duct in so many sermons, written and delivered ! 
 
XIV MEMOIR OF THE ATJTHOE. 
 
 As well attempt to gather up the rain, meas- 
 ure and weigh it. A certain amount of water you 
 may show, but what of the moisture which has been 
 absorbed by the tender vegetable, and the leaves 
 of the trees ? The life of a preacher is spent in ad- 
 dressing the intellect and conscience of his fellow- 
 men. Ten, twenty, thirty years has he preached. 
 How many thoughts, in how many minds has he 
 suggested during such a period ! What manifold 
 judgments and purposes, what great hopes and wise 
 fears have had their origin in his own thoughts and 
 words ! What sayings of his have been lodged in 
 men's minds, which have worked in secret about 
 the roots of character! Even while despondent him- 
 self, because so few visible results of his toil are re- 
 vealed, his opinions by insensible degrees are grow- 
 ing into the convictions of others, and his own life 
 is infused into the life * of a whole generation. It 
 is a peculiarity of his position that he touches the 
 life of his people at those points which are the 
 most memorable and important in their existence. 
 He unites them in marriage ; baptizes their children, 
 and buries their dead. He dies, and is soon forgot- 
 ten by the world. The sable drapery which was 
 hung about his pulpit on his funeral day is taken 
 down; his successor is chosen and installed, and 
 the tide of life rolls on as before. But he is not 
 forgotten by all. His life is not all lost and dissi- 
 
MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XV 
 
 pated. As the manners of a father are acted over 
 in his son, and the smile of a mother will brighten 
 again, after she is dead, on the face of her daughter, 
 so will the sentiments of a minister "be transmitted 
 after his ministry is closed, his words be repeat- 
 ed after he has ceased to speak, and all his hopes 
 and wishes live again in other hearts, long af- 
 ter his own beats no more. His biography will 
 not be finished nor disclosed till that day when the 
 secrets of all hearts shall be revealed ; and the seals 
 of his ministry will be set, like stars in the firmament 
 for ever and ever. To accommodate to a Christian 
 minister, the language employed by Mr. Coleridge, 
 in reference to Bell, the founder of schools: — 
 " Would I frame to myself the most inspirating re- 
 presentation of future bliss, which my mind is ca- 
 pable of comprehending, it would be embodied to 
 me in the idea of such an one receiving at some 
 distant period, the appropriate reward of his earthly 
 labors, when thousands of glorified spirits, whose 
 reason and conscience had, through his efforts, been 
 unfolded, shall sing the song of their own redemp- 
 tion, and pouring forth praise to God and to their 
 Saviour, shall repeat his 'new name' in heaven, 
 give thanks for his earthly virtues, as the chosen 
 instrument of divine mercy to themselves, and not 
 seldom, perhaps, turning their eyes toward Mm, as 
 from the sun to its image in the fountain, with 
 
XVI MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 secondary gratitude and the permitted utterance of 
 a human love." 
 
 There is a wide difference between a Pastor and 
 an Evangelist. To affirm that the latter is never 
 needed and never useful, would be to doubt the 
 truth of the Scriptures and scoff at the Providence 
 of God. The writings of George Herbert prove 
 how early and how deeply imbedded in the Eng- 
 lish mind, was that conception of the sacred office 
 which is embodied in the idea of one teacher minis- 
 tering to one people ; a relation well described by 
 that significant word Pastor, obviously borrowed 
 from the employment of a shepherd feeding his flock. 
 It was one of the very earliest of English bards, the 
 father of English poetry, who wrote that descrip- 
 tion of a Parish Priest. 
 
 " Yet has his aspect nothing of severe, 
 But such his face as promised him sincere ; 
 Nothing reserved or sullen was to see, 
 But sweet regard and pleasing sanctity. 
 Mild was his accent, and his action free, 
 With eloquence innate his tongue was arm'd, 
 Though harsh the precept, yet the preacher charm 'd ; 
 For letting down the golden chain from high, 
 He drew his audience upwards to the sky. 
 He taught the gospel rather than the law, 
 And forc'd himself to drive, but lov'd to draw. 
 The tithes his parish freely paid he took, 
 But never sued or curs'd with bell and book. 
 Wide was his parish, nor contracted close 
 
MEMOIK OF THE AUTHOK. XV11 
 
 In streets ; but here and there a straggling house. J 
 
 Yet still he was at hand without request, 
 
 To serve the sick and succour the distress'd ; 
 
 The proud he tamed, the penitent he cheer'd, 
 
 Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd. 
 
 His preaching much, but more his practice wrought, 
 
 A living sermon of the truths he^taught." — Chaucer. 
 
 That confidence which is born of intimate ac- 
 quaintance, familiar intercourse, and friendly sym- 
 pathy, contributes more to ministerial influence 
 than the meteoric display of occasional eloquence. 
 " A stranger will they not follow." But it was of 
 quite another thing that I intended to speak when 
 comparing the life of a pastor and evangelist. The 
 latter visits a city for the first time, and preaches 
 with a frequency and power which excite amaze- 
 ment. The secular press heralds it as little short 
 of miraculous that a mortal should be able with no 
 apparent exhaustion, day after day, and night after 
 night, to address changing crowds. The truth is 
 that such an one is leading a life of intellectual 
 recreation. He repeats the same discourses over 
 and over again in the course of his itinerancy, till 
 they are as familiar to his memory, and facile to 
 his utterance as the letters of the alphabet, and he 
 has grown expert in every expression, gesture and 
 intonation. It was the testimony of David Garrick 
 that the sermons of "Whitfield, as specimens of ora- 
 torical art, never reached their fullest power till 
 
XV1U MEMOIE OF THE AUTHOK. 
 
 the fiftieth repetition. What, for intellectual expen- 
 diture is such a career compared with the life of a 
 pastor, preaching to the same congregation two or 
 three times a week, month after month, year after 
 year, with increasing interest, profit and power ! 
 The late Mr. Sargeant of Philadelphia, after delight- 
 ing an audience with a lecture on some moral topic, 
 declared to a friend that, for the labour involved, 
 he w r ould prefer to speak at the bar, six times in 
 a week, on cases made to his hand, in the ordinary 
 course of his profession, than prepare one popular 
 lecture on any point on the philosojDhy of law, 
 once in a month. To the latter the weekly prepa- 
 rations of a minister are the most analogous, yet 
 how few, among the most intelligent, pause to re- 
 flect what is implied in the intellectual labours of 
 a pastor like the subject of this memoir, protracted 
 through twenty years, in connexion with the same 
 congregation, with ever-increasing freshness, no- 
 velty and delight. 
 
 After all, what a poor exponent of a minister's 
 influence is a volume of his sermons ! However 
 elaborate their construction, and finished their 
 style, they are but the residuum of a sparkling 
 cup. Those who read what once they lieard, inva- 
 riably confess to a feeling of disappointment, and 
 can with difficulty be persuaded that the sentences 
 over which their eye passes so languidly, on the 
 
MEMOIK OF THE AUTHOE. XIX 
 
 printed page, are the very same which, upon their 
 delivery from the pulpit, fresh from the heart and 
 lips of their author, were as a chariot of fire to the 
 devout auditor. The truth is, there is a keeping 
 "between the thinking and the speaking of a 
 preacher. His manner may violate all the rules of 
 his art ; nevertheless, it is Ms own, and no other 
 can serve so well for the expression of himself. 
 It is Ms emphasis and Ms intonation, Ms pause and 
 Ms look, which alone can give the full and just 
 expression of his own meaning. Think of a ser- 
 mon of Leighton, its delicacy of sentiment shading 
 off into pure spirituality, delivered by a Boanerges ; 
 or a discourse of South, repeated tamely by an- 
 other, without the author's own burning eye, sharp 
 voice, and stabbing finger. 
 
 One advantage, indeed, they may have, who 
 reading the discourses of their pastor, but recently 
 deceased, retain a distinct impression of his form, 
 face and manner, seeming to hear the voice which 
 stirred their hearts when he was living. This^ 
 however, is but a shadowy resemblance of a once 
 living reality, gone never to be renewed. "In 
 fact, every attempt to present on paper the splendid 
 effects of impassioned eloquence, is like gathering 
 up dew-drops, which appear jewels and pearls on 
 the grass, but run to water in the hand; the 
 
XX MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOE. 
 
 essence and the elements remain, but the grace 
 the sparkle and the form are gone." * 
 
 Notwithstanding all these disadvantages, we have 
 collected here some of the sermons of a distin- 
 guished preacher, in the form of a Pastor's Legacy ; 
 and before their author's form has mouldered away 
 to ashes, the trembling hand of friendship would 
 draw down the covering from the face of the dead, 
 and try to sketch his features, for the recognition 
 of those who knew him. 
 
 Eeskine Mason was born in the city of New 
 York, 16th April, 1805. He was the youngest 
 child of Rev. John M. Mason, D. D., whose fame as 
 a preacher is known on both continents. His 
 mother, Mrs. Anna L. Mason, was the grand- 
 daughter of Derick Lefferts, Esq., a prominent 
 and affluent merchant of New York, with whom she 
 resided, her father having died in her infancy. Mrs. 
 Mason was admired from her youth for grace of 
 manners, intelligence of mind, excellent discretion, 
 and cheerful piety. 
 
 Singularly fortunate in his ancestry, the subject 
 of this memoir had for his paternal grandfather, 
 Rev. John Mason, D. D., distinguished alike for his 
 scholarship and eloquence. Born in the vicinity 
 of Edinburgh, Scotland, receiving a thorough class- 
 ical education, competent to write and speak the 
 
 * James Montgomery, on Summerfield. 
 
MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXI 
 
 Latin language, in his day the language of the 
 lecture-room and of scholars, he was invited to the 
 pastoral charge of the Scotch Presbyterian church 
 in this city, at that time in Cedar-street. In that 
 pulpit he continued to preach, till his son, Kev. 
 John M. Mason, D. D., became his successor. De- 
 scended from an ancestry so illustrious, we may 
 apply to the subject of this memoir the words 
 which Horace first addressed to Maecenas : 
 
 " atavis edite regibus ;" 
 
 and he followed them with no Iulian steps. Er- 
 skine received his name as a tribute of the grateful 
 respect entertained by his father for the late Kev. 
 Dr. John Erskine of Edinburgh, from whom he had 
 received many expresssions of kindness while prose- 
 cuting his own theological studies in that city, 
 near the close of the last century. The object 
 of his father's indulgent and hopeful regard, " ten- 
 der and beloved in the sight of his mother, 1 ' this 
 youngest of a numerous family of children, dis- 
 played in his boyhood more than common intelli- 
 gence and spirit, which, being accompanied with no 
 special love for study, or effort at sedateness, was 
 the occasion of no small anxiety to his religious 
 parents. In the twelfth year of his age he was 
 removed from home to the family of his brother- 
 in-law, Eev. Dr. Van Vechten, of Schenectady, and 
 
XX11 MEMOIR OF THE ATJTHOE. 
 
 joined the school of Bev. Mr. Barnes. Dr. John- 
 son has very justly said, "Not to mention the 
 school or master of distinguished men, is a kind of 
 historical fraud, by which honest fame is injuriously 
 diminished." The life of Mr. Barnes needed not 
 its tragic end (he was killed by the upsetting of a 
 stage-coach, the day after he had preached on the 
 uncertainty of life) to make his name memorable. 
 The act of entering the school of this judicious 
 teacher, in company with his own brother, James, 
 always correct, high-minded and sedate, was the 
 happy crisis in the life of Erskine, when he awoke 
 to sober reflection and earnest purposes, like the 
 visit of Sir Thomas Buxton to the family of the 
 Gurney's, at Earlham Park. 
 
 In consequence of impaired health, Dr. John M. 
 Mason was constrained to exchange the pastoral 
 office in this city for the Presidency of Dickinson 
 College, at Carlisle, in Pennsylvania. Hither 
 Erskine accompanied his father, and was entered a 
 member of the College, in the fourteenth year of 
 his age. 
 
 And here I avail myself of the pen of Kev. Dr. 
 Knox, senior pastor of the Beformed Dutch church 
 of this city, the son-in-law of Dr. John M. Mason, 
 who, in a discourse on the death of Bev. William 
 Cahoone, some three years ago, expresses himself 
 as follows: 
 
MEMOIR OF THE ATJTHOK. XX111 
 
 " A large number of choice young men of this 
 city and its vicinity, attracted by their regard for 
 the venerable President, and the faculty he had 
 gathered around him, followed Dr. Mason to Car- 
 lisle, and became members of the College. In the 
 autumn of 1822, a son of the President, James 
 Hall Ma-son, a youth of singular purity and eleva- 
 tion of character, eminent promise and greatly be- 
 loved, having just received his degree, and with 
 the ministry in view, after a violent and brief illness, 
 was taken away by death. The event produced a 
 solemn and profound impression throughout the 
 College. The heart-stricken father, who had a 
 short time before parted with a beloved daughter, 
 sat as one astonished. Clouds and darkness were 
 round about the throne. The explanation was not 
 yet. "When the bier on which lay the body of his 
 deceased son was taken up by his young compan- 
 ions, to be conveyed to the grave, as by involun- 
 tary and uncontrollable impulse, he spake, ' Softly, 
 young men, tread softly, ye carry a temple of the 
 Holy Ghost !' 
 
 u This dark and bereaving dispensation, in the 
 wonder-working providence of God, was made the 
 occasion and commencement of a work of grace, 
 the extent and results of which eternity alone will 
 be able to disclose. Of the students who then 
 experienced a change of heart, and subsequently 
 
XXIV MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 devoted themselves to the ministry of Christ, a 
 majority being of the senior class, I have been 
 able to re call the names of fifteen ; among them 
 many familiar to us all, such as Mr. Cahoone, 
 Dr. Bethune of Philadelphia, Dr. Erskine Ma- 
 son of this city, Dr. Morris of Baltimore, Bishop 
 M'Coskry of Michigan, Messrs. Labagh of Long 
 Island, Boice of Claverack, and others, with no less 
 fidelity and usefulness occupying different and im- 
 portant stations in the church. In addition to these, 
 and of the same class with a majority of them, six 
 young men are recollected, who were members of 
 the church previous to the revival, but who proba- 
 bly were more or less influenced during that scene, 
 in devoting themselves to the ministry. These 
 were President Young of Kentucky, Prof. Agnew 
 of Michigan, Mr. Holmes, Missionary among the 
 Chickasaws, Kev. Messrs. Whitehead and Vancleef 
 of our church, and Kev. Mr. Williams, formerly of 
 Salem, K Y." 
 
 " Connected with this revival are various remark- 
 able circumstances. It furnishes a chapter in God's 
 gracious providence, which deserves to be had in 
 admiring and grateful remembrance." 
 
 " In its origin it was remarkable. It was as life 
 from the dead. That which, to all human view, 
 seemed to abstract from the anticipated services of 
 the church, and to depress the hearts of the godly, 
 
ME3I0IR OF THE AUTHOE. XXV 
 
 in the early translation of a youth, of high and 
 holy promise, became the occasion in the dispensa- 
 tions of Him who worketk all things according 
 to the counsels of his own will, of quickening many 
 souls, and sending into the vineyard of our Lord a 
 band of faithful labourers, who have sustained the 
 heat and burden of the day." 
 
 " The work was remarkable in the fact, that 
 although previously many of its subjects were 
 very inconsiderate and heedless of their obliga- 
 tions, and were the objects of great solicitude, 
 those at least to whom we have referred as having 
 been called to the ministry were, every one of 
 them, from the bosom of Christian families, care- 
 fully trained in the knowledge of divine things — 
 sons on whose behalf prayer to God had ascended 
 day by day continually." 
 
 " Remarkable, in the fact, that, of so large a num- 
 ber brought into the church at the same time, 
 under all the excitement of such a scene, all have 
 maintained their integrity, not one has fallen, or 
 faltered, or backslidden. All have been useful, 
 many of them eminently so." 
 
 " Eemarkable, in the additional fact, that after 
 the lapse of more than a quarter of a century, this 
 hallowed band has now with a single exception, for 
 the first time, so far as I have been able to ascer- 
 tain, been invaded by death. "With this exception 
 c 
 
XXVI MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOE. 
 
 our brother Cahoone is the first of them all to be 
 released from his labours, and taken to his recom- 
 pense." 
 
 Graduating in 1823 Erskine Mason spent a con- 
 siderable part of the next year with his cousin, 
 the late Eev. Dr. Duncan, of Baltimore, prosecuting 
 his studies under the direction of that distinguished 
 preacher. In the summer session of 1825 he re- 
 sorted to Princeton, and connected himself with 
 the middle class of the Theological Seminary in 
 that place, where he completed his professional 
 education. 
 
 On the 20th October, 1826, he was ordained in 
 the Scotch Presbyterian church in Cedar Street, 
 by the second Presbytery of New- York, and in 
 the next year was installed over the Presbyterian 
 Church of Schenectady. 
 
 On the 26th September, 1827, he was married 
 by his father to Miss Mary McCoskry, daughter of 
 Dr. Samuel A. McCoskry, and granddaughter of 
 the celebrated Dr. Charles Nesbit, President of 
 Dickinson College. Mrs. Mason survives her hus- 
 band with three daughters and one son, all of suf- 
 ficiently mature age to sympathize with their 
 widowed mother in their common bereavement. 
 
 Converted by the grace of God, educated for 
 the Christian ministry, inducted into the sacred 
 office, the true life of Dr. Mason now begins. With 
 
MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOE. XXV11 
 
 the highest models of pulpit eloquence before him, 
 in his own father and grandfather ; deeply im- 
 pressed with the sanctities and responsibilities of 
 his profession, he appears from the very first to 
 have proposed to himself no common-place medi- 
 ocrity in his pulpit preparations, but eminence of 
 the highest order. Though he was but twenty-one 
 years of age at the time of his ordination, he in- 
 tended that no one should " despise his youth ;" 
 and that no measure of toil should be withheld 
 which was necessary to prevent him as a " work- 
 man " from being " ashamed." In a striking pas- 
 sage in one of the Greek tragedies, a character is 
 introduced expressing great surprise, that, amidst 
 all the inventions and attainments of human science 
 and art, there should be found so few to cultivate 
 that art of persuasion which is the mistress of hu- 
 man volition, and so the helm of human affairs. 
 The pastor of an educated and intellectual congre- 
 gation, — the faculty and students of Union College 
 attending on his ministry, Dr. Mason neglected not 
 that undervalued art of conviction, but addressed 
 himself to the understanding of his hearers with a 
 clearness of conception and a depth of thought, 
 which, in the language of the venerable Dr. N"ott, 
 " appeared wonderful in so young a man." " His 
 power," such is the continued testimony of this dis- 
 tinguished witness, " was chiefly felt in the pulpit. 
 
XXV111 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 He appeared to Ibe conscious that his mission was 
 to preach the gospel ; and in the performance of 
 that duty he excelled. He was greatly beloved by 
 his people, highly esteemed by the citizens gene- 
 rally, and his removal from the place was regretted 
 by all, and by none more than by the officers and 
 members of Union College." 
 
 The Bleecker Street Presbyterian Church, in 
 New- York, gathered by the persevering labours of 
 Kev. Matthias Bruen, was early called to weep over 
 the remains of their accomplished pastor, who died 
 on the 6th December, 1829, in the thirty-seventh 
 year of his age. To the pastoral office of this church 
 Dr. Mason was unanimously invited ; and to this new 
 field was he transferred September 10th, 1830, with 
 the experience of but three years in his profession ; 
 and to this people, though often invited elsewhere, 
 did he devote his best services, for more than twenty 
 years, to the close of his life. At the time of his settle- 
 ment over that people, the Bleecker St. Church was 
 quite above the centre of the city population ; that 
 tide of removal and growth which has since made 
 such prodigious advances, scarcely having com- 
 menced. An "up-town church," however, afforded 
 accommodations and attractions to those who soon 
 began to change their residence, and such was the 
 ability displayed by the pastor in Bleecker Street, 
 that it was not long before that church was en- 
 
MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXIX 
 
 tirely filled ; and, for many years after, it occu- 
 pied a position which gave it pre-eminent advan- 
 tages over all other churches of the same de- 
 nomination in the city. Nothing of opportunity 
 was lacking on the one part, and nothing of talent, 
 diligence, and success on the other. The congre- 
 gations were large and intelligent, and every thing 
 encouraged that purpose which the pastor had 
 formed to devote himself to the one thing of a 
 studious, careful, and excellent preparation for the 
 pulpit. Others might [ grasp at a different prize, 
 and select a different path, but the composition and 
 delivery of good sermons was the object for which 
 his taste, talent, and judgment of usefulness best 
 qualified him. From that occupation he never suf- 
 fered himself to be diverted. There are many 
 extemporaneous sermons written out in full. With 
 Dr. Mason, the composition of a discourse was 
 never postponed to some anticipated uncertainty 
 of favourable feeling, or to the last pressure of 
 inevitable necessity. Before he had lost the im- 
 pulse of one Sabbath he had begun the preparation 
 for another. It was his deliberate judgment, that 
 a minister, special cases only excepted, could serve 
 his people the best, after preaching twice in the 
 day, to pass the evening of the Sabbath at his own 
 home ; and seldom did he retire that night without 
 having decided upon the topic which was to be 
 
XXX MEMOIK OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 the subject of study and preparation throughout 
 the week. Thus he never lost the headway he 
 had gained ; neither weary himself, nor waste time 
 in searching for subjects, or waiting for them 
 " to come to him," as the phrase is which describes 
 the suggestion of topics by accidental association. 
 Adhering to the counsel of our great dramatist, 
 
 " Stick to your journal course : the breach of custom 
 Is breach of all," 
 
 he has left a thousand sermons, (of their intel- 
 lectual and theological excellencies I shall speak 
 hereafter,) written entire in the perfection of pen- 
 manship, as the proofs of the wise and faithful 
 manner in which he occupied the pulpit. 
 
 In versatility of talent he may have been ex- 
 celled by others. The richest banker who can 
 draw the largest check does not always carry 
 about with him the greatest amount of small coin. 
 Warmly social in his temperament, Dr. Mason was 
 never garrulous ; and that false idea of pastoral 
 duty which many seem to cherish, requiring the 
 consumption of one's chief time in going from house 
 to house, and conversing in the ordinary chit-chat 
 of trifles, he utterly discarded. Because of this 
 was he deficient as a pastor ? "Who of his people 
 ever knew a substantial sorrow or necessity without 
 his presence and aid ? Did Age ever complain of 
 
MEMOIR OF THE ATJTHOE. XXXI 
 
 disrespect, or Grief of his want of sympathy, or 
 Suffering that he refused a "balm? While the 
 pulpit was the throne of his strength, who could 
 speak, out of it, more wisely than he ? If he some- 
 times appeared to be taciturn, who shall forget that 
 silence, in its place, is wisdom as well as speech ; that 
 modesty is a beautiful property of greatness, and 
 that he talks to the best purpose, who says the right 
 thing at the right time, and in the right manner ? 
 How often has ministerial usefulness been impaired 
 by folly and frivolity of speech. What Dr. Johnson 
 has said of an author's book is equally true of a 
 preacher's public office. " The transition from it 
 to his conversation, is too often like an entrance 
 into a large city after a distant prospect. Re- 
 motely we see nothing but spires of temples and 
 turrets of palaces, and imagine it the residence of 
 splendour, grandeur and magnificence ; but when 
 we have passed the gates we find it perplexed with 
 narrow passages, disgraced with despicable cot- 
 tages, embarrassed with obstructions, and clouded 
 with smoke." No one, after being impressed with 
 the dignity of Dr. Mason in the pulpit, lost that 
 impression when meeting him in the familiarities 
 of private life. It was said of some one whose in- 
 felicities and imprudencies of manner and conver- 
 sation were equalled only by his extraordinary 
 endowments as a preacher, "that when in the pul- 
 
XXX11 MEM0IE OF THE AUTHOE. 
 
 pit one might wish that he was never out of it ; but 
 when out of it one could wish that he should never 
 be in it." Confidence in the soundness of his judg- 
 ment, the integrity of his motives, and the sincerity 
 of his piety, is the secret of a preacher's success ; let 
 that confidence be shaken by one act of folly, and 
 the rod of his strength is broken. It were well if 
 every preacher of the gospel should bear in mind 
 the last sentiment of the following allegory, by one 
 of the oldest poets in our language. 
 
 "Upon a time, Eeputation, Love, and Death 
 Would travel o'er the world : and 'twas concluded 
 That they should part, and take their several ways. 
 Death told them they would find him in great battles, 
 Or cities plagued with plagues : Love gives them counsel 
 T' enquire for him 'mongst unambitious shepherds 
 Where dowries were not talked of : and sometimes 
 'Mongst quiet kindred that had nothing left 
 By their dead parents. Stay, quoth Reputation^ 
 If once I part from any man I meet 
 I am never found again"* 
 
 The discourses of Dr. Mason advertise their own 
 quality. Those which compose this volume are in 
 no respect superior to hundreds more from the same 
 pen. Their first excellence is that they are deci- 
 dedly scriptural and evangelical. A French 
 preacher of the reign of Louis XIV, in a sermon 
 to his brother monks, in which he bewails their 
 
 * Webster, 1610. 
 
MEMOIB OF THE AUTHOE. XXXU1 
 
 criminal neglect of tlie fundamental doctrines of 
 the gospel, makes this candid confession : " We are 
 worse than Judas ; he sold and delivered his Mas- 
 ter: we sell him, but deliver him not.*" In the 
 preaching of Dr. Mason was no such defect as that 
 referred to in this tremendous satire. He was a 
 Christian preacher ; and in his eye all truth ar- 
 ranged itself around the cross of Christ, compared 
 with which, the world beside, is, as Leighton well 
 expresses it, one " grand hnpertinency." I know not 
 how to describe what he was in this regard, so 
 well as in the use of his own words when describ- 
 ing what a minister should be. In a discourse 
 preached by him at Newburgh, October, 1838, be- 
 fore the Synod of New York, of which, in his 33d 
 year, he was then Moderator, which discourse was, 
 by the request of his brethren subsequently printed, 
 entitled "The Subject and Spirit of the Ministry," 
 he employs the following language. I am led to 
 extract largely from this discourse, for the benefit 
 of those who would know the character of its au- 
 thor, for it seems to be a daguerreotype likeness 
 of himself. 
 
 " By the gospel of Christ, as an instrument of 
 human conversion, I suppose we are to understand 
 all those principles which cluster around the doc- 
 trine of vicarious atonement as their common cen- 
 tre ; the lost, ruined, helpless condition of man as 
 
XXXIV MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOB. 
 
 a sinner, the provision which the grace of God has 
 made for him, involving the nature, character, the 
 righteousness even unto death of Jesus Christ 
 as the ground of pardon ; the regenerating and 
 sanctifying influences of the Holy Spirit, and 
 the promises of good, as well as threatenings of 
 evil, which have been sealed in atoning blood. 
 These, and their correlative truths, usually com- 
 prised under the general term of gospel, constitute 
 the exhibition to us of those great facts, in view of 
 which we are brought into the kingdom of God, 
 and prepared for eternal glory. They all give rise 
 to, spring from, or serve to illustrate the sufferings 
 of the Son of God. You cannot find a single doc- 
 trinal statement in the New Testament which does 
 not carry you directly to the cross, or for the ex- 
 planation of which you must not go to that cross. 
 You cannot find a single motive, nor a single expla- 
 nation, nor a single offer, nor a single warning, nor 
 a single appeal, to which the cross of Christ does 
 not give meaning and power — that is the radiating 
 point of light and heat to the whole system. Blot 
 out from the gospel the doctrine of Christ's vicari- 
 ous atonement, and you rob it of all its vitality ; 
 and it remains to be seen what you have left, be- 
 yond the frigid influence of infidelity, or what 
 effectiveness your teachings carry along with them 
 to correct the evils of the human heart, to give 
 
MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXXV 
 
 peace to the human conscience, or to make man 
 like his God. 
 
 " It is evident, if what I have advanced is true, 
 that the power of the gospel lies in the facts them- 
 selves, which it discloses. It is by bringing them 
 into contact with the human mind that you secure 
 the results of the gospel ; and whatever you may 
 do, however ingeniously you may argue, however 
 earnestly you may labour, however impassioned 
 may be your appeals ; you argue, and labour, and 
 appeal in vain, so long as the great facts of the 
 gospel system are not brought to tell with power 
 upon the conscience and the heart. There is such 
 a thing as speculating about the gospel, taking up 
 its principles as mere themes of philosophical 
 investigation ; approaching it and handling it as a 
 mere theory, which passes sometimes under the 
 name of preaching the gospel, which is, after all, 
 nothing more than exhibiting one's own philoso- 
 phy ; and which, placing that philosophy in the 
 front ground before the human mind, conceals the 
 great facts of the revelation of God ; and is, there- 
 fore, not only without beneficial result, but pre- 
 vents those facts from producing their designed 
 effect, standing, as it does, between the mind and 
 their perception. 
 
 " I do not mean, by this remark, to cast odium 
 upon what is called the philosophy of Christianity, 
 
XXXVI MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOE. 
 
 nor to rebuke as wroDg all inquiries into the mode 
 of the truth's operation, and the best methods of 
 presenting the facts of the gospel. Every minister 
 of Jesus Christ must be a Christian philosopher, if 
 he would be { $ workman, that needeth not to he 
 ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth;' 1 he 
 must be one, if he would remove the obstacles 
 which a false philosophy has interposed to the in- 
 fluence of the truth ; he must be one, if he would 
 work a way for the truth through the varied and 
 almost endlessly diversified windings of the human 
 bosom, and find for it a lodgement in the human 
 mind ; and he who cannot be one, is unfit for the 
 office which he exercises. 
 
 " And this, what I call the philosophy of Chris- 
 tianity, presents a legitimate field for the exercise 
 of the human mind. There may be diversities 
 here in the remits at which different minds may 
 arrive ; but so long as the facts themselves of the 
 gospel are brought out to view in all their distinct- 
 ness, the pow T er of the gospel remains, since that 
 power is found not in the philosophy of those facts, 
 but in the facts themselves. "When I speak of, and 
 condemn speculations about the gospel, I refer to all 
 attempts to philosophize away its facts, or to those 
 laborious arguments which give the mind nothing 
 but philosophy: which make the rationale, if I 
 may so speak, the main thing, and truth second- 
 
MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXXV11 
 
 ary ; which may teach men to reason but not to be- 
 lieve ; which may show them how they ought to 
 be convinced, but never convict them ; how they 
 ought to repent, but present them nothing in view 
 of which to repent : in fine, which make philoso- 
 phers, or rather sciolists in philosophy, sometimes ; 
 but Christians, never. Let a man philosophize as 
 much as he pleases ; but against two things let him 
 be on his guard — philosophizing away the facts of 
 the gospel, and bringing his philosophy with him 
 into the pulpit. He may use it to guide him in his 
 exhibition of truth ; he may use it in giving shape 
 to his argument, place to his exhortations, and time 
 to his appeals ; but let him never use it as itself, an 
 instrument for the accomplishment of saving results. 
 A minister of Christ may in his study be a philos- 
 opher always ; in his pulpit, never. 
 
 " No man can be truly said to preach Christ, who 
 is not himself personally interested in his theme. I 
 know that the words of the gospel may be uttered 
 — and the arguments of the gospel may be advanced 
 — and the consciences of men may be plied with the 
 claims and appeals of the gospel. It may be all done 
 with eloquence of diction, and grace of utterance ; 
 it may disclose the workings of a powerful genius, 
 and constrain men to do homage to the might of in- 
 tellect ; but there is no preaching of the gospel. The 
 science of experience, and the language consecrated 
 
XXXV111 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOE. 
 
 to it, may "be mastered ; but the gospel will not be 
 preached. ISTo man can preach who does not himself 
 perceive the glory of Christ, and know the precious- 
 ness of Christ. Spiritual knowledge, spiritual feeling, 
 and the powerful impulse which is derived from prin- 
 ciple alone, are essential requisites to a preacher. 
 Without them there may be fire, but it will be false ; 
 there may be an unction, but it will be spurious. 
 Under ministrations however clear, however power- 
 ful, as exhibitions of intellect, yet unbaptized with 
 the spirit of Christ, not a cord will be touched, not 
 a heart will be moved. Give a man what you 
 please, in point of genius, learning, eloquence, he 
 wants more to make him a preacher — he wants that 
 genius enlightened, that learning directed, and those 
 lips of eloquence touched by the spirit of his mas- 
 ter. Let him but be gifted with a spiritual discern- 
 ment, and the change is amazing. New treasures 
 of every kind will be disclosed ; floods of sublime 
 emotion, fields of brilliant imagery, and super-hu- 
 man power of persuasiveness. It is not eloquence, 
 in the proper sense of that term, that constitutes 
 the rod of the ministry ; it is the tone of their feel- 
 ing, the holy unction of their utterance ; and this is 
 the result of the impressions of the gospel upon their 
 own souls. This is, in fact, the ground-work of all 
 excellence ; the first, the chief element of all pas- 
 toral competency ; and when we read this remark- 
 
MEMOES OF THE AUTHOE. XXXIX 
 
 able resolution of the Apostles, ' We will give our- 
 selves continually to prayer] we seem to have reach- 
 ed the secret of their soul prosperity, their preach- 
 ing eminence, their wonderful success. They preach- 
 ed the gospel, because they felt the gospel. God 
 was with them, as they were with God. 
 
 " Oh ! if I am right in my supposition as to the 
 requisites of a herald of the cross ; if a man must 
 possess the spirit of Christ in order to preach Christ ; 
 is there not room for the inquiry, whether we do 
 indeed preach Christ ? and if the spirit of our office 
 is gone, no wonder that its results are absent also. 
 
 " The spirit of the ministry is a spirit of self-re- 
 nunciation, c We preach not ourselves.'' In the state- 
 ment of this general principle, and in its truth, we 
 shall all agree, while it is possible that through the 
 deceitfulness of our hearts we may be blind to our 
 constant contradiction of it. It is not only when 
 our aim in our office is the promotion of private 
 interest, that we do preach ourselves. We may 
 pour our severest censures upon the man who would 
 say, l Put me into one of the priests' offices, that I may 
 eat apiece of bread] or give vent to a burst of holy 
 indignation against him who uses his office for the 
 purposes of earthly emolument, while at the same 
 time we may be involved in the same condemnation 
 with himself. 
 
 " We may preach ourselves, when we are as far 
 
Xl MEMOIR OIT THE AUTHOR. 
 
 removed as possible from the influence of mere pe- 
 cuniary considerations. There are temptations of 
 an intellectual kind, the dangers of which must be 
 seen to be many and powerful by every man who 
 knows any thing of his own heart. They exist in 
 proportion to the greatness or splendor of endow- 
 ments which God has bestowed upon him who ex- 
 ercises the ministerial office. L An eloquent man, and 
 mighty in the Scriptures] may be above the grati- 
 fication which thousands and tens of thousands of 
 silver and gold would bestow ; and yet he may 
 preach himself, by aiming at the applause of his' 
 listening auditory. It is always so with him who 
 is more concerned about the impression he makes 
 upon the minds of his hearers as to the character 
 of his exhibitions of truth, than about the impres- 
 sion he makes upon their minds respecting Christ. 
 Though a man may understand the gospel, he may 
 conceal its glorious object behind the display of his 
 own powers ; and he may use that object, as it may 
 serve to fix the attention of men more firmly and 
 exclusively upon himself. He holds up the pole, 
 but the brazen serpent is invisible ; and so charms 
 the ears with the sound of the silver trumpets, as 
 to make the people forget the jubilee they are in- 
 tended to proclaim. Such a man preaches himself, 
 not Christ Jesus the Lord." 
 
 Little danger was there that a man holding such 
 
MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOPw. xll 
 
 sentiments as these would ever prostitute the pul- 
 pit to purposes of mere rhetorical display or intel- 
 lectual entertainment. The cross of Christ being 
 his theme, there was no imitation of that cardinal 
 fault of a celebrated painter who, in a picture of 
 the Lord's Supper, has made the gold and the sil- 
 ver vessels so large, magnificent and brilliant as to 
 divert the eye of the spectator from the main sub- 
 ject of the piece. He had no ambition to select 
 pearls and diamonds when plainer materials would 
 serve his purpose better. His characteristics were 
 clearness, precision and force. Convinced himself, 
 he sought to convince others. Relying on God, he 
 believed that the truth was capable of being so ex- 
 hibited as to commend itself to every man's con- 
 science. Studying that truth himself, and feeling 
 its adaptation to his own intellect and heart, 
 his presentations of truth always had the freshness 
 of originality without the least suspicion of that 
 ambition and affectation which often passes by that 
 name. His preaching was argumentative and log- 
 ical. Commencing with some obvious truth, which 
 all would admit, he advanced step by step, carry- 
 ing one conviction after another, by a process of 
 demonstration which would admit of no escape till 
 he reached that conclusion, in the application of 
 which he poured out the fullness and fervor of his 
 religious pathos. A distinguished civilian, skilled 
 
xlii MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOE. 
 
 in diplomacy, and an adept in letters, invited once 
 by a friend, a parishioner of Dr. Mason, to hear 
 hirn preach, sat in the corner of the pew, at first 
 somewhat listless, then alert, and following the ar- 
 gument with intense interest, till his countenance 
 betrayed the emotion which was working in his 
 heart, exclaimed on leaving the church, " Well, I 
 know not what you who are accustomed to this 
 may think; as for myself, I never heard such 
 preaching before. As Lord Peterborough said to 
 Fenelon at Cambray, ' If I stay here longer, I shall 
 become a Christian in spite of myself.' " 
 
 "We can always judge of a minister's heart by his 
 public prayers. He who exhibits no feeling in his 
 addresses to God, and wakes to fervour only as he 
 addresses his fellow-men, cannot have much of the 
 vitality of religion. The devotional exercises of 
 Dr. Mason, marked alike by dignity and fervour, 
 correct expression and strong emotion, were proof 
 in themselves that the object of his ministry was 
 to preach not himself but Christ Jesus, and that 
 the grand purpose of his heart was co-incident 
 with that avowed by the great Apostle in these 
 memorable words : " Whom we preach, warning 
 every man and teaching every man in all wis- 
 dom; that we may present every man perfect 
 in Christ Jesus, whereunto I also labour, striving 
 according to his working, which worketh in me 
 
MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOE. xlili 
 
 mightily." A serious-minded, earnest man, who 
 believed the truth, and loved the souls of his 
 people, he could not be persuaded to any trivial 
 topic, nor imitate the cruelty of the Roman emperor, 
 who, in a time of famine, imported costly sands 
 for his amphitheatres, instead of bread for his starv- 
 ing subjects. 
 
 A Presbyterian by birth, education and prefer- 
 ence, Dr. Mason was too good and great a man to 
 be a bigot. Many of his relatives and intimate 
 friends were members of other communions. His 
 brother-in-law is Bishop McCoskry, of Michigan. 
 Kind and catholic, he was, nevertheless, decided, 
 intelligent and consistent in his preferences for 
 that church to which he was attached. No man 
 was better acquainted with its history, polity and 
 order ; as no man, of his age, had greater weight 
 in its counsels. Eventful has that period been, in 
 which he was personally connected as a minister, 
 with the Presbyterian church in the United States. 
 Strong as was his desire to preserve the integrity 
 of that body, which was dear to him by so many 
 ancestral associations, when disruption was made 
 inevitable by no act of his or those with whom he 
 was associated, he did not hesitate for an instant 
 to what body to give his adherence. Prom 
 that adherence he never wavered, but lived and 
 died in the belief that the light would one day be 
 
xliv MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 vindicated, and that they who had suffered wrong- 
 would be honoured and blessed at the last. Though 
 young in years, Dr. Mason, at that memorable 
 crisis, was mature in judgment ; and when Kent, 
 Wood, Randall, and Meredith espoused and de- 
 fended the cause of the church to which he was 
 attached, there was no one more competent than 
 he to aid their proceedings, none to whose advice 
 they and his brethren paid so much of respectful 
 deference. Frequently a member, for eight years 
 he was the stated clerk of the General Assembly, 
 by which means his acquaintance was extensive 
 throughout the church, and he was made an ob- 
 ject of general confidence and esteem. 
 
 In the judicatories of the church his manners were 
 always retiring, and reserved; never obtrusive. 
 He was willing that others should conduct the 
 debate ; seldom participating in it, save by some 
 brief suggestion or inquiry, intended to give it di- 
 rection, the wisdom and pertinency of which was 
 sure afterwards to be vindicated. But when the 
 matter in hand was becoming involved, and per- 
 plexity and trouble were likely to ensue, how often, 
 like a pilot in a difficult passage, by the introduc- 
 tion of some resolution, or the suggestion of some 
 amendment, did he contrive the very relief which 
 was needed, covering the entire case, extricating the 
 subject from all embarrassment, and leading the 
 
MEMOIR OF THE ATTTHOK. xlv 
 
 minds of all to an issue of complete harmony. The 
 records of our ecclesiastical bodies will prove that 
 this eulogy on the soundness of his judgment is 
 not exaggerated ; and when he died, the general 
 impression throughout the church was, that a 
 standard-bearer had fallen. 
 
 The person of Dr. Mason, of full size, and good 
 proportions, was the expression of manly vigour and 
 dignity. Inheriting a sound constitution, he en- 
 joyed, through life, more than ordinary health. 
 He knew but few of those ailments to which his 
 profession are liable, previous to that illness which 
 terminated his life. Invited to the presidency 
 of the Theological Seminary in this city, and 
 to other pulpits in his denomination, we have 
 seen how steadily and perseveringly he addicted 
 himself to the studies and toils of one pulpit. 
 In the year 1846, at the request of his own 
 people, who generously provided their faithful 
 friend and pastor with the means of relaxation, he 
 passed several months in Europe, returning to his 
 ordinary occupations with renewed vigor of body 
 and mind, and fresh resources for instruction. 
 Every thing appeared to promise a long life. One 
 year before his death no one would have suspected 
 that an insidious disease had already begun its 
 secret ravages, by which his labours were soon to 
 be closed. Eeturning from his annual visit to the 
 
Xlvi MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 country, in August 1850, he gave signs of debility, 
 which at first were regarded but as trifles soon to 
 pass away, but which, continuing from, day to day, 
 at length excited the most serious apprehension. 
 When it was first whispered about that Dr. Mason 
 was in a state to warrant solicitude, he in the 
 full prime of life, it was with difficulty that the 
 rumour could be credited. "Weeks and months 
 passed by, and his friends, brethren and people 
 were gladdened by his apparent recovery. He 
 was intensely desirous, should God so will, to re- 
 sume those occupations to which he had been so 
 long and pleasantly devoted. Having sufficiently 
 recovered for the purpose, in the last of December 
 he prepared a sermon from the text, " I said, O my 
 God, take me not away in the midst of my days," 
 the same which is now published as the first in the 
 accompanying collection. Though no one who 
 heard that sermon could fail to apply the utterance 
 of its text to himself, yet, with his characteristic 
 modesty, the preacher made not an allusion to his 
 own case. Unable to endure the fatigue of stand- 
 ing, during its delivery, a chair had been arranged 
 in the pulpit, seated in which, with a voice tremu- 
 lous with emotion, he preached his last sermon. 
 There was eloquence in the occasion itself; and the 
 simple utterance of the text was enough to start 
 the tear in the eye of those who heard it with 
 
MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. xlvii 
 
 mingled gratitude and foreboding. Such was his 
 last " New Year's Sermon," such his last entrance to 
 his pulpit. It was soon apparent that he was gra- 
 dually sinking under occult and insidious disease 
 and that his work was finished. Deprived of the 
 privilege of glorifying God in active duty, he was 
 now called to the higher and harder testimony of 
 passive endurance. Confined to his chamber he 
 was not without hope and desire of recovery. 
 Strongly did he desire to live ; and who has juster 
 views of the value and desirableness of life than a 
 faithful Christian minister ! How abrupt the 
 change from the " midst of his days," from plans 
 of study and action yet incomplete, to the silence 
 of the sepulchre ! How could he bear to say to 
 his loving, trusting family, hanging about him, that 
 he must leave them without a husband, father and 
 head ! For their sakes, rather than his own, he 
 desired, if God should so be pleased, that he might 
 be spared, even as king Hezekiah prayed because 
 of the church and the country which he loved 
 that he might live, even after the prophet had told 
 him he should die. The conduct of Dr. Mason, 
 during his long confinement, was characterised by 
 that calmness and firmness which always belonged 
 to him, but now more than usually softened by the 
 filial resignation of a religious sufferer. More than 
 the splendours of genius, more than the gifts of 
 
Xlviii MEMOIE OF THE AUTHOK. 
 
 eloquence are the simple words which reveal the 
 peace and safety of the Christian believer in his 
 last hours. " I have had a long season of trial," 
 said he to a friend, " but I trust it has not been un- 
 profitable. I have had many clear and delightful 
 views of divine truth." 
 
 Moved even to tears, he said, on another occa- 
 sion, " I have had the most glorious and elevating 
 views, such as I never expected to enjoy in this 
 world. It was in the watches of the night, and I 
 feared to sleep, lest I should lose them. But a 
 dark cloud has since intervened — less dark now 
 than it has been. This, however, I can say at all 
 times, Though he slay me, I will put my trust in 
 him. I have no greater comfort than when, under 
 a sense of utter unworthiness, I lie at the foot of the 
 cross." 
 
 " A matter of unspeakable thankfulness, is it," 
 said he, " that we are not left to find a place of 
 safety when the hand of disease is upon us. I 
 trust that my eternal interests are safe, and that in 
 the future I have nothing to dread. I have had, 
 in common with all Christians, sore spiritual con- 
 flicts ; but I believe that the most useful of my 
 labours have been in connection with these scenes 
 of perplexity and trial. Trials, I am sure, were 
 designed to teach us to live by faith." 
 
 The evening before his decease he was informed 
 
MEMOIK OF THE AUTHOE. xlix 
 
 that, in the judgment of his physicians, he could 
 not survive many hours. He inquired on what 
 facts his medical friends had based their opinion. 
 He differed from them in judgment as to certain 
 particulars. "However," added he, "it matters 
 but little as to time. I am not now to begin and 
 make my preparations. All is safe — all safe." 
 
 A friend at his side repeated the familiar words, 
 " The Lord is my light and salvation, whom shall I 
 fear." Taking the sentence from her lips, he 
 completed it — " The Lord is the strength of my 
 heart, of whom shall I be afraid." Again she 
 said, "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace," — 
 when he instantly finished the sentence with a 
 decided emphasis — "whose mind is stayed on 
 thee ; because he trusteth in thee." 
 
 In the evening he engaged in cheerful conversa- 
 tion ; with the utmost clearness and calmness of 
 mind made certain dispositions of his estate, signed 
 his will, and sat waiting for his great change to 
 come. Early in the morning he summoned his 
 children about him, and gave them his last coun- 
 sels. Commending them in solemn prayer to the 
 Father of Mercies, he told them that oftentimes, 
 after preaching in the pulpit, he had retired to his 
 study, and with inexpressible anxiety, had implored 
 in their behalf the blessings of the everlasting 
 covenant. 
 
1 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOE. 
 
 On the same occasion, addressing Ms only son, 
 (fourteen years of age) he inquired, "Have you 
 thought what you would wish to do in the world T 
 The reply of filial simplicity and affection was — 
 " Father, I will do whatever you wish me." " It 
 may not be as I wish," said he, " but if you are 
 prepared for it, my son, my wish is that you may 
 preach the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is 
 the greatest work, and the best work. But 
 beware of becoming a minister, unless, by the 
 grace of God, you are prepared for it. 77 
 
 The prayers of many have ascended to God in 
 behalf of this orphan son, that he may inherit his 
 father 7 s gifts and graces, and that he may prolong 
 and transmit the ancestral honours, with which he 
 is enriched, in the ministry of our Lord. 
 
 His last day on earth has dawned, and his heart 
 is beating feebler to its rest. " Have you doubts 
 and fears ? 77 whispered a friend. " Doubts ! No. 
 Faith is every thing. It is all bright and clear. 
 Have faith. 77 So gently faded his life into the 
 vision of God and the Lamb. About twelve 
 o 7 clock on Wednesday, 14th of May, seated in his 
 chair, without a struggle, he breathed out his life 
 into the hands of his Redeemer. 
 
 On the Friday following, his funeral was 
 attended from the church in which he had officia- 
 ted so many years. There needed to be no such 
 
MEM0IE OF THE ATJTHOE. 11 
 
 signs of mourning as those which draped the 
 pulpit, now deprived of its faithful incumbent, to 
 proclaim the sorrow of the occasion. A large 
 concourse of people, with unfeigned grief in their 
 hearts, pronounced his eulogy by testifying that 
 his death was a public bereavement. There, in 
 front of the pulpit, lay the calm remains of the 
 Pastor, who had been brought to the house of God 
 for the last time, to address his brethren, people 
 and friends in speechless tenderness. 
 
 The dirge was sung, prayer was offered, some 
 words of consolation were uttered, and devout 
 men bore him to his burial. The early spring 
 blossoms were opening and falling as he was laid 
 in the sacred spot he had, a year before, prepared 
 at Greenwood. The sun had gone dov/n before 
 the act of interment was finished ; but we knew 
 that it would rise again ; and as we gazed, through 
 our tears, upon the descending form with which 
 were associated so many memories of friendship, 
 love and religion, this was our only consolation, 
 that he would live the life everlasting. 
 
 Through the generous regard cherished for his 
 memory by his parishioners, a beautiful monument 
 of white Italian marble, chaste and simple in 
 design, but highly finished in its execution, has 
 been erected on the spot where sleep his remains. 
 On one side is the following inscription : 
 
lii MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOE. 
 
 EKECTED 
 
 BY THE BLEECKER STREET PRESBYTERIAN CHBflCH, 
 
 IN MEMOKY OF 
 
 THEIR LATE PASTOE, 
 
 KEY. EKSKINE MASON, D.D. 
 DIED 14 MAY, 1851, 
 
 jeh. 46. 
 
 an eloquent man, and mighty in the scriptures, 
 
 in doctrine 
 
 showing uncorruptness, gravity, sincerity, 
 
 sound speech that could not be condemned ; 
 
 A PATTERN OF GOOD WORKS ; 
 
 LOOKING 
 
 FOR THAT BLESSED HOPE, THE GLORIOUS APPEARING OF THE GREAT 
 GOD, AND OUR SAVIOUR, JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 On the reverse side : 
 
 DESCENDED 
 
 FROM ANCESTORS ILLUSTRIOUS IN THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH, 
 
 He was; Himself 
 AN OENAMENT 
 
 TO EVERY DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL RELATION. 
 
 In the Spanish gallery of the Louvre at Paris, there 
 hangs a celebrated picture by Murillo, founded on an 
 old legend, which represents that a certain monk was 
 
MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. liii 
 
 called to die, when engaged in writing his own "bio- 
 graphy. Grieved at the abrupt termination of his 
 unfinished task, the fiction goes, that he sought and 
 obtained permission to return to the earth to com- 
 plete his work. Wonderful is the power with 
 which the immortal artist has embodied the con- 
 ception. There is the monk seated in his cell, in- 
 tent on his solemn toil. It is not the ghastly face 
 and form of the dead, but the conception of a man 
 who has been dead, and who has returned etherial- 
 ised and vivified through and through with the life 
 and motives of Eternity. 
 
 That legendary fiction will have no reality with 
 any. No one who goeth hence returns to finish 
 the work of life. But there is intensity of motive 
 enough in the sober truth that every man is actu- 
 ally engaged day by day in writing that autobiog- 
 raphy, which neither time nor eternity will efface. 
 It may be written in high places or in low, in pub- 
 lic remembrance or in the honest heart of domestic 
 affection, but we are writing fast, we are writing 
 sure, we are writing for eternity. Happy is he 
 who, through the grace of God assisting him, like 
 the subject of this memoir, records such lessons 
 of kindness, truth and wisdom, that when he is 
 gone, he will be held in grateful remembrance ; 
 happier still to have one's name written in the 
 
Hv MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Lamb's Book of Life, that when every memorial 
 and monument of his earthly history has perished, 
 he may ascend with the Son of God, to Honour, 
 Glory, and Immortality. 
 
DEATH IK THE MIDST OF LIFE. 
 
 "I said, my Lord, take me not away in the midst of my days." 
 — Psalm cii. 24. first clause. 
 
 I shall not trouble my hearers upon the present 
 occasion, with any enquiries as to the authorship of 
 the Psalm from which my text is selected, nor as 
 to the circumstances in which it was originally 
 uttered. Whether designed to represent the pri- 
 vate experience of the writer, or to exhibit the low 
 and depressed condition of the church in time of 
 great trial, is immaterial to the purpose I have in 
 view, which is to bring out, and for a few moments 
 insist upon a thought, which lies upon the very 
 surface of the passage before us. 
 
 As we read our text, we perceive it to be a 
 prayer, an earnest, impassioned prayer, a prayer 
 against death; and the fact which gives it its 
 earnestness and impassioned energy, is that he who 
 offers it is in " the midst of his clays." There is a 
 peculiarity then about death coming in the prime 
 of life, which does not belong to it at any other 
 time, or in any other circumstances, and which 
 1 
 
2 DEATH IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. 
 
 renders it especially repulsive and terrible. True 
 it is that to one at all alive to its connections, it 
 must, at any time, be appreciated with the most 
 painful emotions. To one standing upon the thresh- 
 hold of life, or farther advanced engaged in active 
 business, engrossed with earthly cares, or when the 
 bustle and anxiety of the world, so far as he is con- 
 cerned, are over, whether he be in health and pros- 
 perity, when life is most joyous, or in sickness and 
 adversity, when many of the strongest ties to earth 
 are sundered, it is still the same repulsive subject 
 of thought, never able to command a welcome from 
 the human mind. Youth dreads it, manhood dreads 
 it, old age dreads it, sickness and health alike 
 dread it ; and while irreligion trembles, faith 
 itself is sometimes staggered in view of it. 
 
 There are, however, some circumstances in which 
 death is less terrible than it is in others. When 
 the ties that bind us to earth are few, and the 
 considerations which render life valuable are feeble, 
 the desire to live cannot be strong. Disappointed 
 hopes, defeated plans, withered joys, enfeebled 
 frames, taking so much as they do from the bright- 
 ness, and promise of the world, must, proportiona- 
 bly, weaken our wishes to remain amid its scenes ; 
 if to this you add, a weanedness from the world 
 upon principle, an expectation of death ; and 
 satisfactory evidence of a preparation to meet its 
 issues, you have a condition in which it loses to the 
 mind much of its terror. 
 
 But in the light in which we now look at it, 
 there are none of these considerations to take aught 
 
DEATH IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. 6 
 
 from its horrors. It is death coming to one in the 
 prime of life, in his full strength, and in circum- 
 stances in which it is least expected ; coming when 
 the dangers of youth are over, when the system 
 has reached its maturity, when the world is in- 
 vested with the greatest degree of importance, 
 when man thinks he is about to take that position 
 to which he had long looked forward, and to which 
 all his previous training and labours have been but 
 preparatory. It is death coming to one who had 
 not in his dreams even looked upon it to be possi- 
 ble as an immediate event, and who having been 
 at ease and quiet in reference to it, has made no 
 preparation to meet its issues. This is death in its 
 most appalling form. There are here no disgusts 
 with life, no disappointed hopes, no enfeebled 
 frames, no tottering steps, to make this world un- 
 desirable, and there is no sympathy in the spiritual 
 things to make the coming world attractive : and O 
 how many, how many even among ourselves to-day, 
 are there to whom death, should he now approach, 
 would he be thus appalling ! 
 
 I put the question to my hearers in middle life, 
 are your views, feelings, purposes, circumstances, 
 such as you would w T ish them to be in the hour of 
 your departure to meet your God ? I speak to-day 
 upon the supposition that men in middle life are 
 very apt to look upon death as an improbable 
 event, so far as they are concerned, and to make 
 their calculations, and shape their course accord- 
 ingly. This is the fact upon which I would fasten 
 
4 DEATH IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. 
 
 your minds, showing you some of its reasons, and 
 pointing out some of its effects. 
 
 I offer then here, this general remark, that with 
 no class of men is the desire for life so strong as 
 those of whom we are speaking ; and knowing as we 
 do the influence of desire over belief, how con- 
 clusive seem those arguments which conform to 
 our feelings, we cannot be surprised to find the im- 
 probability of dying assumed as a settled matter. 
 True, the mere wish to live is not confined to any par- 
 ticular age or condition of human life. The youth 
 who is just coming forward upon the stage of action, 
 clings with tenacity to his earthly existence, while 
 the aged man, of whom it may be said, that the days 
 have come and the years drawn nigh in which he has 
 no pleasure, looks forward to his approaching dissolu- 
 tion with feelings of great reluctance. In both these 
 cases, more especially in the last, the desire for life 
 seems to be instinctive, rather than the result of 
 any reasoning from external circumstances and 
 relations. Childhood has scarcely reached the 
 point when the strongest reasons for a wish to live 
 have begun to operate. Old age has passed the 
 point where their influence terminates. 
 
 But the man in middle life has reached that 
 point, where all these reasons are perceived most 
 clearly, and their influence is felt most deeply. 
 There is something more than a mere instinctive 
 desire of life which makes him cling to his earthly 
 existence. There are reasons taken from his cir- 
 cumstances and relations, which render life to him 
 very important. The ties which bind him to the 
 
DEATH IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. 
 
 world are now the strongest. Hithereto, his 
 earthly associations had been few and ephemeral. 
 There are scarcely any responsibilities involved in 
 the connections of youth, and though in these con- 
 nections, the feelings may be ardent, they are tran- 
 sient. A change of place, and breaking np of 
 associations, does not seem to be a matter of great 
 importance to a youthful mincl, because it can so 
 easily adjust itself to the new circumstances into 
 which it may be thrown. In old age the con- 
 nections of society have been dissolved by the hand 
 of time ; most of those with whom our old men 
 mingled their sympathies and counsels are gone, 
 while they who once were dependent upon them 
 no longer need their care and support. 
 
 But it is very different with a man in the vigor 
 of life. He has taken his place in society, and is 
 now sustaining his most important earthly respon- 
 sibilities. His connections now are most intimate, 
 his attachments most strong, his associations most 
 enduring. He is surrounded by those who depend 
 upon him for support, submit to his control, and 
 look to him for counsel. He is the centre of his 
 family, of the social circle, and alive to all those 
 great interests which excite the attention and en- 
 gage the feelings of the community. His place is 
 in the hall of science, in the chamber of legislation, 
 among those who sustain the interests and carry 
 forward the designs of society. Mind now is most 
 active, and active, not about the pastimes of 
 youth, but about matters essential to the welfare 
 of himself, of his connections, and the community 
 
6 DEATH IN THE MIDST OP LIFE. 
 
 at large, I need hardly say that these are the cir- 
 cumstances in which life not only appears to be, 
 but actually is, most important to man and to 
 society generally. Death never is more melan- 
 choly in its aspect than when it takes one away 
 from amid the necessary activities of human life- 
 The youth dies, and the parental heart feels the 
 pang, and may drop a tear over departed worth. 
 The aged sire dies, and the recollection of former 
 counsels and activities and deeds of goodness de- 
 presses the spirit, but the whole machinery of the 
 domestic circle and of society goes on as usual, and 
 so far as essential interests are concerned, the loss 
 in these cases is scarcely felt. 
 
 But when one dies in the midst of his days, the 
 case is vastly different ; now essential interests suf- 
 fer ; from many their entire earthly dependence is 
 removed ; the main spring of the domestic machin- 
 ery is gone, and in the varied relations of life, his 
 place must be supplied before the interest of those 
 relations can be well sustained. 
 
 To this we might add, that the spirit of enter- 
 prize is now most active. Man is forming plans 
 which will require years to develope, and those 
 plans constitute the objects of his existence, the 
 centre of his heart's warmest feelings. You cannot 
 go out amid the busy scenes of life, and find a man 
 in his prime, whom death suddenly arresting, should 
 not carry away from unfinished plans and unexe- 
 cuted purposes. Generally men calculate upon the 
 completion of their designs, and upon receiving the 
 fruit of their labour ; very few sow when they do 
 
DEATH IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. I 
 
 not expect to reap, or engage in plans which are to 
 bring them no profit : and hence it is that our men 
 in middle life calculate with almost perfect cer- 
 tainty upon a continuance in this world ; they can- 
 not think that their main designs shall never be 
 executed, and their favourite points never reached, 
 and they suffer their wishes to run away with their 
 judgments, and presume in accordance with the 
 dictates of their hearts. 
 
 It is not to be denied, my brethren, that there is 
 not a little in the history of man which tends to 
 foster this very state of mind. Judging from the 
 ordinary developments of Divine Providence, we 
 should be forced to the conclusion that the securi- 
 ties against death, and what are commonly termed 
 the chances of life, are greater in manhood than at 
 any other period of existence ; and the scenes 
 through which we have passed ere we reached man- 
 hood have been such as to lead us to estimate these 
 securities too highly. It is a fact, I apprehend, 
 that fewer men die at the meridian than at any 
 other point in human life. The majority of our 
 species are gone from the stage of action before 
 they reach their prime, and of the remainder, the 
 larger proportion die after they have passed their 
 prime. This fact, I apprehend, can point to both 
 natural and moral causes in its explanation. At 
 middle life the human system has attained its 
 greatest strength ; is less liable to many of those 
 accidents, and better able to resist many of those 
 diseases which carry off so many of our race. The 
 habits of life too are formed, and where they have 
 
8 DEATH IN" THE MIDST OF LIEE. 
 
 been habits favourable to health, they will be 
 favourable to its continuance or to the recovery 
 from disease. 
 
 The interests of the world, moreover, could not 
 be sustained under a different character of dispen- 
 sations, and the purposes of God, which, according 
 to his arrangement, require human agency for 
 their evolution, could not be accomplished. Thus, 
 the order of nature evinces no less the wisdom than 
 the goodness of God. 
 
 These facts have not failed to secure the atten- 
 tion of men, and they form the ground of their cal- 
 culations in reference to life. They have passed 
 through the scenes of childhood, been exposed to 
 a thousand snares, been environed by as many 
 changes. Many have been cut down on their right 
 hand and their left, but they have escaped un- 
 harmed, and begin to feel as though they had a 
 lease of life. Familiarity with danger blunts our 
 apprehensions. If we have escaped evil and death in 
 circumstances of great exposure, we think we shall 
 escape again; and after having passed the point 
 where our danger was the greatest, because the 
 point previous to which death usually secures the 
 greatest number of its victims, we feel as though 
 we were, for a time, at least, delivered from his 
 power. 
 
 Now, I repeat it, putting all these considerations 
 together, it is not surprising that men in " the 
 midst of their days" should think so little of death, 
 and be so callous to its impressive influence ; but it 
 is dreadful that it should be so, because we are 
 
DEATH IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. \) 
 
 forced to another thought, viz. : of all men, they 
 who are " in the midst of their days," are least pre- 
 pared to die. There are exceptions, unquestionably, 
 to this statement; but as a general remark, its 
 truth must be perfectly apparent to any one of 
 observation and discernment. You will find its 
 illustration as well among the professed, disciples of 
 Christ as among those who make no pretensions 
 whatever to spirituality of mind. Many a one, 
 who in his early days appeared well as a Christian, 
 as he has advanced in years and become gradually 
 more and more involved in the cares and perplexi- 
 ties of life, has lost his fervor in religion and found 
 his spirituality declining, simply because the en- 
 grossing occupations of earth have drawn away his 
 attention from things appertaining to the kingdom 
 of God. Of this change many a one is himself dis- 
 tinctly conscious. He is aware that in a spiritual 
 point of view matters are not with him as they for- 
 merly were ; if death should approach, he should 
 have much to adjust, many questions to settle, many 
 fears, many anxieties, many doubts to solve ; in 
 short, he knows his preparation for death is not 
 what it should be, because he has not been looking 
 for it. My Christian brother, let me appeal to you 
 upon this point in a single question. Had your 
 earthly history terminated with the winding up of 
 the last year, should you have known in your expe- 
 rience the blessedness of that servant whom his 
 Lord when he cometh finds watching ? Take that 
 question home, and justify me in the position I have 
 assumed. 
 
10 DEATH IN THE MIDST OE LIFE. 
 
 If the truth of my remark is evident, even in 
 the cases of the professed disciples of Christ, much 
 more apparent must it be in reference to those who 
 know nothing of the spiritual influence of the 
 gospel. If my unconverted hearers in middle life 
 will look into their own hearts and observe their 
 emotions and feelings, they will not judge me un- 
 charitable in the remark, that the world never had 
 such a hold upon their affections, never to such a 
 degree controlled their purposes and movements, 
 never so completely shut out all spiritual light from 
 the mind, never rendered them so dead to the 
 claims and appeals of the gospel, and so insensible 
 to the enforcement of heavenly things, as at the 
 present moment. 
 
 There is one fact which speaks volumes upon 
 this general subject, going to show the prevalent 
 state of mind belonging to the persons of whom we 
 speak. That fact is this, that the legitimate effects 
 of the Gospel are very rarely seen for the first 
 time in persons who are passing through the meri- 
 dian of life. This seems to be a period in human 
 existence, when the Spirit of God, I will not say 
 seldom strives with men, but when he seldom 
 achieves any signal victories. For the most part, 
 men are brought into the kingdom of God before 
 they reach manhood, while a few after they have 
 passed their prime are awakened by some provi- 
 dential dispensation, and hasten to secure an interest 
 in Christ. The young have ears to hear the truth, 
 consciences to respond to its claims, and hearts 
 susceptible to its impressive power ; but the ears of 
 
DEATH IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. 11 
 
 others are closed against us, and their minds are 
 too full of earth to entertain the truth of God, and 
 their hearts too much under the influence of the 
 world, to be susceptible of impressions from spirit- 
 ual realities. All the means of grace seem to be 
 powerless, and it is looked upon as a signal mani- 
 festation of the grace of God, when one of their 
 class is brought to submit himself to Christ. 
 
 I speak that which I do know, and testify that 
 which I have seen ; and if these thoughts are cor- 
 rect, it follows of necessity, that they to whom they 
 appertain are of all men least prepared to die. 
 
 And O ! how such thoughts should arouse to 
 feeling, awaken to anxiety, and prompt to enquiry, 
 all to whom they have reference. My beloved 
 brethren, security is not safety, insensibility to 
 danger is no guard against its approach. You may 
 mingle in any scenes, you may engage in wide- 
 spread business, you may form extensive associations, 
 and assume weighty responsibilities, — you have 
 no protection against death, in any or all of these 
 combined. Others who have gone from the stage 
 have told you so, they have fallen from your side, 
 from amid the scenes in which you are now en- 
 gaged, and the associations amid which you are 
 now moving ; and as they fell, their fall was Provi- 
 dence teaching you the worthlessness of all your 
 confidences. Put all the grounds of your security 
 together, they are valueless, they are worse, they 
 serve only to render one's end the more terrible 
 when he reaches it. 
 
 We may, my brethren, wrap ourselves up in tin- 
 
12 DEATH IN" THE MIDST OE LIEE. 
 
 concern about this matter, "but we cannot put away 
 from us a dying hour by closing our eyes against it, 
 neither can we, by any insensibility, detract from 
 the magnitude of eternal realities. The scene of 
 our departure from this world is not to be delayed 
 by any unconcern of ours about it, or any unfitness 
 on our part to meet its issues ; and if, when it comes, 
 it shall find us in a state of indifference and security, 
 how inexpressibly fearful will be its approach. 
 Let death come at any time, in any circumstance, 
 under any form, but let it not come upon man 
 when he thinks least of it, and is consequently 
 least prepared to meet it, when 5 perhaps, it is the 
 last event which he dreamed of as at all probable. 
 Here it has associations, the sorrows of which no 
 tongue can describe, because no mind can conceive 
 them. Defeated plans, disappointed hopes, blasted 
 joys, form but few, and those the least bitter of the 
 ingredients of the cup which it puts to the lips. 
 Now, in an unexpected hour, eternal things come 
 before him, in such a light that he can doubt neither 
 their reality nor their magnitude, and now he must 
 prepare to meet them with a mind surprised, 
 alarmed, harassed ; and too often self-reflection 
 triumphs over every other feeling, and the unhappy 
 man, amid his convictions and reproaches, his self- 
 reflections and his fears, finds the ties which bind 
 him to this world parting, and his surprised and 
 unprepared spirit winging its flight to the presence 
 of a forgotten God. 
 
 These are not strange and unusual scenes ; they 
 have been, they are common. The history of the 
 
DEATH IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. 13 
 
 last year keeps the record of many of them, and the 
 year upon which we have entered, will but repeat 
 them. I look back over the past year, and I find 
 that death, in the circle of our companionship, 
 death in the midst of us as a congregation, has been 
 very impressive in the lessons it has taught us, 
 however slow we may be to learn them. Yet it is 
 ours to ponder them, and turn them to a practical 
 account. During the past year, nine who were 
 with us at its commencement, have closed their 
 earthly career. As I cast my eye over this assem- 
 bly, I miss the youth who occupied his seat here on 
 the first Sabbath of the last year, and who little 
 thought that the warning which then we uttered 
 was meant for him. I miss our aged friends who 
 had filled up the measure of their days. And 
 there have been those who were carried away 
 in the midst of their clays, whom no effort could 
 deliver, no prayer save from the power of death. 
 
 And that which has been shall be. This year will 
 bring about like events ; some of my youthful 
 hearers will be gone ; of our fathers we shall say, 
 where are they ? and ye who are in the vigour of 
 your clays, secure against danger, ye too must pay 
 your tribute to the king of terrors, by yielding 
 some of your members a sacrifice to his claims. 
 
 But while thus I utter my warning, I feel that it 
 is in vain. In respect to death, nothing but the 
 infiuence of God's spirit can teach us to apply our 
 hearts unto wisdom. The coffin will not teach us 
 wisdom here, the grave will not teach it, pestilence 
 will not teach it. Thou, God, and thou alone 
 
41 DEATH IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. 
 
 canst make us feel that we are mortal, so that we 
 shall live like the immortal, and, therefore, while 
 we feel that argument is in vain, and exhortation 
 is in vain, and appeal is in vain, we turn from rea- 
 soning, and expostulation, and pleading, to prayer 
 as our only hope. Now as we enter upon another 
 year, not knowing what is before us, we turn to 
 thee, O Lord God of the spirits of all flesh. The 
 young are before thee, the middle-aged are before 
 thee, our fathers are before thee, pastor and people 
 alike are before thee : " God of the spirit of all flesh, 
 so teach us to number our days that we may apply 
 our hearts unto wisdom." 
 
THE NATURE^ AND DESIGN OF THE CRUCIFIXION 
 
 SCENE. 
 
 " And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said. Father into 
 thy hands I commend my spirit, and having said this, he gave up the 
 ghost." — St. Luke xxiii. 16. 
 
 " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me." — St. Matthew 
 xxvii. 46. 
 
 The words of the text cany us directly to Cal- 
 vary, a spot which we can never too frequently 
 visit, and where the Christian loves to linger, espe- 
 cially when called upon, as we are this day, to 
 remember the scenes which were there presented. 
 In the description which they give us of the re- 
 markable, and to many, mysterious close of the 
 life of Jesus Christ, they suggest lessons, which, 
 often as we have pondered them, we have never 
 yet fully learned, and open sources of influence, 
 the extent and power of which we have yet to 
 measure. Indeed there is scarcely a line in the his- 
 tory of Jesus Christ which is not as instructive as 
 it is wonderful. The annals of the universe will 
 not furnish a parallel to the story of " the man of 
 
16 NATTTBE AND DESIGN OF 
 
 sorrows and acquainted with grief." He presents 
 himself first to our view as one, who though he 
 was " in the form of God," emptied himself " and 
 took upon him" the form of man, and thus is intro- 
 duced to our attention in an act of humiliation which 
 is beyond the power of human thought to under- 
 stand. As we cannot ascend to the throne, mea- 
 sure its height, or form any conceptions of its 
 grandeur, we cannot tell how great was the humilia- 
 tion of Christ Jesus, when he descended to the 
 level of his creatures ; as his previous glory is inac- 
 cessible to our soarings, it must always remain a 
 prodigy too large for anything but faith to grasp, 
 that he who was " in the form of God took upon 
 him the form of man." 
 
 And yet this fact, surprizing as it is, does not con- 
 stitute the wonder of Christ's humiliation ; the 
 marvel is not merely that he became man, but that 
 having become man, he should put himself in man's 
 most forbidding circumstances, clothe himself with 
 human nature in its greatest meanness, submit to 
 its greatest hardships, endure its heaviest trials, and 
 submit, both in life and death, to its greatest igno- 
 miny. The scene of his earthly course, is, in its 
 commencement, contempt and privation ; in its pro- 
 gress, toil and shame ; in its end, agony and degra- 
 dation. The changes in his experience, were not, 
 as is customary even with the most wretched of 
 our race, alternations of joy and sorrow, but 
 changes from sorrow to sorrow, each succeeding 
 one deeper in its shades than the former, and as we 
 look at the map of his life, we perceive the plot 
 
THE CKTTCIFIXIOlSr SCENE. 17 
 
 thickening and the darkness increasing daily and 
 hourly around him. His whole course betokens a 
 dreadful consummation ; all the lines of conduct 
 pursued by himself, and by those who surround him, 
 seem to converge towards one fearful catastrophe, 
 which when reached, surpasses in wonderfulness 
 everything which preceded it. We can understand 
 in view of his objects and his course, why he should 
 be persecuted by the men of his generation ; our 
 knowledge of human nature may serve to explain to 
 us, why in the hour of his trial he should be aban- 
 doned by his professed friends ; but why, why, 
 when he most needed Heaven's sympathy and 
 Heaven's help, why, when heart and flesh fainted 
 and failed, why, when all the resources of human 
 comfort and human strength were exhausted, and 
 he was sinking under a burden too heavy for him 
 to bear, why in such an hour, he should be for- 
 saken of God, this forms the great wonder of a 
 Redeemer's humiliation. 
 
 Not one of us, my brethren, has ever pondered 
 this event, without feeling that there is a mystery 
 here which needs an explanation. It is not that a 
 person from whose lips dropped words of unutterable 
 tenderness, who rarely spoke but to bless the sor- 
 row-stricken, or acted but to relieve the distressed, 
 should be selected as an object upon which to 
 wreak the fury of a spirit which, for cool, cruel 
 and devilish barbarity, has never yet found its 
 parallel ; this is not the mystery ; but it is that he 
 who did no sin, and in whose mouth no guile was 
 found, whose meat it was to do the will of his 
 2 
 
18 NATURE AND DESIGN OE 
 
 Heavenly Father, who by " signs and wonders, and 
 diverse miracles" had been accredited as the mes- 
 senger of God, and by an andible voice had been 
 announced as his only begotten and well-beloved 
 Son, should at last die under a cloud, and utter in 
 his last words a lamentation over his spiritual aban- 
 donment ; this is the mystery of that event which 
 to-day we commemorate, and to which in this exer- 
 cise I shall call your attention. 
 
 My subject, I am aware, has not about it any of 
 the attractive charms of novelty. We have often 
 pondered it ; and we all have its outlines, at least, 
 distinctly before the mind, and yet I am persuaded 
 that the views with which many fill up this out- 
 line, are at best exceedingly vague, if they are not 
 often palpably erroneous, and that, consequently, 
 the influence of the scene is in a great measure lost. 
 To a certain extent, perhaps, our views must be 
 limited and indistinct ; inquiries may be started 
 which can be fully answered only when the light of 
 a better world shall disclose all the mysteries of re- 
 demption ; and yet, without attempting to be wise 
 above what is written, we may learn something by 
 a patient examination ; something which, even if it 
 does not add to our stores of knowledge, may at 
 least serve to set the event before us in a different 
 light and put upon it a different aspect from that 
 in which many minds are wont to look at it. 
 
 With these views, then, we approach our sub- 
 ject to ascertain, if possible, something of the Re- 
 deemer's state of mind, when upon the cross he 
 cried out with a loud voice, and which certainly has 
 
THE CRUCIFIXION SCENE. 19 
 
 an air of mystery about it. When we look at the 
 record, we find that, previous to the moment of our 
 Saviour's history now under consideration, there 
 were exhibitions of feeling which plainly evinced 
 that his mind was filled and crushed by painful 
 premonitions of the experience before him. The 
 garden scene shows us his spirit wrestling and 
 agonizing with these dire apprehensions, which by 
 their influence drove his life-blood from its wonted 
 channels, and extorted from him his earnest prayer 
 for deliverance. 
 
 It is, indeed, by no means difficult to imagine 
 circumstances when a man may be convulsed and 
 tremble greatly in view of the hour and scene of 
 his dissolution. When the future is all dark, and 
 the sepulchre looks like one's final resting-place, 
 when one feels that the winding-sheet is to be his 
 eternal habiliment, that light is never to break in 
 upon his grave, and no voice is ever to be heard 
 disturbing the silence of his resting-place, I can 
 easily understand how one may shrink back ; for 
 nature, as such, never can be reconciled to the 
 thought of an eternal extinction of being. Man 
 may, indeed, prefer annihilation to a state of per- 
 petual, hopeless misery, because the fear of the 
 future may triumph over and paralyze even the in- 
 stinctive laws of our beiug ; but nature, as such, 
 must shrink back with horror from the prospect of 
 ceasing to be. So, likewise, when conscience, armed 
 with the stings of a guilty life, lashes its victim, and 
 heralds an approaching storm of fire and blood ; 
 when the undying worm begins to prey upon the 
 
20 NATUKE and design of 
 
 mind, and the poison cup of the wrath of God is 
 put to the lips, and the first taste of its bitter ingre- 
 dients is perceived, there is room for the heavings 
 of the stoutest spirit, and the convulsive agonies of 
 the strongest frame. He who is entirely in the dark 
 as to the future, he whose conscience having never 
 been pacified by the peace-speaking influence of 
 atoning blood, cannot be mastered, may well shrink 
 back and cry in agony when his feet touch the 
 first cold wave of that boisterous fiood which rolls 
 between time and the judgment-seat. Here we 
 have sufficient sources of fear and agony in view of 
 approaching dissolution. I allude to these, merely 
 for the purpose of showing that they cannot be in- 
 troduced as adequate or even appropriate expo- 
 nents of the scene we are called to-day to study. 
 There could be nothing in the darkness of the 
 future, or the gloom of the sepulchre, to terrify the 
 spirit of Him who brought life and immortality to 
 light. No fears of a coming retribution could 
 trouble Him who was " holy, harmless, and unde- 
 nted ;" nor could there be any anticipations to 
 appal him, who, " in the view of the joy set before 
 him, endured the cross, despising its shame." 
 
 There is a wonderful difference — you must have 
 often been struck by it — between the dying scene, 
 of our Saviour and that of many of his followers ; in 
 the one case, there is a crushing agony and the wail 
 of seeming despair ; in other cases, there are emo- 
 tions of joy and shouts of triumph. What a con- 
 trast between the language of an apostle, " I have 
 a desire to depart, I am now ready to be offered ;" 
 
THE CRUCIFIXION SCENE. 21 
 
 and the prayer of Jesus Christ, " Father, save me 
 from this hour ;" between the Saviour's lamenta- 
 tion on the cross and the experience of the culprit 
 crucified with him, whose troubled spirit that 
 Saviour's promise calmed, and whose sinking soul 
 that Saviour's strength sustained ; a contrast, which, 
 as we examine it, forces upon us the conclusion, 
 that no ordinary principles of explanation meet 
 the case, and compels us to find a solution in some- 
 thing which does not strike the eye. 
 
 There is a struggle going on in that sufferer's 
 mind of which neither you nor I can form any ade- 
 quate conception ; and when we say that his expe- 
 riences, so sad, so overwhelming, were of a mental 
 nature, independent of visible scenes and circum- 
 stances, we seem to many to have reached a point 
 beyond which we cannot go, without launching 
 upon an ocean of vain and unsatisfying conjecture. 
 True it is, that we cannot determine the precise 
 nature of our Saviour's experiences in the hour of 
 his conflict, for we can form no just idea of experi- 
 ences of which we ourselves have not to some de- 
 gree been the subjects ; but if we cannot tell all 
 the ingredients which were mingled in that bitter 
 cup which was given him to drink, we can at least 
 say what was not stirred into the bitter draught, 
 and thus detect the fallacy of some views, which, I 
 apprehend, are sources of painful feeling to many, 
 because I remember well how once they troubled 
 my own mind, as detracting greatly from the cha- 
 racter of the Redeemer. Let me ask your attention 
 to a thought or two. 
 
22 NATURE AND DESIGN OF 
 
 The scene of the cross was the crisis of our 
 Saviour's sorrow. The sufferings of his life had 
 been many and bitter, as he had gone on from pain 
 to pain, and anguish to anguish ; yet they were but 
 the sprinklings which heralded the coming tempest. 
 It was on Calvary that the storm burst upon him 
 in its tremendousness ; and if you look carefully at 
 his language during this crisis, you will find him 
 overwhelmed and crushed, mainly by the conscious- 
 ness of this fact, that he %oas abandoned by God. 
 
 Now, what did he mean by this ? Is it true ; 
 can it be true, as many have often said, and as we 
 ourselves have often thought, that God in this hour 
 of his Son's extremity, withdrew from him the 
 light of his countenance and threw over him the 
 cloud of his displeasure ? Was it any manifesta- 
 tion of wrath toward him personally which so dis- 
 tressed his mind and drank up his spirit ? His 
 language does indeed appear at first sight to suggest 
 such a thought ; but in view of this supposition, 
 the scene of Calvary, is to my mind, wrapped in 
 greater mystery than before. If, indeed, the medi- 
 ation of Christ consisted in such an exchange of 
 position between Himself and those for whom he 
 suffered, that their guilt, as well as legal obligation 
 to suffering, was transferred to Him, it should be 
 perfectly consistent to speak of His enduring the 
 wrath of God ; but who can reconcile his views of 
 the character of the Redeemer with the idea that 
 punishment, in any proper sense, entered into His 
 sufferings \ Whose feelings will allow him to in- 
 troduce the thought of punishment as an exponent 
 
THE CEUCmXIOK SCENE. 23 
 
 of the dying agonies of Jesus Christ ? Can we have 
 in the same person a being innocent, yet guilty ? 
 one upon whom God looks in wrath, and yet with 
 great complacency ? one who is visited with punish- 
 ment at the time when he is performing his high- 
 est act of obedience ? it cannot be. Jesus Christ 
 was God's beloved Son, in whom he was well 
 pleased ; and never was he more pleased with him 
 than when he reached the extremity of his woe. 
 If this supposition is inadmissible ; is there any 
 room for another, which has often been advanced, 
 that Jesus Christ lost sight of his Father's coun- 
 tenance, or at least apprehended such a loss ? How 
 is such a thought to be reconciled with the facts, 
 that in the moment of his bitterest experience his 
 language is that of filial and affectionate confidence ? 
 that at this very moment, he had distinctly in view 
 " the joy set before him ;" that he had an interest 
 in Heaven, as evinced by the assurance given to 
 the thief at his side ; that he could with perfect 
 confidence commit his spirit to his Father, and act 
 the part of intercessor as he prayed for those who 
 nailed him to the tree. There is nothing in all 
 this which looks like spiritual abandonment or a 
 loss of the light of God's countenance. In view of 
 such facts, I can never admit the common exposi- 
 tion of our Redeemer's suffering as consisting in any- 
 thing like darkness or momentary despair. There 
 is not a thought like this upon any page of the 
 Bible ; there is nothing in any recorded circum- 
 stance of a Saviour's passion which can furnish the 
 least ground for such a supposition. 
 
24 NATUEE AND DESIGN OF 
 
 And yet there must "be a sense in which Christ 
 was forsaken of God, or he never would have used 
 the language — what then, we repeat the question, 
 are we to understand by it ? He was given up to 
 suffering. If you look at the pages of the Bible, 
 you find that there was given unto the Eedeemer a 
 particular work to do. " For this purpose was the 
 Son of God manifested, that he might destroy the 
 works of the devil." To do it, he must show how 
 iniquity can be forgiven, while at the same time, 
 he breaks the power of him who had triumphed 
 over man. It was a work at once of wisdom and 
 of power. Under a perfect government, the con- 
 nection between sin and suffering must be seen to 
 be indissoluble. If you can conceive of any circum- 
 stances in which these two ideas can be dissociated, 
 you can conceive of circumstances, in which the 
 securities of righteousness and happiness, are not 
 perfect. If Christ then is to accomplish his work, 
 he must be made perfect through suffering, and his 
 suffering, to answer its end, must be as intense as 
 sin is malignant. He must therefore so identify him- 
 self with sinful man, that his sufferings shall be 
 seen in connection with their sin as the ground of 
 its forgiveness, or in other words its expiation. 
 Thus it was that the curse of a broken law might 
 be traced in his mighty pangs, and every line of 
 the writing of agony, might be a lesson, as to the 
 evil and magnitude of the curse. In this sense he 
 could be given up by God to sorrow, and at one 
 and the same time he might sink under the fearful 
 pressure which was put upon him, while he yet 
 
THE CRUCIFIXION SCENE. 25 
 
 had continually the light of his Father's counte- 
 nance. 
 
 If you look again attentively at the record of the 
 Redeemer's sufferings, you will discover in almost 
 every line, intimations of some hidden, mysterious 
 strife. The scene of Calvary was distinctly antici- 
 pated by him, as " the hour of the power of dark- 
 ness.' 1 What was open and palpable in these tragic 
 occurrences, was but part of the doings of the same 
 agency which was working, still more terribly, un- 
 seen. In all that was visible the prince of darkness 
 was using the influence of men, while in the spirit- 
 ual and invisible world he was using other agencies 
 far more mighty. Christ had voluntarily assumed 
 the work of captain of our salvation, and as such 
 he must carry it through single-handed and alone. 
 It was necessary to the perfection of his character, 
 as the great Mediator, that he should himself be 
 seen to be the conqueror of death and hell, so as to 
 be able to give assurance to all who put their con- 
 fidence in him of his ability to secure to them 
 ultimate victory by means of the same power, by 
 virtue of which, he himself triumphed so gloriously. 
 His language upon the cross, therefore, seemingly 
 so mysterious, was, as I apprehend, but the expres- 
 sion of his feelings, as he found himself solitary in 
 this last desperate strife. He had never uttered 
 such language before — as never before had he been 
 placed in precisely similar circumstances, never be- 
 fore had he been conscious, of being left to manage 
 alone, and master alone the powers of darkness 
 with whom he was called to contend. Burins; his 
 
26 NATURE AjND DESIGN OF 
 
 previous history, amid all the scenes through which 
 he passed, and under all the difficulties he was 
 called to encounter, and all the trials he had been 
 summoned to endure, it never was true of him, that 
 he stood alone. In the hour of his temptation 
 he had succours from on high ; in his conflict in 
 the garden angels ministered to him. Very differ- 
 ent is it with him now, and it is not surprising 
 that when he reached the crisis and heat of the 
 struggle, and the last great onset was to be made 
 upon him, when about to receive the fulness of the 
 cup which had been mingled for him, and his 
 overwrought and overtasked human spirit was 
 taxed to the utmost of its powers of action and 
 endurance, he should give vent to his feelings in 
 the language of dereliction. I look upon his words, 
 therefore, in these circumstances, as conveying the 
 same meaning with like words uttered in olden 
 time by the Church, and on one occasion by the 
 Psalmist, u The Lord hath forsaken me." At that 
 very moment they were dear to him as the apple 
 of his eye, and he never forgot them for an 
 instant ; but for the time, they were left under the 
 power of affliction, without any visible means of re- 
 lief but such as they themselves could furnish. So 
 it was with Jesus Christ, and his language, so far 
 from conveying the idea that he was suffering the 
 wrath of God, or was a subject of spiritual derelic- 
 tion, is but expressive of his feelings, as he entered 
 single-handed into his last desperate conflict with 
 his greatest enemy. 
 
 I give this interpretation of our Saviour's experi- 
 ence upon the cross, as the only one in which my 
 
THE CRUCIFIXION SCENE. 27 
 
 own mind can rest, as relieving the subject from 
 difficulties, not only upon any other supposition in- 
 surmountable, but as painful to every Christian 
 heart. 
 
 And yet the scene which is here presented to 
 our attention, even when relieved of its difficulties, 
 is truly wonderful ; and the end which it contem- 
 plated must be as extraordinary as wonderful. 
 What that end was is an appropriate enquiry, be- 
 cause in the end as illustrated by the means, is 
 found the power of the cross. 
 
 My first remark here is, that the trials and suf- 
 ferings of Jesus Christ were essential to the perfec- 
 tion of his character as our great example. " To 
 this end," we are told, that " he suffered for us, 
 leaving us an example." There have been in our 
 world examples of patience and submission and 
 resignation to the will of God, but there have been 
 none like that of Jesus Christ. To answer this 
 great end, he must learn obedience from his suffer- 
 ing, and learn it too in the most painful circum- 
 stances ; he must endure the heaviest trials which 
 can weigh down a human spirit, and become ac- 
 quainted with sorrow, not merely in its varied, but 
 in its heaviest forms, and having thus learned obe- 
 dience, by going through the perfection of suffer- 
 ing, he has become a perfect example. So, like- 
 wise, to qualify him for his office, as " the captain 
 of salvation to all them who obey him," it was 
 necessary for him to pass through the very scenes 
 of trial and conflict which marked his history ; he 
 must meet the powers of darkness at the moment 
 
28 NATTTKE AND DESIGN OF 
 
 when they gained their greatest ascendancy, and 
 overcome them, when they put on their severest 
 forms of malice, and put forth the mightiest efforts 
 of their strength. This he did upon the cross, and 
 having there made a show of his enemies openly, 
 he is manifested to the world " as able to save unto 
 the uttermost all who come unto God by him." 
 In the midst of such thoughts, however, important 
 as they are, and essential as they may be to a cor- 
 rect view of our Redeemer's position and work, we 
 must not overlook what seems to us to have been 
 the main design of the crucifixion scene. 
 
 The grand theme which constitutes the burden 
 of this revelation, is reconciliation between man 
 and God, and this reconciliation is uniformly spoken 
 of as effected only by the cross of Christ. The 
 forgiveness of human transgression — that is the 
 point to be compassed — and to be compassed in a 
 way as honourable to God as it is safe for man. 
 The integrity of the divine character, no more than 
 man's own sense of right, preclude the idea of for- 
 giveness and reconciliation separate from something 
 which taking the place of our punishment, shall 
 answer the same end, and make an equal or a bet- 
 ter impression. Something there must be, upon 
 which the human conscience can roll the burden of 
 its guilt, something which can inspire confidence in 
 God ; otherwise there is a barrier between the soul 
 and its Creator, high as heaven, and enduring as the 
 Eternal throne ; and upon this intricate and per- 
 plexing question, the cross of Christ has thrown its 
 unequivocal and satisfactory light, demonstrating 
 
THE CRUCIFIXION SCENE. 29 
 
 no less clearly God's justice than his grace in for- 
 giveness. 
 
 I am not wrong in speaking of the wondrous im- 
 pression, which the sufferings of a Redeemer as a 
 substitute for man, have made upon the human 
 mind. Since the world began, no transaction like 
 it has ever taken place — no expedient like it 
 has ever been found to influence the human 
 heart or stay the swelling tide of human corrup- 
 tion. The flood swept away a guilty world, and 
 the impression made by that dread manifestation 
 of divine displeasure was soon forgotten. Fire 
 from heaven destroyed the cities of the plain, and 
 the impression was soon forgotten, and they who 
 stood around the cross of Christ, thought that the 
 impression of the crucifixion scene would be soon 
 forgotten. But it was not so ; the blood of Geth- 
 semane and Calvary was scarcely dry, ere this 
 event attracted the attention, affected the hearts, 
 and changed the character of thousands. Its influ- 
 ence spread with the rapidity of fire ; wealth and 
 power were insufficient to stay its progress, or pre- 
 vent its effect ; at the present day, it holds an 
 ascendancy over more hearts than ever ; you feel 
 it, I feel it, every where we cannot escape it, if we 
 would ; and its influence is extending and widening, 
 and deepening, promising to reach every nation, 
 every family, every human being upon our globe. 
 The impression moreover, which it makes is of the 
 very character needed; an impression not more 
 distinct of God's readiness to forgive sin than of His 
 displeasure against sin. Can any of us doubt its 
 
30 NATUKE AND DESIGN OF 
 
 impressive power % Is there one who does not feel 
 it ? One, some of the movements of whose mind- 
 it does not control ? I take the man who imagines 
 that the question of his immortality can be very 
 easily disposed of; the man who finds shelter from 
 his fears under the influence of some vague notions 
 of the mercy of God, and carry him to the scene of 
 the crucifixion, and bid him study it, to look at his 
 reasonings and his hopes in the light of the cross. 
 If there is anything which will disturb a man in 
 his unconcern about futurity ; if there is anything 
 which will shake the foundation of false hopes, the 
 cross of Christ will do it. You think yourself safe, 
 uninterested in the blood of atonement. See what 
 God thinks of your confidence and hope. Your 
 reasonings upon the subject come in too late. God 
 has answered them already, in the expression of his 
 views of sin, given in the death of His Son. Every 
 movement of that sufferer as he prays in his agony ; 
 every drop of blood which he sheds, testifies to the 
 worth! essness of your hope. Your most serious 
 misgivings, your most anxious thoughts, your most 
 harassing fears, your most unhappy anticipations, 
 called into being as they are by the study of the 
 cross, are the honest testimony of your own spirit 
 to its impressive power and the demonstration of 
 the wisdom of God in his plan of reconciliation. 
 
 No less mighty is it in its action upon the mind 
 of the humble and contrite, than it is upon the 
 conscience of the presumptuous and unsubdued. 
 The impression which in this case it makes, as to 
 one's safety, is as deep and effective, as the inrpres- 
 
THE CRUCIFIXION SCENE. 31 
 
 sion which it makes in the other case of one's peril. 
 Christians there may be, whose claims to the 
 character and name, I should be slow to dispute, 
 who have very little confidence in the value of 
 their hopes, and sometimes even pride themselves 
 upon their doubts, as evidences of a sensitive and 
 enlightened conscience ; but what right have you 
 or I to compliment ourselves at the expense of the 
 cross of Christ % If the ground of our dependence 
 was in ourselves, we might well doubt ; but what 
 room is there for doubt in view of him who magni- 
 fied the law and made it honorable ? My iniquities 
 may be so many that I cannot number them, and 
 so great that I cannot measure their enormity. 
 My ill-desert may be so vast, as to be beyond 
 my power of calculation, but I cannot go to the 
 cross and study its meaning without learning that 
 the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin. Many 
 and strong may be my temptations, and sometimes 
 I fear that I may be borne down and carried away 
 by their power. But my fears vanish when I re- 
 member that I walk under the protection of Him 
 who having been in all points tempted like myself, 
 and having learned obedience from the things which 
 he suffered, is exalted to be a high priest, enabled 
 from his experience to sympathize with me, and by 
 his power to succour me in every exigency of my 
 being. I may be called to wrestle, not simply 
 with flesh and blood, but with principalities and 
 powers likewise, yet the captain of my salvation is 
 one who has made a show of them openly upon his 
 cross ; and where, or who is he that condemneth, 
 
32 NATTTKE AND DESIGN OF 
 
 since " it is Christ who died, yea, rather who is 
 risen again ?" 
 
 The impression then of the crucifixion scene upon 
 the Christian's mind, assuring him of his safety, is no 
 less distinct, than its impression upon the sinner's 
 mind assuring him of his danger ; the fears of the 
 former and the hopes of the latter, can exist only as 
 the garden, the cross, and the sepulchre are shut 
 out from the view — if the one dare not hope, the 
 other dare not fear, as he thinks of the Redeemer's 
 work. 
 
 Oh ! there is something in this cross, we know it 
 and feel it, which has a wonderous power to arrest, 
 awaken, and convince ; and a power no less wonder- 
 ous to soothe, to rest the anxious spirit, to charm to 
 quietness the troubled conscience, and wake to 
 hope the desponding soul. They who are careless 
 have but to look to tremble, they who are sinking 
 under a load of conscious guilt, have but to look to 
 live, and they who are harassed by fears, have but 
 to look to put on new forms of strength. 
 
 I have one more thought : the cross of Christ is 
 a demonstration of love, a warrant for confidence, 
 an appeal to everything noble and generous about 
 human nature. I question not that the Redeemer's 
 work took its peculiar form, as much to meet the 
 feelings of the human hearts as to meet the require- 
 ments of God's justice and truth. Our feelings, my 
 brethren, towards God, are naturally those of dis- 
 trust and opposition, and that simply because we 
 are sinners ; and these feelings must be mastered 
 before we can be saved ; and they must be mastered 
 
THE CRUCIFIXION SCENE. 33 
 
 by an unequivocal overwhelming demonstration of 
 love ; and we have it in the cross, for there " God 
 is in Christ, reconciling man unto Himself." The 
 Redeemer was not compelled to suffer ; at any 
 moment he might have turned back from the path 
 upon which he had entered ; he might have taken 
 refuge in his own purity and thrown from him the 
 oppressive curse, which seemed every moment to 
 grow longer and broader, and deeper and higher. 
 And why did he not do it ? We have no other 
 answer than this. His suffering to him was a con- 
 tinual lesson of the extent and magnitude of the 
 curse, as it taught him how much he had to en- 
 dure ; it taught him how much man must endure 
 if he gave him up ; and because he loved man 
 so much the thickening darkness of the curse only 
 bound him the faster to his work ; the increasing 
 weight of the curse only urged him onward ; its 
 growing immensity only animated him to throw 
 every nerve into the effort for its annihilation ; the 
 principle which controlled became more energetic 
 and active as the suffering became more intense ; 
 he saw, he endured, he triumphed under the influ- 
 ence of love to man ; and now he not only shows 
 us that we may trust him, but he addresses his 
 appeal to these hearts. 
 
 And I know, my hearer, that there are hearts 
 which respond to this appeal, if yours does not. I 
 know that there are those who will here and else- 
 where, gather to-day around the memorial of a 
 Saviour's love, and under the subduing influence of 
 the cross, will give themselves away to him, who 
 3 
 
34 NATURE AND DESIGN OF 
 
 on their account shrank not from the curse. Theirs 
 will be strong emotions as well of confidence as of 
 gratitude. What shall yours be? What tale 
 shall be told of you, and what record made of your 
 feelings and purposes ? A tale which will sound 
 strange in heaven, and be read by you hereafter 
 with an aching, sinking heart. The tale of one 
 who could study a Redeemer's agony and sympa- 
 thize with the spirit which caused it ; of one who 
 could go to his master in Gethsemane and wring 
 into the cup from which he drinks some of its 
 drops of bitterness ; who could go with him to 
 Calvary, and join with the unseen powers who dis- 
 tracted his holy soul. Sin forced from him his cry 
 of agony, as it gave horrors to the curse which 
 overwhelmed him, and you will not forsake sin ! 
 Sin, your sin, explains this dread catastrophe, 
 and solves all its mysteries, and you will be a sinner 
 still ! You do not fully comprehend this matter, 
 or you could not think, and feel, and act as you 
 do. If you do, if you can remain a sinner, unsub- 
 dued by the cross, understanding its meaning and 
 its mysteries, I would not occupy your position for 
 ten thousand worlds. I would rather be one of 
 those who nailed him to the tree and pierced his 
 side, for of them could our Saviour say, as he cannot 
 say of you, " They know not what they do." 
 
 My guilty, unhappy hearer, a dying Saviour 
 speaks to you to-day; his bitter passion and his 
 prayer of agony, his atoning blood, and his dying 
 exclamation, these are the arguments of the sinner's 
 friend. An archangel could not speak to you in 
 
THE CKUCIFIXION SCENE. 35 
 
 strains so sweet, nor yet in tones so awful, as does 
 the cross of Christ. Under the influence of that 
 cross I would put myself, in strong confidence, and 
 a spirit of devotion; under the influence of its 
 arguments and appeals I would leave you. If you 
 cannot admit its claims and yield to its power, if 
 you cannot give yourself to your Master as he 
 speaks to you to-day, go write, I know you must 
 do it with a trembling hand, go write your decision 
 upon his cross. 
 
THE LAMB SLAIN IN THE MIDST OF THE THRONE." 
 
 " And, I beheld, and lo ! in the midst of the throne, and of the four 
 beasts, and in the midst of the elders, stood a Lamb as it had been slain, 
 having seven horns, and seven eyes, which are the seven spirits of G-od> 
 -sent forth into all the earth." — Revelations v. 6. 
 
 From the splendid vision which was vouchsafed 
 to the beloved disciple, on the isle of Patmos, we 
 select that part contained in our text, as furnishing 
 an appropriate theme for our meditation this morn- 
 ing. It is not upon the throne, circled though it 
 was with a rainbow of emerald, nor yet upon him 
 who sat upon it, gorgeous though he was with jasper 
 and sardine stone, nor yet upon the living creatures, 
 crowned though they were with gold, that we wish 
 to fix your attention, but rather upon what at first 
 sight appears to be out of place, because incon- 
 gruous to what is so majestic and magnificent, a 
 Lamb slain, a being, in the midst of this glory, 
 clothed with the symbols of sadness, and exhibit- 
 ing the marks of humiliation, and suffering and 
 death. 
 
 The design of the vision must be apparent to 
 every one who will give a careful attention to the 
 
THE LAMB SLALTS". 37 
 
 context. It is to exhibit the dominion of God, and 
 his unrestrained and controlling agency in manag- 
 ing the affairs of the world. In the hands of him 
 who sat upon the throne, was a sealed, mysterious 
 volume, full of the secrets of the future ; and of all 
 the hosts of heaven, not one was able to break 
 the seals, and throw open the book, but one who 
 was designated by the august title of " the Lion of 
 the tribe Juclah, the Root of David ;" and surely, 
 these notes of preparation, this wonderful and 
 splendid preliminary process would lead us to an- 
 ticipate in the person of Him who alone was able 
 to open the book, the appearance at least of sur- 
 passing glory ; and yet, while the apostle looks 
 with admiring expectation for the coming of one 
 who had been thus hailed and announced, he be- 
 holds not a being wearing an aspect of resistless 
 power, not a being arrayed with thunder, and 
 seemingly able to trample upon principalities and 
 powers, but " a Lamb as it had been slain," a being, 
 wearing amid all the grandeur by which he was 
 surrounded, if I may speak so, the imagery of 
 death. It was the glorified humanity of Jesus 
 Christ upon which, he gazed, bearing yet the evi- 
 dences of a cruel and languishing death, to which 
 it had submitted ; the print of the nails was there, 
 the gash of the spear was there. Exalted though 
 he was, the evidences of his humiliation had not 
 been effaced ; there amid all his glory were the traces 
 of his previous infamy and suffering : this is the be- 
 ing, with " the seven horns," emblems of power and 
 " the seven eyes," emblems of wisdom, " which are 
 
38 THE LAMB SLAIN 
 
 the seven spirits of God sent forth into all the 
 earth." 
 
 Now, can we mistake the doctrine inculcated ? 
 The government of this world rests with Jesus 
 Christ, as a once crucified Saviour, and he is invested 
 as such, with all the power, and all the wisdom, 
 necessary to break -the seals of God's book of Pro- 
 vidence, and bring out the wondrous secrets con- 
 tained within its mysterious leaves. 
 
 There are then two thoughts embodied in this 
 exhibition. The appearance of Jesus Christ in 
 heaven, " as a Lamb slain," bearing the evidence of 
 his conflict and suffering; and the government 
 which as such he exercises over this world. The 
 reasons for this peculiar manifestation, the lessons 
 which we are taught by it, and the fact, that all 
 the events in the world, all the developments of 
 God's providence are made subservient to the Ke- 
 deemer's purposes, are to furnish us with topics of 
 remark. 
 
 1. My first thought is, the sacrificial offering of 
 Jesus Christ is recognized in heaven. Think as 
 men may of the theme of redemption through 
 atoning blood, it is acknowledged in its reality and 
 perceived in its glory by the dwellers in a higher 
 and purer sphere than our own. If the thrones of 
 heaven bow to the Lamb slain, if its lamps burn 
 around him, its laurels garland, its harps celebrate, 
 and its incense enshrines him, what care we for the 
 names and opinions and suffrages of men ? You 
 cannot by any possibility explain this peculiar ap- 
 pellation given to Jesus Christ, without bringing 
 
IN THE MIDST OF THE THKONE. 39 
 
 into view the idea of his sacrificial work. " The 
 Lamb," "the Lamb of God," "the Lamb of God 
 slain." Yon must go back to Jewish history 
 to find a key to unlock the mystery of these re- 
 markable designations ; you must go back to the 
 dark stillness of that night when the destroying 
 angel was commissioned to traverse the land of 
 Egypt in its length and breadth, dealing out death 
 to the first born of the people, and covering the 
 country with a saddened and terrified population. 
 On that night were the children of Israel required 
 to slay a lamb for every house, and take the 
 blood and sprinkle it on the side-posts and doors 
 of their dwellings, that when the destroying angel 
 went through the land, he might pass by, and leave 
 unharmed the houses upon whose thresholds ap- 
 peared the commanded memorial. It was a type, 
 as the apostle tells us, of " the blood of sprinkling ;" 
 and if Christ is presented to us, as " a lamb," and 
 " a lamb slain," if his blood is called " the blood of 
 sprinkling," it must be so, because it is the mark of 
 deliverance set upon those who are saved from the 
 ruins of the apostacy ; and as in the night of 
 Egypt's dismay the destroying angel knew from 
 the blood spots on the dwellings where to strike 
 and where to forbear, so, in the last day, when 
 the wheels of the universe stand still, and begin to 
 break, when the year of the redeemed shall have 
 come, and the day of vengeance shall have arrived, 
 the angels of God shall be guided, by a like desig- 
 nation, as they go forth to sever between the 
 wicked and the righteous, and they only shall be 
 
 
40 THE LAMB SLAIN 
 
 delivered from the terrors of the final catastrophe, 
 who have been sprinkled with that blood which 
 " cleanseth from all sin." 
 
 But while the correspondence between the an- 
 cient paschal lamb and the Eedeemer, explains the 
 peculiar appellation given to the latter, it goes no 
 farther in unfolding the mysteries of our text. We 
 can easily understand that Jesus Christ, as the an- 
 ti-type of the ancient sacrifices, must himself be a 
 sacrifice, and as the blood of the offered lamb was 
 the only security to the Israelites in the night 
 of Egypt's desolation, so in the day of this world's 
 ruin, the only pledge of protection and passport to 
 safety must be found in the blood and death of the 
 crucified one. But why after the Redeemer has 
 passed through and accomplished his work, and 
 risen to his glory and his throne, should he be re- 
 presented as wearing still, amid his splendour, the 
 mementoes and badges of his former humiliation 
 and suffering ? 
 
 In the appearances of sanctified spirits in the 
 other world, as they were made to the beloved 
 disciple, there was nothing like sadness or suffering. 
 They are, indeed, represented as those " who had 
 come out of great tribulation ;" but then all tears 
 had been washed from their eyes, and all sorrow 
 and sighing had fled away for ever. We feel that 
 it would be incongruous to represent a glorified 
 saint in heaven as one who bore the marks of 
 suffering. It would give an aspect of melancholy 
 and gloom to the whole scenery of the skies if the 
 ransomed bore the marks of trial and suffering, 
 
IN THE MIDST OF THE THKONE. 41 
 
 because they would be mementoes, not of trials 
 only, but of sins likewise ; signs not of sorrow 
 simply, but of a guilty apostacy. It is not so, Low- 
 ever, with Christ. His sufferings were indeed con- 
 nected with sin, but not his own. He sorrowed, 
 but not for himself. He agonized, but the iniquity 
 of others drove him to the garden and the cross. 
 The imagery of suffering and death, which would 
 appear exceedingly painful, and even reproachful, 
 if woven into the raiment of one who died because 
 he had sinned, may appear beautiful and glorious 
 as the garb of one who died only that he might 
 atone and save from sin. The scar of a felon's 
 brand is the perpetual mark of his infamy, but the 
 scars of a warrior's wound proclaim his courage 
 and publish his glory. 
 
 There is, I imagine, a design in this representa- 
 tion to exhibit to us that glory of the Redeemer 
 which is peculiar to Him only, " as a Lamb that 
 had been slain." He has a glory independent of 
 any of his achievements for man ; a glory to which 
 nothing could be added, and from which nothing 
 can be withdrawn, whose shining can neither be 
 brightened nor dimmed by the obedience or dis- 
 obedience of his creatures, the glory of his essen- 
 tial Deity. There is a glory, moreover, belonging 
 to him as the One Mediator between God and 
 man, who, without ceasing to be what he was, yet 
 took upon him mysteriously the form of a servant, 
 and thus gathered into one the creature and the 
 Creator, lighting up the humanity with Deity, and 
 
42 
 
 THE LAMB SLAIN 
 
 clothing Deity with humanity, and becoming a form 
 for the manifestation of the invisible God. 
 
 But the peculiar glory of the Redeemer resulted 
 from his work as Mediator. To accomplish this 
 work he assumed humanity. The nature which 
 had sinned was the nature to be redeemed, and it 
 could be redeemed only by that which was effected 
 in the nature which had sinned. Divinity alone 
 could not be a Mediator ; humanity alone could not 
 be. The nature of the office, implying two parties, 
 supposes of necessity a sympathy with both ; and 
 as God and man are the parties, none but the God- 
 man can possibly be the Mediator. Hence it is 
 that Christ took upon him the form of a servant. 
 Hence it is that " the Word was made flesh." By 
 sorrowing and obeying in the nature which had re- 
 belled ; by keeping it un defiled, and then offering 
 it through the Eternal Spirit a sacrifice unto God, 
 Christ accomplished the end of his office ; and now 
 I would have you distinctly to observe, as the illus- 
 tration of the point before us, that he accomplished 
 his work through suffering. The " Captain of our 
 Salvation was made perfect, or exalted to glory by 
 his sufferings." " By death he destroyed him who 
 had the power of death." He died, but not as sin- 
 ners die ; he fell, but not as falls the child of mor- 
 tality. His wounds overcame his enemy; and 
 death as it took hold upon Christ, did but paralyze 
 itself. We often say of some earthly warrior, that 
 " he fell in the moment of victory ;" but Christ did 
 more than this, he obtained his victory by falling ; 
 and if the military chieftain returning a conqueror 
 
IN THE MIDST OF THE THRONE. 43 
 
 from the conflict manifests his energy, and prowess, 
 and bravery by the wounds which he bears away 
 with him from the battle-field, why can we not un- 
 derstand how the appearance of Jesus Christ on 
 high, " as a Lamb that had been slain," is the 
 brightest illustration of his grandeur. If his 
 wounds were the arms by which he conquered, and 
 his death the engine by which he shook to pieces 
 the despotism of Satan, what attire can be so glo- 
 rious a covering to his humanity, as the print of 
 the nails and the gash of the spear ? Under what 
 aspect can he show himself more beautiful than 
 that of a lamb slain ? Where is the incongruity, 
 the want of strict keeping between the scenery of 
 heaven and this imagery of woe ? These signs of 
 death are the emblems of victory worn by the con- 
 queror ; the banner which floats over him is em- 
 blazoned with his enterprize : the covering which 
 enwraps him is written all over with his successes ; 
 and if the marks of death are thus the tokens of 
 triumph, we wonder not that he wears them ; we 
 wonder not that the cros sshould be near him, and 
 the garment in which he bled should be thrown 
 around him, and that the burning cherubim and 
 seraphim, when they would sing his praise, take 
 their harps and sweep them to the chorus, " Worthy 
 is the Lamb that was slain." 
 
 2. ISTow, if we have gone so far in our remarks, 
 as to shew that this peculiar appearance of Christ 
 in heaven was the best and brightest illustration of 
 his glory as a Kedeemer, let us essay to go one 
 
44 THE LAMB SLAIN 
 
 step farther, that we may ascertain whether there 
 is not that about it which administers to our own 
 personal comfort, security, and hope. 
 
 " Christ was once offered," we are told in the 
 Scriptures, " to bear the sins of many ;" and in re- 
 liance upon the statements of the same Scriptures, 
 we believe, that " by the one offering of himself, 
 he hath perfected forever them that are sanctified." 
 In that one oblation there was such a virtue, that 
 no amount of iniquity, however aggravated, can 
 call for a new atonement. Under the law the sac- 
 rifices were continually offered ; with the dawn of 
 the morning and the shades of the evening victims 
 must die for the offences of the congregation. But 
 Christ having appeared as the great anti-type of the 
 ancient offerings, has by one sacrifice made a full and 
 complete atonement. But while we cling to this one 
 sacrifice, believing that no sin ever has been, no sin 
 ever will be committed, for which this will not suffice, 
 we believe also that Christ is " the same yesterday, 
 to-day, and forever." And what do we mean by this 
 sameness ? Am I wrong when I say he is the same, 
 so that there is no such thing as age in his sacrifice ? 
 that centuries cannot give antiquity to his atone- 
 ment, time cannot wear out its virtues; that his 
 blood is as precious now as when first it was shed, 
 and the fountain for sin and uncleanness flows with 
 a stream as full and purifying as when first it was 
 opened ? And how ? Simply because by his inter- 
 cession he perpetuates his sacrifice ; and his offering, 
 though not repeated on earth, is incessantly pre- 
 sented in heaven. It was enough that he should 
 
IN THE MIDST OF THE THEONE. 45 
 
 once die to make atonement, seeing he ever lives 
 to make intercession. 
 
 Now, wlien we read that Jesus Christ, in heaven, 
 appears as " the Lamb that had been slain," you 
 will not consider me as wresting the inspired lan- 
 guage or drawing a conclusion any broader than 
 my premises, when I infer that he is now carrying 
 on in heaven the very office and work which he 
 commenced when upon earth ; and though there is 
 no visible altar, and no literal sacrifice, no endur- 
 ance of anguish, and no shedding of blood ; yet still 
 he presents vividly and energetically the marks of 
 his passion, and the effect is the same as though he 
 died daily, and acted over again and again the 
 scene of his tremendous conflict with " the powers 
 of darkness." 
 
 We can hardly imagine a figure which can more 
 clearly than that of our text, express the idea that 
 Jesus Christ on high presents himself as a mighty 
 intercessor, an intercessor, not because he pleads 
 with the plain tiven ess of entreaty, or the eloquence 
 of tears; but because he covers the defenceless 
 with the shadow of his wing ; because, whatever 
 may be our necessities, however great the things 
 we may need, however unworthy we may be of 
 one of them, he has secured by his death a supply 
 for our every want ; and now by presenting the 
 merits of that death, he asks and secures the abun- 
 dant outgoings of heavenly influence for the mean- 
 est of his disciples. 
 
 There are sins daily committed, in thought, word 
 and deed ; how could they be pardoned, were it 
 
46 THE LAMB SLAIN 
 
 not for "the Lamb slain in the midst of the throne. 8 ' 
 Why do we look for the descent of the Comforter, 
 the aids of that Holy Spirt, without whom nothing 
 is strong, nothing is holy, if not because Christ in- 
 tercedes ? Why do we cherish such magnificent 
 hopes ? Hopes, whose objects, because of their 
 grandeur, are symbolized to us under the images of 
 eternal crowns and immortal sceptres. Why are 
 we not visionaries for indulging such hopes, and 
 supposing it not only probable but certain, that 
 things so rich and radiant should be placed upon 
 the brows, or given into the hands of beings, who, 
 if measured by a standard of righteousness and 
 truth, deserve nothing but a heritage of shame ? 
 Because we see in " the Lamb slain in the midst of 
 the throne," marks which identify him with one, 
 who while upon the earth left these words to en- 
 courage his disciples' hearts, " I appoint unto you 
 a kingdom, as my Father hath appointed unto me." 
 The intercession of Christ consists in his perpetual 
 presentation of his one all-sunicient sacrifice, and as 
 that intercession is essential to the life, the comfort, 
 and the hope of his people, so is the assurance of 
 its reality conveyed to their minds by the appear- 
 ance, which he is represented as wearing in heaven, 
 that of a lamb that had been slain, exhibiting con- 
 stantly the marks of the sacrificial offering. 
 
 As we have already seen, therefore, that no 
 aspect could be more honourable than this to 
 Christ himself, and as we have now shewn how in- 
 dispensable it is to his church that he should wear 
 it, we are satisfied, that no nobler or more fitting 
 
IN THE MIDST OF THE THEONE. 47 
 
 description of him in glory, could be given than 
 the one we have been calling you to study ; and if 
 myriads of exalted creatures should gather around 
 him, and break out in a song, which should be 
 echoed by every creature in heaven and earth, and 
 under the earth, no richer, sweeter melody could 
 be wafted to our ears, none more glorifying to the 
 Redeemer, than that of praise to " the Lamb that 
 had been slain." 
 
 Indulge me, if you please, in one more thought 
 before I conclude my explanation of the symbol. 
 There is no real, nor as we thus look at the sub- 
 ject, is there any apparent incongruity, between 
 the magnificence and glory of the throne, as pre- 
 sented in vision to the apostle, and the marred 
 aspect of the Redeemer as he is seen moving amid 
 all this grandeur ; so far from it, that the beauty 
 and effect of the vision results from its combination 
 of these, at first sight, apparently opposite exhibi- 
 tions. There is the throne ; it is a throne of ma- 
 jesty, but in the midst of it is a form, bearing the 
 traces of anguish and of death ; and surely if this 
 teaches us anything, it teaches us that the crucified 
 is not lost in the glorified ; the diadem on his brow 
 is the diadem of " the King of kings ;" but the fore- 
 head, there are deep lines of sympathy traced there, 
 which tell us that it is still that of " the man of 
 sorrows." If we had been informed merely that 
 the Redeemer had ascended on high, that angels 
 had met him, and heaven rung with his praises, 
 that he had risen to a dignity which we could 
 never estimate, and a power which we could never 
 
48 THE LAMB SLAIN 
 
 calculate, and a happiness of which, we could 
 never form a conception ; we should seem so far 
 separated from him, there would be such a broad, 
 deep gulf dividing us, there would in appearance 
 be so little in common between us, that we could 
 hardly apprehend the fact that Christ and his 
 church make but one body, he being the Head and 
 they the members. While he is in the midst of his 
 splendours, and all this glory is thrown around him, 
 where can be sympathy for the afflicted, where a 
 fellow feeling for those who are still struggling 
 with the trials and temptations of the flesh ? At 
 this point we go back to the fact, that he retains 
 the marks of his sufferings ; the crucified is not lost 
 in the glorified ; we cannot measure his power, his 
 dignity, or his happiness, but whatever they may 
 be, they have not removed Christ to a distance 
 from his members ; he is still linked with all " who 
 sorrow in Zion ;" for though he is in the midst of 
 the throne, and surrounded by the praises of 
 heaven, he is there, and is praised there, " a lamb 
 as it had been slain ;" and while he bears the marks 
 of the scourge, the nails, and the spear, we are safe 
 in believing that he can feel for us in trouble, and 
 succour us in trial. It is precisely this combination 
 of the emblems of grandeur, and the mementoes of 
 his sorrow, which makes the exhibition so peculi- 
 arly beautiful and interesting to us ; there are the 
 traces of his sorrow to teach us his sympathy, there 
 is the throne, to reveal to us his power ; and thus 
 who is the Lamb in the midst of the throne but 
 our sympathizing and Almighty Saviour. 
 
IN THE MIDST OF THE THRONE. 49 
 
 3. If we have thus explained the reason, and un- 
 folded the lessons of this peculiar appearance of 
 Christ in heaven, as presented in the text, let us 
 look for a moment at the relations which he sus- 
 tains, as possessed of infinite wisdom and unlimited 
 power to govern the world, symbolized by " the 
 seven eyes, and the seven horns, which are the 
 seven spirits of God, sent forth into all the earth." 
 
 ~No doctrine, my brethren, is more plainly taught 
 in the Bible than that Christ by his sufferings has 
 been exalted to a throne of universal dominion, 
 " given to be head over all things to the church ;" so 
 that Providence has brought all its resources, and 
 all its instrumentalities, and laid them down at the 
 foot of the cross, to be used in subserviency to, and 
 in furtherance of, its grand design. The Redeemer 
 has a kingdom and an end for which that kingdom 
 exists peculiarly his own ; and he must reign until 
 his reign is universally acknowledged, and " all his 
 enemies are put under his feet." It is as " the 
 Lamb slain" that he is upon the throne ; and, of 
 course, his universal government is designed to 
 illustrate the glory and execute the purposes of 
 redemption. The time is coining when every tribe, 
 every soul upon the earth shall bow to the cross ; 
 when the Redeemer's kingdom shall be reared upon 
 the wreck of all opposing sovereignty, and all men 
 shall call him blessed. Providence, as directed by 
 Christ, has been, and is now engaged in briDging 
 about this great consummation. 
 
 The world in which we live, with the influences 
 which are at work, and the events and changes 
 
5(3 THE LAMB SLAIN 
 
 which are taking place in its different departments, 
 varies in its aspect according to the medium through 
 which we look at it. The politician watches events 
 as serving to illustrate or contradict some particular 
 political theory. The political economist studies 
 u the signs of the times," as they have a bearing 
 upon some favourite doctrine relative to the pro- 
 duction of wealth ; and each is waiting for, as he 
 predicts, some grand demonstrations when all men 
 shall have their rights, and the prosperity of the 
 world shall be perfect, as the laws regulating the 
 development of the world's resources shall be uni- 
 versally understood and obeyed. But to the 
 Christian the world wears a Yery different aspect, 
 and its events and changes have a very different 
 meaning as he looks upon them in their relation to 
 the triumphs of the Redeemer's cross. We speak in 
 accordance with the teaching of inspiration and the 
 sure word of prophecy, when we say that every 
 occurrence is the herald of the Redeemer's triumph. 
 We may not be able to show the connection of 
 every thing with the general result, or the tendency 
 of particular movements to hasten it ; but we know 
 that there is nothing in this world, in any depart- 
 ment of human enterprize or action, nothing com- 
 mon or uncommon, melancholy or joyous, trivial or 
 magnificent, which has not its own appropriate 
 meamng and influence in relation to the success of 
 the Redeemer's cause. The affairs of an individual 
 and of a family, no less than the affairs of states 
 and empires, are subservient to this grand issue. 
 Whether an individual is preserved or stricken 
 
IN THE MIDST OF THE THEONE. 51 
 
 down in death, whether families are exalted or de- 
 pressed, whether nations rise or fall, whether war 
 convulses kingdoms, and famine and pestilence de- 
 cimate the population of the earth, or peace waves 
 its olive branch over the world, and health and 
 prosperity prevail, and abundance is poured out 
 from the treasury of heaven's bounty, whether the 
 kings of the world join, and the rulers take coun- 
 sel together against the Lord and his Anointed, 
 or give their influence directly to the furtherance of 
 the cause of Christ, whether he of the triple crown 
 adopts a more liberal or a more contracted policy, 
 and other potentates encourage or oppose his move- 
 ments, nothing occurs which is not originated or 
 permitted by him who is King in Zion, and head 
 over all things to his church, nothing which is not 
 directed or overruled to the furtherance of his 
 grand designs. Thus to the eye which faith in 
 the sure testimony of God has opened, this world, 
 in all its transactions and events, wears an aspect 
 of wondrous interest, because every one of them 
 has some undoubted connection with the grand 
 and final development of the system of redemption. 
 We may not be able to see clearly the lines along 
 which runs the influence of divine occurrences in 
 this world; but to the eye of Him who sitteth 
 upon the throne, they are lines of light, all con- 
 verging to one point, that magnificent result upon 
 which prophecy delights to pour all its splendid 
 imagery, when the kingdoms of the world shall 
 become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ, 
 and the whole human population shall bow at the 
 
52 THE LAMB SLAIN 
 
 name of the Kedeerner. The days which are pass- 
 ing now, are the days of the Son of Man ; and each 
 successive one as it passes, heaving into being new 
 and surprising events, is but an illustration of the 
 wisdom and the might of Him who sits upon the 
 throne, as they all mark the different stages of that 
 grand revolution which is going on, and which in 
 its issue shall show the earth converted into a 
 noble temple, and that consecrated to Christ ; and 
 whose melody, issuing simultaneously from every 
 dwelling-place, shall be but the echo of the anthem 
 long since raised in heaven, the anthem of praise to 
 the " Lamb that has been slain." 
 
 Take this thought then, and throw its light upon 
 the world in which we live, and what a different 
 aspect is worn by every thing. "What before ap- 
 peared small, now looms into importance, and is 
 seen in its magnificence and grandeur ; what before 
 appeared great, now dwindles down into its own 
 appropriate insignificance. The great and the 
 noble, and the proud of earth, lose their impor- 
 tance ; their mighty enterprizes, and their grand ex- 
 ploits, sink down into the petty strifes of an ephe- 
 meral ambition to the eye of one who sees the 
 Lamb slain moving amid them all, directing them 
 all, and using them all to fulfil the purposes of his 
 redeeming mercy. Nothing, my brethren, is great 
 in this world, but the kingdom of Jesus Christ ; 
 nothing but that, to a spiritual eye, has an air of 
 permanency. The history of the past; has been 
 but a history of the rise and fall of individuals and 
 of nations ; but amid all the changes and overturn- 
 
ES" THE MIDST OF THE THROVE. 53 
 
 ings which have thus far gone to fill up the annals 
 of time, the kingdom of Christ has remained, and 
 under the protection of Him whose wisdom and 
 power are symbolized by the seven spirits of God 
 abroad in all the earth, it is steadily advancing, 
 enlarging its boundaries on every side, and going 
 on to fill the earth. Happy the man who can look 
 at things with an eye of faith, and attaches him- 
 self to the only interest which is abiding, and gives 
 his influence to the only cause which is destined to 
 triumph. The man who takes his place by the 
 side of the Redeemer, and identifies himself with 
 his kingdom, consecrating his influence to the 
 cause for which the Lamb slain has been raised to 
 the throne, occupies the only position worthy of a 
 rational being, especially one whom Christ died to 
 save, and the only position in wmich a single hope 
 that an immortal spirit deems worth the cherishing, 
 can ever be fulfilled. 
 
 My brethren, allow me to ask, in view of the 
 subject which I have endeavoured, though I am 
 conscious with very little success, to set before you, 
 what relation do you sustain to the Lamb slain; 
 what part are you taking in the great drama which 
 is now acting upon the theatre of our world I If 
 we are Christ's, then we know that the mark of 
 deliverance is upon us, and in the night of tumult, 
 and confusion, and death, God's messengers of judg- 
 ment shall pass over and leave us unharmed. If 
 we are Christ's, then amid all the toil and trial 
 which we may be called to endure, as we look up 
 to the throne, and see the marks of the crucifixion 
 
54 THE LAMB SLAIN 
 
 on liim who occupies it, we have the pledge of suc- 
 cour and safety. If we are Christ's, then his wis- 
 dom and his power, pervading all the earth, and 
 regulating all its scenes, give conclusive evidence 
 that not one hope which he has taught us to cher- 
 ish shall fail. If we are Christ's, then the very 
 act which seals our covenant, secures our triumph ; 
 for he who is our helper reigns, and our intercessor 
 sits upon the throne. Is it so then with us, that we 
 are safe under the covering of this great intercessor, 
 and can we believe that he is now interposing on 
 our behalf the all-prevailing plea of his wondrous 
 sacrifice ? Is it so, that we are indeed among the 
 number of those for whom his wisdom plans and 
 his power executes, the loss of one of whom would 
 demonstrate the worthlessness of his atonement 
 and rob his diadem of its glory? You cannot 
 imagine a question which, in point of interest and 
 importance, can for a moment be compared with 
 this ! Your all is wrapped up in it. It may not 
 be long ere the symbols of Egypt's dark night 
 of destruction shall be fulfilled in the still deeper 
 darkness which shall gather around us. Is the 
 blood upon our door-posts, so that if this very night 
 God should pass through the land, he should see 
 the mark, and leave us unharmed ? 
 
 Very much do I fear concerning some of us, that 
 the peace-speaking and life-giving blood has not 
 yet been sprinkled upon the heart and the conscience. 
 Very much do I fear for some, that, though nomi- 
 nally Christian, their hearts are upon their goods, 
 their honours, and their pleasures, rather than upon 
 
m THE MIDST OF THE THRONE. 55 
 
 Christ. They feel no need of a Kedeeruer, see no 
 beauty in him, have no sympathy with him, give 
 no influence to his cause. Is it so with you, my 
 brethren \ Then lose sight, I pray you, of your 
 speaker a moment, and let the Lamb slain be your 
 preacher to-day ; the cross is his pulpit, anguish 
 his argument, his eloquence is blood. Oh ! hear 
 him, and let not your hearts by hearing him un- 
 moved prove themselves harder than the rocks 
 which were rent asunder. He preaches of sin • 
 that forgetfulness of God and neglect of his laws, 
 which you think a trifle, and bids you estimate it 
 in view of his agony and blood, which as its only 
 expiation, can alone be the true revealers of its 
 nature and the just measures of its enormity. He 
 preaches of perdition ; deep, dark, and dreadful 
 must it be, when the terrors of the crucifixion are 
 its most fitting symbols. He preaches of compas- 
 sion ; his language glows with love ; it is rich, inex- 
 haustibly rich in encouragement. " I have found 
 a ransom." " Look unto me and be ye saved." 
 
 But we have not been satisfied with taking you 
 to Calvary ; we have endeavoured to carry you 
 within the veil, that you might hear the same truths 
 which were delivered under a darkened sun, and 
 upon a trembling earth, woven into the anthem of 
 angels and archangels. Ye who are ashamed of 
 Christ, listen, I pray you, to the notes of the cruci- 
 fixion, as swept from the golden harps of principal- 
 ities and powers, and borne upon a tide of melody, 
 whose sound is as the sound of many waters. 
 Among the voices which the apostle heard tuned to 
 
56 THE LAMB SLAIN 
 
 the praises of the Lamb, were the voices of those 
 in whose behalf the Word never was made flesh, 
 for whom he did not die, and whom he did not 
 redeem. And if angels and archangels admire and 
 adore the Lamb that was slain ; if they discover 
 the wonders of the atonement ; if they understand 
 the greatness of the achievement which wrought 
 out our salvation, shall any of us, the very objects 
 of this wondrous interposition, shall we for whom 
 the Saviour left his throne, we for whom he was 
 betrayed into the hands of wicked men, crucified 
 and slain, be ashamed of giving him our homage } 
 and swearing to him our allegiance ? 
 
 God have mercy on the man who can give to 
 this question an affirmative answer ! Woe unto 
 him who can practically judge the Lamb of God to 
 be unworthy of his obedience, unworthy of his con- 
 fidence, unworthy of his love. What is this but ar- 
 raying one's self against all that is gentle, all that 
 is tender, all that is meek, all that is forbearing in the 
 Saviour of sinners ? And when that which is gen- 
 tle is roused to anger, and that which is meek into 
 fierce indignation ; what are they ? and who can 
 stand before them ? Look ye, my brethren, upon 
 Christ in his tenderness, and provoke not the 
 wrath of the Lamb. Behold him as he taketli away 
 the sins of the world, lest ye be crushed beneath 
 his feet, when he treadeth the wine press of his 
 fierce indignation. The voices of the blest as they 
 follow him whithersoever he goeth, no less than 
 the voices of the lost from their heritage of shame, 
 bid you to " Behold the Lamb of God which tak- 
 
IN THE MIDST OF THE THE03TE. 57 
 
 eth away the sin of the world." Hear them, and 
 hear them speedily, that ye may be able now and 
 hereafter more fully to enter into the spirit of 
 the anthem — " Worthy is the Lamb which was 
 slain ;" for oh, be ye sure of this, my dear brethren, 
 if with uplifted heads and joyful voices, we mingle 
 not at last in that wondrous, mighty song, which is 
 to be pealed forth from a renewed and purified uni- 
 verse, another cry shall be forced from us by our deep 
 consternation and terror. " Hide us from the face 
 of him who sitteth upon the throne, and from the 
 wrath of the Lamb." 
 
REASONS FOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 
 
 " Come, for all things are now ready." — St. Luke xiv. IT. 
 
 It is not so much upon the nature of the invita- 
 tion presented in the text, as upon the reasons for 
 embracing it, that we design to insist this morning. 
 We take it for granted, as a point not now in dis- 
 pute, that the offer of the Gospel is full, free, 
 universal — no terms could be used to express it 
 more general and unrestricted. Whatever the 
 Gospel may be, whatever it may involve, it is a 
 message for all — " Go, preach my Gospel to every 
 creature," is the commission under which it is an- 
 nounced to the world. It is meant for man where- 
 ever he may be, in whatever circumstances placed, 
 whatever may be his character, his experiences, 
 his hopes, or his fears— for man, as man — for man 
 as a creature of time — for man as an heir of im- 
 mortality — for man as a sinner, who needs forgive- 
 ness — for man as lost, who needs recovering and 
 renewing influences. If there is a human being 
 who has never sinned, the Gospel is not for him. 
 
REASONS FOE EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 59 
 
 If there is one who is perfectly satisfied with him- 
 self, who has no trials, no weaknesses, no wants, 
 the Gospel is not for him. It goes upon the pre- 
 sumption that we are a race of fallen creatures, who 
 have sinned against God, and have forsaken the foun- 
 tain of living waters, and makes a provision for us 
 as such, and it is our want which brings us within its 
 scope and under its blessed influence ; and among 
 those to whom its message has come, the first 
 human being is yet to be found who is excluded 
 from its offers. " Whosoever will, may come and 
 take of the waters of life freely," is the free and un- 
 trammelled invitation we are commissioned to utter. 
 It is worthy of remark, moreover, that the Gospel 
 deals with men, not in the mass, but as individuals. 
 ""■"It is a message for the world, only as it is a message 
 for each and every man in the world — it is a pro- 
 vision for you and for me, as truly as though there 
 were no other beings in existence to whom it could 
 have any reference, and then only do we understand 
 it, when we look ujDon it and listen to it as an invi- 
 tation addressed to us individually. These positions 
 I take to be incontrovertible. If I had doubts 
 here, I should be at a loss how to preach the Gos- 
 pel. If it was not certain to my mind, that its pro- 
 visions were meant for each and every one of you, 
 and were tendered to each and every one of you, I 
 should not dare to preach it to any of you, for in 
 saying " Come, for all things are now ready," I 
 inio\ht be uttering an untruth. 
 
 It is upon the ground then of this doctrine, that 
 I come this morning to speak to you, my hearer, 
 
60 SEASONS FOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 
 
 as an individual, and I wish you to isolate yourself 
 from all others, and listen to rny text, as addressed 
 to you personally. Sinful, weary, dissatisfied, un- 
 happy man, Christ says, there is pardon, and rest, 
 and fulness of joy for you. " All things are ready ;" 
 come, embrace his offer, and receive his blessings. 
 To urge this invitation upon your acceptance is my 
 present design, by simply setting before you some 
 of the reasons by which it is enforced. If the Gos- 
 pel is true, if it is what it proclaims itself to be, 
 if you are what it represents you to be, if you 
 must be what it commands you to be, then you 
 have in the Gospel itself, in the principles which it 
 unfolds, in the provisions which it makes, in the 
 stern necessity of obedience which it imposes, over- 
 whelming reasons for embracing it. Nothing, I 
 care not what it is, commends itself so strongly to 
 your mind — almost any thing else you can dispense 
 with — fix your mind upon any thing, I care not 
 what it is, however strong your attachments to it 
 may be, you can do without it ; but you cannot do 
 without the gospel. If the Bible is true, you cannot 
 do without an interest in Jesus Christ ; and this is 
 the great reason why you should embrace it. 
 
 NoWj in unfolding this reason, it is no part of my 
 design to enter upon an extended argument to 
 prove the truth of the gospel, nor upon an extend- 
 ed illustration of its principles, its provisions, and 
 its claims. I shall find the materials of my appeal 
 to-day in your own clearly settled views and con- 
 victions upon these points, in your experiences, in 
 your conscious need of something which you do not 
 
REASONS FOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 61 
 
 now possess, and which yon are satisfied you can 
 find in the gospel. 
 
 1. First, then, you believe that the gospel is 
 true ; perhaps upon no one point are your con- 
 victions so full, and clear, and decided. You 
 avow yourself a believer in the Bible ; you could 
 not, with your present views and feelings, bring 
 yourself to take the position of the Atheist, or 
 the Infidel, or to "sit in the seat of the scorn- 
 ful ;" you would not wish that your nearest friend 
 should suspect even that your sympathies might 
 have such a tendency. It would injure your repu- 
 tation in the world ; it would still more injure your 
 feelings. We do not know how this conviction of 
 the truth of the gospel has been reached ; it may 
 perhaps have been the result of a lengthened and 
 careful examination of the testimonies which have 
 been gathered around Christianity; it may have 
 resulted from a self-evidencing power in the word 
 of God itself ; for one, we believe that the Scrip- 
 tures carry along with them their own best creden- 
 tials ; its disclosures bear the evidence of their truth 
 upon their very face ; and no man can sit down 
 with an honest mind to the perusal of the inspired 
 page, and rise up from it with the conviction that 
 he has been studying an ingenious fable — there 
 may be difficulties here which the sincere inquirer 
 may be unable to remove ; a great variety of ques- 
 tions may start up, which he cannot answer, but 
 even while he is grappling with those very difficul- 
 ties, and endeavoring to work out answers to these 
 puzzling questions, his conviction of the truth of 
 
62 REASONS EOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 
 
 this written testimony will "be continually growing 
 stronger and deeper. This much is certain that 
 there is something in every human bosom, which 
 wakes responsive to the general spirit and teach- 
 ing of the gospel. You have no feelings in refer- 
 ence to any other book like those which belong to 
 you when you approach the Bible ; and that sim- 
 ply because you think that God is speaking to you ; 
 and the thoughts here recorded find their way into 
 your inmost soul. Even the man who has worked 
 himself up to skepticism has certain undefinable 
 emotions when he comes to commune with this book 
 of God ; because, amid all his doubts, which he has 
 carefully been nursing, he cannot keep down the fear 
 that in every one of his doubts he may be wrong. 
 
 The general force of public opinion, moreover, in 
 every Christianized community, is in favour of the 
 gospel; the men who think but little upon the 
 subject cannot in view of the effects of the gospel 
 upon the public mind, doubt its truth. A sys- 
 tem which has done so much ; done what no human 
 wisdom, no human influence have ever yet availed 
 to do, cannot be a deception ; nothing would so 
 shock generally the public mind, as a system of 
 education upon avowedly infidel principles ; and 
 you would not trust your children to its influence 
 for an hour. In fact, my brethren, the conviction 
 of the truth of the gospel, whether resulting from 
 examination of its evidence, from a knowledge of 
 its effects, or from the influence of education, is 
 well nigh ' universal. Some unbelievers there are, 
 but they are comparatively few, and even these 
 
REASONS EOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. Go 
 
 have reached their scepticism for the most part by 
 artificial means ; it is not the result of the 
 natural and unfettered actings of their own minds 
 in view of the testimony of God ; it is an exotic, 
 which requires careful nursing to keep it alive. 
 
 It matters not, however, whence this conviction 
 has been derived; we have the fact, which is all we 
 need upon this present occasion ; you believe the 
 gospel to be true, and here we take our stand and 
 make our appeal. Why not embrace it \ Produce 
 your cause, bring forth your strong reasons. Why 
 not embrace the truth ? You are a sinner and 
 need pardon ; you believe it — God offers you pardon 
 for Christ's sake — you believe it — you have not to 
 go into an examination of its evidences ; the reality 
 of the Gospel, as a system of pardoning and recover- 
 ing mercy, is past all question in your mind ; why 
 not receive it into your heart and submit to it. 
 Its terms, perhaps, you say are exclusive ; but it 
 says " there is none other name given under heaven 
 among men whereby they may be saved,' 1 but the 
 name of Jesus ; and you believe it ; and what 
 though they may be exclusive, they are true. It 
 says " Come, for all things are ready," "Whosoever 
 comes to me, I will in no wise cast out." " If ye 
 believe not that I am he, ye shall die in your sins." 
 And it is all true, and what more than truth 
 does a man need to determine him ? If it is true, it 
 cannot be evaded ; if it is true it will stand eternally ; 
 if it is true, no man can say why he should not em- 
 brace it. If upon this point you had any question 
 in your own mind, if you feared the adoption of a 
 
64 REASONS FOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 
 
 falsehood, if you suspected " even that there might 
 be danger of error in embracing the Gospel, 
 then there might be a reason why you should 
 not become a Christian till all doubts were remov- 
 ed ; but there is nothing of the kind ; and we ap- 
 peal to-day to your own convictions, while we say, 
 " Come, for all things are now ready." You cannot 
 get away from this direct home appeal, except as 
 you throw suspicion on the gospel itself, and then 
 you must be driven over upon the ground of the 
 skeptic, upon which you are afraid to tread ; and 
 gather around you, and submit yourself to influ- 
 ences which you feel to be blighting to the soul, 
 withering to all its richest joys and destructive to 
 its most precious hopes. 
 
 2. While you admit the Gospel record to be true, 
 you at the same time approve of the entire subject 
 matter of its testimony. The human mind, uncloud- 
 ed by prejudice, and unperverted by sophistry, is 
 always in favour of the Gospel. It is not until a 
 man has been schooled and disciplined by desires 
 contrary to the will of God, that he is able to cavil 
 at any of the declarations of the inspired volume, 
 or find fault with any of its disclosures, as incon- 
 sistent. Nay, it is the entire reasonableness of the 
 subject matter of this communication from heaven 
 which furnishes one of the most convincing argu- 
 ments of its truth. "We are not speaking now of the 
 man who by reason of long familiarity with wrong 
 principles has benumbed or destroyed his power of 
 moral perception and discrimination. It is quite 
 possible for one to bring himself to that state, in 
 
 
SEASONS FOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 65 
 
 which he cannot distinguish between right and 
 wrong, between truth and error, as it is possible to 
 damage the eye so that it cannot distinguish be- 
 tween colours ; or pervert the taste, so that what was 
 once nauseous may become pleasant ; or injure the 
 ear, so that there shall be no difference between a 
 harmony and a discord ; but in each of these cases 
 the organ is in a diseased or unnatural state, and 
 no more proves that all colours, all tastes, all sounds, 
 are alike, than a vitiated moral sense proves any of 
 God's communications to be unreasonable. I am 
 not now, however, speaking of what a skeptic may 
 think of the word of God, or of what a man who 
 wishes the gospel were false, may say of any of its 
 declarations; but I am speaking of the posture of 
 your own mind, in reference to the subject matter 
 of this revelation ; and I say, that there is not a 
 principle here unfolded, nor a claim here enforced, 
 that does not approve itself to you as being what 
 it ought to be. There are times, I admit, when 
 you might, perhaps, wish that some of the features 
 of the gospel system were different from what they 
 are; when you would like to take somewhat off from 
 the exclusiveness of its claims ; when it would suit 
 you better, if it were a little more accommodating, 
 a little more uncompromising ; but mark, these are 
 the dictates of feeling, and not of reason ; reason 
 accords with the principles and claims of the gospel 
 precisely as God has given them ; it sees that if they 
 were different, less exclusive than they are, they 
 would be unworthy of God's wisdom, and un- 
 deserving of man's attention. You feel that as a 
 5 
 
66 REASONS FOE EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 
 
 creature of God, you ought to serve him, and serve 
 him precisely in the way in which he declares he 
 wishes to be served. If you have sinned against 
 him, you ought to repent ; if he has provided a way 
 for your forgiveness, which he declares to be the 
 only possible way for forgiveness, it is but reason- 
 able to embrace it ; if the Son of God has inter- 
 fered in your behalf, and by his own death secured 
 you the offer and means of everlasting life, you owe 
 him a debt of gratitude which cannot be repaid, 
 except by your intelligent, and cordial, and un- 
 divided service. If the principles of the Gospel 
 .are true, and you admit their truth, the propriety 
 of the claims of the gospel follows of necessity. 
 Who feels that it is wrong to serve God ? Who 
 looks upon obedience to Jesus Christ as a question 
 of doubtful expediency ? Not one whom I am now 
 addressing. I should like to find the man who 
 thinks it would degrade him as a rational creature 
 and an heir of immortality to be a Christian. I 
 should like to find the man who admits himself to 
 be a sinner, who feels that he is a sinner, who is at 
 all alive to the importance of eternal life, who 
 would not, as his only rational course, come to this 
 Bible to learn what he must believe and what he 
 must do, in order to be saved. 
 
 On the other hand, not one of my hearers intel- 
 ligently and heartily approves of an irreligious 
 course. Forgetfulness of God, ingratitude in view 
 of his mercies, rebellion against his authority, a 
 practical disregard of his claims, never commend 
 themselves to your minds as reasonable. It mat- 
 
REASONS FOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 67 
 
 ters little upon what ground you put away from 
 you the obligations of religion, it matters little 
 how plausible the aspect which a sinful heart may 
 throw over the excuses which are urged for a neg- 
 lect of the great salvation, they are never such as 
 you are willing, permanently, to rest upon, or 
 always to abide by. So far from it, that you expect 
 to give up, sooner or later, all these reasonings, and 
 apologies, and to become, what you are not now 
 prepared to be, a Christian. You could not sit 
 down to construct an argument in favour of atheism, 
 or infidelity ; you would not know where to find 
 the materials of such an argument ; every thing upon 
 which you could fix your mind would seem to be 
 contrary to your purpose. I am not speaking of 
 what has been done, or of what some men might 
 do now; but of what you could do with your pre- 
 sent views and feelings. You consider these systems 
 of unbelief, in all their different forms, to be un- 
 reasonable in view of the testimony which crowds 
 from every direction around the Bible, which 
 springs from its own pages, or which is returned to 
 you from the effects it has produced, where- 
 ever its influence has been felt ; at least, they seem 
 to be so to your convictions ; and yet, my hearer, 
 it is far more reasonable for a man to sit down, 
 and dispute the evidences of Christianity, clear and 
 conclusive as they may appear to your mind, than 
 it is, after admitting the evidences of Christian- 
 ity, to disregard its claims. I mean, if you will 
 allow me to express myself in other words to 
 render my sentiment, if possible, more plain, it is 
 
68 REASONS FOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 
 
 more reasonable to doubt whether God has spoken 
 to us in these sacred oracles, than admitting this to 
 be his word, to doubt whether we should believe 
 his declarations, and obey his commandments. 
 We have reached then another stage in our illus- 
 tration. If the gospel is not only true, but if in all 
 its principles and claims it is precisely what you 
 feel it ought to be ; if it commends itself to your 
 understanding as good ; if you can find no argu- 
 ments against it ; if you are sure that you will never 
 have reason to reflect upon yourself for acting in 
 accordance with its claims ; nay, if you mean, and 
 certainly expect, sooner or later, to come upon the 
 ground where it would put you, and to be what it 
 requires you to be, why, we ask, in view of all that 
 is intelligible in your convictions of its truth and 
 reasonableness, why not embrace it ? If you can- 
 not come and be a Christian, give some reason for 
 a refusal, which will wear the appearance, at least, 
 of consistency with your acknowledged views and 
 impressions. 
 
 3. I make another point here, which I ask you 
 to ponder. In my preceding remarks upon the 
 reasonableness of the gospel, it has been my object 
 to shew that you owe it to yourself to be a Chris- 
 tian ; that in no other way can you honour your 
 own convictions of truth and propriety ; but I now 
 add, that you owe something to God. You feel that 
 there are influences thrown around you, which bind 
 you to the eternal throne ; do what you may, you 
 cannot reason out of existence all sense of the di- 
 vine claims upon you ; they press you on every 
 
REASONS FOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 69 
 
 side ; they sometimes come down with an oppressive 
 weight upon your spirit, and the fact that you have 
 neglected them, or forgotten them, or postponed 
 them to a thousand other things, is overwhelming 
 to the mind in view of its certain future connec- 
 tions ; you know that you must do right in order 
 to be at peace ; a consciousness of wrong-doing 
 mars all your joy; you must in some way get rid 
 of it, or be an unhappy man. Precisely, at 
 this point then, I meet you ; and this is my 
 appeal. You are perfectly satisfied that it would 
 be right for you to be a Christian ; you have 
 no fears that you would be breaking any of 
 God's commandments, or be doin^ violence to vour 
 own conscience were you to embrace the offers of 
 the gospel, and be a disciple of Jesus Christ. You 
 never yet saw a man in your state of mind who 
 had any misgivings upon this point ; you have 
 seen skeptical men who pretended to question the 
 propriety of becoming Christians — they cannot be 
 otherwise than sincere in their doubts if they are 
 sincere in their skepticism — and yet among all 
 those who profess to glory in their skepticism, there 
 are very few, if any, who really think they would 
 be committing a sin against God, whose consciences 
 would upbraid or torment them with the appre- 
 hension of judgment in the event of their becom- 
 ing the servants of Jesus Christ. The reason is, they 
 are doubtful about their doubts. But no man who is 
 convinced of the truth and reasonableness of Chris- 
 tianity, as you are, ever fears that he shall go 
 wrong in becoming a Christian. Your conscience, 
 
70 EEASONS FOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 
 
 my hearer, would not reprove you as taking a 
 doubtful step, one of questionable propriety, were 
 you to embrace Jesus Christ, and enter upon his 
 service. On the contrary, conscience, enlightened 
 by the truth, requires you to do it, reproves you 
 for not doing it, and heralds a painful retribution 
 for neglecting or refusing to do it. In whatever 
 part of my appeal I may fail to-day, I do not fail 
 in the case of any of my hearers when I address 
 myself directly to his conscience ; this is with me, 
 and I can hold it ; there is not a single claim of 
 Jesus Christ, which, when it is laid plainly and fully 
 before the conscience is not felt to be right. Every 
 man knows that he must be a Christian, it is a 
 matter of stern necessity with him ; he is troubled 
 because he is not a Christian ; he is troubled when- 
 ever he thinks of his present relations to God, be- 
 cause he knows that whatever he has, he has not 
 God's blessing ; that whatever he does, so far as 
 God's requirements are concerned, he is not doing 
 right ; he is troubled when he thinks of the future, 
 for he is afraid to meet God, except as a Christian ; 
 and nothing gives him any peace of mind except 
 as he can think it at least probable, that sooner or 
 later he will be a Christian ; and if all this is true 
 of a man, he is in his present position not because 
 his conscience is against the gospel, but because it 
 is perverted or seared. It may be stupid sometimes, 
 and not speak, but its voice, whenever heard, is 
 clearly, decidedly, uniformly in favour of practical 
 spiritual religion. This then, is my threefold ar- 
 gument to-day. In urging you to embrace the 
 
EEASOXS FOE EMBEACING THE GOSEEL. '71 
 
 gospel, we are but urging you to receive that which 
 you believe to be true, to submit to that which you 
 apprehend to be reasonable, and to do that which 
 you know to be right. If there was a doubt upon 
 any of these points ; if you felt that there was room 
 to question the truth of gospel principles, if its 
 claims seemed inconsistent to you, or you had any 
 reason to fear that you might go wrong in becom- 
 ing a Christian, we should say to you, pause ; do 
 not commit yourself to any course of questionable 
 propriety ; but if you are satisfied of the truth of 
 the gospel, if your mind approves of it, and con- 
 science accords with its claims, why not embrace 
 it ? Take my appeal, I pray you, as it is thus set 
 before you, and dispose of it in a manner which 
 will meet the approval of your understanding and 
 your conscience. 
 
 4. I have another point to urge. It is this : You 
 feel that the gospel of Jesus Christ is the very 
 thing you need ; that is, as you look at it carefully, 
 study it in its different aspects, and examine closely 
 its provisions, it is precisely adapted to all those 
 wants which, as unsatisfied, are the causes of your 
 disquietude and pain. 
 
 The sorrows of human life are referable to three 
 sources ; a sense of sin, difficulties and trials of life, 
 and the prospect of the future. Dry up these 
 sources of uneasiness, let there be no sense of re- 
 sponsibility for past transgression, let every man 
 have that which will comfort and support him 
 under the varied ills to which he is subject on 
 earth, let there be no apprehension of the future to 
 
72 REASONS FOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 
 
 disturb liim, and human life would wear an en- 
 tirely changed aspect, and the page of man's his- 
 tory would reveal scarcely a single sorrow. 
 
 1. Upon one point human experience is uniform. 
 Every man feels himself to be a sinner. To this 
 statement there are no exceptions ; it is true of the 
 savage and of the civilized ; of all men in all their 
 varieties of feeling, thought, or circumstance. How- 
 ever conflicting may be men's theories of religion ; 
 however widely separated they may be from each 
 other in the principles they adopt and the paths 
 upon which they travel, whether they are skeptics 
 or believers, men of religion or no religion, they are 
 one in this feeling, that they are not what they 
 ought to be. Whatever explanation they may 
 give of their condition in this respect, however they 
 may reason upon the subject of their accountability 
 to God, they feel that they are accountable, and that 
 their obligations have not been discharged. Call 
 it by what name you please, it is after all a sense 
 of sin against God which troubles the human spirit 
 universally, and man cannot get rid of it. He has 
 tried ere this to reason God out of existence, and 
 after he has done his best in the way of argument 
 he has the evidence that his effort is a failure, in this 
 sense of sin, which remains to disturb and oppress 
 him. 
 
 You feel, my hearer, that you have sinned 
 against God ; you do not need any of my argu- 
 ments to demonstrate that fact to you. You carry 
 the evidence of it constantly within you. Some- 
 times this sense of sin is overwhelming, crushing to 
 
BEAS0NS EOE EMBKACING THE GOSPEL, 7 3 
 
 the spirit, and every thing is dark to the vision, 
 every thing palls upon the taste ; and so completely 
 in some eases does this feeling swallow np every 
 other feeling, that men choose strangling and death 
 rather than life ; sometimes it is little more than a 
 settled feeling of uneasiness, an undefined apprehen- 
 sion that all is not right, rendering one dissatisfied 
 with every thing around him. Its subject may be un- 
 willing, to own it even to a bosom friend ; he may 
 perhaps be unwilling to acknowledge it to himself, 
 but it is there, and he knows it, and it troubles 
 him. Now its evidences are seen in a pensive sad- 
 ness which comes over his spirit ; there is no alarm, 
 no agitation, no deep and agonizing remorse, but a 
 gloominess of temper, as though every thing was 
 wrong around him ; again it is seen in an irritated 
 state of the passions, when strong feelings are ex- 
 cited, and the bitterest enmity is developed against 
 the friend who seeks his good and most faithfully 
 reveals the truth. In some form or other this con- 
 sciousness of having done wrong, coupled with a fear 
 more or less distinct of God's displeasure, belongs to 
 every man. It may not always be a present object 
 of attention, for one may studiously avoid every 
 thing which is calculated to excite it, but it is liko 
 a festering wound, w r hich, carefully guarded, may 
 not occasion any very intense pain, but which is con- 
 stantly liable to be brought into contact with irri- 
 tating causes, which, as they act upon it, produce 
 the greatest anguish. 
 
 You feel that you need something ; you need 
 deliverance from this pressure upon the spirit, 
 
74 EEASONS FOE EMBEACING THE GOSPEL. 
 
 something which will put your mind at rest ; and 
 when I come to you, as I do now, and preach to 
 you the gospel ; when I tell you that Christ has 
 borne our sins in his own body on the tree ; that 
 there is forgiveness with God ; when I speak to 
 you in the strains of the evangelical prophet, and 
 say, " let the wicked man forsake his way and 
 the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him re- 
 turn unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon 
 him, and to our God, for he will abundantly par- 
 don f or when I say, " there is therefore now no 
 condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus," 
 you feel that this is precisely what you need. For- 
 giveness, that is the charm which soothes to quiet- 
 ness the disquieted spirit ; it is like oil poured on 
 the troubled waters, producing an undisturbed 
 calm. What a different man would you be, my 
 hearer, were a sense of forgiveness, full and free, to 
 take the place of that sense of unforgiven sin which 
 now oppresses you and darkens your prospect. What 
 a load would be lifted off from that now oft over- 
 tasked spirit, what a new light would be shed upon 
 every thing. God would appear different; the 
 world, life, death, every thing would wear a totally 
 different aspect. You need forgiveness to make 
 you a happy man; and the gospel, as it says, 
 " Come, for all things are now ready," addresses 
 itself to your very necessities, and urges you to em- 
 brace it by the pardon which it offers. 
 
 2. But this is not all. Every human being in 
 this world feels his dependence ; he cannot go 
 alone ; he must have resources other than those 
 
EEASOBTS EOE EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 75 
 
 which are hidden in his own bosom. Perhaps, in a 
 scene of sunshine and of calm, man does not feel 
 it ; but the ocean of human life has its storms as 
 well as calms; its adverse tempests as well as 
 prosperous breezes. jSTo man has ever yet passed 
 through life ; no man has yet advanced any dis- 
 tance in the journey of life, without encounter- 
 ing trials. We cannot escape them ; it is idle to 
 think of it ; come they will, and sometimes with a 
 crushing force, and when they come, man feels the 
 need of something out of himself upon which to 
 lean. Talk as you please about the manly indepen- 
 dence of the human mind, which enables its subject 
 to rise superior to the trials of life, and to triumph 
 over them; it is all a dream. In such circum- 
 stances, man always goes out of himself for help ; 
 one goes in one direction, and another in another ; 
 sometimes the child of sorrow flies to the cares and 
 troubles of business, to drive away distressing 
 thoughts ; sometimes he flies to scenes of gayety 
 and worldly pleasure, where excited passion leads 
 on the giddy dance, to find amid the refined, or it 
 may be the boisterous, in either case the unsancti- 
 fied revelries of earth, something to amuse the 
 spirit, and wean it from grief. That wretched vic- 
 tim of the intoxicating bowl was once your man 
 of lofty independence ; of, perhaps, great resources, 
 and strength of endurance ; but trials came, disas- 
 ters overtook him, and he felt his strength giving 
 way, and he sought relief in the cup of the ine- 
 briate. Man must have something upon which to 
 lean ; he can no more go alone through the trials 
 
76 SEASONS FOE EMBEACING THE GOSPEL. 
 
 of life, than a child who has just learned to walk 
 can travel safely, unsupported, amid the rocks and 
 the precipices of the desert ; and here, child of sor- 
 row and of want, the gospel appeals to you again, 
 to this sense of dependence, as it presents before 
 you Jesus Christ, your sympathizing Saviour, able 
 to feel for you, and to help you, and says '■ come." 
 3. And yet again, it approaches you as an heir 
 of immortality ; it meets your wants for this life, 
 and it tells you and assures you of " the life which 
 is to come ;" you know that you are a dying 
 creature ; you dread the thought of dying, and yet 
 you fear to live for ever ; annihilation has no 
 charms for the human spirit, except as a protection 
 from an apprehended curse; and now I speak 
 what I know, if you have never embraced the gos- 
 pel, you will not deny that you are afraid of dying, 
 that you cannot reconcile yourself to the thought 
 of it ; you shrink from it ; you banish it from your 
 minds, because it embitters life ; and yet you know 
 that it is coming, slowly, perhaps ; quickly, per- 
 haps ; but surely ; you know that in a very little 
 while, at farthest, that dread hour will be here, 
 the hour when experience will teach you what 
 death is ; and you dread it, because you are not pre- 
 pared for it. All is dark beyond it ; you must have 
 something which you do not now possess, before 
 you can be prepared for death, or think of it with 
 any degree of composure ; and that something is 
 simply hope, a good hope, an intelligent hope, a well- 
 founded hope, a hope which will not make ashamed. 
 Oh ! for this hope. How that anxious and troubled 
 
REASONS FOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. TY 
 
 spirit sighs whenever it thinks of death ; how it 
 looks around and within for something upon which 
 it may hang its hope ! What a different world this 
 would be to you, my hearer, if you had such a hope 
 of heaven ! How you envy that Christian disciple, 
 mean though his outward circumstances may be, 
 who can say, " I know that when my earthly 
 house of this tabernacle is dissolved, I have a build- 
 ing of God, a house not made with hands, eter- 
 nal in the heavens ;" " Lord, now lettest thou thy 
 servant depart in peace according to thy word, for 
 mine eyes have seen thy salvation ;" you feel that 
 you must have such a hope before you can die, and 
 now see how you are urged to embrace the gospel 
 by the appeals which it makes to this very feeling. 
 " He that believeth hath everlasting life ; he that 
 believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he 
 live ; and he that liveth, and believeth in me, shall 
 never die." The gospel comes to you with its 
 provisions for the future. You see and feel that 
 this is the very hope your troubled spirit needs. 
 You have no doubt that it is a good hope, a well- 
 founded hope, a hope that will not make ashamed. 
 Child of sin and sorrow, subject all your life-time 
 to bondage through fear of death, the gospel offers 
 its hope to you ; why not embrace it, and let your 
 emancipated spirit go free ? 
 
 This then, my hearer, is my appeal to you to-day 
 in behalf of the religion of Jesus Christ. You 
 could not have one more direct or more powerful ; 
 it is an appeal to your faith, to your reason, to your 
 conscience, to your wants ; and as the gospel says 
 
78 REASONS FOE EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 
 
 " come," its language is echoed back "by your own 
 deep and sincere convictions, by every sensibility 
 of your nature, by all your wants and woes, by all 
 your hopes and fears ; and under the pressure of this 
 appeal, can you give yourself a reason why you 
 should not embrace the gospel, one which your 
 convictions will honour, which your sensibilities will 
 approve, and which your wants and your fears will 
 justify ? Is there an object worth possessing, or an 
 interest worth preserving, or a hope, or a joy worth 
 the cherishing, which says that you are wise, or 
 right in rejecting this offer of the gospel which is 
 now pressed upon your acceptance ? If there is, 
 we have done. If there is a good reason why you 
 should not be a Christian, this mind shall cease to 
 arrange arguments for you, and cease to plead with 
 you ; but while we know there is none, we can con- 
 tinue to press this matter home upon you, and say 
 " all things are ready, come. 1 ' Nor is it our argu- 
 ment alone which presses you. It is the voice of 
 God which speaks to you to-clay, and says, " Turn 
 ye, turn ye, for why will ye die V- It is the Son of 
 God who bore your infirmities and carried your 
 sorrows, and put away sin by the sacrifice of him- 
 self, who addresses you to-day, and says, " Behold, 
 I stand at the door and knock ; if any man hear my 
 voice, and open the door, I will come in to him and 
 sup with him, and he with me." It is Grod the 
 Spirit, who moves with his gentle influence over 
 that breast, or who whispers with his still small 
 voice into your ear, " come," and all those around 
 you who have embraced the gospel say, u come," 
 
REASONS FOR EMBRACING THE GOSPEL. 79 
 
 and all who have gone before you in the faith of 
 this gospel, and have reached its rewards, take up 
 the message, and send it back to you with all the 
 strength which experience can give it ; and from 
 that bright world above, from among those " blest 
 voices uttering joy," there is one, it may be of an aged 
 Christian father, whose grave you bedewed with 
 your tears, or of a mother, who often spoke to you 
 of Jesus Christ, or of that child whom God took 
 from you in infancy, and whose smile is yet fresh 
 in your memory, which, as it stretches out its arms, 
 says, " come." Come, ere these voices all are hushed, 
 and the darkness of a spiritual night gathers thick 
 over your soul. While God, and Christ, and the 
 Holy Ghost, and every voice in the universe are 
 speaking to you. 
 
 " Come, trembling sinner, in whose breast 
 A thousand thoughts revolve, 
 Come with your guilt and fear oppressed, 
 And make this last resolve. 
 
 " I'll go to Jesus, though my sin 
 Hath like a mountain rose, 
 I know his courts, I'll enter in, 
 Whatever may oppose. 
 
 " I can but perish if I go, 
 I am resolved to try, 
 For if I stay away, I know 
 I shall forever die." 
 
THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 
 
 ' He that believetli not is condemned already, because he hath not 
 believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God." — St. John iii. 
 18. 
 
 The peculiarity of the text which I have just 
 placed before you, is found, as every one perceives, 
 in the prominence which it gives to unbelief in 
 Christ as man's greatest guilt, and the only ground 
 of his condemnation under the gospel. It seems to 
 turn away our attention from every other position 
 he may occupy, and direct it exclusively to the re- 
 lation he sustains to the Saviour, making the ques- 
 tion of his life or death, his acceptance or condem- 
 nation under the divine government, hinge entirely 
 upon the attitude he occupies as a believer, or an 
 unbeliever, in " the record which God has given of 
 his Son." 
 
 I am not mistaken in supposing that there is 
 something here, not only aside from men's usual 
 trains of thought, but contrary to their ordinary 
 apprehensions. They can perceive how human 
 character may be determined, and human destiny 
 fixed from man's relation to the simple code of the 
 ten commandments, because they can see the right- 
 
THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 81 
 
 eousness, and feel the binding force of the moral 
 law. They can understand that idolatry is a sin, 
 that blasphemy is a sin, that the violation of any 
 of the statutes which define our social duties is a 
 sin, and that a man may be justly condemned for 
 every or any one of them. They may apprehend, 
 moreover, how a man who has sinned may be 
 saved through the acceptance of an offered pardon ; 
 there are sufficient analogies in human things to il- 
 lustrate this point. But here comes the gospel of 
 Jesus Christ ; and it loses sight, apparently, of all 
 other sins, however numerous they may have been, 
 however great they may have been, in view of the 
 greater, the more monstrous, the overwhelming 
 guilt of unbelief. With regard to all other sins, its 
 language is, " Though they be as scarlet they shall 
 be white as snow, though they be red as crim- 
 son they shall be as wool ;" but the sin of unbelief 
 persisted in knows no forgiveness, and entails con- 
 sequences from which there is no redemption. It 
 would be perfectly intelligible to say, that it is 
 merely negative in its destructive influence, as shut- 
 ting its subject out from all interest in the promised 
 pardon, and leaving him precisely where he should 
 have been had no offer of forgiveness ever been 
 made ; but vastly different from this is the repre- 
 sentation given upon the sacred page. Here unbe- 
 lief in Christ is represented as a positive crime, a 
 crime with which, in point of enormity, no other 
 form of human sinfulness can be compared ; a crime 
 which not only fastens upon its subject the guilt, 
 and binds him over to the penalty of all his other 
 6 
 
82 THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 
 
 sins ; but which is itself the most striking and full- 
 est development of enmity against God and op- 
 position to his government, which can possibly be 
 presented. 
 
 Sure I am that men do not feel, if indeed they 
 apprehend this truth. To other forms of criminal- 
 ity, conscience may be sensitive, and administer 
 its painful and forceful rebukes, in view of the 
 transgression of any precept of the decalogue; 
 but how many of the hearers of the truth, think 
 you, my brethren, feel when they go away from an 
 offer of eternal life through Jesus Christ, which has 
 been presented to them, and from an appeal of the 
 gospel, which has been ministered to the conscience 
 and the heart, refusing the one and resisting the 
 other, or careless and indifferent about either, that 
 they are then and there presenting to the eye of 
 God, and of every being who understands their 
 spiritual relations, an exhibition of character, to be 
 exceeded by none in the insult which it puts upon 
 the authority and the contempt it pours upon the 
 love of God ; an exhibition, which concentrates in 
 itself the elements of all sin, and which justifies the 
 heaviest sentence recorded in the book of God 
 against human transgression. How few believe it ; 
 and yet this truth is written in lines of light upon 
 every page of the Bible. Of this it is the especial 
 province of the Holy Spirit to convince men, when 
 according to the promise and in the words of the 
 Saviour, he comes to " reprove the world of sin, 
 because they believe not on me." And this truth 
 every one must understand and feel, before he is 
 
THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 83 
 
 brought into the life, and light, and liberty of the 
 gospel. Be it mine then to-day, to put the doctrine 
 in such a light, and to give of it such illustrations 
 as shall commend it to the mind and conscience of 
 every one who hears me. 
 
 And here, possibly, I may in the very beginning 
 divest the subject of not a little of its mysterious- 
 ness, by calling attention to the new circumstances 
 and position in which the gospel of Christ places 
 everyone of its subjects. We are here, my breth- 
 ren, upon trial for an eternal world — the question 
 of life or death, the blessing or the curse is before 
 us, and it is as yet with those who are out of Christ 
 an unsettled question. It is not however to be 
 settled upon principles of law. The event is not 
 now to be determined, our destinies are not now to 
 be fixed from our relation to this precept, or that 
 precept, or all the precepts of the decalogue. For 
 in this relation, every man has had his trial and 
 reached the issue. In the eye of the law of God, 
 every man is a sinner, has been pronounced such, 
 and as such has been condemned. He needs no 
 other trial here, he can have none, for already has 
 it been settled and proclaimed as a universal truth 
 growing out of the nature of his case, as a sinner, 
 that " By deeds of law, no flesh living can be justi- 
 fied in the sight of God." 
 
 If then there is any hope for him, it must be 
 under another dispensation, a dispensation of grace, 
 a dispensation under which the question of eternal 
 life or eternal death will turn, not upon his own 
 personal righteousness or unrighteousness, but upon 
 
84 THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 
 
 the acceptance, or rejection of the righteousness of 
 another. This is the peculiar feature of the gospel. 
 u Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to 
 every one that belie veth." Pardon is offered as a free 
 gift through hirn who has " magnified the law and 
 made it honourable," and every thing turns now 
 upon simple faith in Jesus Christ ; upon an accord- 
 ance with God's plan of forgiveness ; a cordial ac- 
 quiescence in the principles upon which that 
 forgiveness is offered. Now, the language ad- 
 dressed to us is, not " He that doeth these things 
 shall live by them," and " Cursed is every one who 
 continueth not in all things written in the book of 
 the law, to do them," but " He that believeth shall 
 be saved," and " He that believeth not shall be 
 damned." 
 
 I wish you, at this point, to call up to your 
 minds the illustration of the last Sabbath, which 
 referred faith and unbelief to their source in the 
 feelings and affections of the heart. They are some- 
 thing more than an intellectual assent to, or dissent 
 from a proposition, according as the evidence may 
 appear sufficient, or insufficient to sustain it. The 
 faith of the gospJel is a cordial admission of all the 
 principles upon which the atonement of Christ pro- 
 ceeds, and all the claims which that atonement in- 
 volves; unbelief is a rejection of Jesus Christ, as 
 an offered Saviour, and an intelligent resistance to 
 all the principles which the gospel involves, and 
 all the claims which the gospel enforces. The feel- 
 ing of the heart towards Jesus Christ which it 
 embodies, and to which it gives expression is, " We 
 
THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 85 
 
 will not have this man to reign over as." The 
 state of mind which it denotes is not that of the 
 avowed skeptic, who turns away from the gospel 
 because of an alleged insufficiency of evidence to 
 authenticate it, as a revelation from God ; but it is 
 a state of mind which is common, and which 
 respects the subject matter of the gospel, where its 
 truth as a communication from heaven is never 
 called in question. It is a rej ection of offered mercy ; 
 a dissonance of spirit from the God who made us : 
 a direct resistance to his government ; an insult put 
 upon his authority; a contempt of his wisdom, a 
 despite done to his love and grace. I would that men 
 could see themselves as God sees them ; and there 
 would then be no need of my illustration this morn- 
 ing, to convince them of the deep, and dreadful, 
 and dangerous criminality of their unbelief, in re- 
 maining unsubmissive to, and estranged from Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 In endeavouring to shed down light upon their 
 position, I come to those of you, my brethren, 
 who admit the divine origin of these wondrous 
 communications ; " God has spoken to us in 
 these last days," and through these inspired 
 pages, " by his Son." This, I take for granted ; 
 and thus far, my hearers and their speaker stand 
 upon common ground. This word is truth. The 
 message which we bring to you comes from the lips 
 of the Infinite and Eternal God. He speaks to you 
 from his high and holy throne ; and this is his 
 commandment, " That ye believe on him whom 
 he hath sent." Were we reasoning with skeptics 
 
86 THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 
 
 to-day, we should be obliged to go one step farther 
 back in our argument, and array before you those 
 varied testimonies which combine to authenticate 
 this sacred volume as a revelation from God ; but 
 we need not do it, for we are not battling with 
 speculative skepticism, but with a practical disre- 
 gard of God's acknowledged commandments. Un- 
 believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, knowing your 
 Master's will, yet doing it not, we are constructing 
 a mirror in which you may see reflected the linea- 
 ments of your moral image. Turn not away from 
 the mirrored likeness true to the life, however 
 painful and humiliating the spectacle may be, but 
 study and ponder it well, if perchance the proud 
 heart may be humbled and the rebellious spirit 
 bow and yield before Almighty God. It is not a 
 trifling circumstance that which defines your cha- 
 racter and fixes your position ; that you are unin- 
 terested in the blessings of the gospel. It is not a 
 step which reflects only upon yourself as it demon- 
 strates your folly *vhen you turn away from him 
 who offers you eternal life upon condition of your 
 faith, but a step which demonstrates your guilt as 
 it reflects upon Gocl, by whose authority this offer 
 is pressed upon your acceptance. He who has a 
 right to control man ; he, in whose hands his breath 
 is, requires that he should believe on him whom he 
 hath sent, and the creature of a day turns his back 
 upon the God who made him, and says, " Who is 
 the Lord that I should obey his voice ?" Nothing 
 short of this, nothing less criminal than this, no- 
 thing less fraught with peril to the immortal spirit, 
 
THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 87 
 
 is unbelief in Jesus Christ. It is contempt put 
 upon the authority of God, and a rejection of his 
 claims, kindly yet firmly asserted, — " I have set 
 my king upon my holy hill of Zion." " Kiss ye 
 the Son," is the message which has gone forth from 
 the throne, and has fallen upon our ears. The un- 
 believer knows the voice, understands the message, 
 then looks upon God's Anointed One, and says to 
 the world, and to every looker on in the universe, 
 " Let others do as they may, I will not have this 
 man to reign over me." His pride of reason rejects 
 the statements which place the movements of the 
 Infinite God beyond his comprehension ; his pride 
 of heart nauseates the doctrines of the cross, because 
 they are so humiliating; and his independence of 
 spirit turns away from its salvation, because it is 
 so perfectly gratuitous. Thus unbelief is human 
 littleness cavilling at the Unsearchable One ; 
 human pride denying the statements of him who 
 cannot lie ; and human independence refusing a 
 gratuity from the Creator, from whom day by day 
 man receives the very breath in his nostrils, and 
 the very powers which he arrays in hostility against 
 the throne. 
 
 It goes not a little way to aggravate the guilt of 
 the unbeliever, that God has been pleased in his 
 gospel not only to state the plan through which he 
 forgives sin, but to show also the indispensable ne- 
 cessity of that plan as growing out of his justice as 
 God, and his uprightness as a moral governor. He 
 tells us, in language too plain to be misunderstood, 
 that he can save us in no other way than through 
 
88 THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 
 
 faith in his Son. In no other way could he make 
 glory to God in the highest harmonize with peace on 
 earth and good will to men. The sacrifice of Jesus 
 Christ was a method of infinite wisdom to pay a tri- 
 bute to justice, while it threw the mantle of mercy 
 over the lost. Christ is the great propitiation to de- 
 clare God's righteousness in the forgiveness of sin. 
 God can save in no other way, "because in no other 
 way would it be just to save ; but the unbeliever re- 
 jects the offers of mercy coming through Jesus Christ, 
 and challenges the approbation of God upon some 
 other ground, than the propitiation of his Son. 
 He thus stands out against his Maker upon a 
 point, in reference to which God's character is com- 
 mitted against him. He thus enters into a contro- 
 versy with all the plans of heavenly wisdom, and 
 all the claims of heavenly righteousness; throws 
 an insult upon the justice of his Maker, as he had 
 already poured contempt upon his authority, and 
 assumes the fearful position of one who demands 
 the favour of God, upon grounds upon which he 
 knows God's justice will never let him grant it, 
 and declines it peremptorily and entirely upon 
 the only ground upon which it can be made 
 to harmonize with the holy and inviolable glories 
 of the Godhead. To be a sinner against God 
 is dreadful — it is to resist his authority and put 
 one's self in a position where all the high and 
 unutterable sanctions of the eternal throne are ar- 
 rayed against him ; but to be an unbelieving sin- 
 ner in the circumstances in which we, my brethren, 
 are placed, and in view of the reasonings which God 
 
THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 89 
 
 addresses to our understanding, and which we can 
 fully comprehend, is more dreadful still, for it is 
 supposing that God may look kindly on that which 
 his soul abhors, and pass by with impunity that 
 against which he has pledged all the attributes, of 
 his nature and all the truth and righteousness and 
 power of his throne. Unbeliever in Jesus Christ ! 
 — mark, study, and inwardly digest this painful, 
 this appalling truth. God offers to save you 
 through his Son — he tells you he can save you in 
 no other way. You perceive that it is so ; you un- 
 derstand how his righteousness stands in the way 
 of any other mode of forgiveness ; you turn away 
 from his offer, and challenge forgiveness upon some 
 other ground, as though you would bid the 
 Almighty to sacrifice his righteousness to your 
 pride, and put all that is dear to him in the holi- 
 ness of his nature and the interests of his kingdom 
 upon the altar of your peace. 
 
 I must add to this exhibition, that the gospel of 
 Jesus Christ, which unbelief rejects, is the highest 
 expression which God could give us of his grace. 
 The burden of his message to you, and to me, is, 
 " God is love." The plan of redemption through 
 Jesus Christ, had its origin in compassions as won- 
 derful and incomprehensible as is the unsearchable 
 nature of God. To angels, gifted with powers far 
 larger and stronger than our own, it is a mystery 
 whose depths they have never yet been able to 
 fathom. Inspired men, who spake as they were 
 moved by the Holy Spirit, enlarging their concep- 
 tions, and inditing their utterances, never yet at- 
 
90 THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 
 
 tempted to describe the height, and depth, and 
 length, and breadth of redeeming love. They bid 
 ns to take our measures of its greatness from the 
 modes of its expression which God has adopted. 
 Cast your eye over the inspired record, and what 
 do you see, upon its every page, but " God mani- 
 fest in the flesh," " full of grace and truth." Look 
 upon the countenance of him who is to us the rev- 
 elation of the infinite One, and you trace tender- 
 ness in every line, and see compassion in every 
 aspect. How much God loves us, an angel tongue 
 could never tell, because an angel's mind could 
 never estimate the value of the sacrifice to which 
 that love has led. The cross upon which hangs an 
 expiring Redeemer, and where he breathes away 
 his life, is to us, at one and the same time, the ex- 
 pression of the greatness of that sin of ours which 
 brought about so dire a catastrophe, and of the love 
 of God, which could consent to its occurrence in 
 order to our deliverance from a penalty which 
 could not otherwise have been avoided. " Herein 
 is love, not that we loved God, but that God loved 
 us, and gave his Son to be a propitiation of our 
 sins." 
 
 There is a tasteful sentimentalism, my brethren, 
 which descants, with wonderful fluency, upon the 
 goodness of God, as seen in the works of his hand, 
 and the dealings of his Providence. There is an 
 admitted, felt obligation to gratitude at least, in 
 view of the evidences of kindness seen in the adap- 
 tation of all God's arrangements to the good of his 
 creatures. The unwearied Providence which 
 
THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 91 
 
 sleeplessly watches over human interests, and inter- 
 feres at particular crises, to warn and protect 
 against danger, throwing its shield over the de- 
 fenceless, and the arm of its strength around the 
 feeble, demands at least the thankfulness of the 
 human spirit. He who never regards the works of 
 the Lord, nor the operations of his hand, the re- 
 sponses of whose heart to the evidences of kind- 
 ness which they present, are kept back by the 
 pride of a selfish or haughty spirit, is a being upon 
 whom nature frowns as a deformity upon her works, 
 and from whom humanity shrinks, as an outcast she 
 will scarcely own. 
 
 Unbeliever in Jesus Christ ! go ransack the uni- 
 verse and find among all the works of God any- 
 thing at all comparable with God's gift of his Son 
 to you. What day that passes over you, rehears- 
 ing, as it goes, the goodness of your Maker, can tell 
 a tale like that of the crucifixion, or present a spec- 
 tacle so expressive of love, and which appeals so 
 strongly to the heart % If the claims to gratitude 
 and affection rise in number and strength accord- 
 ing to the greatness of the benevolence which origi- 
 nates them, there are then no claims like those of 
 a redeeming Saviour, and no ingratitude like that 
 which lightly esteems them. Compass, if you can, 
 the mighty dimensions of the theme upon which 
 now we speak — the measure thereof is longer than 
 the earth and broader than the sea ; it is the mea- 
 sure at once of the love of God and the guilt of 
 unbelief. The scene of the cross is not an unreal 
 thing to you. We have not to demonstrate the 
 
92 THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 
 
 fact, that " God so loved the world as to give 
 his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth 
 upon him might not perish, but have everlasting 
 life." The testimonials which authenticate the 
 fact are before you ; you have admitted their suffi- 
 ciency ; you wonder how any one can suspect them ; 
 and yet, when God appeals to you, by such a 
 mighty demonstration, you can turn away with a 
 listless heart as though there were nothing in such 
 wondrous love to demand a response from the 
 spirit before which it lays its claims. My unbeliev- 
 ing brother, it is a God of truth whose words you 
 doubt ; a God of love, w hose offers you slight. Un- 
 belief in Jesus Christ, disguise it as men may — it is 
 the darkest form which human depravity can as- 
 sume — it is an impeachment of the truth of God ; 
 for he who believeth not the testimony he has 
 given of his Son, has made him a liar. It is a con- 
 tempt put upon his authority, whose voice was 
 heard from the excellent glory, " this is my beloved 
 Son, hear ye him." It is an insult to the character of 
 God, who declares that he can be just only as he 
 pardons the believer — it is despite done to his love, 
 since he " has given his Son to be the propitiation 
 for our sins." There is nothing in God, nothing 
 in his truth ; nothing in his wisdom ; nothing 
 in his holiness ; nothing in his justice ; nothing in 
 his mercy, which unbelief does not array against its 
 subject, because it puts him in a position of direct 
 resistance to his Maker, and leads him in a course, 
 in the pursuit of which he must fly in the face of 
 every attribute of the eternal God. 
 
THE GUILT OE UNBELIEF. 93 
 
 Such, my brethren, is unbelief in its own intrin- 
 sic nature, altogether independent of the circum- 
 stances in which it is manifested, and irrespective 
 of the influences which are used to overcome it. 
 Do you wonder at the language of my text ? u He 
 that believeth not is condemned already, because 
 he hath not believed upon the name of the only 
 begotten Son of God." If there is not guilt here, 
 where is there guilt ? If this is not a righteous 
 ground of condemnation, what can be ? If you can- 
 not understand the justice of the principle, point 
 me, if you please, to anything which God ought to 
 punish, or any circumstances in which man is with- 
 out excuse. Shew me anything that man can do, 
 which, in respect to the affront it puts upon God, 
 and the rebelliousness of spirit against his autho- 
 rity, his truth, and his grace, can for a mo- 
 ment compare with unbelief in or a rejection 
 of Jesus Christ ; and I yield at once the point, 
 and cease to vindicate the judgment of God. 
 
 It is, however, an acknowledged principle, and 
 one which we cannot overlook in illustration of the 
 present subject, that a man's character, so far as the 
 degree of its excellence or demerit is concerned, 
 must be determined in a great measure by the cir- 
 cumstances in which he is placed, and the influences 
 which are brought to act upon him. The restraints 
 which are thrown over transgression, and the mo- 
 tives to uprightness of life, enter largely into that 
 standard of judgment by which we measure the 
 character of him with whom they are ineffectual ; the 
 guilt of the same action as performed by different 
 
94 THE GUILT OP UNBELIEF. 
 
 persons, though attended by precisely the same 
 results, varies with the ignorance or knowledge of 
 its authors, and with the peculiar influences which 
 acted upon them, as they tended to further or pre- 
 vent the perpetration of the crime in question. Ac- 
 cording to this very obvious and obviously just 
 standard of judgment, unbelief in the Son of God, 
 or a rejection of the claims of the gospel, stands by 
 itself, perfectly isolated in the features of enormity 
 which mark it, as least allowing of an apology, or 
 admitting of defence. It is not a sin of ignorance, 
 for every man under the light of truth knows it to 
 be wrong. Conscience does not slumber over the 
 slighted claims of infinite mercy and eternal truth. 
 The sinner who throws off from him the obligations 
 of an atoning Saviour, does not carry within him a 
 mind at ease in view of those manifestations of 
 grace which a Kedeemer has made to him, and 
 those appeals of the cross which have been minis- 
 tered to his heart. The convictions of his own 
 spirit, clear, numerous, and irrepressible, often tes- 
 tify against him, as one who sins against light and 
 knowledge. The thousand extenuating pleas which 
 he conjures up to satisfy his wakeful conscience, are 
 so many witnesses of his guilt, witnesses whose tes- 
 timony he cannot set aside, because he has sum- 
 moned them himself ; they are evidences clear and 
 palpable of guilt, great indeed, which demands so 
 many and such mighty efforts to hide it from the 
 view, or sustain the burden it imposes. 
 
 I can see, my brethren, how a man who disbe- 
 lieves the existence of God, can put forth an argu- 
 
THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 95 
 
 merit wearing the semblance, at least, of reason, in 
 defence of his strange and anomalous position; for 
 we cannot say, that there might not be clearer and 
 stronger evidences of a first great cause, than those 
 which are engraven npon the creation which we 
 behold around ns. True, we can say, that these 
 evidences are sufficient to secure a rational faith ; 
 we can say, and say with truth, that the man, who 
 in view of every thing he beholds, can maintain his 
 disbelief in the divine existence, could not be 
 brought to its acknowledgment by any additional 
 accumulation of evidence. But then, we cannot 
 say, that there might not be other and stronger 
 testimonies to the being of a God than those which 
 we have in our possession ; we can conceive of 
 others, we could, perhaps, if it were necessary, men- 
 tion others. But, as it is, we cannot come down 
 upon the atheist, and say to him that there can be 
 no other nor stronger proofs of the divine existence 
 than those which God has furnished, and thus de- 
 monstrate his folly and his guilt in view of the fact 
 that he remains unconvinced, notwithstanding that 
 God has done the utmost to satisfy his mind. jSTo, 
 he might answer, and you could not meet him here, 
 that God might do much more ; he might have 
 other and more striking evidences. I grant you 
 his argument is pitiful, it is evasive ; but such as 
 it is, it is better than the practical unbeliever in 
 Jesus Christ can urge in excuse for his rejection of 
 offered mercy. If a man admits this Bible to be a 
 record of truth ; if so far from cavilling at its com- 
 munications, he admits that this is a veritable record 
 
96 THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 
 
 of facts ; then he admits that God has done as much 
 as he can do to commend himself to his affections. 
 When you study the handiwork of God there is 
 room for the play of fancy ; we can conceive of a 
 more glorious creation than this which our eyes 
 behold ; or, we can conceive how there might be 
 such an influence exerted upon our faculties, that 
 every thing should, in our vision, teem with more 
 wonderful testimonies in behalf of God. But it is not 
 so with the work of redeeming love which has been 
 set before us upon these sacred pages ; you cannot 
 conceive of a more wonderful, a brighter, a grander 
 display of God, than that which is made upon the 
 cross ; there cannot be a more striking proof of the 
 love of the Almighty, or more stirring motives to 
 repentance and obedience. God, in the gift of his 
 Son, has not fallen short of, but gone beyond the 
 power of all human imagination. Angels themselves 
 bow down before the mystery of redeeming love, 
 unable to compass its mighty dimensions, to tell its 
 heighth and depth, its length, and breadth. Un- 
 believer in the Son of God, is it so ? — that in com- 
 mending himself to your heart your Maker has 
 done his utmost ; is it so, that the divine nature in 
 all its attributes of wisdom and justice, and power 
 and love, seems to have exhausted itself in the 
 mode of your deliverance; that God could not 
 have shewn himself more mighty, to overwhelm, to 
 deter you from disobedience, more compassionate 
 and able to save, to allure you to himself than he 
 has done in the cross of his beloved Son. Come 
 then to that cross, and ponder it well ; study it in 
 
THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 97 
 
 its amazing dimensions, in its mysteries of wisdom, 
 and power, and justice, and truth, and love ; let 
 these be to you the measures of your guilt in re- 
 jecting the offered atonement, and cease, oh, cease, 
 forever, to wonder at the words of Christ, " He 
 that believeth not is condemned already, because 
 he hath not believed in the name of the only be- 
 gotten Son of God." 
 
 In order to complete our illustration, you must 
 add to what God has done without us in the way 
 of commending himself to our affections ; what God 
 has been and is doing within us to call our atten- 
 tion to, and secure our acceptance of his proffered 
 mercy. 
 
 If it is a remarkable feature in the great plan of 
 human redemption, that he who " was in the be- 
 ginning with God," should come down and taber- 
 nacle among men, and go through his experience 
 of humiliation, and sorrow, and death, in order to 
 execute God's designs of mercy, it is, I apprehend, 
 a feature quite as remarkable, that after the plan 
 has been executed, God himself should come down 
 in a manner inexplicable and mysterious indeed, 
 yet really, and busy himself with these hearts 
 of ours to commend that plan to our affections. 
 For one, I shall not undertake to compare in point 
 of wonderfulness the different parts of this great 
 scheme of redeeming love. In fact, it is perfectly 
 wonderful throughout ; from its conception in the 
 divine mind down through the mode, and every 
 step of its execution and application, to its final re- 
 sult, when the crown is put upon the head of the 
 7 
 
98 THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 
 
 redeemed sinner. Throughout, God acts like him- 
 self, " wonderful in counsel and mighty in work- 
 ing." But now I fix your thoughts upon the 
 fact, that he who is busy every where through 
 his universe, upholding and directing and con- 
 trolling all things, regulating the movements of 
 unnumbered systems, sustaining alike the life of 
 an insect and an archangel, should be no less 
 really and constantly engaged with men, throwing 
 over their spirits the influence of the cross, bring- 
 ing out of its treasury of motives the dissuasives 
 from sin, and the inducements to faith in Christ 
 Jesus. The peculiarity of our position, my breth- 
 ren, which gives so much interest to our circum- 
 stances, adding to our hopefulness, while at the 
 same time it increases our peril is, that the truths 
 of the gospel to which our attention and faith are 
 demanded, are ministered to the conscience and 
 the heart by the influence of the Holy Ghost. We 
 live under " the ministration of the Spirit," and 
 though his agency, like that of the mind, is not 
 palpable to the senses, yet every man carries about 
 with him the evidences of its power and reality, 
 in the effects it produces within him. We should 
 like to find among the hearers of a preached gospel 
 the wonderful anomaly of a human being, whose 
 experience does not demonstrate the fulfillment of 
 a Saviour's promise, when he said to his disciples 
 that he would send the Holy Spirit to convince 
 the world of sin. We know that this blessed agent 
 has been and is now abroad in our world. We 
 know that he has left his testimony in behalf of 
 
THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 9 9 
 
 God and his gospel, in the mind of each one of our 
 hearers. We are not afraid, upon this point, to 
 summon the experience of all before us. The youth 
 who gives up his reins to his passions, and lives for 
 the pleasurable excitement of the world, has he not, 
 — bear me witness, my youthful hearer, — oftentimes 
 his painful misgivings, when he passes by the Re- 
 deemer's cross, and hears its solemn and affecting 
 warning ? The man of middle life, who is grasping 
 after the good things of this world, feels, — I appeal 
 to you, my brethren, who are engaged in the plans 
 and activities, and business of life, — that he is after 
 all but a spiritual bankrupt, destitute of an interest 
 in Christ, and without any rational or well-founded 
 hope in God's pardoning mercy ; and the man who 
 has placed himself in a condition of spiritual 
 insensibility, where he is neither alarmed by the 
 terrors, nor won by the mercies of the cross, will 
 testify — I appeal to you, my brethren, to whom I 
 have so long and so fruitlessly ministered the 
 motives of eternal truth — will testify, if he will al- 
 low himself to speak out his distinct remembrances, 
 that he has fought his way to his present position 
 against powerfully opposing influences, and has 
 been compelled, at times, in order to hold on his 
 course, to crush with a desperate effort, pleadings of 
 almost irresistible energy. I charge upcn a rejec- 
 tion of the gospel, not only a contempt cast upon 
 every attribute of the divine name — not only an 
 insensibility to the mightiest demonstration which 
 God could make of his love, but a resistance to the 
 strivings and suggestions of the Holy Ghost. Un- 
 
100 THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 
 
 believer in the Sod of God ! I summon you to-day, 
 to testify against yourself, before your Saviours 
 cross. I would bring your experiences to the light 
 of day, and wring out from them a reluctant but 
 convincing evidence of your guilt, as you have been 
 obliged, in order to put away from you the offers 
 of a Redeemer's mercy ; to cast a slight upon the 
 truth of the ever living God, to question as well 
 his justice as his love, in view of their highest 
 possible demonstrations, and to do violence to some 
 secret influence within you, and even to some of 
 the noblest attributes of your own nature, as you 
 have turned away from him who pleaded with you 
 from his cross, and invited you in strains of love to 
 peace and hope. 
 
 And yet, in the minds of many, unbelief is no- 
 thing ; nothing but a want of faith ; nothing but 
 a want of love ; nothing but the absence of obedi- 
 ence. Let the man who doubts or contradicts your 
 word, truly and solemnly given, wonder that you 
 should resent such a negative thing as a want of 
 faith ; let the being who ruthlessly tramples upon 
 a benefactor, who has saved his life at the risk of 
 his own, talk only of his want of gratitude ; let the 
 man who utterly disallows your admitted, righteous, 
 and unalienable claims, talk of his want of obedi- 
 ence ; but let not the unbeliever in Jesus Christ 
 talk thus ; rather let him look at the means and 
 inducements to faith, and as he sees how the 
 gospel brings before him the glory and beauty of 
 "Imnianuel," "God with us," let him learn that 
 unbelief is human nature shutting closely her eyes 
 
THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 10 1 
 
 lest she should perceive and love ; as the voice 
 from heaven speaks to the ruined sinner, with all 
 the earnestness of truth, and all the tenderness of 
 pity, let him learn that unbelief is human nature 
 making her ears heavy lest she should hear and be 
 saved. Man, ruined, wretched, complaining, dying 
 man, is haughty and unbending, still clinging to 
 his own miseries, aggravating his own sufferings, 
 provoking the doom which he sincerely dreads, and 
 refusing to " Come to Christ, that he might have 
 life." Heaven urges by all its joys, and hell by all 
 its terrors ; the cross of Christ pleads by all its 
 wonders of justice and of grace, and unbelief replies 
 to every commandment, " We will not have this 
 man to reign over us ;" and to every gracious over- 
 ture, " Depart from us, for we desire not the know- 
 ledge of thy ways." 
 
 I question whether there is in any part of the 
 universe of God, another being like the unbeliever 
 in Jesus Christ. If there is not among the unre- 
 deemed in heaven, one who can compare with him 
 who lives by the faith of the Son of God on earth, 
 one who so much honours God, and who shall 
 stand so high at the last ; where among the ranks 
 of those who kept not their first estate, will you 
 find one who carries upon his conscience such a load 
 of guilt to press him down for ever, as that which 
 weighs upon, and will for ever crush the spirit of 
 him who rejects the great salvation ? Say what you 
 please of those who first made war upon the throne 
 and monarchy of God, and who sank into the 
 darkness of everlasting midnight ; you must say 
 
102 THE GUILT OF UNBELIEF. 
 
 more of liim who rejects as liis ground of hope the 
 blood of the everlasting covenant. Over those lost 
 spirits God never spread the bow of hope. For 
 them no Saviour died. Into their dark habitation 
 no messenger of mercy ever found his way, coming 
 from the cross of Christ, to bid them live. Upon 
 their minds and hearts the spirit of grace and truth 
 never moved, to wake them to life and righteous- 
 ness. Upon their consciences rest not the deep 
 and damning guilt of unbelief in an offered 
 Saviour. But, my beloved hearers, my dying 
 fellow travellers to the retributions of an eternal 
 world, can all of you say as much ? Have we, has 
 any one of us, the nerve to meet, the heart to bear 
 the issues of unbelief in Jesus Christ ? Oh ! ye for 
 whom a Saviour has died — ye to whom a Saviour 
 has been offered — ye who have been plied so oft 
 and so strongly by the touching, and powerful, and 
 impressive motives of the gospel — ye subjects of 
 the Spirit's influences, "How"' — ponder the ques- 
 tion, it is one of life or death to the undying spirit 
 —•"How can ye escape, if ye neglect so great 
 salvation V 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING, 
 
 " Now the God of hope fill you with all joy, and peace in believ- 
 ing." — Eonians xy. 13. 
 
 " Peace in believing," is the thought to which I 
 call your attention this morning. It is a very sim- 
 ple thought, and yet one which to the majority of 
 minds is exceedingly difficult of comprehension. 
 It is so contrary to man's ordinary modes of think- 
 ing, it so conflicts with his prejudices, as to the 
 sources of human good, it withal, is in such seem- 
 ing conflict with the laws of our nature, as creatures 
 of sense, that I question whether any thing but 
 actual experience can bring a man to appreciate its 
 meaning, or to admit its truth. Certain it is, that 
 to a carnal mind, it presents the most unintelligible 
 mystery with which it is called to grapple. "What- 
 ever views it may take of the spiritual religion of 
 the New Testament, the element of which is faith^ 
 it never regards it as in itself a source of positive 
 enjoyment. Its importance may be admitted, its 
 indispensableness may be felt, but so far from being 
 regarded as desirable, it is looked upon as some- 
 thing which must be submitted to in obedience to 
 
104 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 the law of stern necessity, or as the only alterna- 
 tive to an experience more intolerable than itself. 
 
 It is not at all surprising that it should be so. 
 As the scenery by which we are surrounded takes 
 its colouring from the medium through which we 
 look at it, so do the objects which are presented to 
 us wear a pleasing or displeasing aspect, according to 
 their relation to, as in harmony, or at war with, our 
 desires. The sources of enjoyment which faith brings 
 nigh unto the soul, must seem unreal to a man 
 whose vision is bounded by sense, while the sub- 
 mission which faith requires contravenes all the 
 natural passions of the heart, and conflicts with the 
 plans and purposes in which the carnal mind finds 
 its highest enjoyment. The objects of faith must, 
 therefore, wear a visionary aspect, while a submis- 
 sion to its control must be as undesirable as the 
 plans and purposes with which it conflicts are dear 
 to the heart. I speak in accordance with the con- 
 sciousness of every man who is out of Christ. The 
 highest attainment which a carnal mind reaches 
 upon the subject of religion is a simple conviction 
 of its necessity ; its necessity, as something which, 
 however unpleasant and even painful, must be sub- 
 mitted to as an alternative to greater evils. I re- 
 peat, I do not wonder that such a mind looks upon 
 religion with distaste, and postpones attention to it, 
 and endeavours to evade the necessity which is 
 forced upon it, by pushing forward the decisive ques- 
 tion of submission to the extremest verge of safety. 
 
 And yet, my brethren, there is " peace in believ- 
 ing ;" the purest, the most rational, and solid and 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 105 
 
 satisfying peace of which the mind can form any 
 conception. Nay, we take higher ground than this, 
 there is peace in nothing else. The human spirit 
 can find nothing upon which it can rest securely, 
 but that testimony of God upon which faith 
 fastens ; the human conscience can find no where, 
 but in this testimony, any thing which can com- 
 pose it to quiet ; the human heart can discover 
 only in the revelations of a spiritual and eternal 
 world, that which can satisfy its cravings, and 
 meet all its desires. Man never can be at peace, 
 but as a believer in Jesus Christ. Indeed, ever 
 since the days of the original apostacy, when he 
 threw away his confidence in God, he has thought 
 differently ; and while the history of the world is a 
 history of experiments upon this subject, it is a 
 history of their failures likewise. Not a single in- 
 stance of a practical contradiction of this great truth 
 has yet been furnished ; while every man who has 
 submitted to "the truth, as it is in Jesus," has 
 found what none of the discoveries of human reason, 
 what none of the costly sacrifices and painful 
 austerities of superstition, what neither the wealth, 
 nor the honours, nor pleasures of the world can 
 furnish — " rest for Ms soul" Now, upon thid general 
 point, though I may not be able to secure a 
 sympathy of feeling from many of my hearers, I 
 think I can secure a sympathy of conviction from 
 all. I can show that this must be so, though I 
 may not awaken the feeling that it is so. 
 
 If you ask me here what I mean by " believing? 
 my answer is this — it is that state of mind in which 
 
106 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 a man receives as true the entire testimony of God, 
 as given to us upon these sacred pages. Every 
 principle which is here laid down is considered as 
 firmly settled, past all dispute ; as infallible a rule 
 of human action, as any which have resulted from 
 the discoveries of human reason — the objects of 
 the spiritual world which it reveals are as real, as 
 are any of those of which we have the evidence of 
 sense, and the promises which it unfolds are as 
 certain of their fulfilment as is the regularity ot 
 any of the movements of nature. This testimony 
 of God covers the entire length and breadth of our 
 being — its truths appertain " to the life which now 
 is," as well as " that which is to come f to our spirit- 
 ual no more than to our temporal relations, to all 
 the circumstances and exigencies of our being — so 
 that not only in respect to the higher and more en- 
 during interests which belong to us as spiritual and 
 undying creatures, but also in reference to all those 
 interests which grow out of our temporal rela- 
 tions, the man, and he alone, who receives this testi- 
 mony and rests upon it as true, may be at peace at 
 all times, and amid all the chances and changes of 
 earthly things. 
 
 To make good this doctrine, I submit in illustra- 
 tion several thoughts, which I ask my hearers care- 
 fully to ponder. 
 
 1. Nothing but the testimony of God gives a 
 man clear and settled views upon those points in 
 reference to which his peace of mind demands fixed 
 conclusions. No one can be satisfied with himself 
 in reference to any subject, if his views concerning 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 107 
 
 it are confused, obscure, or uncertain ; a region of 
 shadows and darkness, will always be peopled by 
 the spectres of an excited imagination, and our path 
 throuo-h it never can be trodden with an unhesi- 
 tating, firm and elastic step. We must have, or at 
 least think we have, some evidence of the truth of 
 our principles before we can act freely in accord- 
 ance with them ; and of the certainty of the end 
 which we contemplate before we can put forth 
 any energetic efforts to reach it. In philosophy 
 and the systems of human science, the days of theo- 
 rizing and speculation have gone by, and no system 
 can secure our confidence, which does not appeal to 
 the evidence of facts. 
 
 The same thing must be true in our spiritual re- 
 lations. If we sustain any such relations, the interests 
 belonging to them must be paramount to all others ; 
 nay, there is not a question which takes a stronger 
 hold upon the human mind, or is more disturbing 
 in its influence, and for which our peace demands 
 more imperatively a rational answer than this one : 
 What am I in my nature, my relations, my 
 destiny ? I must have satisfaction here ; every mind 
 must have it. To be in this matter at the sport of 
 conjecture — now adopting one principle, and then 
 being compelled to suspect its correctness, is tor- 
 ture — a world of suspense is a world of agony, 
 especially when the interests involved are of such 
 amazing magnitude. I carry the assent of all my 
 hearers along with me in this matter ; an unsettled 
 mini never can be at peace; and then I go a step 
 farther, and say that an unbelieving mind must, 
 
108 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 from the very nature of the case, be an unsettled 
 mind. I can appeal with the utmost fearlessness 
 to the experience of every man who does not rest 
 with implicit confidence upon this testimony ot 
 God, and govern himself by it, that he has no 
 views upon the subject of his spiritual relations so 
 settled that he is willing to abide by them, and 
 that he never has been able, though he has often 
 made the attempt, to satisfy himself as to his posi- 
 tion or course. It is immaterial what principles he 
 may adopt, or to what system he may adhere, so 
 long as they are not the principles and the system 
 of this written word. He may call himself an 
 atheist, or a skeptic, if you please, and if it were 
 possible for a man to bring himself to that state of 
 mind in which he believed nothing, it would be a 
 state, of all others, most unhappy. The unbeliev- 
 ing world is a world in which there is nothing fixed ; 
 there is no truth, no certainty, any where ; and of 
 course there is nothing upon which the mind can 
 rest. If, perchance, there is no God, perchance 
 there is a God — if this Bible may be false, this 
 Bible may be true — the unbeliever can reach no 
 other point but this. With all his boasted con- 
 victions there will be mixed up the most harassing 
 doubts ; at the very moment, perhaps, when he has 
 reached the persuasion that it is immaterial what 
 his feelings and course may be, because all the 
 teachings of the Bible concerning God and human 
 accountability are vanity, various apprehensions 
 will rise up in conflict with his conclusions, and an 
 irrepressible, uncontrollable suspicion, that things 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 109 
 
 may not be as he supposes, will overbear all Ms 
 arguments, all his subtlety, and all his wit. The 
 reason is obvious. Such a man's conclusions are at 
 war with the promptings of his own nature. There 
 is a something in our very being, as God made it, 
 I care not what you call or how you explain it, a 
 something which binds us to the throne. Man can 
 never, do what he may, break that mysterious 
 chain which fastens him to God; rivers do not 
 more certainly in accordance with their fixed laws, 
 roll onward to the ocean ; the fire does not more 
 certainly ascend, than do our minds, by virtue of 
 their own inherent laws, tend heavenward ; and 
 always when the film of prejudice is withdrawn, 
 and the excitement of the passions subsides, we re- 
 vert to our natural apprehensions. Hence, in the 
 season of calamity, in the hour of danger, in the 
 prospect of death, the unbeliever loses all his 
 courage, because his nature compels him to distrust 
 and question his own principles. 
 
 It is no better, nay, it is worse with the man who 
 intellectually honours this testimony of God and 
 yet does not admit its principles to control his 
 heart and shape his course. Many a man is there 
 in our world who would seek his peace of mind in 
 a compromise between the convictions of his judg- 
 ment and the feelings of his heart. Admitting the 
 truth of the gospel testimony, and unsubmissive to 
 its requirements, he finds his source of mental 
 trouble, not in a doubtfulness as to the propriety of 
 his course, but in a clear, settled conviction of his 
 error ; he knows, he feels that he is not what he 
 
110 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 ought to be. He may, as lie often does, weave an 
 ingenious system of religion, comprising some truth, 
 but so mingled with error that its power is com- 
 pletely neutralized, by means of which he may en- 
 deavour to satisfy his mind. He may rest upon an 
 outward conformity to the requirements of the 
 truth, or upon a submission to the external cere- 
 monial of religion, and thus try to smother his con- 
 victions and fears, but he can never destroy them. 
 There is a meaning, and he feels it, which he has 
 never mastered, in language like this,—" Except ye 
 repent, ye shall perish ;" " Except a man be born 
 again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." There 
 is, after all that may be said to the contrary, a 
 spirituality in the religion of the New Testament ; 
 there is such a thing as a new creation in Christ 
 Jesus to which he is a stranger ; and as he ponders 
 such thoughts, he cannot but feel that he has never 
 approached in his experience the standard of God's 
 testimony ; and the foundation of his peace is 
 broken up, and his confidence is cast to the winds, 
 for he finds that his heart is not in unison with the 
 spirit of those requirements, which, at the same 
 time, his conscience pronounces to be just and good. 
 The unbeliever must be at war with himself. 
 
 I must advance no argument upon this point, for 
 man is an argument to himself. The human heart, 
 laid bare to view, would reveal this inward conflict 
 of which I have been speaking. The emotions 
 which often are wakened in the bosom, if gifted 
 with a voice and speech, would but utter a lan- 
 guage responsive to my illustration. There is no 
 
PEACE m BELIEVING. Ill 
 
 peace where tliere is no believing. Man is not sat- 
 isfied with himself. He is afraid, if he is not sure 
 that he is wrong. He is not contented with his 
 position, his relations, or his course. His fears, his 
 convictions, his hopes, his resolutions, his purposes 
 of a change, each and all, constitute the evidence 
 which human experience furnishes of the truth of 
 my doctrine, that there is no tranquillity separate 
 from confidence in Christ. 
 
 But there is " peace in believing." To the man 
 of intelligent, heartfelt, yet childlike faith in the 
 testimony of Jesus Christ, the principles and pro- 
 mises of that testimony are what the facts of na- 
 ture are to the philosopher — absolute certainties, in 
 which the mind may rest. He never is the subject 
 of doubt, while his views of things are conformed 
 to the disclosures of this testimony, and his feeling 
 and course, are in harmony with its requirements. 
 In resting upon this word as the ultimate ground 
 of certainty, in taking from it his ends, his rules, 
 his motives, his encouragements — all the powers 
 and elements of his nature work in harmony with 
 each other ; his conscience, his intellect, and his 
 heart, draw together. What the mind perceives to 
 be taught here as true, conscience approves as right, 
 and the heart loves as good. The man has never 
 yet been found, who felt that he was doing wrong 
 in submitting himself in a spirit of implicit faith 
 to the truth of Jesus Christ. His submission has 
 always been the source of his peace ; a peace as 
 deep, and refreshing and satisfying as his faith has 
 been strong and decided. 
 
112 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 I mean, however, by this " peace in believing," 
 something more than a mere freedom from anxiety 
 and doubt ; it is a peace inseparable from an intel- 
 ligent conviction of truth and right. I suppose a 
 man by indulging certain processes of thought 
 and feeling may reach that state of mental and 
 moral insensibility in which it will be a question of 
 indifference to him whether this word is true or 
 false ; precisely as a man may so vitiate his taste 
 as to be unable to distinguish between bitter and 
 sweet, between wholesome nutriment and the most 
 deadly poisons. There is a vast difference, how- 
 ever, between the composure produced by artificial 
 means which deaden the sensibilities to the action 
 of painful causes, and that which belongs to man 
 upon whom no such causes act, and who in a state 
 of perfect health sinks to repose. The believer is 
 at peace not because he is stupified and insensible, 
 but because he is satisfied that he is right. We all 
 feel that there are some obligations resting upon 
 ns ; there are some feelings, there are some actions 
 which are right, and there are some which are 
 wrong. This consciousness of obligation is some- 
 thing altogether independent of our feelings. It 
 rises above the reach of every argument which 
 would disprove it, and triumphs over the strongest 
 passions of our being. So deeply is this conscious- 
 ness inwrought among the elements of our being, 
 that every man, not even the atheist excepted, 
 in his modes of speech proves himself its sub- 
 ject ; and there can be no rational peace for 
 the human spirit unless this consciousness and 
 
PEACE IN" BELIEVING. 113 
 
 our feelings harmonize ; and this is the peace 
 of believing in Jesus Christ. Its subject, when 
 in view of the testimony of God he repents of 
 his sins ; when in view of the work of Christ 
 he casts himself npon him as a redeeming Saviour ; 
 when in view of the promises which are here re- 
 corded, he commits all his interests in a spirit of 
 trustful reliance to his Lord and master ; when in 
 view of the requirements of these written oracles, 
 he marks out his path of duty and goes forward 
 without hesitation or reserve, feels that he is 
 doing precisely what he ought to do; whatever 
 he may be in other respects, in these he is right, 
 and he knows it ; and this consciousness of right 
 doing is a possession which worlds are too poor to 
 purchase. There is something in a sense of right 
 doing which is satisfying to the mind ; in any rela- 
 tion to our fellow man, there is something exceed- 
 ingly sweet and greatly refreshing in the thought 
 that we have done precisely what we ought to have 
 done ; and it is an analogous experience in the re- 
 lation between man's soul and the God who made, 
 who controls, and who will judge it, to which we 
 refer, when we speak of " peace in believing." It 
 may indeed be so, that the experience of the Chris- 
 tian is not unfrequently an experience of anxiety, 
 and that because his confidence in the word and 
 promise of this testimony is shaken. There may be 
 doubting Christians, and therefore unhappy Chris- 
 tians ; but there can be no such thing as a doubting 
 faith. If God has spoken in this sacred volume, if 
 these principles which are here unfolded have his 
 8 
 
114 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 sanction, if these commandments have Ms authority, 
 if these promises have "been uttered by him, then 
 as they are the disclosures and commandments and 
 promises of one who is infallible truth, there can 
 be no room for doubt. The objects of Christian 
 faith are something more than mere human notions, 
 speculations, conjectures, or opinions ; they are 
 ascertained virtues, because they are confirmed by 
 the testimony of one who cannot lie. Let me be 
 persuaded that God has spoken here, and in em- 
 bracing these principles, I am sure I am embracing 
 truth ; in obeying these commandments, I am sure 
 I am doing right ; in trusting these promises, I am 
 sure of the results they contemplate. Faith in 
 God's testimony necessarily excludes every thing 
 like doubt ; and if I am harassed by anxieties as 
 to my principles, my course, or my ends, I do but 
 show myself to be under the influence of " an evil 
 heart of unbelief." 
 
 2. My second thought in illustration of our gen- 
 eral doctrine, has been, to some extent, involved in 
 my first, and yet it demands a distinct considera- 
 tion ; it refers to the testimony of God as fur- 
 nishing the only source of intelligent peace to the 
 human conscience. I do not think I am wrong, 
 when I speak of a pressure of conscious guilt upon 
 the spirit, as marking, to a greater or less degree, 
 the experience of every man who is not a believer 
 in Jesus Christ. We all acknowledge our sinfulness. 
 However varied may be men's theories upon the 
 subject of human sinfulness, their feelings always 
 harmonize in this — that they are not what they 
 
PEACE EST BELIEVING. 115 
 
 ought to be, and have not done what they ought 
 to have done. We are, moreover, so constituted, 
 that the conviction of wrong-doing is always con- 
 nected with painful emotions ; we cannot separate 
 in our minds the idea of sin against God, from the 
 idea of retribution ; and the anticipations of the 
 future, joined to the reflections of the past, must be 
 a source of disquietude. Now, we can never reason 
 these convictions out of existence. The human 
 conscience is not to be argued down by the sophis- 
 tries of a deceitful heart. Its voice may be 
 drowned, its reproofs may be hushed, and if man's 
 life was a monotony of health, and prosperity, and 
 worldly joy, it might be a monotony of spiritual 
 insensibility ; but every change, (and changes are 
 numerous,) gives conscience an opportunity to act. 
 When any danger is near or any calamity approach- 
 es, this consciousness of wrong and these apprehen- 
 sions of its consequences, wake at once within us, 
 and fill us with agitation and alarm. Now, my 
 doctrine is, that no where but in the testimony of 
 God, which is here presented to our faith, can we 
 find any thing which can give rational and abiding 
 peace to an enlightened conscience. Men have 
 adopted divers expedients upon this subject, with- 
 out success. Some have resorted to philosophy and 
 turned stoics, but they have failed ; some have fled 
 to the regions of literature, or tried to escape from 
 the realities of things by living in the dreamy 
 world of poetry and fiction, but they have failed. 
 Some have entered upon a career of worldly am- 
 bition, chasing worldly glory as their end, or pur- 
 
116 • PEACE IN BELIE VING. 
 
 suing worldly wealth as their chief good. Some 
 have sought relief in the witchery of song, or the 
 mazes of the dance, and have endeavoured to crush 
 and kill thought in the splendid circles where God 
 is unknown, and amid the fascinations by means of 
 which earth holds spell-bound its votaries. But 
 this conscience finds man every where. It presents 
 to him problems which his philosophy cannot mas- 
 ter, it sheds around him a light in which earthly 
 glory grows dim, it peoples the dreamy world 
 which his imagination describes around him with 
 spectres which he cannot lay ; it heralds a future 
 for which wealth makes no provision, and throws a 
 gloomy haze over the brilliant scene of this world's 
 revelries, so that he sickens in the midst of earthly 
 joys, and in the midst of laughter his heart is made 
 heavy. 
 
 But, my brethren, there is " peace in believing." 
 There is that in this testimony of God, which 
 satisfies conscience, as well as enlightens the 
 mind. I do not mean to say that faith in "the 
 record which God has given of his Son," will re- 
 lieve the mind of all sense of past guilt ; but it 
 puts that guilt in new connections, and strips it of 
 that fear which hath torment — the plan of forgiv- 
 ing mercy which the gospel reveals, sets this thought 
 distinctly before the mind, that the work of Jesus 
 Christ as an atoning Saviour has taken away the 
 necessity of punishment ; and the simple assurance 
 that a the blood of Christ cleanseth us from all 
 sin," becomes an effectual balm for the wounded 
 spirit. The man who believes it, adds his testi- 
 
PEACE m BELIEVING. 
 
 Ill 
 
 mony to that of thousands, whose experience has 
 verified the sentiment of the apostle, " being justi- 
 fied by faith we have peace with God through our 
 Lord Jesus Christ." Explain it as you may, here 
 is the fact ; a fact seen in no other circumstances and 
 connections, that the man who casts himself in con- 
 fidence upon this simple assurance of God is at rest 
 — he can look at his transgressions, not indeed 
 without repentance, not without humiliation of 
 soul, but without alarm, and anticipate, (no one but 
 he can do so) not only unappalled, but with calm- 
 ness, with joy even, the day of irreversible decision, 
 when God shall give unto every man according to 
 his works. His peace is always in exact proportion 
 to his confidence — if his faith is weak, his hope will 
 be a trembling one ; and as his confidence in the 
 word of this testimony increases in strength, his de- 
 liverance from the painful apprehensions of con- 
 scious guilt is made perfect. 
 
 3. I must add another thought to complete the 
 outline of my subject. Nothing but faith in this 
 testimony can give the heart an object in which it 
 can rest. Disquiet, dissatisfaction, restlessness have 
 been the attributes of human experience ever since 
 the days of the original apostacy, because then man 
 threw away his confidence, and ever since has been 
 endeavouring to fill with the creature the place 
 which was intended for the Creator. What are 
 the disappointments of this world, so many, so se- 
 vere, so biting, so crushing, but the illustrations 
 which Providence is every day working out, and 
 the testimonies which human nature is every day 
 
118 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 furnishing of the variety of human pursuits. 
 Eoving amid the objects of earth, we find no- 
 thing upon which we can rest with full satis- 
 faction, because there is nothing created which 
 can meet all the desires, and fill up all the capaci- 
 ties of our spirits. The laws of the mental and spir- 
 itual world are as fixed as those of the natural 
 world ; and the efforts after happiness of a human 
 soul estranged from God are no less idle than 
 would be those of a man who should essay to 
 reverse the laws of gravitation, or blot out the 
 sun from the system, or check the world in its revo- 
 lutions. There is no human experience, whether 
 recorded or unrecorded, which at all clashes with 
 this general thought ; ask the unbeliever, who has 
 no God, no Saviour, if he is satisfied ; ask the child 
 of revelry and song, why he sickens amid all the 
 excitements of the passions. If you are unrecon- 
 ciled to God, look into your own heart, and see if 
 you could be contented under the full assurance 
 that you should never be different from what you 
 now are, and never possess but what now belongs 
 to you. We must rest in God, my brethren, if we 
 rest at all ; and yet nothing but faith can bring us 
 to this resting place. You may look at God as he re- 
 veals himself in the works of nature, or in the deal- 
 ings of Providence, or in the movements of the 
 human conscience ; but in all these disclosures there 
 is more to awaken distrust than to inspire confi- 
 dence. It is God as revealed in this testimony 
 that the heart can rest upon ; and it is only as we 
 embrace by faith this testimony, and see God in 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 119 
 
 Jesus Christ, that we can go to the throne, and say 
 in the spirit of children, " Abba, Father." Under 
 the influence of this faith, I can perceive that the 
 perfections of God are not only not arrayed against 
 me, but are actually enlisted in my favour ; he is 
 now my shield and my defence, my joy, and my 
 portion, and the lifter up of my head; and no 
 sooner do I see him thus than I say, " Eeturn unto 
 thy rest, O my soul." 
 
 I speak not the language of theory but of fact. 
 When I speak of " peace in believing," I speak of 
 the results of actual experiment — an experiment, 
 too, which has been tried at all times and in all 
 circumstances, and by all classes and conditions of 
 men. It is a sad mistake which the men of the 
 world commit, when they suppose that none but 
 the wretched, the poor, the miserable, and they 
 who have not the means of securing other enjoy- 
 ment, testify to the reality of a " peace in believ- 
 ing." To a great extent it may be so, and then it is 
 not an insignificant testimony to the value of reli- 
 gion, that it can do what the world has never done, 
 give to the forlorn, the down-trodden, and the out- 
 cast, peace and joy. But not only they who have 
 had no earthly cistern from which to drink, but 
 they whose cisterns have been full, have forsaken 
 them for this fountain of living waters. There 
 have been men of royalty who have never known 
 true peace till they have laid their crowns at the 
 feet of Christ, and covered their princely robes 
 with the garments of salvation ; and they who have 
 followed ambitious promptings, and they who have 
 
120 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 trodden the halls of splendour, have fled the camp, 
 the cabinet, and the festive board to seek rest for 
 their spirits at the foot of the cross. It is " a 
 great cloud of witnesses," who attend at our sum- 
 mons to testify to the reality of " peace in believ- 
 ing ;" from the poor man's cottage and from the rich 
 man's palace, from the associations of haggard want 
 and the ease and luxury of earthly abundance, from 
 amid the subjects of earthly trials and those whose 
 lives have been crowned with prosperity, from the 
 circles of the gay and the frivolous, from the ball- 
 room and the theatre, as well as from the chamber 
 of sickness and afflictions, out of all classes, and 
 ranks, and conditions of men, from Newton as he 
 treads with lofty and majestic step the firmament, 
 down to the humble shepherd who feeds his flock 
 upon Salisbury plain, they come, each one uttering 
 the strain, — 
 
 " People of the living God, 
 
 We have sought the world around, 
 Paths of sin and sorrow trod, 
 
 Peace and comfort no where found. 
 Now to you my spirit turns, 
 
 Turns, a fugitive unblest, 
 Brethren, when your altar burns, 
 
 O ! receive me into rest ;" 
 
 and when they have cast themselves in confidence 
 upon the testimony of God, then has their lan- 
 guage been, " Thou art my portion, O Lord." " As 
 the heart panteth after the water brooks, so pant- 
 eth my soul after thee, O God." " Whom have I 
 in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth 
 whom I desire beside thee ; my flesh and my heart 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 121 
 
 faileth, but God is the strength of my heart, and 
 my portion for ever." "As for me, I will be- 
 hold thy face in righteousness, I shall be satisfied 
 when I awaken in thy likeness." There is " peace 
 and joy in believing." 
 
 Allow me here, my brethren, to arrest my sub- 
 ject, though my remarks have had reference only 
 to our spiritual relations, and have left wholly un- 
 touched the influence of faith in God's testimony 
 upon our experience amid the varied and changing 
 scenes and circumstances of the present life. I 
 claim your attention for but one moment longer to 
 two very simple thoughts. 
 
 I do not think that I have been wandering from 
 the point which should properly engage a Chris- 
 tian's mind upon a sacramental Sabbath. We come 
 to-day to commemorate the death of Jesus Christ, a 
 death which sets a seal upon the truth of his tes- 
 timony. We have here then a means of strength- 
 ening our faith, and bringing us to the enjoyment 
 of our privileges. If ever a Christian's mind should 
 be at peace, it should be at a communion table, 
 where, by means of striking symbols, the evidence 
 of the truth of this testimony is vividly presented 
 to him. Here those doubts, which so often disturb 
 our peace, that unbelief which cripples us and 
 mars our enjoyments, are out of place. Here, as 
 we profess at the foot of the cross to set to our 
 seal that God is true, let us give our fears to the 
 winds, and bid all our doubts to be gone ; and in 
 the exercise of that confidence which Christ's work 
 is calculated to inspire, learn to say, " We know 
 
122 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 in whom we have believed." We are at the source 
 of these comforts which faith ministers to the 
 spirit, because we are in communion with the great 
 fact — a Saviour's death — -which forms the burden of 
 the inspired testimony. May the God of peace then 
 fill our minds with all peace and joy in believing. 
 
 Then, for my last thought, I address it to the 
 wanderer from his God. I call him an unhappy 
 man, only that I may echo his own sincerest senti- 
 ments. It may be a strange thought which I bring 
 you, but it is a true one. You cannot do without 
 confidence in God. There is no peace for that sin- 
 stricken, weary spirit, but the peace of believing 
 upon Jesus Christ. Nothing but this can fix that 
 wavering, uncertain, doubting mind ; nothing but 
 this will minister peace to that uneasy conscience, 
 nothing but this will give rest to that dissatisfied 
 and unquiet heart. You are a wanderer from home, 
 and must return to your father's house. "Where 
 you are, nothing can give you peace ; neither busi- 
 ness, nor wealth, nor fame, nor pleasure ; nothing 
 can give you peace, estranged from God. ISTo por- 
 tion which earth can give can to the human spirit 
 be a substitute for its Creator. You may be false 
 to yourself and false to heaven, but conscience and 
 the world will be true to the God who made them ; 
 the one will not allow you to be at peace divorced 
 from him, the other will never furnish you with 
 happiness, except as he permits it ; you may doubt 
 it, but your experience will demonstrate it ; and if 
 you ever have peace or joy, you will find it only in 
 believing upon Jesus Christ. We would summon 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 123 
 
 you away from your wanderings, and call you "back 
 to God. Here is the fountain of living water ; and 
 the Spirit and the Bride say, come; and let him 
 that heareth say, come ; and let him that is athirst, 
 come ; and whosoever will let him take of the water 
 of life freely. Come then, and rest upon Christ, 
 and be at peace ; come and drink of this fountain, 
 and live for ever. 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 " The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me." 
 
 — Psalm cxxxviii. 8. 
 
 " What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee."— Psalm lvi. 4. 
 
 " Lead me to the rock that is higher than I." — Psalm lxi. 2. 
 
 The language of the text is that of strong and 
 intelligent confidence ; and as an illustration of the 
 nature and effects of such confidence, we have 
 selected it as the basis of our remarks this morning. 
 It is the picture of a human mind at rest, and at 
 rest in view of the word and the character of the 
 living God. It is the more interesting to us, be- 
 cause it is the exhibition of this confidence in the 
 hour of its trial. The language we have set before 
 you is not that of a man who theorizes in circum- 
 stances of outward prosperity and quiet — who is at 
 rest because there is nothing in his present con- 
 dition to annoy and disturb him, and nothing seen 
 in the future to awaken painful apprehensions — 
 but that of a man in the most depressing circum- 
 stances — uttered in an hour of peril, when the pre- 
 sent was all disaster, and the future all gloom ; 
 when earthly confidences failed him, and the 
 vanity of human help was demonstrated, and 
 
PEACE 13" BELIEYmG. 125 
 
 nothing was left npon which to stay his spirit, but 
 simple confidence in God. We need not attempt 
 to ascertain the precise posture of David's affairs 
 at the time when he gave utterance to the words 
 of my text — perhaps it is impossible to do so. It 
 is enough for our present purpose to know that it 
 was such as to show the utter uselessness of all 
 human trust, and shut him up to simple faith in the 
 word of God, as his only source of peace ; and in 
 the composure of his mind, as he strengthened 
 himself in God, assured that he would perfect that 
 which concerned him ; he teaches us that there is 
 that on which the human spirit can rest, and in 
 which it can find strength to sustain it under pre- 
 sent ills, and support it against the apprehensions 
 of future woes. 
 
 We were permitted upon the last Sabbath to 
 illustrate this thought in reference to man's spirit- 
 ual relations, and to show how simple confidence 
 in the character and testimony of God can give a 
 man a rational and abiding peace ; our purpose 
 upon the present occasion is to carry out this 
 thought, and show that there is a " promise for the 
 life which now is," as well as "that which is to 
 come ; and that the peace which faith ministers to 
 the spirit, appertains as well to the temporal as to 
 the spiritual circumstances of our being. 
 
 I need hardly say, my brethren, that the life 
 which we live in the flesh, is a chequered scene ; 
 monotonous prosperity is and can be no man's 
 allotment. A world of probation must be a world 
 of trial, and trial always painful, oftentimes exces- 
 
126 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 sively severe. Even where the outward condition 
 generally is one of the greatest comfort and the 
 brightest promise, there are nevertheless some 
 scenes through which men are called to pass, in 
 which their hearts fail them through fear, and an- 
 guish preys upon their spirits ; scenes where we 
 must have what earth can never give us, scenes 
 where human fortitude is overborne, and even 
 earthly sympathy will not sustain the spirit under 
 the crushing weight which is thrown upon it. If 
 you have never passed through such scenes, they 
 await you yet. I cannot tell in what form these 
 trials may come, nor when they will touch you, 
 but come they will, and you never can pass through 
 them in peace, except as your spirits cling in the 
 exercise of a truthful, relying spirit to the word 
 and testimony of God. " But the people that do 
 know their God, shall be strong." Confidence al- 
 ways brings peace, and the man has never yet been 
 found, in any circumstances, under any form of ca- 
 lamity, who as his faith fastens upon the word and 
 promise of God, could not possess his soul in patience, 
 and even "rejoice in tribulation." 
 
 Now in illustrating this thought let me be dis- 
 tinctly understood. I do not mean to take the 
 position that a man may upon the ground of his 
 faith calculate upon an exemption from trials. It 
 does not follow if I believe in God that he will of 
 course give me peace and quiet in all my external 
 relations. It does not follow by any means that I 
 shall be able to carry all my earthly purposes into 
 execution, and that I shall be free from all disturb- 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 127 
 
 ing causes ; on the contrary, " peace in believing" 
 is perfectly consistent with the most disastrous 
 events in these outward relations ; it is perfectly 
 consistent with defeated plans, thwarted wishes, 
 and blasted hopes. No such exemption from trial 
 is ever contemplated in any word or promises of 
 God upon which faith fastens ; on the contrary, the 
 assurance is that " in the world ye shall have tribu- 
 lation." Nor do I mean to say, that nothing can be, 
 strictly speaking, a trial to a man of faith. The 
 peace of believing is not insensibility. It is as far 
 removed from the apathy of the stoic, to whom 
 good and evil are alike, to whom there is no 
 such thing as pain and sorrow, as it is from 
 the frenzy of the fanatic, who upon the strength ol 
 a supposed relationship to God, claims and boasts 
 of an exemption from all sorrow. I grant you, it 
 is possible for a man to work up himself to a state 
 of indifference, for the time being, to the painful 
 scenes which are enacting around him ; but in do- 
 ing so, he is warring against his own nature, and 
 contradicting the first lessons of the gospel of 
 Christ. It is unnatural not to feel in the hour 
 of sorrow ; the smitten heart will bleed ; the work- 
 ings of human nature must have vent, and 
 faith does not suppress them. God did not 
 give us hearts to be petrified, sensibilities to be 
 locked up in adamant. We are creatures of 
 sympathy, and Jesus Christ, as he wept at the grave 
 of a beloved friend, dignified, as well as vindicated, 
 the sacred social feelings of our nature. Human 
 philosophy may comfort us by blunting the fine 
 
128 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 sensibilities of our nature, and relieve us of our 
 distresses by robbing us of some of the nobler attri- 
 butes of our minds ; but the religion of the gospel 
 refines while it controls the susceptibilities of our 
 nature. It does not forbid the heart to sigh or the 
 tear to fall, but it sets before the mind that which 
 administers to it a peace which will comfort and 
 sustain and cheer the soul in the darkest hours, and 
 amid the most troublous scenes of our earthly pil- 
 grimage. I care not what may be the nature or 
 severity of human trials, how withering their influ- 
 ence, how deep the wounds they may inflict, how 
 thick the gloom in which they may enshroud one ; 
 faith in the character and word of God can do what 
 nothing else can do, give light in darkness, joy in 
 sorrow, hope in despondency, and even convert 
 " the shadow of death into the morning." I will 
 point out to you the elements and sources of its 
 power, and give you some illustrations of its efficacy. 
 1. The hand of God is in every thing. No 
 point is more distinct to a trustful, relying spirit, no 
 truth is more settled than this. There are no for- 
 tuities in this world, there is not an event which 
 has not its meaning, its connections, and its end. 
 The confidence which gives peace, and fixedness, 
 and strength to the mind, fastens upon the views 
 which the Bible gives of God, his agency, and his 
 purposes, as a God who is concerned with every 
 thing, and who acts in every thing in reference to 
 an end worthy of himself. It has no sympathy 
 with that cold and heartless philosophy which 
 separates between God and his creatures, or which 
 
PEACE m BELIEVING. 129 
 
 places any the most unimportant or minute of our 
 interests beyond the range of divine inspection and 
 control. There is nothing comforting, nothing 
 staying to the mind in any such views ; human 
 reason, untaught by the word of inspired truth, can 
 give us only conjectures when we need certainties ; 
 and the teachings which to it seem most truthful, 
 are the most disturbing to the spirit. I confess 
 when I go away from the region upon which revela- 
 tion has shed down its light, I go where all is doubt, 
 and darkness, and confusion. I can find no where 
 but in the Bible those views of God in which I can 
 rest with entire satisfaction, because no where else 
 can I see God interesting himself in, and managing 
 all my affairs as an individual. If I thought there 
 was one event among the occurrences of my daily 
 life which God did not regard ; if I thought there 
 was one emotion of this bosom whicli escaped his 
 notice, one sigh which he did not hear, or one tear 
 which he did not observe ; if I supposed that a 
 single hair could fall from my head without his 
 ordering or permission, my confidence would be 
 robbed of the main element of its strength. If a 
 man is at peace in the exercise of a trustful confi- 
 dence, it must be because he has something of the 
 same spirit which Hagar had, when driven out into 
 the wilderness and beyond the hope and the reach 
 of human help, she said, " Thou God seest me ;" 
 something of the same spirit which David had 
 when he said, " O Lord, thou hast searched me and 
 known me ; thou knowest my down sitting and 
 uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off, 
 9 
 
idO PEACE m BELIEVING. 
 
 tliou compassest my path and my lying down, and 
 art acquainted with all my ways." It is this God 
 — always with us, directing all things, arranging all 
 things, who is the object of that confidence which 
 gives fixedness to the mind. 
 
 2. My second thought is, that the word of God 
 in which faith rests, contemplates man in all the 
 various circumstances of his being, in every possible 
 or supposable condition in which he may be 
 placed. My first thought had reference to the 
 actual presence of God with us, and his ability as 
 a present God to help and sustain us. My second 
 has reference to his positive assurance of help. The 
 revelation which God has given us upon the sacred 
 pages is wonderful in this respect, that it is a reve- 
 lation of a promise, and all its disclosures are regu- 
 lated by, as they take their shape from the pro- 
 mise they are designed to unfold. That promise, I 
 mean the promise of a Saviour, and of all good in 
 him, covers all our interests ; hence the word which 
 is here given to us is full of promises, and they are 
 u exceedingly great and precious ;" great in their 
 range, because there is no circumstance which they 
 do not reach, precious in their character, because 
 there is no exigency in our affairs to which they 
 are not adapted. It is the beauty and the charm 
 of these inspired oracles that there is not a human 
 solicitude for which they do not contain a word in 
 season ; not a doubt which they leave without a 
 message to disperse it ; no anxiety which they 
 pass by without a whisper to soothe it ; not a sigh 
 which they do not hush ; not a tear which they do 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 131 
 
 not wipe away. If this is not so, I will give up my 
 point and renounce my confidence. There is no- 
 thing, I apprehend, in which the wisdom and good- 
 ness of God is so apparent as in the exactness and 
 precision with which his words of promise are 
 adapted to the wants of those who trust him. It 
 is wonderful indeed that God should be mindful of 
 man, of every man ; wonderful that he should attend 
 to the wants of an insect, of every insect to which the 
 leaf upon which it rests is a world. But when I 
 remember what thought is, over what an unlimited 
 range it can expatiate, and how many and varied 
 are the materials of solicitude which it can gather 
 in its wanderings, when I muse on the almost end- 
 less varieties of human sorrow, and the multipli- 
 city of causes which may disquiet one, and then 
 find that there is not a doubt or a sadness for 
 which this record of truth does furnish a promise ; 
 when I know that the case has never yet occurred 
 of a man turning in faith and prayer to the Bible 
 whatever may have been his peculiar trial or sad- 
 ness, who has not found some portion of it which 
 seemed to have been written expressly for himself, 
 so that there has been a power in its words which 
 have spoken to his heart, I am overwhelmed ; and 
 the faith which takes hold upon these promises as 
 real, can give fixedness to the mind, because there- 
 is not a wave of trouble which some promise may 
 not repel ; not a season of darkness where some 
 promise does not shine ; not a chamber of gloom 
 where it does not light up the lamp of consolation ; 
 and here are the resources of comfort and strength 
 
132 PEACE IK" BELIEVING. 
 
 for the confiding spirit. If God is near me, if he is 
 engaged in all my affairs, it is God who speaks in 
 the promises ; and though I cannot see him, I can hear 
 him, — sometimes it is when the waves of trouble 
 roll around me, and he whispers, "Peace, he still ■" 
 sometimes when I am called to pass through the 
 fires, and he says, " They shall not gather upon 
 thee ;" sometimes it is when a sore temptation tries 
 my spirit, and his language is, " My grace shall be 
 sufficient for thee." Always it is in words which 
 meet my case, and which, by their wonderful adapt- 
 edness, prove that they come from one who knows 
 my heart, and is perfectly acquainted with all my 
 circumstances and wants. 
 
 3. My third thought is that all these promises are 
 promises in Christ Jesus ; and herein we have the 
 evidence of their certainty, the assurance of their ful- 
 filment. We can give you but an outline of this gen- 
 eral idea, and yet it is too important to be omitted. 
 I fix your minds then upon this fact : all the good 
 which comes to this sinful world comes through 
 Christ. If I speak of the promise of pardon to the 
 penitent, of forgiveness to the prodigal ; if I speak 
 of the assurance that the sting shall be taken from 
 death, that the dead shall be raised, that eternal 
 life shall be secured, you associate all these pro- 
 mises and assurances with the work of Christ, as 
 establishing the certainty of their fulfilment ; but 
 I put every assurance of God's word in the same 
 connection, and in this connection alone I find 
 ground for my faith in their certainty. The assu- 
 rance that the sun shall rise upon the evil and the 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 133 
 
 good, that the fields shall be covered with abun- 
 dance, as well as the promise that God will be a 
 husband to the widow, and a father to the father- 
 less, I put in the same connection, and trace to the 
 same source. They were uttered only by virtue of 
 the covenant with Christ, they have been and yet 
 are to be made good, only because Christ has ful- 
 filled the conditions of that covenant. Thus it is 
 that faith, fastening upon the promises of God as 
 promises in Christ, anticipates all the objections to 
 their fulfilment growing out of our un worthiness 
 and ill-desert. It meets exactly a very common 
 case in human experience ; the case of a man who 
 is staggered by the greatness of God's promises, 
 by the excess of their blessings over our deserts, 
 nay, over our wishes and our hopes ; and to whose 
 mind the question will be secretly proposed, u can 
 these promises ever be fulfilled?" He does not, 
 you will perceive, intend to question God's faith- 
 fulness, but he may fear, and he thinks with too 
 good ground, that the promise will not, on account of 
 his unworthiness, be fulfilled to himself. Ah ! if the 
 promise was made to me dependent upon my de- 
 serts, then, indeed, I might doubt and fear ; and it 
 is because men who call themselves believers look 
 away from the covenant with Christ, and look to 
 their own frames and feelings, that they lose the 
 benefit of their faith, and become very much like 
 barometers, which rise and fall with the changes of 
 the surrounding atmosphere. If my worthiness is 
 to determine the fulfilment of God's promises, I can 
 
134 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 be certain of none of them ; but if my faith fastens 
 upon Christ, and upon what he has done, as the 
 ground of the certainty of God's promise, there 
 can be nothing to shake it ; while there might be 
 room for a thousand fears and suspicions, were every 
 thing dependent upon me, whose failures in obe- 
 dience might remove me, so to speak, out of the 
 sphere of the promise. There is room only for fixed 
 confidence and full assurance, when every thing- 
 depends upon what Christ has done, who having 
 in his humiliation and death fulfilled the conditions 
 of the covenant, lives now in glory, exercising 
 there a ministry which secures the fulfilment of the 
 promise to every one who believes in him. 
 
 These are the elements and sources of that power 
 which faith in the word of God's testimony has to 
 give fixedness to the spirit, amid all changes, and a 
 peace which rises superior to the influence of all 
 the disturbing causes which may act upon the 
 mind ; and if this is a right view of God, if he is 
 thus near us, cautiously engaged in all our concerns, 
 acquainted with all our circumstances, if his pro- 
 mises meet us in all the conditions of our being, 
 assuring us of his protection and care, and his de- 
 termining to make all things work together for our 
 good ; if every one of these promises is thus certi- 
 fied, and put past all doubt, can it be otherwise 
 than that there must be peace in believing ; and 
 may not a man, in any circumstances, be at rest in 
 the full confidence that " God will perfect every 
 thing concerning him. 7 ' 
 
PEACE LIST BELIEVING-. 135 
 
 In the remarks we have thus far thrown out, 
 we have given you what may be called the theory 
 of our subject, by exhibiting the elements or 
 grounds of a Christian's confidence ; we have shown 
 that it ought to be a source of rational and abiding 
 peace ; we now advance a step farther and speak 
 of it as something which has been actually tested 
 by experiment and has never yet failed. In point 
 of fact, this confidence in God always does minister 
 peace and joy to the human spirit. 
 
 We have already remarked that the life of every 
 man has its shades as well as its lights. There are 
 hours of sadness as well as of joy — of fear as well 
 as of hope — and it is in the seasons of gloom that 
 human confidences are tried ; and if we would know 
 the value of a Christian's faith we must look at the 
 influence it exerts over the mind in those circum- 
 stances in which naturally mens' hearts fail them 
 through fear, and the character of their trial: 
 places them beyond the reach of all mere human 
 consolation. 
 
 We admit that there are some of the calamities 
 of human life under which natural fortitude e&h 
 sustain a man, and earthly philosophy can cheer 
 him ; but they are invariably of that nature that 
 time and diligence may repair the injury they have 
 occasioned. A man may be stripped of his pro- 
 perty, and yet if he sees how he can make his losses 
 good, the hope of coming prosperity can sustain 
 him, the prospect of future success may buoy 
 his spirit and give him energy, nay, the very effort: 
 
136 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 he puts forth to regain what he has lost, may al- 
 most make him forget that he has been a loser. 
 
 But there are other trials which do not admit of 
 any such alleviation ; there are losses which admit 
 of no earthly reparation ; there are griefs of the 
 human spirit which are not to be assuaged by any 
 earthly consolations, and sorrows to which no 
 human philosophy can minister alleviation. We 
 take you to the scene where the heart bleeds be- 
 cause of its ruptured ties, where death has been 
 doing his work in the household, where his stroke 
 lias fallen so as to be most surely felt, because the 
 fairest and loveliest of the family circle has become 
 its prey. Here is a case upon which human philos- 
 ophy may try its strength, and worldly consolation 
 may exhaust its common-places, but the one is un- 
 meaning, and the others are painful ; and pleasure 
 may tonch the harp whose strains have often en- 
 chanted and seduced, but the worn and wearied 
 spirit has no ear in the gloom for what sounded 
 magically when a thousand lights were blazing. 
 There never yet was a man placed in circumstances 
 like these who did not feel that he needed some- 
 thing more than earth could give him ; and these 
 are precisely the scenes in which the confidence of 
 which we speak is seen in its beauty and felt in its 
 peace-speaking power. The writer, whose senti- 
 ment we have been illustrating, uttered not simply 
 the language of theory bnt of experience ; the con- 
 fidence to which he gave expression had been tried. 
 He remembered the hour when his city was de- 
 stroyed and his family were carried away into capti- 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 137 
 
 vity, how amid those who wept and wailed around 
 him, and refused to be comforted, his heart was at 
 rest because it was stayed upon God. We all 
 know, moreover, that some of his sweetest songs 
 were sung in the seasons of his deepest sorrow, and 
 that in circumstances which would have unnerved 
 any spirit destitute of his resources. When closely 
 pursued by those who thirsted for his blood, he said, 
 " I will both lay me down in peace and sleep, be- 
 cause thou Lord only makest me to dwell in safety." 
 Nor is that upper chamber at Shunem without its 
 meaning, where a mother has laid the body of her 
 only son in death, and answers the inquiry of the 
 people after her welfare, by saying, " It is well." 
 
 The illustrations of this character might be mul- 
 tiplied a thousand fold ; we might summon up a 
 weeping group, and as they passed before you, you 
 should see orphans whom death had made solitary, 
 parents to whom the world had become a desert, 
 because some long-watched and cherished flower 
 had withered and died ; widows in their loneliness, 
 whom death had reft of every friend but God ; and 
 if there are tears upon their faces, there are smiles 
 also, and their testimony is, that they have never 
 been deserted in their sorrows ; they have had 
 peace, but it has been " peace in believing," their 
 best lessons of truth have been learned, their clear. 
 est views, their largest apprehensions of spiritual 
 things have been gained in seasons of trouble ; and 
 never have they had such full proofs of the pre. 
 ciousness of Christ, never such abounding consola 
 tions, as when one joy after another has departed- 
 
IdO PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 and wave upon wave of sorrow has rolled over 
 them. While earth around them has seemed a 
 desert, and while they were toiling painfully along, 
 the arid sands have grown fertile, and fresh things 
 and green things have sprung up around them ; and 
 where it seemed as though nothing but the deadly 
 nightshade could grow, the tree of life has sprung 
 up with its twelve manner of fruits ; and never 
 were its clusters so rich, never did so many hang 
 within their reach. Such is the testimony of those 
 who have put their trust in God ; and the experience 
 which it sets before us, forms a striking contrast to 
 that of others who know nothing of the value and 
 efficiency of God's promises, upon whom in dark- 
 ness no light arises, and who in the desert can find 
 no green thing upon which the eye may rest. Nay, 
 I think I may go farther than this, and I imagine 
 that many a man's experience will bear me out in 
 the seeming paradox, that the joys of the spirit 
 which clings with an unwavering confidence to the 
 promises of God, are greatest in the hours of the 
 greatest trial, because faith then is strongest in its 
 exercise. It is in moral as in natural things ; music 
 sounds softer and sweeter by night than by day, 
 because then all is still, and the notes are brought 
 out more fully. It is in the hour of calamity that 
 the ruptured heart-strings yield the sweetest melody, 
 when touched by God, and the notes of praise 
 are loudest and richest, because the promises of 
 truth w^hich alone can raise them, then seem most 
 precious. 
 
 Now if these things be true with regard to what 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 139 
 
 may be termed the ordinary scenes of life, because 
 trials and affliction are the common lot of humanity, 
 if a man must have that strength which confidence 
 in God alone can give him, to prevent him from 
 being overborne by common calamities, if he can- 
 not separate from faith in the promises, possess his 
 soul in patience and peace, amid the e very-day 
 events of life, he cannot certainly in the hour of 
 his greatest trial, when all earthly resources fail 
 him, and all earthly supports sink beneath him. 
 
 There is an hour before us, my brethren, when 
 nothing but confidence in God will help us ; and 
 herein we have an illustration of the value and 
 glory of this confidence, that it can, and does 
 sustain the spirit and give it in this hour per- 
 fect peace. We all feel that death is an evil, a ter- 
 rible evil; and yet an evil which we must meet. 
 Looking at it from a distance, we may talk very 
 calmly about it, and indulge in very ingenious rea- 
 sonings ; but when we look at it as near at hand, it 
 is a very different thing from what it appeared to be 
 in the light of our philosophical speculations. We 
 never passed through such a scene, or any thing 
 like it — a scene where all that may have cheered 
 us onward in the world is withdrawn — a scene 
 where sense can teach us nothing — a scene where 
 reason can give us no help, because it has no pro- 
 mises upon which to build an argument, or from 
 which to draw an inference — a scene where these 
 spirits must leave these bodies, and go forth, each 
 one by itself in its solitariness, to tread a hitherto 
 unexplored pathway, and to abide the searchings 
 
140 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 of judgment. That scene is just before us ; it will 
 not be long before we shall be passing through it. 
 Happy is the man, I do but echo the sentiments of 
 every heart when I say, " Happy is the man who can 
 say with calmness and composure, in view of such 
 a scene, u The Lord will perfect that which con- 
 cerneth me." Faith, simple confidence in God 
 through Christ, can give a man strength and peace 
 in such a scene as this, and nothing else can do it. 
 I do not enter upon an argument here ; I might, if 
 I were so disposed, show how this confidence se- 
 cures to a man victory of death ; I think I might 
 make it perfectly apparent, that the man who be- 
 lieves in the word of this testimony, has in his pos- 
 session, while he looks upon Christ as revealing 
 immortality, as taking away the sting of death by 
 his atonement, as himself triumphing over the 
 grave, and giving to his followers an assurance of 
 like victory, has in these views all the elements of 
 peace, and a peace as full as his views are clear, and 
 his confidence in them is strong. But I appeal now 
 to facts. It cannot be denied then, as a simple 
 matter of fact, that persons of every age and every 
 rank in life, are continually meeting death with 
 calmness and even joy. Though not insensible to 
 the terrors of death, they have yet that which 
 enables them to triumph over them — nay, with a 
 full view of what death is, what it involves, and to 
 what it leads, they can. approach it with confidence, 
 and even exult that the hour of their departure is 
 at hand. If you ask me for an explanation of this 
 fact ; what it is which upholds the dying Chris- 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 141 
 
 tian, what throws over his wasted countenance 
 such an air of serenity, what prompts his expres- 
 sions of peace, his "breathings of hope, which seem 
 so illy to accord with his circumstances of decay 
 and trouble, I answer it is some such simple word 
 of promise as this, to which his faith clings : " Fear 
 not, for I am with thee ; be not dismayed, for I am 
 thy God." That is the secret of the Christian's 
 peace, and joy, and triumph. Confidence in the 
 word and promise of his master ; and that confidence 
 assures of victory, that confidence brings heaven 
 near to him, so that he is like one who already sees 
 the glory, and hears the minstrelsy of the eternal 
 city. 
 
 I have never witnessed such scenes in any other 
 connection. I have never heard of such peace and 
 joy as resulting from any other influence. The 
 history of the world cannot produce a single case 
 of a man dying in peace without simple faith in the 
 promise of God. I have heard, indeed, and have 
 seen men of the world, men who knew nothing of 
 Christ and him crucified, utter strangers to faith in 
 God's promises, go hence without betraying any 
 particular emotion. The wicked, according to the 
 teachings of the Bible, may have no bands in their 
 death, they may sink into apathy, and some men 
 may look upon their blighted energies and gross 
 insensibility, as evidences of peace and victory. I 
 have heard, too, of men who have gone the length 
 of denying Christ and rejecting God's truth, dying 
 in apparent unconcern. Hume and Gibbon could 
 even trifle on their death-beds, and in trying to 
 
142 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 
 
 act the hero play the buffoon; but their very 
 trifling betrayed a restlessness of spirit, and an 
 anxiety to drown serious thought. These, however, 
 are exceptions to the general rule. Most generally 
 the last hours of skeptics have been like those of 
 Paine and Voltaire, hours of horror; while the 
 votaries of this world, who have passed through 
 life unconcerned about spiritual things, have shown 
 themselves the victims of agony and remorse, when 
 they have approached the border line of eternity. 
 But in the cases where such has not been the 
 fact, cases like those to which we have alluded, 
 while there may have been insensibility, there has 
 been no peace ; if they have not been aghast with 
 terror, they have been void of any pleasing antici- 
 pations. There have been none of those beamings 
 and flashings of hope and joy which faith kindles ; 
 there have been no boundings of a spirit elastic with 
 immortality, no such thing as a palpable mastery 
 over death, no such thing as a holy defiance of the 
 terrors of dissolution, no such thing as a vivid an- 
 ticipation of happiness, no whispered assurance 
 when the voice is failing that all is well, nothing 
 of the kind ; oh ! no, these are the fruits of believ- 
 ing on the testimony of God. 
 
 My brethren, there is a reality in the religion of 
 faith, there is a power in it which is no where else 
 to be found. There is a reality which we must all 
 appreciate, a power which we must all know expe- 
 rimentally, if we would be at peace. With this 
 conclusion, sustained as it is so fully by argument 
 and fact, I come to my hearers to-day; I dedicate 
 
PEACE IN BELIEVING. 148 
 
 the thoughts I have thrown out to the tried and 
 wearied spirit. There is peace in believing' — there 
 is peace in nothing else. Could I bring all who hear 
 me to-day to the exercise of this simple confidence 
 in God through Christ, what wondrous change 
 would pass over their experience ; how soon would 
 that troubled conscience be soothed, how soon 
 would that aching soul be relieved of its burden, 
 that vacant heart be filled, that weary spirit be at 
 rest, and those sighs for peace be lost in the joy of 
 its attainment. Believe me, my brethren, you 
 cannot do without confidence in God. Perhaps in 
 an hour of earthly joy, when all is bright around 
 you, my appeal may not come home with power 
 to the spirit. But this sky will not always be 
 bright — there is a storm cloud rising. The voice of 
 joy will not always be heard in your dwelling, 
 the bitter lamentation will be there. There 
 are scenes before you which will try the spirit, 
 and you must pass through them, and you never 
 can be sustained except by confidence in God. 
 Ten thousand withered hopes and as many broken 
 hearts will tell you so ; or if you could pass un- 
 harmed through all these scenes ; if you could 
 weather all these storms of life, there is yet 
 another ; it will come when perhaps you are least 
 expecting it. It will be a dark, a dreary and op- 
 pressive night, when it gathers around you, that 
 will try you as you have never been tried before ; 
 and then if you have no confidence in God to steady 
 and fix yon, all will be lost, and lost forever. 
 Of that coming tempest I would warn you. Every 
 
144 peace m BELiEvma. 
 
 thing may now be calm, but it is always still be- 
 fore the fiercest storm. Your firmament may seem 
 clear, but yonder is the little cloud no bigger 
 than a man's hand, which portends the tempest. 
 As you watch, it approaches, it increases, it 
 gathers blackness ; if it finds you, without an in- 
 terest in God's promises, it will sweep away all 
 your confidences, overthrow all your towers of 
 strength, and leave you a ruined thing over which 
 others will say, Alas ! Alas ! this is the man who 
 made not God his strength. 
 
 To Him who is a hiding place from the storm 
 and a shelter from the tempest, I would commend 
 my hearers, and to them I would commend his 
 truth. "Come unto me and I will give you rest." 
 kC He that belie veth on him shall never be con- 
 founded." 
 
SUPPORTS OF FAITH AMID THE MYSTERIES OF 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 " Thy righteousness is like the great mountains ; thy judgments are 
 a great deep. Lord, thou preservest man and beast." — Psalm 
 
 Theee is nothing very striking or remarkable in 
 this text as it presents itself to the eye of the 
 superficial reader, and yet a closer examination will 
 show it to be full of the most interesting and con- 
 solatory instruction. It appears at first sight to be 
 but a simple statement of three distinct, familiar, and 
 indisputable propositions, without any close con- 
 nection with, or dependence upon, each other. The 
 first has reference to God's righteousness, that per- 
 fection of character which secures perfect equity 
 and justice in all his procedures, — and its compari- 
 son with the great mountains is designed to show 
 it fixed and immoveable ; so high that it cannot 
 well be lost sight of; so deep in its foundations 
 that it cannot be overthrown or shaken. The 
 other has reference to God's judgments, his deal- 
 ings and dispensations towards men ; and under the 
 emblem of " a great deep," to which he likens 
 them, it is affirmed of them that they are inscrut- 
 10 
 
146 STJPPOKTS OF FAITH. 
 
 able, incomprehensible, not to be fathomed by us 
 in our present state of being. The last refers to 
 God's general providential care, as its evidences are 
 presented daily to our observation ; or more parti- 
 cularly to those common mercies which are shed 
 down, constantly upon the creatures of his hand, as 
 intimating not more clearly the minuteness of God's 
 inspection and care than the kindness by which 
 they are uniformly marked. These are the three 
 propositions before us. In bespeaking for them 
 your attention, we do not feel ourselves called upon 
 to enter upon an extended demonstration of their 
 truth. We suppose them to be all admitted. No 
 one who believes in the existence of God, and 
 acknowledges his government, will pretend to call 
 in question the equity of his administration, — " He 
 is righteous in all his ways, and holy in all his 
 works." The supposition that he can possibly com- 
 mit a mistake, that he is liable, however remotely, 
 to an error, either of judgment or of heart, involves 
 an inconsistency which the intellect as well as the 
 feelings of man at once repudiates. This is a fixed 
 principle, an axiom in all our reasonings upon the 
 divine dispensations which no rational man would 
 think of questioning a moment ; and under the full 
 conviction of this truth it is that we so promptly 
 resolve all the apparent inconsistencies or inequali- 
 ties of the divine administration, not into any want 
 of equity or justice upon the part of him who sits 
 upon the throne, but to our own ignorance or short 
 sightedness, which disqualifies us from taking those 
 large and comprehensive views necessary to a 
 
STTPPOKTS OF FAITH. 147 
 
 clear perception of his dealings in their varied and 
 often complicated relations. 
 
 Equally uncalled for is an argument to demon- 
 strate the mystery of God's dispensations. iSTo one 
 can study or even slightly observe the divine deal- 
 ings, whether in reference to individuals or com- 
 munities, without perceiving much, the fitness and 
 propriety of which are matters of faith, not of de- 
 monstration, calling not upon ingenuity to specu- 
 late, but upon reason to submit. God's " judg- 
 ments are a great deep," which we have no line to 
 fathom, and beneath the surface of which, if we 
 dive, we are completely lost. "While at the same 
 time we cannot cast our eye abroad in any direc- 
 tion without observing traces of perpetually exer- 
 cised skill and unceasing goodness ; the universality 
 of God's providential care can no more be ques- 
 tioned that the righteousness of his government or 
 the mystery of his proceedings. It is as true that 
 he " preserveth man and beast," as it is that his 
 " righteousness is like the great mountains," or that 
 his " judgments are a great deep." We have, then, 
 on this occasion, nothing to do with argument going 
 to demonstrate the correctness of either of these 
 propositions ; we assume them as granted, and pro- 
 ceed therefore to the main purpose of our discourse, 
 which is to show the connection between them, and 
 ascertain what, if any, great practical lessons may 
 be learned from the manner in which they are 
 combined by the inspired writer. 
 
 I. In order to bring out distinctly the idea I 
 have in my mind, as suggested by the language of 
 
148 SUPPORTS OF FAITH. 
 
 the text, I begin with the proposition relating to 
 the unsearchable nature of the divine dispensations, 
 the judgments of God, which the Psalmist compares 
 to " a great deep." It is undoubtedly a fact that 
 the grounds of God's procedures, and the methods 
 of his action, are very often beyond our ability to 
 discover and trace them. There is not one of us, 
 perhaps, who has not been greatly perplexed by 
 events in his own private history, events which 
 have disarranged all his plans, and it may be 
 blighted his most dearly and longest cherished 
 hopes, and been baffled in his best efforts to explain 
 them or unravel their intricacy. The surprise at 
 these developments of Divine Providence is as un- 
 warranted as is our dissatisfaction in view of them 
 unreasonable ; for, as we apprehend, there is nothing 
 but what we ought to expect ; nothing but what is 
 unavoidable in the incomprehensibility of the di- 
 vine judgments. If among ourselves the dealings 
 of wise men, proceeding from a high degree of sa- 
 gacity, appear unaccountable, because founded on 
 maxims, or contemplating ends not understood or 
 appreciated by the great mass of their fellows, 
 it surely is not to be wondered at, that God, who 
 in his wisdom is as far above us as the heavens are 
 above the earth, should be inexplicable in his act- 
 ings, often doing the very opposite to what in the 
 same circumstances we should have done, and pro- 
 ceeding in a way to us apparently least likely to 
 produce the desired end. 
 
 But if the inscrutableness of Providence did not 
 result necessarily from God's superior wisdom, still 
 
SUPPOETS OP FAITH. 149 
 
 there would be sufficient reasons to justify its pro- 
 priety. It would be quite possible, we admit, for 
 God so to arrange every thing that his judgments 
 should not be a great deep, that his motives and 
 ends of action should always appear upon the sur- 
 face, palpable and obvious to every one ; and yet 
 there would be sufficient room to question the wis- 
 dom of such an arrangement, as there would be 
 little or nothing to conciliate our reverence, or com- 
 pel our submission. As things now are managed, 
 while — 
 
 " God moves in a mysterious way, 
 His wonders to perform," 
 
 we are constantly reminded by the fruitless- 
 ness of efforts to fathom the divine judgments, 
 of our limited knowledge, and feeble penetration. 
 Let Providence be divested of all its intricacies, 
 so that there should be to us no obscurities, 
 and our sense of the distance between the finite 
 and the infinite would be very much diminished ; 
 we would feel that God was brought down to 
 the level of our capacities, or what, practically, 
 would be very much the same thing, we would 
 feel ourselves exalted to his level. It is, we ima- 
 gine, quite necessary, in order to inspire humi- 
 lity, awe, reverence, and discipline us to faith, that 
 God in his ordinary operations should be hidden 
 from us ; that he should discover himself sufficiently 
 to prove to us that he is at work, yet not so as 
 admit us to his counsels, nor allow us to trace the 
 steps of his progress. Submission to God is a vir- 
 tue, as well as reverence ; and if always able to dis. 
 cern the reasons of the divine dealings, to determine 
 
150 SUPPOETS OF FAITH. 
 
 the end proposed, and the suitableness of the 
 means used for its accomplishment, we would 
 think God little wiser than one of ourselves, and 
 find nothing any where to fill us with reverence. 
 So in the hour of trial and sorrow there would be 
 nothing to exercise patience, or teach us submission, 
 if we saw distinctly the process by which God 
 was accomplishing his purpose, or the benefit it 
 was designed to secure. 
 
 God is mysterious. It is well, we see it, that he 
 should be so ; far more mysterious in the works of 
 providence than of nature ; and they who confess 
 his authorship and superintendence of the objects 
 around them, must admit the propriety of this 
 characteristic of his movements, even though they 
 should sometimes be staggered when reflecting on 
 the course of human things, and be tempted to 
 doubt whether the very being whom they recog- 
 nize as presiding over the mechanism of the mate- 
 rial universe, acting with such unfailing precision 
 and uniformity, does, indeed, sit perpetually at the 
 helm of human affairs. Though we may attempt, 
 as we look over God's dealings, and observe the 
 jostling and confusion which seem well nigh uni- 
 versal, and mark the unexpected turn which things 
 often take, to assign a reason for one appointment 
 and determine the possible use of another, yet we 
 find it very hard to assure ourselves that all is for 
 the best ; that there is not a spring in motion which 
 God does not regulate, nor a force in action which 
 he does not control ; still all this is precisely what 
 we ought to expect, God's wisdom and knowledge, 
 
SUPPORTS OF FAITH. 151 
 
 so far surpassing our own, teach us that his deal- 
 ings must be founded on principles which we can- 
 not discover, and influenced and guided by motives 
 and maxims which we cannot understand; and, 
 therefore, must be to us, who are but children in 
 understanding, little else than a mass of mysteries. 
 "Working as he is with a view to various and dis- 
 taut events, involving, perhaps, the interests of a 
 kingdom in those of an individual, having respect 
 to a single family in the changes of an empire, how 
 can he be otherwise than unsearchable in his Pro- 
 vidence to us, who can apprehend nothing but the 
 nearest design, our supposed knowledge of which 
 may after all be but little more than conjecture ; 
 and when we add to this that a it is the glory of 
 God to conceal a thing," that it is the very dark- 
 ness in which he dwells which secures our reve- 
 rence, and compels our submission; not with a 
 feeling of surprise and discontent, but of admira- 
 tion and praise, nay, with a confession of the great- 
 ness, the majesty, the wisdom, the goodness of the 
 Creator, should we remember that his "judgments 
 are a great deep." 
 
 II. The effect, however, upon us of the mysteries 
 of the divine procedures, will be dependent almost 
 entirely upon the position from which we view 
 them, and the light in which we look at them. 
 The mariner out upon the ocean at midnight is 
 bewildered if he has no compass by which to steer, 
 or if he loses sight of the fixed star by which he 
 may direct his course. To plunge into the midst 
 of a labyrinth, without an}' clew to its intricacies, 
 
152 SUPPOETS OF FAITH. 
 
 is to perplex, and disliearten, and throw one's self 
 into deep despondency ; and so it will unnerve and 
 prostrate any man to find himself in the midst of 
 God's judgments or mysterious dealings without 
 any previous preparation to meet them, or any 
 light to throw upon their darkness. 
 
 It is not therefore without reason, that the Psalm- 
 ist says, "Thy righteousness is like the great 
 mountains," before he speaks of the great deep of 
 God's judgments ; for it is only upon the ground 
 which his righteousness puts under us, that we can 
 look calmly upon his judgments ; only the intelli- 
 gent and firm conviction of that righteousness 
 which can balance and steady the mind amid his 
 mysteries. As by the righteousness of God, already 
 explained, we mean that perfection by which He is 
 holy and just in himself, and observes the strictest 
 rules of equity in his dealings with his creatures ; 
 to be' convinced of his righteousness is to be satisfied 
 that, whatever may be appearances, God is guided 
 in his actions by the most unimpeachable princi- 
 ples, and has only to make known his reasons, to 
 secure the approval of all his intelligent creatures. 
 We cannot be satisfied of God's righteousness, with- 
 out being thoroughly persuaded that even when 
 his dealings are the darkest, they need only to 
 be seen in the light of his wisdom to commend 
 themselves as the best that could be devised ; and 
 the reason why the men who walk with God, and. 
 study well his character, are so little perplexed 
 by the intricacies of his Providence, and so little 
 disheartened by what is obscure, is, that they ha ve 
 
SUPPORTS OF FAITH. 153 
 
 settled it in their minds that God is righteous in 
 all his ways ; and holding fast this great truth in 
 every hour of difficulty, and doubt, and. trial, they 
 are as thoroughly satisfied that what is unsearcha- 
 ble is right, as though it were all laid open, and 
 they had the evidence of sense or reason for its 
 goodness. Thus it was that the Psalmist fortified 
 himself against the inscrutableness of the divine 
 judgments, by assuring himself of the divine right- 
 eousness ; and herein he teaches us a lesson we are 
 very apt to overlook, but which our comfort re- 
 quires us perfectly to learn. We cannot always 
 walk in the light ; sometimes God will throw dark- 
 ness about us ; prosperity cannot be our unfailing 
 allotment ; our life is a chequered scene, the bright 
 spots of which are intermingled with shade. If 
 we have our hours of ease, we must have hours of 
 difficulty ; if we have comforts, we must have trials 
 likewise. At times we may feel that we are tread- 
 ing upon the solid earth, and again we are launched 
 out upon the ocean of God's judgments. And 
 nothing will give us light in darkness, or strength 
 in weakness, or relief in perplexity ; nothing will 
 equip us for the hour of difficulty or trial but the 
 conviction, intelligent and thorough, of this simple 
 truth, God's " righteousness is like the great 
 mountains." Fixed upon this ground, we should 
 always be firm, calm, collected, never afraid of 
 evil tidings, never dismayed by the divine dealings, 
 because we would be stable, trusting in God. 
 
 One great practical mistake upon this subject, 
 my brethren, is, that we wait till we are enveloped 
 
154 SUPPORTS OF FAITH. 
 
 in darkness before we acquaint ourselves with God ; 
 and then when the hour of difficulty conies, we have 
 to search for relief, instead of being provided 
 beforehand ; and when the storm bursts upon 
 us, we have to look round for shelter, when the 
 way into God's pavilion should have been perfectly 
 familiar. We are driven out into the deep of 
 God's judgments, with but very dim apprehensions 
 of his righteousness ; and a then without any thing to 
 which we may cling, we cry out as though God 
 had forgotten to be gracious. Had we certified our- 
 selves beforehand that God never can mean but 
 what is right, that he never can swerve or be 
 diverted from his purpose, we could not fail, when 
 we found ourselves upon the dark waters, to see 
 the star which is to teach us how to steer. 
 
 In the imagery of the Psalmist which has sug- 
 gested these thoughts, there is beauty as well as 
 truth. We have here a combination of the moun- 
 tains and the depths, and there should be no diffi- 
 culty in sketching upon canvass, as there is none 
 in the conception of a picture which would dis- 
 tinctly symbolize the writer's idea. Here we have 
 before us the deep of God's judgments, waters un- 
 fathomable by any human line ; and here we have 
 the mountains, whose foundations are washed by 
 these unfathomable waters ; they seem to be rising 
 out of the waters, and girding them round 
 upon every side. We know from the parts of the 
 mountains which are visible, that there are lower 
 parts concealed from us by the waters, and are just 
 as confident that the lower parts form the basin 
 
SUPPORTS OF FAITH. 155 
 
 out of which the waters flow ; and thus, when we 
 see the mountains all around us, we may be sure 
 that the foundations beneath the waters are of the 
 same materials with the summits above, which, 
 though sometimes hidden in the mists, often glow 
 in the sunlight. Such seems to be the conception 
 of the Psalmist. It is truthful, and beautiful, and 
 impressive. God's judgments are the deep which 
 we cannot explore, but from this deep rise moun- 
 tains, and these mountains are the righteousness of 
 God ; as they gird around the waters, so does the 
 righteousness of God embrace all his dealings. As 
 we doubt not, that their foundations are the same 
 with their summits, so we cannot doubt that the 
 righteousness of God is the same in what is dark 
 as in what is clear. ISTay, more than this, as the 
 surface of the water often mirrors the tops of the 
 surrounding mountains, so not infrequently can an 
 attentive eye observe the image of God's righteous- 
 ness upon the very front of his dispensations. 
 
 What then are we to do when upon this mysterious 
 deep, but to look at the mountains which rise upon 
 every side, and remember that under the waters, 
 unseen by us, are their foundations ? Though we 
 cannot take the soundings of the mighty abyss, 
 yet we should feel safe if we kept in mind the 
 righteousness of God. We should never be at a 
 loss or bewildered, if faith in the divine character 
 were always in lively exercise ; and it might be al- 
 ways kept in exercise, for there is always some- 
 thing upon which it may fasten and act. Driven 
 and tossed as we may be, there is always some 
 
156 SUPPOETS OF FAITH. 
 
 peak of these everlasting hills discernible, some 
 eminence of the mountains to serve as a guide and 
 assure us of our safety. 
 
 It is because practically we regard the righteous- 
 ness of God as sand, which may be displayed or 
 encroached upon by the waters, and not as moun- 
 tains, which cannot be removed, that we are dis- 
 turbed when thrown upon the sea of God's judg- 
 ments. Only let us give the character of " moun- 
 tains" to the righteousness ; look upon it as un- 
 changeable and immoveable, as girding round the 
 whole economy of divine Providence, and it could 
 hardly happen that we should be overwhelmed by 
 the divine dealings, however unable we should be 
 to fathom them. Thus fortified by God's righteous- 
 ness, we might turn our attention to God's judg- 
 ments, and then it would be as though we were 
 standing upon earth's mountairs, and throwing our 
 gaze over the ocean; the heavings of the waves 
 would cause us no solicitude, as we should feel 
 certain of the solidity of that on which we stood, 
 and have no fears that the waters, however agi- 
 tated, would pass the boundaries appointed by the 
 God of nature. So when we stand upon the right- 
 eousness of God, knowing it to be immoveable as a 
 rock of adamant, what to us are the tossings and 
 fluctuations of human affairs ? There can be no 
 overleaping the boundaries which the God of pro- 
 vidence has appointed. 
 
 Thus it is that the divine righteousness can give 
 us light in the midst of darkness, relief in the 
 midst of perplexity, and fixedness in the midst of 
 
SUPPOETS OF FAITH. 15 Y 
 
 the changes which are taking place around us ; thus 
 it is that the consideration of what God is will al- 
 ways sustain us in view of what God does. He is 
 " righteous in all his ways." He cannot fail to he 
 righteous, righteous equally whether his doings are 
 known or unknown, whether his ways are in the 
 sunshine or the storm. His righteousness is not 
 dependent upon our perception of it ; it is a neces- 
 sary property of his nature. He might as well 
 cease to exist as cease to act upon the best prin- 
 ciples, in the "best mode and to the best end ; and 
 then what have we to do with murmuring at his 
 dealings, as though their propriety could be sus- 
 pected. "What if we cannot fathom them ? what if 
 we cannot comprehend them ? If we could, we 
 would be no more sure of their righteousness than 
 we ought to be now, on the testimony of his charac- 
 ter. If we look on the mere dispensation, it seems 
 a vast profound in which the mind may sink ; but 
 if we look at him whose dispensation it is, we might 
 at once find a resting-place for our spirits. Be it 
 so that his dealings are inexplicable ; it is not ours 
 to penetrate those dealings, but as they bear us 
 along on their mighty deep, to keep looking, as the 
 Psalmist elsewhere says, " to the hills whence 
 cometh our help." There is not a billow on this 
 deep from which we may not see land ; though if 
 we dive beneath the surface we shall find only 
 darkness, and be presently overwhelmed. Never 
 should we study God's dealings apart from God's 
 attributes, but prepare ourselves to study his deal- 
 ings by studying his character ; for if we once 
 
158 SUPPOETS OF FAITH. 
 
 settle it firmly in the mind " that his righteousness 
 is like the great mountains," it will never be in 
 fear, never in perplexity, much less will it be in 
 fretfulness and impatience, that we shall say, " Thy 
 judgments are a great deep." 
 
 III. The connection between the first and the 
 second propositions of our text being thus estab- 
 lished, we turn our attention for a moment to the 
 last, that we may ascertain, if possible, its relation 
 to those which preceded it. The transition, at 
 first sight, we must admit, seems to be very abrupt ; 
 for what has the mysteriousness of God's dealings 
 to do with his providential care? and yet we 
 can easily understand, that if to muse on the 
 righteousness of God be the best preparation 
 for the consideration of God's judgments, the 
 doubts and difficulties which this consideration 
 may nevertheless excite, may be best dealt with 
 by pondering the every day mercies which are 
 showered upon the world. I can easily imagine 
 the state of mind which the introduction of this 
 idea, in this precise connection, is calculated, if not 
 designed, to meet. I may have prepared myself 
 for surveying what is inexplicable in God's dealings, 
 by fortifying my belief in God's righteousness, and 
 yet while my eyes are upon the great deep, it will 
 oftentimes be hard to keep faith in full exercise. I 
 shall be very apt to forget, while gazing upon the 
 dark, unfathomable expanse, the truths of which 
 I thought I had certified myself. I shall feel 
 as though I needed some distinct, visible evidence 
 of the goodness of God, which all this darkness 
 
SUPPORTS OF FAITH. 159 
 
 and confusion seems to contradict ; and here I re- 
 member that " God preserveth man and beast." I 
 summon to my aid, in this emergency, the young 
 and the old ; the men of every age and every clime ; 
 I summon every beast of the field and every fowl 
 of the air; I make the sea give up its multitudes ; I 
 make every flower, every leaf, every water drop, 
 pour forth its insect population, and they all pass 
 in review before me. I ask myself who feeds this 
 innumerable throng ? Who erects store-houses and 
 keeps them supplied for all these tenants of earth, 
 sea, and air ? How happens it that morning after 
 morning men go about their varied employments, 
 that the forests echo with the warbling of birds, 
 that thousands of creatures are active on every hill 
 and in every valley, "and yet that out of these 
 countless multitudes of living beings, there is not 
 the solitary one for whom abundant provision is 
 not made in the arrangements of nature ? Is this 
 animation which is perpetually kept up in the 
 universe, and this sustenance which is so liberally 
 provided for its entire population, to be referred 
 to the working of certain laws and properties, irre- 
 spective of the immediate, agency of an ever 
 present, ever actuating Divinity ? Oh ! this is 
 an idolatry of second causes, little better than 
 a denial of the First Cause — this is substitut- 
 ing that ideal, fabled thing, called Nature, for 
 the God of nature — this is making the laws 
 and processes by and through which God ope- 
 rates, omnipotent, intelligent, omnipresent agents. 
 No ! no ! The hand that made, sustains ; the breath 
 
160 SUPPOBTS OF FAITH. 
 
 that animated, continues in existence — u The Lord 
 preserveth man and beast." He gave them being 
 at first, and he is the fountain of their being at 
 every subsequent moment ; and there is not in this 
 wide creation the single living thing which is not 
 perpetually drawing upon God ; so literally depen- 
 dent upon his care and bounty, that an instant's 
 suspension of his providential arrangements would 
 suffice to quench the vital principle. Never let us 
 for a moment indulge the atheistic thought, that 
 though the universe could not have been made 
 without God, it can nevertheless go on without 
 God. Its wheels are not wheels, which once set in 
 motion, may continue to revolve without fresh in- 
 terference of the original agency. Its springs are 
 not springs, which once touched, will vibrate for 
 ever, without the hand of the contriver and archi- 
 tect. Its seeds are not seeds, which, when once 
 sown, need no influence from above to secure their 
 perpetual springing. Every planet, as it marches, 
 is impelled by God ; every star as it revolves, is 
 turned by God ; every flower as it opens, is un- 
 folded by God ; every blade of grass, as it springs, is 
 reared by God. And if in place of suffering thought 
 to wander along the spreadings of the universe, — 
 though it could no where reach the spot where 
 God is not busy, nor find the creature of which he 
 is not the life, — if in place of this you tie it down to 
 the inhabitants of this lower creation, what a pic- 
 ture is opened before us by the simple fact, that in 
 every department God is momentarily engaged in 
 ministering to the beings whom he has called into 
 
SUPPOETS OF FAITH. 161 
 
 existence ; and from the king on his throne to the 
 beggar in his hovel; from the grey-headed veteran 
 to the infant of a day ; from the lordly lion to the 
 most insignificant reptile ; from the stately eagle to 
 the animalcule, which we know only from the mi- 
 croscope, there is not to be found the solitary in- 
 stance of a being overlooked by God — of life 
 sustained independently of God, or which could 
 last one second without his inspiration. And 
 ought not this picture, upon which we may gaze 
 daily and hourly, to have its effect upon the mind 
 when we turn to the great deep of God's judg- 
 ments, to refresh us in the midst of dark and intri- 
 cate dispensations, and relieve us of those doubts 
 which are often raised in view of the apparent want 
 of goodness in the government of God ? Why, my 
 brethren, there is not a morsel of food which we 
 eat, nor a drop which 'we drink, there is not a bird 
 which cheers us by its wild music, there is not an 
 insect which we see sporting in the sunbeam, which 
 does not rebuke us when we mistrust God because 
 sometimes he is " unsearchable in his ways." Can 
 it be that he is unmindful of the world, that he is 
 not studying in all his appointments and arrange- 
 ments the good of his creatures, when every where 
 he is showing himself attentive to the comforts and 
 the wants of the meanest living thing ; and while 
 he is ordering the course of nature, and marshalling 
 the ranks of cherubim and seraphim, he is yet bend- 
 ing down from his throne and applying as close a 
 guardianship to the ephemera which floats in the 
 breeze as though it were the only animated creature, 
 11 
 
162 SUPPOETS OF FAITH. 
 
 or the only one requiring his providential care? 
 This we apprehend to be the idea of the Psalmist ; 
 and there is thus seen to be a strong and beautiful, 
 though it be only an implied reasoning, in our text ; 
 and I put all its propositions together, and show 
 their mutual dependence upon, and relation to each 
 other, thus: 
 
 We muse in the first place on the righteousness 
 of God. He would not be God if he were not 
 " righteous in all his ways and holy in all his 
 works ;" and, therefore, we may be perfectly confi- 
 dent of this, that whatsoever he does is the best that 
 could be done, whether we do or do not perceive 
 its excellence. Having gained this point ; being 
 fairly fixed in this conviction, that " his righteous- 
 ness is like the great mountains," we turn to look at 
 his judgments ; and what an abyss of dark waters 
 is here ! How unsearchable, how unfathomable 
 is God in many of his ways ; and yet if satis- 
 fied of his righteousness, why should we be stag- 
 gered by his judgments ? There is no method 
 of getting away from this argument as an argu- 
 ment, and yet the mind does not always rest per- 
 fectly satisfied with it, and that because, while it is 
 adapted to convince the intellect, it does not address 
 itself forcibly to the feelings. Well, then, let us 
 pass from what is dark to what is clear in God's 
 dealings, and see if we cannot find something which 
 may bring the sensibilities to harmonize with the 
 convictions of the judgment. " He is about our 
 path, and about our bed continually ;" " The eyes of 
 all wait upon him ;" " He openeth his hand and 
 
SUPPORTS OF FAITH. 163 
 
 satisfieth the desire of every living thing." Is 
 God, who is thus displaying himself to us, hourly 
 and momentarily, a God of whom we maybe suspi- 
 cious ? Do we honour the sensibilities of our 
 nature which apprehend his goodness, any more 
 than our judgments, which are convinced of his 
 righteousness, when at any time, or in any circum- 
 stances, we mistrust him? If when brought to 
 see that God's "righteousness is like the great 
 mountains," we still have our fears, when looking 
 upon the great deep of his judgments, oh, surely, 
 as we cast our eyes around us, and find in every 
 direction the evidence of sense to this fact, that 
 " God preserveth man and beast," there is enough 
 to quiet every alarm and hush every remaining 
 suspicion. 
 
 In the expository remarks we have thus been 
 enabled to present to you, this morning, we have, 
 as we imagine, given you the spirit of our text, 
 and set before you the lessons it may be used to 
 inculcate. I do not know how I can leave my sub- 
 ject so that it shall make its most salutary im- 
 pression, better than by winding up my remarks 
 with a single thought which the subject seems to 
 suggest — viz. : the importance of thinking much on 
 our common mercies, in order to prepare our- 
 selves for uncommon emergencies. My breth- 
 ren, we live in eventful times. In various ways 
 God is moving through the world, accomplish- 
 ing his designs. His path is a path of mys- 
 tery, and his footsteps are not known. Like 
 the wind which bloweth where it listeth, we 
 
164 SUPPORTS OF FAITH. 
 
 trace him only by his effects. His judgments are 
 a great deep. Now we see him in the upheavings 
 of empires, and the convulsions of nations ; again 
 we find him in the pestilence that walketh in dark- 
 ness, and the destruction which wasteth at noon- 
 day ; what the end is to be we cannot tell ; how 
 we are to be affected socially or personally we 
 know not. "We may be, as individuals, the subjects 
 of very mysterious dispensations ; we may be tried, 
 perhaps some are now tried, tried severely ; and 
 we must have something upon which to stay our 
 minds. The great difficulty, when the trial does 
 come, is to maintain a sense of God's loving-kind- 
 ness. He who is strong in the conviction that 
 " God is love," can hardly fail to be patient, if he 
 is not joyful in tribulation; and the reason, I ap- 
 prehend, why we are not all of us strong in this 
 conviction is that we overlook the incessant, mo- 
 mentary evidences of divine love, and think only of 
 those which are vouchsafed in some great crisis or 
 emergency. And yet our common mercies are the 
 best ; we should feel their value if they were more 
 rare. God demonstrates his kindness more by keep- 
 ing us in health than by raising us from a perilous 
 sickness; more by warding off from us danger 
 than by shielding and delivering us when it comes. 
 And, oh ! if we accustomed ourselves to think of 
 our common mercies, to study God as an affec- 
 tionate parent in his every-day dealings, if we 
 thought of his love as sustaining us at night, and 
 awakening us in the morning, and guarding us 
 during the day time ; if we saw his love in every 
 
SUPPOETS OF FAITH. 165 
 
 thing ; felt it in the beating of the pulse, heard it 
 in the voices of friendship around us, it could 
 hardly be that we should think it withdrawn from, 
 us the moment we were overtaken by any sorrow. 
 We should have this truth then graven upon our 
 minds ; our common mercies are the best prepara- 
 tions for trials. We may have to go down into the 
 deep, my brethren, the great deep of God's judg- 
 ments ; and our faith may be shaken, because we 
 lose sight of the mountains of God's righteousness 
 which are round about us, those attributes which 
 guarantee the fitness of every dealing ; but, oh ! it 
 will cheer us, it will sustain us, it will be to us like 
 a rafter to a man sinking in the waters, if we have 
 stored our minds with the tokens of God's unva- 
 ried loving-kindness, and have been in the habit 
 of pondering our daily mercies. Then we can say, 
 "Thou art good, and doest good continually." 
 " Whatsoever time we are afraid, we will trust in 
 thee." 
 
MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 " And Moses rose up, and bis minister Joshua, and Moses went up 
 into the mount of God." — Exodus xxiv. 13. 
 
 The entire scene to which the text calls our at- 
 tention, is doubtless familiar to all my hearers ;,and 
 I am therefore absolved from the necessity of en- 
 tering upon a detail of the circumstances, any far- 
 ther than is needful to bring out distinctly the 
 great practical truths upon which I design to in- 
 sist. There is manifestly much in the occurrences 
 here brought under our observation of a miraculous 
 character, much that is to be explained by the 
 peculiar genius of the institutions under which they 
 took place, much- that to us wears the aspect of 
 mystery. There was, moreover, a specific purpose 
 to be answered by this particular dispensation to- 
 ward Moses, and consequently we are not now, 
 under God's ordinary arrangements, to look for a 
 repetition of scenes conformable in all their exter- 
 nal aspects to the one which is here recorded. And 
 yet these outward forms, which so strike the senses, 
 embody a great fact to which we may expect 
 something correspondent now, though nothing 
 
MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 167 
 
 analogous, so far as its accompanying symbols are 
 concerned. In reality, if we compare faithfully 
 the Old Testament with the New, we shall be 
 struck with the wonderful correspondence between 
 them. Every type has its anti-type ; every shadow 
 its substance ; every symbol its great truth ; and to 
 all the ancient manifestations of God, there is some- 
 thing answerable in man's spiritual experience 
 now. Though the forms in which truth may have 
 been conveyed are changed, the truth is the same ; 
 though symbols and signs may, in a great measure, 
 have vanished, the things signified remain. Nay, 
 more than this, the truths which were of old con- 
 veyed in these peculiar and oftentimes miraculous 
 forms, are even more distinctly presented to us 
 under the gospel ; and the privileges to which we 
 are now introduced are larger and fuller than were 
 those vouchsafed in ancient times. 
 
 "With these general remarks, designed to justify 
 the train of thought I am about to set before you, 
 and to relieve me from the necessity of an attempt 
 to explain all the minute circumstances here re- 
 corded, I proceed at once to a consideration of the 
 great subject suggested, in the lights in which this 
 narrative presents it. 
 
 That subject is communion with God — as to its 
 reality, as to the principles upon which it is secured 
 and maintained, and as to its effects ; upon all which 
 points, I think, we shall find light shed by the 
 history before us. 
 
 I. Our first remark then is, the fact that Moses 
 went up to the mount and there held communion 
 
168 MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 with God. It was a wonderful dispensation we 
 say, and a privilege, we are apt to think, which 
 growing out of his peculiar circumstances, we are not 
 now to look for; This may, indeed, be so, if we re- 
 fer exclusively to the outward visible preparatives 
 and accompaniments ; yet, as to the thing itself, 
 there is not a little language in the New Testament 
 which represents it as the common privilege of 
 believers in Jesus Christ. " Our fellowship is with 
 the Father and with his Son." "Ye are the 
 temples of the Holy Ghost." " Know ye not that 
 God dwelleth in you V There is something in these 
 expressions which convey the idea of a very close 
 and intimate intercourse between the soul and God ; 
 and if we are told that the language is figurative, 
 we reply that there must be a correspondence be- 
 tween the sign and the thing signified, and that the 
 truth conveyed by a figure must be more wonderful 
 than the figure itself. The fact itself of this com- 
 munion is unquestionable, however difficult it may be 
 to explain the manner in which it is enjoyed. Paul 
 speaks of it as a matter which every Christian ought 
 to understand. "Know ye not that ye are the tem- 
 ples of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth 
 in you V It is one of the earliest lessons in religion ; 
 you cannot have taken a single step in an enlight- 
 ened Christianity, and yet be ignorant of this, that 
 ye are sanctuaries of the most High God in which 
 he dwells. Such a spiritual fellowship involves on 
 our part a simplicity of faith in the Divine testi- 
 mony, a coming unto God, " believing that he is, 
 and that he is a re warder of them that diligently 
 
MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 169 
 
 seek Mm ;" and on the part of God a manifestation 
 of himself in a distinct manner to the believing, 
 waiting soul, so that it has a conscious sense of the 
 divine presence. I am perfectly aware of the 
 aspect of mysticism which such a subject must wear 
 to the inexperienced, and I do not know that it 
 can be made intelligible in any other way than by 
 experience ; and yet so far as I can see, there is 
 nothing irrational in a consciousness of the Divine 
 presence. God is the omnipresent one, omnipresent 
 in all his perfections. He is every where in his 
 wisdom, his love, his power, and his purity ; and 
 surely he can make a soul who waits upon him 
 conscious of his presence. It is, moreover, right to 
 add here, that a spiritual mind is possessed of those 
 susceptibilities, or is in that state which adapts it to 
 receive impressions from God's character. There 
 may be and doubtless is an analogy between the 
 sensible and the spiritual world which will illus- 
 trate this thought. There is a relation between 
 our senses and the objects by which we are sur- 
 rounded. He who created the eye and the beauti- 
 ful things which we behold in nature, created them 
 so as to adapt them to each other. God, most 
 assuredly, would not have thrown on the theatre 
 of nature forms so lovely, and beauty so great as 
 we perceive, unless in connection with them he had 
 made a rational, thoughtful creature, and bestowed 
 on him senses by means of which he might derive 
 pleasure from these created beauties. So in the 
 spiritual world, through faith in the divine testi- 
 mony, the attributes of God, the great objects of 
 
110 MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 religion touch (if I may speak so,) the soul at every 
 point. The spiritual man has a perception of God, 
 an understanding of truth, and an enjoyment of 
 spiritual objects which the carnal man has not, and 
 can pass through and beyond earthly and created 
 things, and find his happiness in God himself. If 
 it is folly for a blind man or a deaf man, to talk of 
 the mysticism of him who speaks of the beauties 
 and melodies of nature, no less folly is it for a man, 
 a mere creature of sense, destitute of all those sus- 
 ceptibilities of spiritual impression which are inse- 
 parable from faith in the divine testimony, to talk 
 of the mysticism and enthusiasm of the spiritual 
 man, who speaks of his conscious sense of the divine 
 presence. Why, my brethren, every religious act, 
 every spiritual experience, implies this fellowship 
 of which we speak. "What is the Christian's trust but 
 the simple dependence of the mind upon a present 
 God ? What is religious joy but a happy emotion 
 of delight in God ? What is love but the attrac- 
 tion of the heart's affections to the divine charac- 
 ter, distinctly perceived ? What is hope but the 
 pleasing anticipation of the full possession of those 
 spiritual objects with which now we partially com- 
 mune, and which, though imperfectly exhibited, 
 are so satisfying to the mind ? Eeligion, spiritual 
 religion, look at it in any aspect, what is it but the 
 communion of the soul with its God ; but the con- 
 sciousness of an influence which binds us to the 
 eternal throne ; but contrition in view of God's 
 mercy ; confidence in view of God's truth, wisdom, 
 and power ; devotion, in view of God's claims upon 
 
MOSES OK THE MOUNT. 17 1 
 
 us, all seen and felt to be true ? There may be no 
 literal mountain which man ascends ; there may be 
 no outward manifestations which strike the senses 
 of beholders ; but there is a communion between 
 God and the soul, a conscious sense of the divine 
 presence, as real and as effective now as that which 
 belonged to Moses, when, at the bidding of God, 
 he went up into the mountain. To deny it, is to 
 rob the religion of the gospel of all its spirituality ; 
 to be ignorant of it, is to be destitute of the very 
 first elements of Christian experience. 
 
 II. The second thought upon this subject, which the 
 narrative before us suggests, relates to the mode 
 in which this communion with God is attained and 
 preserved. If you turn once more to the history, you 
 will find that Moses, in every step he took in obedi- 
 ence to God's commands, conformed himself strictly 
 to the provisions of the dispensation under which he 
 lived. An altar was built at the foot of the moun- 
 tain, victims were slain, sacrifices were presented, 
 and after these rites were performed, Moses ascend- 
 ed the mountain and entered into the presence of 
 God ; and here you have a principle, which ever 
 since the fall of man, has entered into true religion. 
 The idea of atonement in some form is inseparable 
 from that of fellowship with heaven. The ancient 
 patriarchs never approached God but on the ground 
 and through the medium of a sacrifice. The whole 
 Jewish service and ritual rested upon the same 
 principle. During that entire economy nothing was 
 done in the shape of religious worship but what was 
 done through the intervention of an atonement. 
 
172 MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 It was only by complying with provisions which re- 
 cognized this great principle, that any man could 
 hold communion with God. This same principle 
 constitutes a distinctive feature of Christianity ; but 
 as this is a spiritual system, there must be in ad- 
 dition a recognition of spiritual influences. All 
 communion with God supposes on our part an ap- 
 proach to God, on the ground of the sacrifice of 
 Jesus Christ, and in dependence upon the Holy 
 Ghost. 
 
 I surely need not say to my hearers that the 
 work of the Eedeemer is the standing medium of 
 communication and fellowship between God and 
 man ; in all his transactions with us, God regards 
 the sacrifice of the Saviour ; this is a first element 
 of Christian doctrine, the reception of which is es- 
 sential to every thing like Christian experience. 
 God never pardons a sinner but through the atone- 
 ment ; he never raises man to a state of grace but 
 through the atonement; he never receives a re- 
 turning prodigal and invests him with the privileges 
 and immunities of a child, but through the atone- 
 ment ; he never meets man on earth, so as to make 
 him one with himself, and admit him to the hopes 
 and joys of eternal life, but through the atonement ; 
 and no man can offer prayer, no man can believe 
 to the saving of the soul, no man can rest in a state 
 of Christian liberty, or enjoy spiritual purity, but 
 he must come to God through the atonement. The 
 cross of Christ furnishes the only ground where 
 God can meet man, or man successfully seek God ; 
 and it is a remarkable fact in^ the history of mind, 
 
MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 173 
 
 illustrating this great feature of the evangelical 
 system, that a recognition of the atonement and 
 true Christian experience are inseparable. A 
 stranger to the sacrifice of Jesus Christ is a stranger 
 likewise to a sense of forgiven sin, to intelligent, 
 spiritual peace and joy; and to speak to him of 
 fellowship with the Father and his Son Jesus Christ, 
 of a consciousness of the divine presence, of a rest- 
 ing of the soul with delight in God, is to speak to 
 him in an unknown dialect. 
 
 The fact upon this subject, my brethren, is, that 
 God is unknown except as God in Christ. It is 
 not only that we cannot approach him, but we can- 
 not understand him, we cannot appreciate him, 
 except in the manifestation he has made of him- 
 self in his Son. The gospel, the burden of which 
 is " Christ and him crucified," is God's grand plan 
 of spiritual and providential government. Christ 
 sits as " priest upon the throne," " the government 
 is on his shoulders," every thing is in his hands. 
 Nature, in all her departments, belongs to the 
 Messiah. The world has an interest in his redemp- 
 tion. He planted his cross upon our soil, and 
 adapted the provisions of his gospel to the ways of 
 the world. But for the intervention of grace 
 through Christ Jesus, we do not see but that upon 
 the entrance of transgression, these heavens must 
 have been wrapped together as a scroll, and have 
 passed away with a terrible noise, and these ele- 
 ments must have melted with fervent heat. Upon 
 no other principle can we understand how a kind 
 Providence could shed down its favours upon indi- 
 
174 MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 viduals or nations. If justice had taken its unob- 
 structed course originally, the world would not 
 now have existed. But it does exist, it is preserved ; 
 and we can account for the preservation of a single 
 man, only on this principle, that the government of 
 the world is an administration of grace and mercy 
 in the hands of Christ, embracing every thing. To 
 talk of trusting in God, hoping in God, having com- 
 munion with God, in any other way than upon the 
 ground of a Redeemer's sacrifice, and through a 
 Redeemer's mediation, is not simply to overlook 
 one important article of Christian faith, but to 
 overlook that which constitutes the foundation 
 stone of the entire edifice, giving consistency, co- 
 herence, and value to all its different parts. 
 
 No less essential to communion with God, is, I 
 imagine, a recognition of spiritual influence. Cast 
 your eye over the New Testament, and see how it 
 speaks of the office and operations of the Holy 
 Ghost, and then determine, whether this influence 
 is not part of Christianity itself. " I will send you 
 the Comforter, who shall abide with you forever. 1 ' 
 "Who shall guide you into all truth." "Who 
 shall take of mine, and shall show it unto you." 
 " No man can say that Jesus is the Christ but by 
 the Holy Ghost," " The Spirit of God dwelleth 
 in you." There is, I am aware, sometimes in 
 the minds even of Christians, a scepticism upon 
 this point, when they pray for an outpouring of 
 the Holy Spirit upon themselves and others, as if 
 it were too much too expect it, or as if the gift 
 were to be brought from some great distance ; and 
 
MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 175 
 
 yet spiritual influence is inseparably connected 
 with the work of our Lord Jesus Christ. We 
 might as well talk of Christianity without a 
 Saviour, as of Christianity without the Holy Ghost. 
 Wherever God's truth exists, there the Holy Ghost 
 exists. Wherever the cross of Christ is pro- 
 claimed, there the dews of heavenly grace descend ; 
 and in the sanctuary of the Most High, where God 
 has promised to meet his people, there is the pre- 
 sence of the Holy Spirit to sanctify and bless 
 those who seek his influences. I do not mean by 
 this remark to limit spiritual influence to the ap- 
 ]3ointed ordinances of the sanctuary, for unques 
 tionably it goes beyond them ; but I mean to say 
 that where the ordinances of Christianity exist, 
 there is the Holy Ghost, to impart light, holiness 
 and joy to those who thus wait upon God. 
 
 There is, then, my brethren, such a thing as 
 ascending the mountain, in a spiritual sense, to hold 
 communion with God ; and it can be our privilege 
 only as ours is the spirit of his ancient servant. 
 We must go to the cross, we must acknowledge the 
 atonement, take into our lips the name of Christ, 
 and, in dependence upon the promised influences of 
 the Holy Spirit, approach the Throne of Grace 
 with confidence and boldness. 
 
 III. I proceed to a third remark. Moses ascend- 
 ed the mountain alone. If you turn to the narra- 
 tive you will find that Joshua and some others were 
 permitted to go partly up the hill, and then they 
 were commanded to stop, and Moses singly pro- 
 ceeded, and by himself was admitted to this ele- 
 
176 MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 vated intercourse with God. And here we have 
 presented to us another principle of all spiritual 
 religion and spiritual communion ; they are strictly 
 personal. Our devotional exercises are all of this 
 nature. True it is, we meet, at this day, in public 
 fellowship, but there is a sense in which the 
 soul sits solitary and alone in the midst of a 
 multitude. Here I stand, and there you sit. There 
 may be one character, one faith, one love, one 
 hope, one joy, but our several emotions are perso- 
 nal ; they belong to ourselves, not as united in a 
 particular association, but as individuals. You 
 know not my feelings, I know not yours. Poetry 
 may represent our praise and prayer as ascending 
 to God like a cloud of incense ; but though they 
 may ascend intermingled, and in common language, 
 yet when they reach the throne, we may be sure 
 that God will separate the elements of which they 
 are composed. We may join in the same service, 
 sing the same hymn, unite in the same prayer, and 
 yet there will be in the case of every individual a 
 difference, and that difference is distinctly recog- 
 nized by God. 
 
 So in the bestowment of good, on the part of 
 God, the same principle obtains. He has, indeed, 
 made a general, all-sufficient provision for the sal- 
 vation of men, he has provided for the pardon of 
 all ; but then in the bestowment of the blessings 
 of his grace, he deals with man as an individual. 
 When the soul is converted, justified, sanctified, 
 and the witness of the Spirit is bestowed, God 
 deals with man as an individual. He raises him to 
 
MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 177 
 
 the condition of one of his own children, by an 
 act of sovereign grace and love, contemplating him 
 in his personal character. If our salvation is per- 
 sonal, so also, must be the duties and privileges 
 connected with it. No man can discharge duty ; no 
 man can enjoy privilege for another. Our commu- 
 nion with God must be personal. 
 
 But I may carry my idea still farther, and say 
 that solitude, strictly speaking, is extremely favour- 
 able to the highest attainments and enjoyments of 
 the Christian life. The closet of the Christian is 
 analogous to the mountain ascended by Moses. 
 There the Christian ascends, shut out from human 
 observation, the carnal affections of life, the influ- 
 ence of human passion and desire ; there he ascends, 
 his mind fixed upon God as he reveals himself in 
 Jesus Christ upon the pages of his holy word, and 
 waits for the communications of his grace. There 
 he stands like the traveller upon the mountain 
 with the sun shining over and around him in his 
 brightness, while clouds and darkness roll beneath 
 him. 
 
 I may add, moreover, that solitude furnishes the 
 best test of our religious enjoyment. There is al- 
 ways something suspicious about the character of 
 our experience, when our happiness is connected 
 only with public devotions. ~No man can join 
 in the services of the sanctuary without having his 
 feelings excited in one way or another. Our sen- 
 timents, in such circumstances, may, in their own 
 nature, be happy, but if they subside when we 
 leave the sanctuary, we have reason to doubt whe- 
 12 
 
IT 8 MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 ther they are truly the result of divine influence ; 
 "but when we enjoy ourselves alone; when alone we 
 have communion with God; when alone we find 
 joy in pouring out our hearts in prayer, we have a 
 proof of the purity and genuineness of our Chris- 
 tian feelings. And this is a thought to which I im- 
 agine we cannot in our day give too much promi- 
 nence. It is an age of externals — it is an age of 
 action. I do not mean to say, that men pay 
 too much regard to what is carnal and sensible in 
 religion ; but I fear they pay too little regard to 
 that which is spiritual and truly sanctifying. I do 
 not mean to say that there is too much activity 
 among the professed disciples of Christ, but I fear 
 there is too little retirement ; and no man can be 
 truly wise or holy, or spiritually great, unless he 
 tears himself away from the bustle of life, and holds 
 frequent communion with God in private. 
 
 IV. Another thought I have to offer upon this sub- 
 ject is suggested by the brilliant appearance of 
 Moses, consequent upon his communion with God. 
 An unusual light, beauty, and glory shone upon his 
 countenance. We cannot give a satisfactory ex- 
 planation of this appearance. It was undoubtedly 
 typical and symbolical of a greater glory ; and yet 
 I think we are warranted in view of it to say that 
 communion with God will cause his beauty to rest 
 upon the soul. There may be no external bright- 
 ness like that which beamed upon the face of 
 Moses, but there will be a spiritual light beaming 
 forth instead upon the mind. Joy, for example, 
 will be a consequence of this communion. How 
 
MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 179 
 
 can it be otherwise ? When the Saviour first re- 
 veals himself to the heart, there is a consciousness 
 of delight. ISTo one can be admitted into the family 
 of God, and have satisfactory evidence that he is 
 delivered from the wrath to come, without knowing 
 the joy which springs from the manifestations of 
 the Saviour to the heart ; and where there is the 
 experience of the love of Christ in daily fellowship, 
 there must be a peculiar happiness with which a 
 stranger cannot intermeddle ; of which the world 
 knoweth nothing, and which it can neither give nor 
 take away. I know when we indulge in such 
 thoughts, and speak in such a strain of inward 
 Christian experience, we seem to many to be mov- 
 ing very close on the confines of enthusiasm. Of 
 this, I imagine, however, that we need have no ap- 
 prehensions in our day. Surrounded and influenced 
 as we are by earthly things, there is little or no 
 danger of religious enthusiasm. The incrustations 
 of the world so weigh down, and if I may speak so, 
 sensualize our Christianity, that instead of prizing, 
 we are apt to neglect the pleasures to which we 
 are invited in communion with God ; and yet the 
 man who never received any happiness from such 
 communion, or never in his experience resulting 
 from it, found himself a subject of a deep and peaceful 
 emotion, has never fully entered into the spirit of 
 true Christianity. The impulses of vital religion, 
 when they exist in the mind, and they will exist 
 when there is communion with God, must animate 
 the spirit. 
 
 Nor is joy the only fruit of this fellowship. There 
 
180 
 
 MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 must be in consequence of it an expansion of the 
 capacity, an enlargement of the soul. Worldly 
 men, sometimes designate Christians as < little crea- 
 tures ; Ibut the man who walks with God cannot 
 possibly be a man of contracted, paltry views; 
 there is that in divine truth, there is that in the 
 spirit and habit of devotion, there is that in inter- 
 course with God which must expand the mind ; 
 the soul which is stretched to the dimensions of 
 Christianity must be the greatest soul on earth. 
 The man of religion can enjoy every other form of 
 truth and knowledge in common with the man of 
 the world ; he can traverse the pages of history, he 
 can enter into all the sciences and philosophy, he 
 can appreciate the productions of the poet, he can 
 (like other men) transact the common, commercial 
 business of life, he can comprehend with others the 
 principles of political economy and legislative 
 jurisprudence, he can go in intellectual attainment, 
 all the lengths of the men of this world, and when 
 he comes to the termination of all that earth can 
 teach and earth can give, God opens the treasures 
 of religion, and the boundless prospect of an eter- 
 nal life. We cannot, my brethren, throw our 
 minds fully into devotional duties without finding 
 that our intercourse with God, and with spiritual 
 and eternal things, must produce elevation of 
 thought and purity of heart. Oh ! if we constantly 
 indulge in little petty passions, in worldly feelings, 
 in insignificant doubts and fears, if we are troubled 
 and thrown into consternation by the small inte- 
 rests of time, and the passing, ephemeral events 
 
MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 181 
 
 which are occurring around us, we indicate too 
 surely that we are living at the base, and not on 
 the top of the mountain. Fellowship with God 
 and with his Son Jesus Christ, while it will elevate 
 man to the highest point attainable below, will 
 produce a spirituality and a purity unknown in 
 any other circumstances whatever. 
 
 Then we must add that there is always a cor- 
 respondence between inward experience and out- 
 ward manifestation ; and he who holds communion 
 with God, will be marked by an external beauty 
 of character. Internal purity shows itself in out- 
 ward conduct; if it belongs to us, the evidence 
 of its reality and degree will be furnished in 
 a spotless, holy life. Make the tree good, and 
 its fruit will be good. As a man catches the 
 spirit of his master from constant intercourse 
 with him, the Christian will live the life of 
 his Master upon earth, imitating Him, who in 
 a spirit of love sought the glory of God and 
 the good of others ; and this it is which gives 
 effectiveness to Christian character ; it is this mani- 
 fested spirit of Jesus Christ which is to save the 
 world. The contest which is carried on between 
 truth and error, between righteousness and sin, is 
 more a contest of feeling, than of principle. Men, 
 indeed, array themselves as disputants against the 
 truth, and are prepared to oppose by argument 
 every argument of Christianity ; and yet the tri- 
 umphs of the cross are not usually secured by dis- 
 putation ; it is not learning, it is not logic, it is not 
 brilliancy of talent, which makes a man mighty to 
 
182 MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 the pulling down of strongholds ; it is the power 
 of the manifested spirit of Christian love. The dif- 
 ficulty to be overcome lies back of the intellect, in 
 the heart ; and he who goes in the spirit of prayer, 
 under the influence of the love of God and the 
 love of man, does not meet directly the obstacles 
 which sophistry and false reasoning oppose to the 
 truth, but by the blandness of his character, the 
 purity of his life, the plainly manifested spirit of 
 his Master, forces his way through all difficulties to 
 the heart, and by influencing that controls the 
 mind. Communion with God, gives no less joy, 
 and elevation, and purity to the soul, than it does 
 energy to the character. 
 
 V. I have yet a final remark to make upon this 
 general subject. It is suggested by the veil which 
 Moses put upon his countenance when he came 
 down from the mountain to hold fellowship with 
 the people. The meaning of this we cannot, per- 
 haps, thoroughly divine ; it may have been de- 
 signed to symbolize the darkness of the dispensa- 
 tion under which the Jews lived. But, whatever 
 may have been the meaning, we have the fact, 
 which, perhaps, may find something analogous to it 
 in the circumstances of some Christians which veil 
 their spiritual glory and obscure their grandeur. 
 There is, for example, now, often a great contrast 
 between the outward circumstances of a spiritual 
 disciple, and his privileges and inward experience. 
 You find a man occupying perhaps the lowest posi- 
 tion in life, busied in the most menial services. 
 These are his earthly relations. Who would think 
 
MOSES OK THE MOUNT. 183 
 
 of such, a man that he constitutes part of God's 
 portion, an object of his highest delight ; and yet 
 follow that man in his retirement, and you will 
 find him opening the sacred page, kneeling before 
 the mercy seat, admitted to fellowship with God, 
 drinking in streams of spiritual joy, and rejoicing 
 in heavenly hope. What a contrast ! How lit- 
 tle the world, as it looks upon him, knows about 
 him! 
 
 It is not an uncommon thing to find the highest 
 style of spirituality concealed under an exterior far 
 from prepossessing, and by circumstances often- 
 times forbidding, on account of their painfulness. 
 Who would think that that wretched, forsaken 
 one for whom no friendly eye weeps, and with 
 whom no friendly heart sympathises, is yet dear to 
 God as the apple of his eye, is living under the 
 light of God's countenance, and in the assured faith 
 of joys to come. 
 
 Providence, too, how often it throws darkness 
 around the Christian, contrasting strongly with his 
 spiritual light. In his spiritual state he enjoys the 
 richest blessings, while he is the sport of natural 
 troubles, disappointment, and grief. Some men, 
 and Christian men, seem as though they were born 
 to trial. If they think they have escaped one 
 wave of sorrow, another soon overtakes them. If 
 they appear to gain one haven of repose they are 
 soon driven out again to sea. If the wind and the 
 tempest are hushed for a short time, they rise again 
 in greater turbulence and darkness, and it is only 
 when the last wave comes, which leaves them on 
 
184 MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 the shore of immortality, that their troubles termi- 
 nate. 
 
 Affliction often veils the state of Christians. 
 What judgment, what strength of intellect, what 
 mental resources, what deep-toned spirituality, 
 marked the character of Richard Baxter ; and what 
 a contrast to all these, is furnished in the fact, that 
 he scarcely enjoyed any temporal comforts from 
 the time of his conversion till he put off mortality 
 and went to his eternal home. Robert Hall, with 
 a genius than which none more brilliant, a mind 
 than which none more elevated, a taste than which 
 none more refined, eloquence than which none more 
 polished, public spirit and patriotism than which 
 none greater ever belonged to a human being, a 
 man withal deeply imbued with the love of God, 
 and whose marked spirituality of character, formed 
 his brightest adornment — Robert Hall did not re- 
 collect from his infancy the enjoyment of a 
 moment's ease. And they are but instances of the 
 kind. Good men in this world, are often misunder- 
 stood and mistaken. Sometimes they may appear 
 morose ; circumstances throw a veil over them, and 
 though unobserved by the public eye, the impress 
 of God's image is bright and beautiful upon the 
 mind. 
 
 Permit me to add, in concluding these remarks, 
 and as exhibiting the end upon which they are de- 
 signed to bear, that communion with God is the 
 privilege and duty of every professed disciple of 
 Jesus Christ. We never can attain to Christian joy 
 or Christian usefulness without it. The soul must 
 
MOSES ON THE MOUNT. 185 
 
 converse much with herself and with God to be 
 either very great or very happy. Our sources of 
 happiness, our power for usefulness, are found in 
 scenes of close communion with our Master. A 
 stranger to such scenes cannot be a useful man. 
 Natural talents, great learning, eminent reputation, 
 and great wealth, may do much toward the exter- 
 nal development of Christianity in the world ; but 
 it is only genuine Christianity in the heart which 
 can win souls to Christ. 
 
 Go up into the mount, then, my fellow Christians, 
 and there hold converse with God ; and then and 
 there, in your happiest moments, when faith is in its 
 most lively exercise, and you have most power 
 with God, remember the church of Christ, — remem- 
 ber your own church. They prosper who love 
 Zion. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem ; for the 
 extension of Christ's kingdom ; for the salvation of 
 souls ; and then the dews of heavenly grace will 
 descend, and measures of divine influence be poured 
 out, and our souls shall rejoice together in the lov- 
 ing kindness of God. 
 
.THE LIFE TO COME. 
 
 " The life that now is, and that which is to come." — 1 Tim. iv. 18. 
 
 " The life which, is to come," (the thought upon 
 which I wish to fix your minds this morning) is to 
 be looked upon in its connection with " the life 
 which is," as being its full and perfect develop- 
 ment. The one is the commencement, the other is 
 the consummation of human existence, neither of 
 which is rightly understood except as they are con- 
 sidered to be the successive stages of one and the 
 same being. It is a very simple idea, apparently, 
 — that I am to live hereafter — that in u the life 
 which now is," I am standing upon the threshold 
 of " the life which is to come," and preparing the 
 elements of its character and experience — that 
 through whatever scenes I am to pass, whatever 
 may be the changes in the form and mode of my 
 existence, I, the same conscious, thinking, feeling, 
 active being, am to live hereafter, and live for ever. 
 And yet, simple as is the idea, it is one of command- 
 ing power over the human mind. It gives us views of 
 the present such as no other thought can impart to it, 
 and stirs up emotions such as no other influence can 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 187 
 
 excite, and gives birth to purposes, and prompts 
 to action such as nothing else can originate. It is 
 a mighty conception, that of " the life which is to 
 come," one which grows upon us the longer we pon- 
 der it, and which whenever taken in by the mind, 
 must be seen in corresponding effects upon the 
 character. I am now a conscious being ; what I am 
 now in this respect I shall be for ever. As to the 
 power of this thought we can imagine none which 
 does not dwindle into insignificance when brought 
 into the comparison. Doubtless all of my hearers 
 are familiar with the story of the man who was 
 arrested in a career of sensuality and crime, 
 brought to think upon his ways, and turn his feet 
 unto God's testimonies by simply reading the 
 record of the deaths of the antediluvian patriarchs. 
 The simple words, " he died," appended to each of 
 their names, brought home in the most startling 
 manner to his mind this thought, that the most 
 protracted life on earth must come to an end. He 
 could not banish the idea that his life on earth 
 must close, and he was stirred up most effectually 
 to prepare for its termination. But how much 
 more startling should be the sentence, " he lives," 
 written upon every man's tomb-stone, or appended 
 to the record of every man's departure from this 
 world. From the simple expression, "he died," 
 taken by itself, we gather no other idea than that 
 he has passed from this stage of being ; but the 
 expression, "he lives," indicates a futurity, and lets 
 the imagination run wild in filling up that futurity 
 with images of magnificence and terror ; and it is 
 
188 THE LIFE TO COME. 
 
 because the thought of living hereafter has "become 
 associated somehow in our minds with the thought 
 of dying here, that the latter thought exerts such 
 an influence over us. It is an impressive thing, a 
 genealogy of the generations who have gone before 
 us ; not because as we look over page after page 
 we read the names of those who once were like 
 ourselves instinct with life, who had their joys and 
 sorrows, their hopes and fears, their plans and pro- 
 jects, which have all come to an end, but because 
 we read the names of those who are now living, 
 and whose present consciousness takes its character 
 from the hopes and fears, the plans and projects 
 which marked their earthly history. The dead — we 
 speak of them as those who are not. But in this 
 sense there are no dead in the universe ; of the 
 mighty catalogue written in heaven's book of men 
 who have been, not one has passed into nothing- 
 ness ; of every human being, it is true, that when 
 he began to be, he began to be immortal ; he may 
 have changed his place and his mode of existence, 
 his dust may have returned to the earth as it was ; 
 but yet he lives as truly as he ever did, and will 
 continue to live through ceaseless ages ; and what 
 is true of all before us is and will be true of each 
 one of ourselves. There is a " life to come," and in 
 a very short time we shall be mingling in its scenes 
 with those who have preceded us. This then is 
 my thought this morning, " The life to come ;" its 
 certainty ; the elements of its experience ; the influ- 
 ence it should exert over our minds. Give me your 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 189 
 
 attention while I endeavour to set these thoughts 
 in order before you. 
 
 I. Now, with regard to the first point — the cer- 
 tainty of " the life which is to come," I admit, 
 that our storehouse of proofs is here, in the revela- 
 tion of God. I do Dot suppose that the human 
 mind could, as it never has done, reach absolute 
 assurance upon this article, independently of some 
 supernatural disclosures. It is here that life and 
 immortality have been disclosed by the Great 
 Teacher, who came down from heaven, and not 
 only disclosed in his instructions, but set in a most 
 vivid light, by the miracles he wrought, in bring- 
 ing back men from the grave, and by his own re- 
 surrection, the type and pledge of the resurrection 
 of the race. It is upon this proof, then, that we 
 fall back, and we are not ashamed to avow our un- 
 shaken confidence in these disclosures, in the face 
 of a gainsaying and skeptical world, in view of the 
 evidence of truth which crowds itself upon the 
 mind, from the facts of history, from the fulfilment 
 of prophecy, from the performance of miracles, 
 and from the internal fitnesses and proprieties of 
 the disclosures themselves ; evidence, which having 
 been for centuries subjected to the most rigid and 
 scrutinizing investigation, on the part both of friends 
 and foes, may be safely considered as an impregna- 
 ble basis for faith, and hope, and joy. 
 
 We have not, then, in our minds, my brethren, 
 the purpose of originating any proof of " the life 
 which is to come," differing from that which is found 
 upon the sacred page. "We wish you to look upon 
 
190 
 
 THE LIFE TO COME. 
 
 this testimony of God as the ultimate ground of 
 faith. 
 
 And yet there is such a thing as commending 
 ascertained truth to the conviction of the human 
 mind. "We may, if we are disposed to do so, 
 gather from other sources collateral evidence of the 
 facts of revelation. We may, if we can do so, meet 
 the gainsayer and the unbeliever upon their own 
 ground, and turn the weapons with which they 
 attack revelation against themselves, by driving 
 them, upon their own principles, into the admission 
 of " a life to come. 7 ' And I am not sure in these 
 days of physiological research and philosophic 
 pride, when the enmity of the human heart against 
 the spiritualities of the Bible is but half concealed 
 under a professed regard for the ascertained truths 
 of science, that it is a waste of time or labour, or an 
 inappropriate work for the advocate of truth, to 
 ransack the analogies of things, to trace the corres- 
 pondence between the natural and spiritual, if for 
 no other purpose than to show that a skepticism as 
 to " the life which is to come" has no warrant 
 whatever in any of the things which are seen and 
 known as yet; and as an attribute of the human 
 mind is gross and wicked, unnatural and monstrous. 
 Let me, then, for a single moment carry you with 
 me into this field of thought, bespeaking in the 
 mean time your careful and fixed attention to what 
 I have to offer. 
 
 It is so well known that I need hardly dwell upon 
 the fact, that the vegetable and animal world around 
 us, when subjected to a careful examination, pre- 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 191 
 
 sent constant changes, renovations, and transitions, 
 while the subject of these changes and transitions 
 preserves its identity. The fully formed butterfly, 
 for example, is the same animal it was in its 
 chrysalis, or but partially developed form, and yet 
 the changes through which it has passed seem to 
 us well nigh miraculous. It is worthy of remark in 
 this connection, that the naturalist can very easily 
 distinguish between the kinds of animals which are 
 to undergo changes and transformations, and those 
 which reach their perfection under one form of life. 
 There are indications of incompleteness in the former 
 which are not seen in the latter. There are germs 
 of undeveloped being, there are certain symbols of 
 progression and instinct which point out another 
 mode of existence ; and when these indications are 
 observed, and when these animals are seen instinc- 
 tively preparing for their change, seeking a retreat, 
 and occupied in a way unsuited to their present, 
 but exactly adapted to their future mode of exist- 
 ence, we can predict certainly beforehand, not an 
 end, but a change in life ; for here are the leadings 
 of nature, always true in their predictions ; it would 
 be, to say the least, unphilosophical to affirm that 
 all these indications meant nothing. They do mean 
 something ; they are nature foretelling the changes 
 through which it is to pass. 
 
 Now, let us see what light this analogy throws 
 upon the problem of our future existence. It is 
 unquestionably true, that there are mysteries about 
 human nature which nothing in the present life 
 avails to solve. There are powers and instincts, as 
 
192 THE LIFE TO COME. 
 
 yet undeveloped, furnishing evidence of their ex- 
 istence, but not reaching their end. We look for 
 the distinctive features of human nature, not in 
 any thing which man possesses in common with the 
 irrational tribes around him, not therefore in any 
 of his animal instincts and susceptibilities, but in 
 those moral and intellectual powers which are his 
 peculiar characteristics as a creature of God. 
 Among these, if any where, we are to find the sym- 
 bols of another life analogous to those instincts 
 which in the animal creation seem to foreshow a 
 new and higher form of existence. 
 
 The materials of the argument for the soul's im- 
 mortality, which reason has at her command, are 
 neither few nor trifling. The common conduct of 
 mankind, who in all ages and all nations have ad- 
 mitted it, cannot well be otherwise accounted for, 
 than by admitting the substantial truth of the 
 thing believed. The aspirations after something 
 beyond this transitory sphere, longings after the 
 future, always the strongest in those minds whose 
 powers have been most cultivated, the vast com- 
 pass of the human faculties, the instinctive recoil 
 from the thought of ceasing to be, above all that 
 moral sense, whose power to afflict or gladden the 
 soul is dependent upon future retribution, as it 
 awakens hope or kindles fear, form the grounds, 
 which cannot be removed, of a belief not easily to 
 be shaken. But then, this is the point of my illus- 
 tration ; all these prognostics of futurity, are evi- 
 dences on the point only as they show the expecta- 
 tion of " a life to come" to be an element of human 
 
THE LXEE TO COME. 193 
 
 nature, an original article in the natural constitu- 
 tion of the mind. It is a well known fact, that 
 man generally harbours the thought of living after 
 death. Most men are convinced that they shall 
 live hereafter, and the exceptions to this statement, 
 the skeptics, insignificant hi number, who endeavour 
 to evince the groundlessness of this expectation, 
 prove by their ingenious and long continued reason- 
 ing, that the belief of immortality is instinctive, or 
 at least too general, and too deeply seated, to be 
 easily removed. With this general view, we can 
 meet the scientific and other doubters of the pre- 
 sent generation upon their own grounds, and tell 
 them, that as the forms, and instincts, and habits 
 of certain kinds of animals foreshow a transforma- 
 tion and a new mode of existence, so does the sum 
 of human impressions, opinions, and expectations, 
 constituting, as they do, elements essential parts of 
 our nature, indicate infallibly what awaits the spe- 
 cies, and prophecy our certain destiny. 
 
 I know we shall be told here, that nothing is 
 more common, than for men to entertain opinions 
 and cherish expectations which are wholly ground- 
 less. We are to a great extent creatures of preju- 
 dice, adopting sentiments very hastily, upon very 
 little and unsatisfactory evidence, and clinging to 
 them with unyielding pertinacity, simply because 
 we have advanced them ; but let it be remembered 
 that we are speaking now not of particular opin- 
 ions and particular reasonings, but we are speaking 
 of the common reasonings, the common opinions, 
 the common belief, the common instincts of the 
 13 
 
194 THE LIFE TO COME. 
 
 human family, all of which point in one direction. 
 I may reason falsely in some cases, but it does not 
 prove that the reasoning faculty of the human mind 
 always reaches false conclusions. I may have my 
 prejudices, hastily assumed and unfounded, but all 
 human opinions are not unwarranted. My error on 
 one point does not prove my error on a point which 
 I hold in common with the entire human family — 
 in some articles of my faith I may be chimerical, 
 and yet perfectly rational in my belief of generally 
 admitted truths. So with regard to the point we 
 are now considering. My particular persuasions 
 and prejudices, which may be entirely unwarranted, 
 do not prove the common belief of human nature 
 to be a vanity, but rather the contrary. The par- 
 ticular views which different men entertain con- 
 cerning a future life may be fanciful and false ; but 
 so far from militating against the doctrine itself, 
 they go upon the supposition that there is " a life 
 which is to come." The particular desires, and views, 
 and hopes of the benighted Pagan, the victim of 
 superstition, and even the nominal Christian, con- 
 cerning this future life, may be all wrong and de- 
 lusive ; their hope of what awaits them after death, 
 may be a dream, but not so the belief that they 
 shall survive death. So the peculiar forms of differ- 
 ent religions may be false, but the religious instinct 
 itself in man speaks the truth. The errors on the 
 subject of religion and futurity of which man, in- 
 dividually, or nationally, become the victims, may 
 all be traced to artificial or accidental causes, and 
 vanish the moment those causes cease to operate ; 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 195 
 
 but religion itself, a sense of obligation to a higher 
 power, and the common impressions, expectations 
 and opinions, concerning " a life which is to come," 
 spring from among the elements themselves of 
 human nature. You may warp them ; you may 
 exaggerate them ; you may deform them ; but 
 there they are; you may depress them, or cover 
 them, or secure their temporary denial, as to some 
 extent was done in France at the close of the last 
 century ; but they will reappear again every 
 where, with unabated force, and the same essential 
 properties,, These are very different in their na- 
 ture and in their origin from the particular persua- 
 sions and prejudices of men, and they must be 
 substantially true, if there is any truth or harmony 
 in the general scheme of God's universe. For a 
 man, therefore, to doubt the truth of the Bible 
 upon this subject, is to cast suspicion, not upon the 
 teachings of revelation merely, but upon the teach- 
 ings of nature ; for it is to say that here is a being, 
 possessed of the most marked and decided indica- 
 tions of a future existence, while yet there may be 
 nothing at all in the future which can meet or cor- 
 respond with them. 
 
 We take our stand then upon the ground of the 
 Bible, "There is a life which is to come." The 
 statement accords with the workings of the human 
 mind, with the analogies of things, as we see them 
 around us, and with the general constitution of 
 nature. The skeptic may put on his incredulous 
 smile, but we can retort upon him as a being who 
 in his unbelief is resisting the clearest and most 
 
196 THE LIFE TO COME. 
 
 conclusive evidence, contradicting the analogies of 
 things, and disputing truths which are interwoven 
 in the entire system of God's creation. 
 
 II. This point settled, the certainty of " the life 
 which is to come" being established, what are to 
 be its characteristics, what the elements which 
 shall go to compose it ? The importance of the 
 question takes away all possibility of evading it. 
 The fact, that I am to be, forced home as a reality 
 upon my mind, shuts me up, irresistibly to the in- 
 quiry, " What am I to be V where am I to be is a 
 comparatively trifling question — one which in view 
 of the other is not worth a thought. 
 
 We go then directly to the source of knowledge 
 for light upon this point — and here I need not dwell 
 upon the very obvious and familiar truth with which 
 every reader of his Bible is acquainted, and which 
 he perfectly understands, that " the life which now 
 is," is a scene of probation, and " the life which is 
 to come," is to be a scene of retribution. The 
 present is a world of doing, the future is to be a 
 world of recompenses. It is only for the sake of 
 completeness in my exhibition, that I quote in sup- 
 port of an opinion so fully comprehended, such 
 proof texts as these : " If thou sayest, Behold, we 
 knew it not ; doth not he that pondereth the heart 
 consider it ? and he that keepeth the soul, doth 
 not he know it ? and shall he not render to every 
 man according to his works ?" " Say ye to the 
 righteous that it shall be well with him, for they 
 shall eat the fruit of their doings. Wo unto the 
 wicked, it shall be ill with him, for the reward of 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 197 
 
 his hands shall be given him." " And, behold, I 
 come quickly, and my reward is with me, to give 
 to every man according as his work shall be." 
 
 Besides these general declarations as to the 
 retributive character of the future economy, there 
 are not wanting intimations clear and decisive upon 
 the sacred page that the future is to be but the 
 full development, in different circumstances, and in 
 a different form of life, of the present. The sym- 
 bols used in the Scriptures, and the analogies they 
 adopt to illustrate and throw light upon the sub- 
 ject, all show that " the life which is," is to give 
 shape, and form, and impart its elements to " the 
 life which is to come." According as we are we 
 shall be ; according as we feel now we shall feel 
 hereafter ; and our experience and recompences in 
 the future shall perfectly correspond in nature and 
 degree with our actions in the present ; " for what- 
 soever a man soweth, that shall he also reap ; he 
 that soweth to the flesh shall of the flesh reap cor- 
 ruption ; but he that soweth to the spirit shall of 
 the spirit reap life everlasting." Precisely as in 
 agriculture, the grain which is harvested answers in 
 kind and quantity to the seed sown, so in spiritual 
 things futurities are to answer to present actions. 
 There are two ideas upon this subject which per- 
 vade all the teachings of revelation. One is that 
 hereafter we are to be the same beings we are now. 
 I do not mean the same physically, but the same 
 morally ; I mean that we have now, within us, 
 daily and hourly developing itself the germ of our 
 eternal, moral consciousness. Whatever change 
 
198 THE LIFE TO COME. 
 
 may take place in us when all that is merely acci- 
 dental shall have fallen off, when all merely ani- 
 mal sensations shall have disappeared, when our 
 present views of things shall have given place to 
 knowledge derived more directly from its sources, 
 there will he no change in those emotions, tastes, 
 and moral dispositions which go to make up the 
 very core of our being. The sentiments and affec- 
 tions which have now settled down upon the mind, 
 and which constitute character, will remain, making 
 us feel that we are precisely the same we always 
 were. Thus the future will be the on-going of the 
 present. Whatever passion sways us now will 
 sway us hereafter. The same feeling toward God 
 and his requirements which now determines our 
 character as his friends or his enemies, will be car- 
 ried out hereafter, and be seen and felt in its bold, 
 and prominent, and unveiled supremacy. If we 
 love God now, we shall love him then ; if we hate 
 him now we shall hate him then. Whatever 
 changes may be affected by a transition from one 
 state of being to another, none of them will touch 
 the great elements of our moral nature. 
 
 Now, so far as analogy sheds any light upon this 
 point, its teachings are in precise accordance with 
 the revelation of the Bible. We all know that 
 there is a certain illusion attaching itself to every- 
 thing future and untried. When we look forward 
 to some great change in our outward condition, we 
 are apt to suppose, that though we may personally 
 remain the same, there will be a great and essential 
 alteration in our modes of feeling, habits of thought. 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 199 
 
 tastes, and sentiments. Take, for example, boy- 
 hood's anticipations of manhood, or the anticipations 
 of manhood respecting declining years ; and yet, as 
 we have reached these different stages of our exist- 
 ence, we have discovered the illusion ; our modes 
 of life, our relations, all our outward circumstances 
 have been changed, but our moral consciousness is 
 the same ; the passion which prompted us before 
 prompts us still ; the appetite which swayed us be- 
 fore sways us still ; the characteristics of manhood 
 are the characteristics of our boyish days, brought 
 out more distinctly ; and old age, in this respect, is 
 but manhood developed ; and analogy and Scrip- 
 ture unite in showing us a great principle of con- 
 tinuity running between the present and the future, 
 in declaring that the law which binds the different 
 stages of human life into one and the same earthly 
 existence, binds " the life which now is" and " the 
 life which is to come" in one continuous, unchang- 
 ing, uninterrupted being. 
 
 But while we are dwelling upon this moral same- 
 ness between the present and the future, let it be 
 remembered that we are speaking of a sameness of 
 character, not of degree. We draw from the 
 teaching of the Bible that hereafter there will be a 
 greater fixedness of sentiments, a fuller expansion 
 of the moral powers, and a more intense action and 
 excitement of the passions. We are all aware now, 
 that our principles act themselves out as our sphere 
 enlarges ; feeling becomes deeper and stronger as 
 our capabilities of endurance increase. The child, 
 the youth, would be paralyzed and crushed by the 
 
200 THE LIFE TO COME. 
 
 intense thought and emotion easily sustained by 
 riper years ; while, at the same time, as we advance 
 in life, not only are our powers of endurance 
 stronger, but our range of action is widened. 
 
 Now, we are all aware, that in " the life which 
 now is," there is a check put upon all our emotions ; 
 love, joy, anger, hatred, fear, cannot pass beyond a 
 certain point of intensity. They are sometimes 
 arrested in their rapid rising by the incidents or 
 interests of common life ; or when this is not the 
 case, there is a limitation put upon them by the 
 weakness of our physical powers. When they go 
 beyond a certain point they bring on exhaustion, 
 which warns us of the peril of indulgence. It is 
 with the noblest sentiments as with the most 
 malign passions, we feel that they are thus hamp- 
 ered and kept down ; we dare not let them move 
 the soul as they might move it, because they would 
 rend the system and break it into fragments. We 
 know, moreover, that the peril of these excitements 
 grows out of the frailty of this physical organisa- 
 tion. And if here in this world, as man advances 
 from the feebleness of youth to the strength of 
 maturity, sentiment grows and passions become 
 stronger, why may we not suppose that a in the 
 life to come," when all the prudential considerations 
 of this life shall cease to affect us, and the frailties 
 and feebleness of this physical frame shall no 
 longer hamper and fetter us, the soul may take its 
 fill of emotion, and feeling, and passion, rise to a 
 pitch of excitement of which in our present circum- 
 stances we cannot form the remotest conception ? 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 201 
 
 It is a thrilling thought to the Christian, whose great 
 moral characteristic is the love of God, that he cannot 
 tell what in his pure and holy emotions he shall be ; 
 that in the intensity of them he may rise higher 
 and higher, and be lost in God himself. It is a 
 thought of terror to the slave of carnal desire, that 
 whatever may be the master passion which now 
 sways him, it will completely engross him ; and 
 when all its present checks and hindrances shall be 
 removed, it will hurry him away with a fury irre- 
 sistible, and a rapidity of which the lightning's 
 march is but a feeble symbol. Yes, " the life which 
 is to come" will be but the full development of 
 " the life which is." 
 
 III. The foregoing is one of the scriptural ideas 
 respecting our future state, which we find to be 
 sustained by familiar analogies. There is another, 
 viz. : — That while we shall be the same beings, so 
 far as our moral consciousness is concerned, the 
 materials of thought, the objects which shall excite 
 the passions and determine the experience shall be 
 the same. It is a common-sense thought that if 
 there is to be a retributive economy, our feeling 
 now, and our doing now, will determine its nature ; 
 and hence there always has been an impression 
 upon the human mind that the feelings we cherish 
 now, and the acts we perform now, are in some 
 way or form to be reproduced hereafter, to tell 
 upon our experience. The joy which springs from 
 a consciousness of right, is as truly, to a certain ex- 
 tent, an anticipated joy, as is the pain of sin the re- 
 sult in a great measure of apprehension. We feel 
 
202 THE LIFE TO COME. 
 
 every day that the influence of our every day 
 actions does not terminate with themselves, and 
 with the moment of their performance. We may 
 for the time forget them, but we know that they 
 must rise from the oblivion into which we throw 
 them, and work out their results. The very idea 
 of retribution, the declaration that every man shall 
 eat of the fruit of his doings, and that " God will 
 render to every man according to his work," in- 
 volves this consideration. Hence these, our daily 
 feelings, our daily actions, are to be the topics of 
 thought, and the motives of feeling hereafter. 
 The present is the great store-house of the future, 
 wherein we are laying up the elements of our 
 future experience. Our emotions in " the life to 
 come," whether present or prospective, shall exist 
 in view of the past. The remembrance of " the life 
 which now is," will be distinct and familiar ; and 
 memory, as it calls up each event, each feeling, each 
 action, will, according as those feelings and actions 
 have been agreeable to, or at variance with the will 
 of God, administer to our joy or fill us with remorse. 
 It is so partially in the different stages of our present 
 existence. How do certain actions we have per- 
 formed, follow us, and follow us continually with 
 their influence, as though God would teach us, in 
 the very nature he has given us, that righteousness 
 must bring its own reward, and sin its own punish- 
 ment. How do the follies and wickednesses of 
 boyhood rise up and torment us in after years, and 
 make us feel that then we were filling up sources 
 of grief we are now called to exhaust ? And why 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 203 
 
 should not the actions of " the life which is" rising 
 up to distinct remembrance, when memory shall be 
 strengthened, as well as all the other powers, for ever 
 the sources of our highest joy, or the instruments of 
 our deepest and most intolerable anguish, in " the 
 life which is to come." Why not? The Bible 
 says that such will be the case ; who can furnish 
 an analogy to justify even the slightest doubt ? 
 No, my brethren ; we never can get rid of the in- 
 fluence of the present upon us, and that because 
 we never can destroy the present. What we have 
 done, and what we are doing, remains, and ever 
 will remain. In the moral world, as in the physi- 
 cal, " no motion impressed by natural causes, or by 
 human agency, is ever obliterated." The sentiment 
 is most clearly and strikingly presented by the 
 author of the " Ninth Bridge water Treatise," (Bab- 
 bage), and it bears so directly on the point before 
 us, that you will allow me to call to it your atten- 
 tion. I quote the sentiment from memory, without 
 pledging the correctness of the language. " What 
 a strange thing is this wide atmosphere we breathe. 
 Every atom impressed with good and with ill, re- 
 tains the motions which have been imparted to it 
 by the will, combined and mixed in ten thousand 
 ways, with much that is worthless and base. The 
 air itself is a vast library, on whose pages are for 
 ever written all that man has ever said, or ever 
 whispered ; there, mixed with the earliest, as well 
 as latest sorrows of mortality, stand for ever re- 
 corded, vows unredeemed, promises unfulfilled, per- 
 petuating the testimony to human character. If 
 
204 THE LIFE TO COME. 
 
 God stamped upon the brow of the earliest mur- 
 derer, the visible and indelible mark of his guilt, 
 he has also established laws by which every suc- 
 ceeding criminal is not less irrevocably chained to 
 the testimony of his crime, for every atom of his 
 mortal frame, through whatever changes its several 
 particles may migrate, will still retain, adhering to 
 it through every combination, some movement de- 
 rived from that very muscular effort by which the 
 crime itself was perpetrated." 
 
 And now, my brethren, if this sentiment be cor- 
 rect, and it is in accordance with the teachings of the 
 soundest human philosophy, if our words and actions 
 make such permanent and indelible impressions 
 upon this physical system to which we belong, im- 
 pressions which will last while the system lasts ; 
 must not the same thing be analogously true of the 
 spiritual system, that in whatever part of God's 
 universe we may be, we shall meet perpetually the 
 impressions of our spiritual doings, which as seen 
 in God's light shall awaken within us emotions of 
 intensest joy, or of the keenest and bitterest re- 
 morse. 
 
 My subject, I find, has so expanded, that its com- 
 pass cannot be travelled within the time I have 
 allotted to it on the present occasion. I will here, 
 therefore, arrest it, and without anticipating the 
 main results which I have in view, and which here- 
 after I may bring out, I will simply ask my 
 hearers, in view of what I have advanced, what 
 they think of " the life which is to come," and what 
 kind of a life they have reason to suppose it will 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 205 
 
 be to them ? There is not one of us who does not 
 carry about with him the materials of its rational 
 answer in the thoughts he entertains, the desires 
 he cherishes, the passions he indulges ; there is not 
 one of us who has not been busy for years, who is not 
 busy now in making and describing his own futu- 
 rity. Go then into your own bosom, my hearer, 
 and ask yourself what you think of an eternity of 
 the thoughts, the purposes, and aims which now 
 belong to you ? What would you think of an eter- 
 nity of the same passions which now urge you 
 along, only excited to a burning intensity of which 
 you can now form no conception ? What will your 
 present course say, what will be the testimony 
 of present influence, when every where eternally it 
 shall be seen in the impressions it has made, and in 
 the character and experience of those upon whom 
 it has acted ? 
 
 Well, whatever you may think of it, remember 
 that you are standing upon the verge of a life where 
 you will be for ever what you are now. Where 
 you will feel towards God as you now feel towards 
 him ; a Christian then if a Christian now ; a rebel 
 then if a rebel now. There will be no changes. 
 He that is holy shall be holy still ; and he that is 
 filthy shall be filthy still; rising in holiness, or 
 sinking in degradation for ever. Are you pre- 
 pared for " the life which is to come V % 
 
PREPARATION FOR "THE LIFE WHICH IS TO COME," 
 HEAVEN. 
 
 " Say ye to the righteous, that it shall be well with him ; for they 
 shall eat the fruit of their doings : Woe unto the wicked, it shall be 
 ill with him ; for the reward of his hands shall be given him."— Isaiah 
 iii. 10, 11. 
 
 There is, according to the common apprehension 
 of mankind, a mysterious but real and indissoluble 
 link, binding together the present and the future. 
 It is not an intellectual conviction, the result of 
 any process of reasoning, but a feeling, deep-seated 
 in the soul, originating, if we may judge from its 
 depth and power, in a necessity of nature. It is 
 an irrepressible, uncontrollable, governing feeling 
 of the human mind. In fact, my brethren, we are 
 perpetually living in the future. Our places and 
 purposes to-day, derive their meaning from the ex- 
 pected developments of to-morrow ; and the joys 
 which gladden, and the sorrows which afflict us, 
 stripped of all reference to the future, would be 
 stripped likewise of their elevating and depressing 
 power. That future, moreover, upon which we dwell 
 so much, is in our apprehension, in a great mea- 
 sure wrapped up in the present. As we are here 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 207 
 
 to-day, we do not feel more certainly that the past 
 has determined, while it has furnished the elements 
 of our present consciousness, than that the present 
 will give character to the experience of to-morrow ; 
 in fact, throwing out of our calculation unfore- 
 seen contingencies, and supposing that all things 
 will go on in accordance with the regular and 
 established laws of cause and effect, we have 
 no other idea than that to-morrow will be in 
 its views and feelings but the fuller develop- 
 ment of to-day. Now, I apprehend, that the com- 
 mon impression of the human mind relative to the 
 certainty of a future state, is but a modification of 
 this same feeling of which we have been speaking. 
 The same law of our nature which binds together 
 the successive stages of our earthly being, binds 
 together " the life which is," and " the life which is 
 to come." The ongoing of the human mind is not 
 arrested by the thought of death. True, that 
 event is seen to separate between us and the 
 scenes which are beyond it, but it does not shut 
 those scenes from the view. There they are, in all 
 their reality, in all their glory, or in all their ter- 
 ror ; and though there is a dark valley between, 
 which shows to sense no pathway, and over which 
 we know not how we shall travel, yet there is a 
 feeling which cannot be reasoned down, that in 
 some way we shall cross it, and mingle in the 
 scenes which are beyond. 
 
 This feeling, I imagine, goes still farther. It 
 infers not only the reality of the future from the 
 reality of the present, but the experiences of the 
 
208 PREPARATION FOR 
 
 future from the character and doings of the pre- 
 sent. We can no more get rid of the idea of a 
 correspondence between that which is, and that 
 which is to be, than we can get rid of a cer- 
 tain hereafter ; here is the commencement, there 
 the consummation ; this is the seed time, that is the 
 harvest ; here we have the blade, and the ear, there 
 we shall have the full corn in the ear. Every one 
 who carefully analyses the workings of his own 
 mind, will discover that the power of right doing 
 to gladden the soul does not spring more from its 
 own intrinsic nature, than from a connection be- 
 tween it and future results ; and crime pains, and 
 tasks, and hardens the spirit, not simply on account 
 of its essentially debasing influences, but also, be- 
 cause it is felt to be connected with a certain com- 
 ing remorse. 
 
 Such are the natural feelings of man as God 
 made him ; and every human being will feel thus 
 when he allows nature to have free play ; and I 
 need not say how exactly they tally with the dis- 
 closures of revelation ; and I come this morning to 
 set these forecastings of the human mind in the 
 light of revelation, to give them their proper 
 direction, and point out their appropriate use. 
 
 The main thought upon which I design to insist 
 is that suggested by my text ; viz., that righteous- 
 ness and wickedness work out their own appro- 
 priate results ; that the present is a world of disci- 
 pline for the future, wherein man is preparing for 
 the scenes in which he is to mingle ; that results are 
 to accord with character, as the nature of the har- 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 209 
 
 vest agrees with the seed sown, and every one's 
 future experiences will correspond with the moral 
 training to which he here subjects himself. 
 
 We have a double picture then to present to 
 you, as the discipline of the Christian and the course 
 of the sinner shall be seen in connection with their 
 respective necessary results. 
 
 I. I begin with the Christian, and from the les- 
 sons he is taught, and the discipline to which he 
 is subjected in the school of his Master, endeavour 
 to prefigure his destiny. The Christian life has 
 two great characteristics. It is a life of faith ; and 
 herein it stands distinguished from the life of uncon- 
 verted man, which is a life of sense. It is a life of 
 usefulness, and herein it likewise stands distin- 
 guished from the life of unconverted man, which in 
 the ends it contemplates is regulated by a principle 
 of selfishness. I need hardly say to my hearers, 
 that the essential element of all spiritual Christi- 
 anity is confidence in God ; for " whatsoever is not 
 of faith is sin." Human apostacy began at this very 
 point, a distrust of the character and word of the 
 living God, and ever since, man has walked in the 
 ways of folly and of transgression, only as he has 
 given himself up to the control and guidance of 
 "an evil heart of unbelief." To bring him back to 
 the exercise of a child-like reliance upon his Hea- 
 venly Father is the design of the gospel ; and 
 one great object of all God's providential dispen- 
 sations toward his children is to develope more 
 and more, this spirit of confidence in himself. The 
 very first step a man takes in a Christian life is a 
 14 
 
210 PREPARATION FOR 
 
 step of faith, as lie renounces all self-dependence, 
 and throws himself upon Jesus Christ in simple re- 
 liance upon the word and testimony of God ; and 
 as he moves on thereafter, he " walks by faith and 
 not by sight." The circumstances in which he is 
 placed, the trials he is called to meet, the duties he 
 is called to discharge, compel him to look out of 
 himself for direction ; force him to fly to the rock 
 which is higher than himself, and to lean upon the 
 promise of Almighty strength. It is not, indeed, 
 without evidence that he is called to believe ; not 
 without manifestations of kindness, which alone 
 warrant trust. The first act of faith which belongs 
 to a man, as he casts himself upon the promise of 
 forgiveness in the gospel, is put forth in view of 
 God's unspeakable love in Christ Jesus ; and day by 
 day his confidence is strengthened by displays of 
 goodness, seen in the present or called up from 
 among the remembrances of the past. It is the 
 discipline of faith to which the Christian is sub- 
 jected in this world of trial. 
 
 So likewise is he taught by his Master to look 
 out of himself for the objects of life. The scene of 
 the world around us is a scene where every man is 
 describing a circle of which he himself is the centre. 
 Self-aggrandizement is the great end of human 
 ambition. Strip any object of its relation to some 
 selfish desire as the means of its gratification, and to 
 carnal man it ceases to be attractive ; but among 
 the first lessons which a man is taught in the 
 school of Christ, is to " look not upon his own 
 things, but also upon the things of others." u If ye 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 211 
 
 love them winch love you, what reward have ye ;" 
 and " if ye do good to them who do good to you , 
 what reward have ye," is the language of our great 
 Teacher ; and " ye are not your own, for ye are 
 bought with a price," are the words of one who had 
 learned, and was exemplifying in his life the great 
 lesson of usefulness which his Master had taught 
 him. And here, while speaking of these great ele- 
 ments of the Christian character, and of the nature 
 of Christian discipline, let me observe that they are 
 no more strongly contrasted with carnality in their 
 nature than in the experience which accompanies 
 them. The condition of a man who, in respect to 
 all his plans and movements, his hopes and joys, is 
 governed by sense, cannot, so far as this world is 
 concerned, be compared in point of happiness with 
 that one who walks by faith. Both must have 
 their trials, in view of those developments of Pro- 
 vidence which neither sense nor reason can ex- 
 plain ; but the one has resources to which the other 
 is entirely a stranger. The man of sight is not only 
 lost amid the dark intricacies of things, but he has 
 the superadded torment arising from his inability 
 to unravel or enlighten them ; while the man of 
 faith can fall back upon the assurances of him who 
 cannot lie, and stay himself upon God, under the 
 conviction that he " doeth all things well." Hence 
 it is, that amid those dark scenes of our earthly 
 history, where the carnal spirit is completely borne 
 down and overwhelmed, there is a wonderful elas- 
 ticity about the mind under the influence of faith ; 
 and when the former is most distressed, the joys of 
 
212 PREPARATION FOR 
 
 the latter do most abound. In fact, so far as the 
 experience of the mind itself is concerned, there is 
 no true happiness in many cases which does not 
 spring from confidence in God. 
 
 So, likewise, a life of passionate gratification is not 
 to be compared with a life of active benevolence. 
 God has so constituted our nature, that a man cannot 
 be happy unless he is, or thinks he is, a means of 
 good. Judging from our own experience, we cannot 
 conceive of a picture of more unutterable wretched- 
 ness than is furnished by one who knows that he is 
 wholly useless in the world. Give a man what you 
 please, surround him with all the means of gratifi- 
 cation, and yet let the conviction come home to 
 him clear and irresistible that there is not a being 
 in God's universe a whit the better or happier for 
 his existence ; let him feel that he is thus a blot 
 upon, because a blank in the universe, and the uni- 
 verse will not furnish a more unhappy being. 
 Herein lies the solution of that to many inexplica- 
 ble fact, that the schemes of mere selfishness, how- 
 ever wisely laid, however energetically and success- 
 fully prosecuted, never add to the joys, but always 
 to the pains of those who originate and are engaged 
 in them. It is not so with a man of opposite cha- 
 racteristics. Take from him what you please, and 
 you do not take from him the elements of his joy, 
 if you leave him the conviction that in any way he 
 is useful. If you contract the circle, and diminish 
 the sphere of his influence, you detract from his 
 joy only as you detract from his means of doing 
 good. And as we cannot conceive of a more 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 213 
 
 wretched being than one who feels himself to be 
 the slave of an uncontrolled selfishness, so we can- 
 not conceive of a happier being than a man of truly 
 benevolent heart, whose wishes describe the circle 
 and bound the sphere of his influence, and whose 
 means are ample to give those wishes a full expres- 
 sion. 
 
 The disciple of Christ, then, is one who in this 
 world is disciplined in the school of his master to 
 a life of faith and usefulness. Let us look forward, 
 then, and anticipate the future, and ascertain, if 
 possible, what kind of life is that for which such a 
 discipline will prepare one, or what must be the 
 experiences of one thus trained, amid the circum- 
 stances which are to define his deathless being. 
 
 It is not assuming too much here to say, that 
 the correctness of many of our views of " the life 
 which is to come," is questionable ; and even 
 where our views are correct, generally speaking, 
 they are very vague. If we were now to sit down, I 
 mean those of us who have thought most upon this 
 subject, and analyze our ideas, I think we should 
 be surprised at the indistinctness of our own con- 
 ceptions, and even suspect the correctness of 
 those which are perfectly clear. That coming 
 world will be a very different world from this. 
 Upon that point we are satisfied ; but wherein will 
 the difference consist ? is the question which is to 
 test the clearness and correctness of our views. 
 80 far as heaven is concerned, it is very easy to 
 say, that there will be no sin there, and of course 
 
214 PREPARATION FOR 
 
 there will be no pain there, and no death there. 
 Very true ; but by these negative assertions we 
 are not advanced one step in our inquiry. We 
 have learned what " the life to come" is not, but 
 we wish to know what it is. 
 
 And when we come to this point, the very first 
 distinction we are apt to make between the present 
 and the future is, that while this world is a world 
 of faith, that will be a world of sight; and the 
 second is, while this world is a world of action and 
 toil, that will be a world of rest and repose ; and 
 many a one is apt to think, that if we are wrong 
 here, if it is not to be so, that when we enter upon 
 another world, everything in the shape of mystery 
 shall be gone ; if then, and there, we shall not see 
 all things clearly, in the light in which God sees 
 them, with a kind of intuitive perception ; if, 
 moreover, heaven is to be a scene of ongoing ac- 
 tivity, of ceaseless, restless effort, it would be strip- 
 ped of its main attractions to beings who like 
 ourselves, groping amid the mysteries of God's dis- 
 pensations, and wearied by the greatness of their 
 way, are awaiting, in hope, the full revelation of all 
 mysteries, and " the rest which remaineth for the 
 people of God." 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding, we are constrained to 
 think, that for our conception here of heaven, as a 
 world of sight, we are more indebted to the Chris- 
 tian poet, who, as he describes the Christian's hope, 
 speaks of it as a world, 
 
 " Where faith is sweetly lost in sight," 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 215 
 
 than we are to any thing we find upon the sacred 
 page, or any thing we learn even from the analogies 
 of things. In reality, if we look distinctly at this 
 conception, we shall find that it is very hastily 
 assumed, and never can be made good, because it 
 contradicts all the analogies with which we are 
 familiar, and seems to involve an impossibility. If 
 the enjoyments of the coming world are an end, 
 and the dispensations of Providence towards us 
 here are means, if in God's arrangements the wide 
 universe through, there is always a strict corres- 
 pondence between means and ends, then is this 
 world to us a mystery, if the discipline of faith to 
 which we here are subject, is not designed for its 
 higher exercise, in that other world into which we 
 expect to be introduced. If the training of the 
 present life has, as is undoubtedly the fact, a refer- 
 ence to u the life which is to come," such a refer- 
 ence, that it may be justly looked upon as a course 
 of education for the future, if indeed the two states 
 of being are so alike that the essential elements of 
 the one may be said to be wrapped up in the other, 
 we say that futurity, whatever it may be in other 
 respects, must be a scene where the qualities and 
 habits to which we have been trained here, shall 
 be called into exercise and even set to work more 
 intensely than ever. We cannot believe it any 
 part of God's arrangements to allow the fruits of a 
 long and painful culture to fall to the earth and 
 perish, at the moment of their ripening. Analogy 
 then, if nothing else, teaches us that the future will 
 be a world of faith as well as the present. 
 
216 PREPARATION FOR 
 
 But further. We speak of God as the unsearch- 
 able God ; one, whose movements, because they 
 are constructed on a scale commensurate with his 
 own infinite perfections, must to us be inscrutable ; 
 whose steps must be in the dark, and whose name 
 must be " mystery ;" hence the necessity of faith to 
 such creatures as we are, grows out of the limited 
 nature of our powers. As our minds cannot take 
 in God's designs in their manifold relations, our 
 reason is incompetent to explain his movements in 
 their varied bearings, the only resource left to us, 
 is implicit, submissive faith; we must lean upon 
 this faith, or be unutterably wretched. And will 
 the disparity between the finite and the infinite 
 ever be any less than it now is ? Grant what you 
 please as to the certain advancement of the human 
 mind in knowledge, and goodness, and power, it 
 must always stand at a measureless remove from 
 the infinite, uncreated, and boundless Spirit upon 
 whom it will be eternally dependent. There are 
 other beings, in higher and purer spheres, far more 
 enlarged than ourselves in their views, with nobler 
 powers, and grander capacities ; and we may reach 
 their position, we may even far outstrip them, but 
 the interval between the Creator and the creature 
 will not be sensibly lessened by this wondrous, 
 this mighty advancement. God will always be the 
 Unsearchable, because he will always be the Infin- 
 ite God. Never, never, can the creature measure 
 or grasp his character. Never, never, can he be at 
 peace, reach what point he may, be the subject of 
 any, however great mental enlargement, any other- 
 
THE LIEE TO COME. 217 
 
 wise, than as lie rests in God with a spirit of sim- 
 ple, childlike confidence. 
 
 And if we never can fully comprehend God's 
 attributes, so likewise we never can fully compre- 
 hend his doings in which those attributes are 
 embodied. Even now there are things which God 
 has already done, " mysteries of godliness," into 
 which angels " who excel in might" are prying 
 with eager curiosity, as presenting to their minds 
 themes which they must study attentively, because 
 they have not yet divined their meaning ; and we 
 believe there will yet be, in the progress of God's 
 great and glorious administration of the universe, 
 developments of his nature in his doings which 
 will open an abyss into which the most exalted 
 mind will scarcely dare to look, but from the edge 
 of which he will shrink back to find his peace in 
 the exercise of simple confidence in the infinite 
 one. 
 
 Do not, my brethren, misunderstand me here. 
 I do not mean to convey the idea that we shall 
 never know any thing more of God, or of his do- 
 ings, with their reasons and ends, than we know 
 now. Far from it. Pitiable, indeed, would be the 
 prospect, if we were never to be extricated from 
 the difficulties which now hamper us, if we were 
 never to understand any more of the dispensations 
 which now try us. God himself has pointed to 
 our hope a very different prospect from this ; he 
 has told us that " the vision is but for an appointed 
 time, in the end it will speak and not lie ; if 
 it tarry, wait for it;" and the Master has said, 
 
218 PKEPAKATION FOE 
 
 " what I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt 
 know hereafter." There is a day coming of 
 divine manifestation, when God shall make things 
 plain, as he justifies his doings by unfolding 
 their reasons. But you will observe, that this day 
 of divine manifestation is to bring under review 
 only the doings and the trials of the past, and by 
 no means involves the idea that the entire scheme 
 of God's dispensations, for all time to come, shall 
 be spread out as on a map before us. No such sen- 
 timent is taught either directly or indirectly upon 
 the sacred page, nor can it be inferred from any of 
 the disclosures which are here made to us. I doubt 
 not, that hereafter, we shall see clearly the way by 
 which God has led us ; and every dispensation of 
 his Providence toward us, which at the time tried 
 our spirits, and severely taxed our faith because it 
 was inexplicable, shall be fully explained, and be- 
 come a source of thankfulness and joy, as its wis- 
 dom and goodness become apparent, in view of the 
 end of which it was the necessary means. I doubt 
 not, moreover, that our views of divine truth shall 
 become more enlarged and distinct, and the diffi- 
 culties which now embarrass us when we attempt to 
 grasp and master many of "the deep things of 
 God," shall entirely vanish when we come to look 
 at them, in the new light which God shall pour 
 upon them ; and perhaps we shall be surprised at 
 the simplicity of the points which now disturb and 
 even stagger us. But we are greatly mistaken if we 
 suppose that nothing will remain to exercise our 
 faith in God. As the traveller who in his journey 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 219 
 
 reaches one eminence which commands the road 
 over which he has travelled, sees yet another 
 eminence before him, so we believe it will be with 
 us, when the present trials of our faith are over. 
 We shall be ushered into other scenes, where we 
 shall likewise need a spirit of trustful reliance, and 
 thus the vast hereafter which stretches itself out 
 before us, will be a world which in its successive 
 developments, shall call us to live by faith, and its 
 experience shall be the peace, and joy, and hope of 
 an ever exercised and ever strengthening confi- 
 dence in the Father of our spirits. 
 
 In throwing out these views, while we do not 
 imagine for a moment, that there will be connected 
 with the exercise of our faith hereafter, as is 
 now the case, any apprehension of loss or sorrow of 
 any kind, which now, in fact, gives to the trials of 
 our confidence all their painfulness ; we have reason 
 to believe that the evidence of the wisdom and 
 goodness and love of God which now warrants our 
 faith will be unfolded to us in grander and more 
 glorious discoveries, to correspond with the higher- 
 exercise of faith to which we shall be called. The 
 light which seen upon one eminence of our journey 
 charms us up its ascent, will seem brighter and more 
 charming as seen upon the eminence beyond. The 
 testimonies to the character of our heavenly Father 
 in view of which now we trust him, will increase in 
 number and power, and inspire us with all the 
 confidence which our joy requires in the new scenes 
 upon which we shall be ushered. In the present 
 life, we find that the difficulties of youth prepare 
 
220 PREPARATION FOR 
 
 us for the sterner difficulties of manhood, and the 
 labours of manhood for the anxieties of age, and a 
 well spent life grows happier and happier even 
 unto the end. We find too that the Christian who 
 walks by faith as he moves amid the perplexities 
 and trials of time, grows not only in the strength 
 of his confidence but in the spiritual joys which 
 are inseparable from its exercise ; so when we reach 
 " the world which is to come," we shall find that 
 the discipline of " the world which is," has prepared 
 us for its scenes, its duties, and its joys, and every 
 successive stage of that coming existence will be 
 one of increasing confidence, and increasing hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Then, moreover, is the other view of the nature 
 of the discipline to which God is subjecting us upon 
 earth to be added to this one. In the school of 
 Christ we are trained to habits of active usefulness, 
 which give expression to that benevolent spirit 
 which religion inspires ; and if this is so there must 
 be something hereafter to correspond with this 
 discipline as its necessary and appropriate re- 
 sult. I do not know that any one intelligently 
 entertains the sentiment, but there is a very 
 undefined feeling in many minds that when 
 the human spirit reaches the eternal world there 
 will remain nothing for it to do. To the sanc- 
 tified it is a world of rest, the happiness of 
 which will consist in pleasing and grateful re- 
 collections, in adoring admiration, in songs of 
 praise. It will unquestionably be a world of rest, 
 but not a world of inert repose. The rest of the 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 221 
 
 human spirit is not inaction, but right action. The 
 most restless being in God's universe, is he who has 
 no end appropriate to his powers in view of which 
 to work. The transition from the present to. the 
 future, is not to be a destruction, or alteration, but 
 only a full development of the powers of our na- 
 tures ; and if here action and usefulness are essential 
 to happiness, there can be no happiness eternal, 
 separate from eternal usefulness. The government 
 of God is carried on, and his purposes are executed, 
 as we learn from the inspired oracles, and from the 
 teachings of Providence, by intermediate and in- 
 strumental agencies. Men are his instruments, 
 " angels are ministering spirits ;" and who can 
 doubt, my brethren, that God, in calling us here to 
 be co-workers with himself in carrying out his de- 
 signs, in giving us our spheres of duty and useful- 
 ness, in throwing upon us responsibilities which 
 our own peace of mind requires us to meet and dis- 
 charge, is preparing us for the higher position we 
 shall be called to occupy, and the nobler, grander 
 parts we shall be called to act in his coming king- 
 dom. It is a hard and rugged path, which man is 
 sometimes called to tread in early life — painful 
 and toilsome are his acquisitions of knowledge, 
 severe the discipline to which he must subject his 
 active and ambitious mind, but the mysteries of 
 God's providence towards him are all explained, 
 when in after life you see him towering high above 
 his fellows, describing a wide circle of influence, 
 and wielding a mighty power. He had never been 
 fitted for his place, never had reached his eminence, 
 
222 PREPARATION FOR 
 
 but for his previous discipline and toil ; and for the 
 most part the men who take the lead in life, who 
 give shape to earthly movements, and direction to 
 the current of human things, are men who have 
 been schooled in scenes of difficulty, and whose 
 upward and onward strugglings, as they have de- 
 veloped the powers of their minds, have prepared 
 them for the relations they sustain, and rightly 
 to use the influence they have gained. And do 
 you not suppose that God has something for us to 
 do hereafter, and that by calling us to duty now, 
 he is training us for usefulness then ? Verily do we 
 believe that there will be posts in that upper world 
 to which nothing but a previous life of usefulness 
 will fit one. Verily do we believe that there will 
 be services demanded there, which will utterly 
 baffle the skill, as they will surpass the capacities 
 of those who have never been trained to service 
 here. Every man will there have his place and 
 his sphere, but it will be the place or the sphere 
 for which his previous course has fitted him ; and 
 so surely as " every man is to be rewarded accord- 
 ing to his works," so surely as " one star differeth 
 from another star in glory," so surely in that future 
 world there will be elevated positions, which are 
 to be reached only by those who have already 
 learned to soar high, and wonderful advantages, 
 which shall belong only to those who have here 
 been taught how to reap them. 
 
 There is something, moreover, in the nature of 
 goodness, in its expansive tendency, which seems to 
 demand a sphere for its developement. Some there 
 
THE LIFE TO COME. 223 
 
 are, even in this world, who feel that life has its 
 joys only as it has its duties ; and they would as 
 soon cease to live as cease to be useful ; and this 
 spirit the gospel has implanted in the hearts of all 
 its subjects. Goodness, benevolence, is the essential 
 element of the Christian life. It may be only like 
 the blade springing out of the ground, but it grows 
 by culture, and if God's arrangements are carried 
 out, there will be as certainly " the ear," and " the 
 full corn in the ear ;" and oh ! what kind of a 
 world would that be, so far as happiness is con- 
 cerned, where there would be no field of usefulness, 
 which would afford no room for the outgoing and 
 expansion of this benevolent spirit ? Just as cer- 
 tainly as that yearning after immortality which 
 God has incorporated among the elements of our 
 nature, demands an immortality to meet it, does 
 that benevolence which the Spirit of God has 
 implanted in every Christian heart, demand that 
 there shall be an immortality of usefulness, in order 
 to an immortality of happiness. 
 
 At this point, my brethren, I must again crave 
 your indulgence. I cannot compass my whole de- 
 sign in this discourse. I have yet the other side of 
 the picture to present to you before I have finished 
 my general view of " the life which is to come ;" 
 but upon the strength of what I have thus far ad- 
 vanced, I may ask my hearers if the thoughts I 
 have thrown out, do not cast an entirely new and 
 exceeding interesting light upon " the life which 
 now is." There is a very common feeling, I am 
 persuaded, that it would be better that a Christian 
 
224 PREPARATION FOR 
 
 man should be at once translated to heaven, than 
 that he should be left, if I may so speak, to work 
 his way there through a world of trial and sorrow, 
 of difficulty and toil. It would not, indeed, be better 
 for the world, because it would remove all its light 
 and take away all its salt. Neither would it be 
 better for a man, so far as his earthly interests and 
 relations are concerned. In this respect, the Chris- 
 tian has as strong reasons for life as any other man ; 
 but so far as regards his spiritual relations and future 
 rewards, it would be better for himself personally 
 that he should be taken to heaven the moment 
 heaven is sure. But there is a sad misconception 
 here. The Bible tells us that " it is good for a 
 man to wait for the salvation of God." It tells us 
 that the trials which beset us here " work out for 
 us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of 
 glory ;" and they do so, by training us to bear it. 
 We wonder that God calls men to such severe trials 
 of their faith. But why is it but to prepare 
 them for the higher and nobler exercises of faith 
 to which they shall be called hereafter, and to 
 which they would be wholly incompetent, but for 
 their previous discipline in a school of affliction. 
 Here }^ou see what trials mean. Each one of them 
 prepares us for a still higher spot and for a richer 
 crown. And every one of us shall find hereafter, 
 that God did not tax us too often or too severely. 
 Every lesson which we learn here, every lesson of 
 confidence and submission, shall come into full play 
 and do its part in fitting us for our work and ad- 
 ministering to our joy. We shall then see that not 
 
THE LITE TO COME. 225 
 
 one of them could have been spared without pro- 
 portionally detracting from our portion. We may 
 dejDend upon it, if God means to raise us to honor 
 and nobility hereafter, he will prepare us for our 
 reward now ; and then " the trial of our faith shall 
 be found unto praise, and honor, and glory." 
 
 So too with regard to those scenes of active use- 
 fulness in which we are placed, and the duties we 
 are called to discharge. They are none too many ; 
 in view of " the life which is to come," I had almost 
 said that Grod cannot put upon us too many, or 
 too weighty responsibilities. The more we do, the 
 brighter does our reward sparkle with the splen- 
 dours of eternity. Every duty we faithfully dis- 
 charge does but put another plume in our angel's 
 wing, another jewel in our seraph's crown. Every 
 effort we make, every responsibility we meet, every 
 act of goodness we perform, does but fix our place 
 the higher in the scale of majesty and triumph. 
 In view of that reward which shall be according to 
 every man's works, we have none too much of 
 labour, none too much of toil ; our future recom- 
 pense requires it all. Oh ! let us not, my brethren, 
 shun duties, however painful and self-sacrificing 
 they may be ; let us not shut ourselves out from, 
 or seek to avoid spheres of usefulness in the world. 
 If we do we shall find that by our short-sighted 
 calculations we have missed noble and glorious 
 things, and have failed to reach some high point in 
 the kingdom which we might have occupied. We 
 may make the discovery when it is too late. If we 
 are Christians we shall make it, if not before, in our 
 15 
 
226 THE LIFE TO COME. 
 
 dying hour. When we come to stand on the top of 
 some Pisgah which overlooks the past, as well 
 as the future, then lost opportunities of usefulness 
 will be seen as so much taken from our coming 
 joy ; and in that moment, while the firmament is 
 "bright with the dawning of heaven, and the music 
 of the spheres is already heard, while the spirit is 
 pluming its wing for its flight, if there shall be a 
 wish to put a check upon it, and rebuke its eager- 
 ness to be gone, it will be a wish not concerning 
 earthly things or earthly friends, but it will be a 
 wish to live a little longer, that we might labour a 
 little more for Christ and for good in this world. 
 Let us be instructed by these thoughts : " Walk ye 
 by faith, and not by sight." Be steadfast, immov- 
 able, always abounding in the work of the Lord ; 
 for as much as ye know that your labour is not in 
 vain in the Lord." 
 
 «i 
 
THE DAY OF GRACE. 
 
 " And when he was come near, he beheld the city and wept over it, 
 saying, if thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the 
 things which belong unto thy peace ! but now, they are hid from thine 
 eyes." — St. Luke xix. 41, 42. 
 
 The scene, my brethren, which the language of 
 the text pourtrays, is not more touching, than are 
 the principles which it involves, important. We 
 behold the Son of God in tears. The fact derives 
 its peculiar interest from the circumstances in which 
 he was placed, and the influences which seem to 
 have unmanned him. It would not have been at 
 all surprising had the " man of sorrows and ac- 
 quainted with grief," been thus deeply affected in 
 view of "the hour and power of darkness," the 
 garden and the cross, which were just before him ; 
 but however he may have felt at times' in reference 
 to his coming and distinctly apprehended trials, 
 they were not now sorrows of a private or per- 
 sonal nature which stirred his strong emotions and 
 compelled his tears. He is, at the present time, in 
 the midst of his greatest earthly triumphs ; about 
 to make his public entry into Jerusalem, surrounded 
 by an admiring multitude, and heralded by thou- 
 
228 THE DAT OF GEACE. 
 
 sands, who shout " Hosanna to the Son of David." 
 Ho has reached the brow of Mount Olivet, and be- 
 neath him lies spread out in all its extent and mag- 
 nificence, the city he was approaching ; and as his 
 eye rested upon Jerusalem, he thought of it as the 
 scene of his public ministrations and his most splen- 
 did miracles, as the city whose inhabitants he had so 
 often taught, so faithfully warned, so marvellously 
 blessed; and yet, Jerusalem, uninstructed, unre- 
 claimed, unmoved, and now abandoned of Him 
 whose hand lingers ere it takes hold on judgment, 
 to the withering curse of slighted mercy and abused 
 long suffering, which was about to descend upon 
 it. Here you have the reason of the Redeemer's 
 tears. 
 
 We may not be able to present a correct ana- 
 lysis of our Saviour's state of mind which here finds 
 expression; and yet the language which he uses 
 indicates one thought as serving to give to his feel- 
 ings of grief peculiar poignancy. The catastrophe 
 which he bewailed might have been averted. They 
 were not unavoidable evils and necessary calamities 
 which awaited that devoted city, but such as were 
 traceable to their source in the folly and guilty in- 
 fatuation of its inhabitants. Its condition, as now 
 doomed, was the more melancholy, because Jeru- 
 salem might have been saved. 
 
 Now, I take it that we have in this language of 
 Jesus Christ a general principle of deep interest 
 and importance to ourselves. However widely in 
 some respects our circumstances may differ from 
 those of the ancient Jews, yet so far as our rela- 
 
THE DAY OF GEACE. 229 
 
 tions to tli3 gospel of Christ are concerned, what 
 was true of thern is true of us. As subjects of this 
 gospel, we stand upon the same platform, have the 
 same means of spiritual good, move under the same 
 influences, and must in our character, our position, and. 
 the results of our course, illustrate the same general 
 principles. Taking all this for granted, and we do 
 not for a moment suppose that it will be called in 
 question by any of our hearers, we start the ques- 
 tion, — what is my position, what is your position, 
 what is the position of every man under the gospel 
 of Jesus Christ in reference to the salvation of the 
 soul ? That is the question with which we have 
 to do to-day. A question big with interest, and 
 one which can hardly fail to arrest and rivet the 
 attention of every one who believes that he has a 
 soul which must be lost or saved. 
 
 In attempting to answer this question, allow me 
 to advert again to the thought which has been sug- 
 gested as that which gave pungency to the Saviour's 
 grief while he wept over Jerusalem, — the now cer- 
 tain and dreadful catastrophe might have been pre- 
 vented. Upon no other ground than this, can the 
 language which Christ uttered be justified to any 
 rational mind; for the sorrow which it expresses 
 regards not simply the event itself, but the event 
 as resulting from human folly and infatuation. 
 Study it carefully, and see if you can find any mean- 
 ing in the language, or any evidence of sincerity in 
 the feeling to which it gives utterance, but upon 
 the supposition that there had been a time when 
 these inhabitants of Jerusalem might have known 
 
230 THE DAY OF GKACE. 
 
 the things which belonged to their peace, and when 
 by knowing them they might have averted their 
 coming doom. 
 
 ~Now for my doctrine. Every man brought 
 under the influence of the gospel has a time of 
 probation and hope ; a day of grace. This naked 
 proposition which I thus lay down, will not, I pre- 
 sume, be questioned, though some there are who 
 will give to it an interpretation which will strip it 
 of all its power and life. I mean by a day of pro- 
 bation and of grace something more than an arrest 
 of threatened punishment, something more than an 
 hour of respite. I mean a definite season, during 
 which every man who enjoys it has an opportunity 
 for securing everlasting life. We may look upon a 
 day of grace as a means, connected with the salva- 
 tion of the soul as its end. To preach to a man 
 " Jesus Christ, and him crucified," to set before him 
 the plan of salvation through atoning blood, to 
 throw the light of truth upon his pathway, to press 
 him with the invitations and warnings of the gos- 
 pel, to send home its varied and powerful appeals 
 to his heart, and yet to intimate that these multi- 
 form influences and instrumentalities do not con- 
 template his spiritual good, and sustain no relation 
 to the object at which they professedly aim, is lit- 
 tle else than trifling with human sorrows, and 
 sporting with human helplessness ; other and higher 
 and nobler views do I take of the gospel of the 
 grace of God. I could not preach it did I not be- 
 lieve that they who enjoy its light, and are subject 
 to its influences, are prisoners of hope ; did I not 
 
THE DAY OF GEACE. 231 
 
 believe that there is a connection between its pri- 
 vileges and a final redemption from the cnrse. I 
 could not come and lay the offer of eternal life 
 before you, my brethren, and press it upon your 
 acceptance by the urgency of eternal motives, did 
 I not believe that it was meant for you, and that 
 you might embrace it and be saved. Perish for 
 ever the thought which would thus limit the grace 
 of God, or contract the circle of its wondrous mani- 
 festations. The provisions of the gospel are in 
 fullness and extent all that human wants can ask. 
 The message, " whosoever will may come and take 
 of the water of life freely," is the standard by 
 which to guage the dimensions of the love of God ; 
 and wherever there is one to whom I may preach 
 the gospel, there is one to whom I may say, " you 
 may be saved." 
 
 Such a view of the gospel and of the relations 
 of men as its subjects, throws a new aspect over 
 the world in which we live ; if my statement is in 
 accordance with truth, then is this world not a 
 scene of unmixed corruption, hopeless death and 
 irretrievable ruin ; then is this day of grace some- 
 thing more than a mere reprieve or arrest of judg- 
 ment. It is a world of probation and of hope ; 
 these horns which we are now spending, and these 
 scenes through which we are now passing, are 
 hours and scenes full of delightful, and elevating, 
 and sanctifying influences ; the spot where God has 
 fixed our habitation, is the spot upon which the 
 cross has been erected, whence mercy speaks, and 
 through which God is ready to dispense his bless- 
 
232 
 
 THE DAY OF GKACE. 
 
 ings " far as tlie curse is found." Oh, that men 
 did but " know the joyful sound," that they " un- 
 derstood in this their day, the things which belong 
 unto their peace !" 
 
 Another remark may be proper at this point, to 
 prevent a misconception of the doctrine which I 
 have laid down. When, then, in delivering the 
 message of the gospel, I say to a man, that he may 
 be saved, I do not intend to convey the idea that 
 there are no difficulties in the way of his conver- 
 sion, no hindrances to his salvation. I mean sim- 
 ply, that all outward hindrances, growing out of 
 his past sinfulness, and out of the claims of God's 
 violated commandments, over which, from the very 
 nature of the case, he could have no control, be- 
 cause he cannot live over, or redeem, or atone for 
 the past, are entirely removed. Nothing of this 
 kind intervenes between him and the attainment 
 of everlasting life. The glory of God, as a reconcil- 
 ing God ; the secret of his mighty power, as re- 
 vealed in the gospel, over the human conscience 
 and the human heart, is found in this, that he has 
 taken it upon himself, and succeeded at an amazing 
 cost, in his plan to remove every obstacle on the 
 part of God's government, leaving nothing to in- 
 tervene between a man and his salvation, but what 
 derives its preventive influence from the state of 
 his own heart. Therefore do we say to a man that 
 he may be saved, because every obstacle of an out- 
 ward character insuperable by man has been re- 
 moved, and because the influences connected with 
 the gospel, which are brought to bear upon him, 
 
THE DAY OF GEACE. 233 
 
 are in their own nature recovering influences. If 
 this is so, then, two positions are reached ; the one 
 is, that before man, under the gospel, a door of hope 
 is opened ; the other is, that no one can close that 
 door but hims3lf. He may be saved ; if he should 
 be lost, it will be because he did not know, in his 
 day of grace, " the things which belonged to his 
 peace." 
 
 Guided by this, the main thought, as I appre- 
 hend, of my text, when I come to my hearers with 
 the messages of eternal truth, I say to them gene- 
 rally, " this is your day of grace." It is so, because 
 you are the subjects of that gospel which with its 
 privileges and offers has appeared unto all men. The 
 means of grace which God has appointed seem in 
 their enjoyment necessarily to involve the oppor- 
 tunity for securing eternal life. The Sabbath sun 
 which shines upon us, and lights our way to 
 the house of God, by means of its interesting 
 associations with the cross, points our thoughts 
 to the wondrous work of redeeming love as the 
 ground of our hope and the source of sanctifying 
 influence. The messages of mercy which are ad- 
 dressed to us, bringing our minds as they do into 
 contact with questions of privilege and duty, seem 
 to open to us the door of life, as they demonstrate 
 God's readiness to save. Providence, too, subordi- 
 nating all its movements to the cross as the instru- 
 mentalities of its designs, arranges a man's circum- 
 stances and fixes his changes and allotments with a 
 view of giving efficacy to the truth. From the 
 moment when we first listened to the tale of a 
 
234 THE DAY OF GEAOE. 
 
 Saviour's love, to the present hour, have we "been 
 moving amid such associations, and under such in- 
 fluences. There is not one of us without a hope in 
 Christ, whose career, whether it has been long or 
 short, must not be essentially varied from that of 
 the vast majority of his fellows, if, as he looks back 
 from his present position over the scenes through 
 which he has passed, he cannot discover many op- 
 portunities of which he might have availed himself, 
 and which might have been turned to account in 
 effecting a great change in his circumstances and 
 relations ; seasons during which, had he rightly esti- 
 mated and improved them, he might have become 
 a subject of the kingdom of Christ. 
 
 Thus, when speaking in general terms, we say 
 that " life is man's day of grace and hope ;" because 
 while life lasts he is cheered by the Sabbath sun, 
 instructed by the teachings of the gospel, and plied 
 by the varied means of conversion. " Life is the 
 day of grace," because now the calls of mercy fall 
 upon the ear, and the life-giving and sanctifying 
 Spirit moves over the human soul ; and God is near 
 to each one of us, and may be found of those who 
 " search for him with all their heart." Need I add 
 that this is man's only day ; once past, and the 
 shades of evening gathered over him, it never more 
 returns; once past, the gates of that everlasting 
 kingdom are for ever closed, and the invitations of 
 truth and the whispers of the Spirit are hushed in 
 the silence of an eternal night. What human mind 
 can calculate the amazing change which a month, 
 a day, an hour may make in all a man's spiritual 
 
THE DAY OF GEACE. 235 
 
 circumstances and relations? Now we look at 
 him — he is in a world of light ; he is a prisoner of 
 hope ; the message of a reconciling God falls upon 
 his ear, the power of a recovering spirit moves 
 over his heart ; there is the mercy-seat to which he 
 may lift up his prayer, and there the advocate 
 within the vail. We look again, and he is not ; the 
 curtain has fallen, the scene to him is changed, and 
 where he dwells, 
 
 " In that lone land of deep despair, 
 
 No Sabbath's heavenly light shall rise ; 
 No God regard his bitter prayer, 
 Nor Saviour call him to the skies." 
 
 This general position admitted, and a believer 
 in this written testimony of God will not dispute 
 it, what a withering reflection it casts upon a ca- 
 reer of worldliness and spiritual unconcern. I need 
 not say any thing about the uncertainty which at- 
 taches to this probationary scene ; at the longest it 
 is short, in circumstances of the greatest security 
 it is doubtful. The thousands who are falling 
 around us, the seeds of disease, the workings of 
 death, of which we are conscious, what are these 
 but the daily, hourly remembrances of the cer- 
 tainty and rapidity of our flight away from this 
 land of promise and of hope : which, as they force 
 themselves upon our minds, compel our sympathy 
 with the spirit which sung, 
 
 " Great God ! on what a slender thread 
 Hang everlasting things ; 
 The eternal states of all the dead, 
 Upon life's feeble strings !" 
 
236 THE DAY OF GKACE. 
 
 And if upon these few days, fleeting as the 
 morning cloud, and evanescent as the early dew, 
 hang the interests of these deathless spirits, what 
 is the man, thoughtless and unconcerned about his 
 spiritual welfare, doing, but burning out the lamp 
 of life, and spending his only day of mercy, and of 
 hope, upon the pleasures and follies of a world 
 fleeting as himself ? What is spiritual indifference 
 but a downright robbery of the soul ? nay more, 
 but draining the very life-blood of the human 
 spirit, to gratify the desires of the flesh and of the 
 mind ? I would ask the man buried in the present, 
 and forgetful of, and wholly unprepared for the 
 future, to pause a moment, and ponder the path of 
 his feet, and tell me whether he honestly thinks 
 that his course is in keeping with his circum- 
 stances ? Admitting the uncertainty of probation, 
 is he not rapidly pushing on to a spiritual bank- 
 ruptcy ; and while he cannot but acknowledge that 
 this Sabbath's sun is lighting his pathway to the 
 grave, what is he doing but spending what may be 
 the last cent of his spiritual property, and intelli- 
 gently wasting upon the vanities of earth, the hour 
 which may push him amid the untried and unpro- 
 vided for realities of another world. Surely he 
 knows not, in this his day, the things which belong 
 unto his peace. 
 
 The appeal which my subject makes to the con- 
 science, the hopes, and the fears of man, is regu- 
 lated as to its power very much by circumstances. 
 True, it is invested with interest to any man, 
 wherever he may be, and in whatever circuni- 
 
THE DAY OF GRACE. 237 
 
 stances he may be placed. Confessedly, is the 
 folly amazing of any man, who, without a hope in 
 Christ, treads his pathway carelessly to the grave. 
 Yet there are circumstances in which the appeal is 
 peculiarly strong, because the light in which its 
 grounds are presented, is peculiarly vivid. There 
 are seasons in every man's history strictly charac- 
 terized by a suitableness to a religious change, 
 and when Providence seems in an especial man- 
 ner to force upon his attention the things which 
 belong to his peace. There are crises in men's 
 lives, when God is very near unto them, and hope 
 and eternal life are very near them. If we could 
 point to a human being whom in a particular and 
 pointed manner, God seemed to be addressing, 
 whom he had selected from those around him, as a 
 subject of his special solicitude, upon whose mind 
 the unfriendly influences of the world had less than 
 their wonted power, to whom the invitations and 
 warnings of the gospel were particularly directed, 
 one, in short, who by reason of his outward circum- 
 stances, his mental susceptibility, and his real feel- 
 ings, was occupying an attitude exceedingly favora- 
 ble to his conversion to God, we should look upon 
 him with wondrous interest, as one who, in an em- 
 phatic sense, was enjoying a day of grace. How 
 wonderful to him would be the associations amid 
 which he moved. How much of peace or sorrow, 
 hope or despair, life or death, would be dependent 
 upon his movements, in the circumstances which 
 Providence had so kindly arranged for him. If in 
 
238 THE DAY OP GRACE, 
 
 any man it is folly, in him it would be madness not 
 to know the things which belong to his peace. 
 
 We are very apt, my brethren, to look abroad 
 and endeavour to define the character of others, 
 and determine the relative advantages and disad- 
 vantages of the positions which other men occupy. 
 I would that we might come home to day, and ask 
 ourselves if there are none here, who, in their feel- 
 ings and circumstances, meet the supposition which 
 we have just been making ? I acknowledge, that 
 in these remarks my mind turns with a very deep 
 and affectionate interest to those of my hearers 
 who are in the spring-time of life. To them 
 would I for a moment address myself, and to their 
 hearts would I minister the appeal which my sub- 
 ject furnishes. You, my youthful hearers, are now 
 spending the best and brightest part of your day 
 of grace. I do not intend, in any of the remarks 
 which I am about to utter, to limit the operations 
 of the grace of God, or intimate that the day of 
 grace terminates with any particular year of human 
 life. God forbid that we should, as the Bible has 
 not, shut out the aged unbeliever from hope. It 
 is never out of place ; it is never too late, while the 
 eye, though dim, yet sees, and the pulse, though 
 feeble, yet beats, not though the winter of life be 
 at its depth, and the sun be touching the horizon, 
 to say, " now is the accepted time" — but it does 
 seem to be implied in the whole strain of inspired 
 teaching, that repentance deferred, if not impossi- 
 ble, is doubtful. 
 
 There is a peculiarity about the messages of 
 
THE DAY OF GEACE. 239 
 
 truth, which give them a special emphasis to the 
 youthful mind, in that while they are addressed 
 indiscriminately to all men, they apply them par- 
 ticularly to the young. The man of middle life, 
 and the man of riper years, is never selected in 
 the word of God as the subject to whom it 
 presents a specific invitation, or to whom it holds 
 out a specific promise. There is a meaning and a 
 point which cannot well be overlooked, in the ex- 
 hortation, " Eemember now thy Creator in the days 
 of thy youth," and a richness unspeakably precious 
 in the promise, " They that seek me early shall find 
 me." This much, certainly, we may infer from the 
 statements of the inspired oracles, that God looks 
 upon the young with peculiar interest, and his Spirit 
 strives with them in a peculiar manner. In the spring 
 time of life is man the special object of divine in- 
 struction, divine expostulation, and divine solici- 
 tude. You cannot doubt it in view of the inquiry, 
 addressed with so much tenderness to every youth- 
 ful conscience, " Wilt thou not from this time cry 
 unto me, my Father, thou art the guide of my 
 youth." You cannot doubt it, in view of that de- 
 light which God takes in those who consecrate 
 unto him the dew of their youth. That quick sus- 
 ceptibility, that tenderness of heart, that wakeful 
 conscience, those prompt responses of the mind to 
 the truth of God, those frequent movements in ac- 
 cordance with the appeals of heavenly mercy, those 
 deep and strong emotions, which are stirred within 
 you by the power of the cross, as the Saviour from 
 amid the scenes of his humiliation, appeals to you, 
 
•l 
 
 240 THE DAY OF GRACE. 
 
 and asks your hearts as a cheerful tribute to his be- 
 nevolence, all show that God is striving with you, 
 and that you are very near the entrance into his 
 kingdom. How precious to you is this your day of 
 grace ! Would you rightly estimate its value, and 
 fully appreciate its importance, let the testimony of 
 inspired truth be strengthened by your own obser- 
 vation, as you see how men depart from God as 
 they move onward in life. He who has entered 
 upon those scenes of active engagements to which 
 manhood calls him, unconverted to God, may have 
 indeed his hours of deep reflection and solemn 
 thought, and agitated feeling, but he knows nothing 
 of that tenderness of soul, of that susceptibility of 
 impression, of those strivings of the Holy Spirit, 
 which formed characteristics of his early years. 
 Believe me, there is no day of grace, there is no 
 season like that of youth, in which to make one's 
 peace with God. Skeptical upon this point you 
 may be, but against that skepticism is arrayed the 
 testimony of the Bible, and of all, without a single 
 exceptioD, of those who have gone before you. 
 Nay, more than this, your honest convictions are 
 against it ; for there is not one in early life, who 
 hears me to-day, who, however willing he might be 
 in respect to some worldly associations or circum- 
 stances, to exchange places with another more ad- 
 vanced in life, would be willing to exchange with 
 him, if he is out of the kingdom of God, his hope 
 in reference to eternal life. Give me then your 
 mind, my youthful hearer, and suffer my appeal. 
 This is your day of promise and of hope. Oh ! 
 
THE DAY OF GKACE. 241 
 
 let it not slip by unheeded and unimproved ; scat- 
 ter not, in this spring-time of life, the seeds which 
 can produce no other harvest than one of anguish 
 and despair. Youth is the season of action in 
 spiritual as well as temporal things, because the 
 season of quick apprehension, buoyant spirits, and 
 elastic energies. There is a season coming when 
 there will be ice in the blood and snow on the 
 brow, and all the emblems of winter will be 
 thickly strewed over the man ; and if there has 
 beeen no action before, it will be a hard thing, 
 a scarcely possible thing, when the limb has 
 grown rigid, and the blood has become con- 
 gealed, to put forth the energies which a suc- 
 cessful action demands. In spiritual things, the 
 man who has been successful in drowning anxiety, 
 and stifling conscience, as every man must have 
 been, who has passed onward in life unconverted, 
 must have closed up all the avenues through which 
 the gospel message might find an entrance to his 
 mind — never in after life, will he be a willing, 
 certainly not an intelligent auditor of the message, 
 that judgment is coming to all, and that eternity 
 is big with terror to all who have not been born 
 again. The state of his mind will not be adapted to 
 grapple with so stern a communication — his appre- 
 hension will not grasp the tidings in their length 
 and breadth — or if we should endeavour to stir him 
 with the touching spectacle of a Redeemer's 
 crucifixion, his sensibilities are too benumbed to 
 appreciate our appeal, his heart too indurated to 
 feel its force. You might as well try to melt a 
 16 
 
•I 
 
 242 THE DAY OF GEACE. 
 
 substance with the same fire which hardened it, as 
 move a man by those appliances of truth which 
 have served hut to fasten him where he is. Thus 
 hope becomes weaker, as time rolls on — and he 
 who in youth might have been converted, is unim- 
 pressible in age — precisely as the oak, which an 
 infant might have crushed in the acorn, when 
 rooted in the ground, defies the might of a giant's 
 strength. 
 
 Every thing, then, my youthful hearer, depends, 
 in all human probability, upon your prompt action 
 in this your day. Your own honest convictions 
 accord with what I utter. The man of middle life, 
 cumbered with the cares, and harassed with the 
 perplexities of active business, which no more 
 agitate his mind than indispose it for spiritual 
 things — the aged sinner, as he trembles on the 
 verge of the grave, shattered in body, and en- 
 feebled in mind, unable to bring home to his 
 conscience and heart the truths of the gospel, and 
 essaying in vain, after some clear discovery of the 
 way of life, — look back to you and say, in tones of 
 emphatic and solemn warning, — " Act now." 
 Nay more, there is a voice coming from yonder 
 dark prison house to-day. Listen to it — it is full 
 of meaning. It is the voice of those who passed 
 on earth through scenes of privilege, of promise, 
 and of hope ; and they say, " If you would not be 
 united to us at last, in our tears and sorrows of un- 
 availing regret, and bitter self-reflection, as we look 
 back over the scenes of early life — now in this 
 your day attend to the things which belong to 
 
THE DAY OF GRACE. 243 
 
 your peace." We meet you, then, to-day, my 
 youthful hearers — some of you are just crossing the 
 limit of this day of grace — with our kind, yet pow- 
 erful appeal. I cannot tell its issue, hut if I could, 
 I would write it on the conscience and "burn it into 
 the heart. And if it fail of its end, it will yet not 
 he lost. You will meet it again, and dread it 
 again, and feel it again ; and when your day has 
 gone, and your sun has sunk beneath the horizon, 
 and a darkness which may he felt, gathers over 
 your spirits, putting out the last ray of hope, this 
 Sabbath day will rise up in freshness and vividness 
 to your mind, and its remembered argument, and 
 its recollected appeal, oh ! how they will tell upon 
 the stricken, mourning spirit, and what an oppres- 
 sive load will they throw upon an already over- 
 tasked and sinking soul ! Oh ! "that you did but 
 know, at least in this your day, the things which 
 belong unto your peace." 
 
 But if the appeal of our Saviour's lamentation 
 has a peculiar pertinency in reference to the young, 
 it is not without its force as addressed to others. 
 I doubt not, my brethren, that there are some 
 thoughtful, troubled spirits here to-day. I doubt 
 not that in some minds, among those out of the 
 kingdom of God, there is a conscious interest, more 
 or less deep, upon the subject of religion. There 
 are those who have their hours of thou^htfulness, 
 their sincere and honest convictions, their half- 
 formed, secretly cherished, sometimes almost ex- 
 pressed purposes of a change. There is this pecu- 
 liarity about such a state of mind that the things of 
 
•> 
 
 244 THE DAY OF GRACE. 
 
 religion have an aspect of vividness and reality. 
 Its subjects are not satisfied with what they are ; 
 they cannot reconcile their position in a religious 
 point of view with their intelligent convictions of 
 duty or safety. Such facts, and others kindred to 
 them, can no otherwise be explained than upon the 
 supposition that God, in the instructive and recov- 
 ering influences of his grace, is very near. I doubt 
 not that he often thus acts upon and tests men 
 when others know nothing about it, and they 
 themselves hardly suspect the true nature and ten- 
 dency of their mental movements. Now, I meet a 
 man in such a state, and interpret his experiences. 
 God is trying him — it is his day of grace and 
 hope. I know not what he will do under the spi- 
 ritual pressure which rests upon his mind. But I 
 would have him feel how much hangs upon his 
 action. He will do something ; he will pass through 
 some processes of thought, through some mental 
 changes. He is now doing so ; and these processes 
 of thought, and these mental changes, will tell ; tell 
 certainly, tell effectively ; tell, perhaps, decisively 
 upon the question of his final, permanent spiritual 
 condition. He is shaping his course at this very 
 moment for a world of sorrow, or a world of joy. 
 Such a man, in such a state, hardly needs to be 
 taught ; he is taught already. He does not need to 
 be moved ; he is moved already. He is in his con- 
 sciousness a living witness to himself, and in his 
 words and actions a demonstration to others of the 
 reality and power of spiritual influences. It is a 
 day of grace with him ; a day of hope ; and yet a 
 
THE DAY OF GKACE. 245 
 
 day of peril ; many a one has passed through it 
 unchanged ; and in doing so has put away from 
 him the words of everlasting life ; and, thereafter, a 
 deep insensibility has fallen upon his spirit, and a 
 thick darkness has settled upon his prospects. The 
 Bible to him, in its promises and warnings, has been 
 a sealed book, an unmeaning book, a powerless 
 book. Every message of mercy has fallen upon a 
 stupified conscience, and an indurated heart. Every 
 step which he has taken has been onward to a cer- 
 tain, dreadful catastrophe ; and at last he stands, 
 the hero of many victories achieved by " the lust 
 of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of 
 life," over the influences of the truth and the mani- 
 festations of the Spirit, unshaken and unaffected ; 
 until he is awakened, at last, to find that " the har- 
 vest is past, and the summer ended, and he is not 
 saved." 
 
 I do not know, my brethren, of a more painful 
 spectacle than that of a man, who, having 
 advanced far in his earthly career, confessedly 
 without confidence and hope in God, is yet a sub- 
 ject of spiritual indifference. You will find him 
 wrapped up in a garment of self-satisfaction, per- 
 fectly impenetrable — he does not need to be 
 taught — he will not be taught in spiritual things 
 — he may be very much obliged by the well- 
 meant but mistaken interference of others who 
 would endeavor to enlighten him, but he does not 
 wish to be troubled. His path is beset by danger, 
 but he does not see it — there are pitfalls before 
 him, but his prejudice covers them — it is darkness 
 
246 THE DAY OF GRACE. 
 
 all around him, deep, moral, midnight ; but his vain 
 arguments and false confidences are like meteors, 
 which, filling the horizon and colouring the sky, 
 make his midnight seem like the blushing of the 
 morning — and there he is, passive and unconcern- 
 ed, waiting till the grave opens to receive him, 
 and destruction to engulph him. Some men 
 wonder how any one can reach such a state. It is 
 a painful state, but there is nothing mysterious 
 about it. This is the secret of it — the man has 
 sinned away his day of grace, and God has left 
 him. 
 
 And if there be a man here to-day, of thought- 
 ful mind and awakened conscience — if there be one 
 to whom religious truth is invested with interest 
 ■ — who feels dissatisfied with his present spiritual 
 position, and is convinced of the necessity of a 
 change, I would remind him, that this blinded, and 
 infatuated, and morally speaking, sepulchred man, 
 whose picture we have just drawn, once had his 
 day of grace — once passed through the very pro- 
 cesses of thought and feeling which now belong to 
 himself— he was once just like you. Oh, see to it 
 that you do not, by postponing the subject of reli- 
 gion, become just like him. 
 
 My thoughtful, my convinced hearer, bear with 
 my appeal. You have your clay of grace ; and 
 now I press upon your attention, the mighty theme 
 of an interest in Jesus Christ. Oh ! " that you 
 knew, at least, in this thy day, the things which 
 belong unto your peace" ! There is an hour coming, 
 when, sympathising with your speaker in the views 
 
THE DAY OF GEACE. 247 
 
 he has taken, you will no more wonder at his ear- 
 nestness and importunity. There is an hour coming, 
 when the door of hope will be shut, and the convic- 
 tion will be clear and irresistible, that it never again 
 can be opened. Then will the views of men con- 
 cerning their day of grace be vastly changed. 
 Then the scenes through which they have passed 
 will rise up to the view unobstructed by any of the 
 delusions of sense, and unperverted in their fea- 
 tures by any of the sophistries of a deceitful heart. 
 The time when God was near, and waited to bless, 
 will be seen to have had a meaning and a precious- 
 ness which do not now belong to it ; and as me- 
 mory runs back along the line of one's history, 
 every day of promise will be seen. The season of 
 youth, with all its susceptibility and tenderness, and 
 quickness of feeling, the hour when in the sanc- 
 tuary God drew near unto the soul, and the wake- 
 fulness and reproofs of conscience demonstrated 
 the presence and power of his spirit ; the dealings 
 of Providence, which brought eternal realities 
 home to his mind, all seen as gone, gone unim- 
 proved, will all be to him, not more proofs of his 
 certain ruin, than evidences of the doctrine that he 
 might have been saved, had he but known in his 
 day of grace the things which belonged to his 
 peace. My brethren, that hour is coming ; this 
 day of grace is rapidly passing away. This Sab- 
 bath, this argument, this message takes so much 
 away from the opportunities which God has 
 afforded, while he still waits to be gracious, and 
 his message is one of invitation. While his Spirit 
 
248 THE DAY OF GRACE. 
 
 yet moves in his quickening influences over those 
 hearts, while the door of life is yet open, while con- 
 science approves the claims of the truth, and the 
 mind is accessible to the persuasive arguments of 
 the cross ; ere the sensibilities "become callous, and 
 a sinful world has obtained the mastery, oh ! heed 
 the appeal, which the lamentation of the Saviour 
 ministers with so much power. He wept over Jeru- 
 salem because her inhabitants knew not the time 
 of their visitation ; and if after having poured out 
 his soul unto death, and brought to you an offer of 
 mercy, and plied you with so many and such ten- 
 der and forceful entreaties, he should be compelled 
 to weep over your infatuated resistance, those tears, 
 believe me, will be scalding drops, the torture of 
 which the human spirit can never bear. Oh ! " that 
 you knew, in this your day, the things which be- 
 long unto your peace." 
 
THE NATURE OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 " Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a 
 curse for us."— Galatians iii. 13. 
 
 The necessity of some wonderful expedient to 
 restore friendship between God and his alienated 
 creatures ; of some ground or reason of forgiveness 
 out of, and independent of man himself, has not been 
 more clearly taught by all just views of the character 
 and government of our Maker, than fully demonstra- 
 ted by the irrepressible convictions of every human 
 bosom. " Wherewithal shall I come before my Ma- 
 ker V' and " how shall man be just with God }" are 
 questions, which have tried, and agitated, and palsied 
 the mind in every age of the world. The human 
 intellect has felt its own littleness when it has 
 attempted to grapple with them, and no human sa- 
 gacity or invention has availed to furnish of them 
 any thing like a competent solution. The light 
 manner in which some men treat these questions, 
 and the unseemly and really flippant air with which 
 they speak of the ease of forgiveness, and conse- 
 quently of the scruples and anxieties of others, are 
 due to a want of moral sensibility, which makes 
 
250 NATUEE OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 sin a very trifling matter in their estimation, and to 
 an ignorance of God, which blinds them to the 
 unsullied and necessary holiness of his character. 
 If the wisest and purest of heathen sages, one who 
 from many of his disclosures, seems to have caught 
 a glimpse of light from other sources than nature's 
 revelations, yet could never perfectly satisfy him- 
 self as to the possibility of forgiveness, if notwith- 
 standing all his reasonings, doubt preponderated 
 over faith, and fear over hope, surely it cannot be 
 a trifling question, nor one to be disposed of so ea- 
 sily and summarily as some men suppose. An 
 awakened conscience will start difficulties, of which 
 spiritual insensibility never dreams ; and an intelli- 
 gent conviction of sin will render ineffective all 
 the efforts of human wisdom to remove them. The 
 human mind never yet has found a rational and sat- 
 isfactory peace, save in the light which the revela- 
 tion of God has thrown upon the problem of for- 
 giveness. Conscience has served only to start the 
 question, but not to furnish the answer. It lifts 
 an accusing voice, and heralds a coming storm, 
 and there it leaves its subject without furnishing 
 him with a justifying plea, or directing him to a 
 covert from the tempest whose approach it an- 
 nounces. Eeason ransacks the analogies of nature, 
 but finds nothing which furnishes any help for the 
 mastery of this wondrous problem. The works of 
 God are full of evidences of order, magnificence 
 and bounty, but among them all not a trace of par- 
 don can be found. 
 
 The only light which has ever broken in upon 
 
NATUEE OF THE ATONEMENT. 251 
 
 this darkness, and banished those forms of horror 
 which walk around us in the gloom, comes from 
 this book of God. " The word made flesh," is the 
 revealed solution of the difficulty. u Christ and 
 Christ crucified,' 1 is the' only source of peace and 
 hope to the distracted and despairing spirit. With 
 the simple narrative of the gospel we are all fami- 
 liar. It is the story of the Son of God, clothed in 
 our nature, tabernacling in the world. It ?s the 
 tale of his life of suffering and his death of agony. 
 It is human nature, illustrating by a course of un- 
 swerving obedience, and spotless innocence, the 
 excellence, and so magnifying the righteousness of 
 the broken law. It is the picture of " a man of 
 sorrows and acquainted with grief." It carries us 
 with, him every step of a painful pilgrimage. It 
 shews him to us as he struggles in the garden with 
 his anticipations of coming woe, as he agonizes on 
 the cross, carrying on there a mysterious conflict, 
 and enduring an incomprehensible anguish, and 
 expiring amid throes of convulsive pain with which 
 all nature sympathized. We feel, while we read 
 the tale, that we are communing with a singular 
 being ; singular in the constitution of his person as 
 harmonizing and embracing the divine and the 
 human ; singular in all his experience, singular in 
 his conflicts, and singular in his death ; and while 
 we study the exhibition, we are told that in view 
 of it God can be just, and yet forgive ; that on the 
 ground of the doing and the suffering of Jesus 
 Christ, pardon, full and free, may be extended to 
 sin, to any sin, to all sin. This is the simple nar- 
 
252 NATTJKE OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 rative, the answer which the Bible gives to the 
 question, " Can a man be just with God f 
 
 If we have thus before us the fact, we may well 
 summon to it our most interested attention. How 
 many inquiries at once start up in the mind in 
 view of it. He can hardly be said to think, who 
 has never asked himself, how do the sufferings of 
 Christ constitute a ground of pardon, or what is 
 the great principle of atonement? Does the 
 sacrifice of Christ meet the sinner's case, honoring 
 God, and satisfying the human mind? Is the 
 scheme throughout consistent with itself, and so 
 completely free from difficulties as not only, to war- 
 rant, but to demand a rational faith ? To the sub- 
 stance of these questions, involving, as they do, the 
 nature, reality, and reasonableness of atonement, 
 our thoughts shall be for a few moments directed. 
 
 And here, I am well aware, my brethren, that 
 we are treading upon what, to some minds, seems to 
 be very uncertain ground. It has been distinctly 
 avowed, and that upon high authority, that the 
 nature of the atonement, or how the sufferings of 
 Jesus Christ can be a ground of pardon, is absolute- 
 ly incomprehensible. We know it is said, merely, 
 that God, for Christ's sake, does forgive sin — but 
 why or how he can consistently do so, are questions 
 about which we can merely speculate, without the 
 possibility of arriving at certain truth. If this is 
 so, then the very thing which it is the purpose of 
 Christ's propitiation to declare, is as much a mys- 
 tery now as ever' — then, though we may be 
 assured that the atonement meets all the diffi- 
 
NATUBE OF THE ATONEMENT. 258 
 
 culties growing out of the government of God y 
 we cannot tell whether it meets all the difficulties 
 originating in the mind of man. It cannot, there- 
 fore, be the subject of a rational faith, nor the 
 source of a settled, unwavering peace. I grant you 
 that there are some things connected with the 
 atonement, which, to us, in our present state, are 
 incomprehensible. We cannot unravel the mys- 
 teries of our Saviour's person, nor fathom the 
 depths of his anguish, nor analyze perfectly the 
 character of his experience ; but the relation of his 
 sufferings to our forgiveness, as its procuring cause, 
 the manner in w r hich they become available 
 to such a result, seems to me to involve some 
 of the first principles of the doctrines of Christ- 
 principles radical in the system of revealed truth, 
 without an apprehension of which the Bible is a 
 sealed book, and the whole plan of redemption is 
 an inexplicable and unprofitable, and even an 
 embarrassing mystery. If we are at a loss here, we 
 are at a loss every where. If we do not understand 
 these first principles, we do not understand the 
 spirit, the essence, the very life of the gospel. 
 
 The necessity of atonement (as we have already 
 seen) grows out of the nature of God, and the 
 nature of man— out of the nature of God, whose 
 righteousness seems to demand the punishment of 
 sin — out of the nature of man, whose feelings 
 seem to demand a reparation of the past, and a 
 preventive to the future evil of his sinfulness, in 
 order that he may have perfect peace. Now, it 
 strikes me as assuming the very point in dispute to 
 
254 NATUEE OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 say, that justice or righteousness necessarily de- 
 mands the literal infliction of the threatened 
 penalty, the strict and unfailing punishment of the 
 transgressor. If it is so, in reality, that every man 
 must receive the punishment he has merited, in 
 order that justice may be kept unsullied, then there 
 can be no forgiveness ; and every man who admits 
 that there is forgiveness, admits that justice does 
 not necessarily require a literal punishment, and 
 that it is perfectly consistent with treating men 
 differently from their deserts. 
 
 I doubt not, my brethren, that not a little of the 
 indistinctness which marks men's views upon this 
 subject, arises from a want of discrimination — dis- 
 crimination, I mean, between the ends of justice 
 and the modes by which those ends are to be 
 secured. The grand end is one thing, and the pri- 
 mary and essential thing, the method of securing 
 that end, is another thing, and comparatively 
 speaking, unessential and unimportant. Now, sure- 
 ly, I need not say to my hearers that the punish- 
 ment of crime is not the end of justice — it is but 
 means to an end itself, in the maintenance of the 
 authority of the law-giver — the manifestation of 
 the majesty of the law — the preserving unweaken- 
 ed the securities of righteousness. "Wherever, and 
 hj whatever means, rights are preserved untouch- 
 ed and interests unimpaired, the great ends of 
 justice are secured. The penalty attached to the 
 law, and the infliction of it, in case of transgres- 
 sion, are the means through which justice is to 
 attain its ends. But can we undertake to say that 
 
KATTTEE OE THE ATOXE3IEXT. 255 
 
 they are the only supposable means ? If, indeed, 
 these results can be reached in no other way than 
 the literal punishment of sin, then, indeed, is the 
 infliction of penalty essential to justice — but if we 
 take this ground, then we again beg the question, 
 and pronounce beforehand forgiveness on the part 
 of God, to be impossible, because inconsistent with 
 his character, as a just God, and an upright, moral 
 governor. 
 
 It is, however, by no means an extravagant sup- 
 position, that cases may occur under any adminis- 
 tration, where the infliction of punishment upon a 
 criminal may not be necessary to answer the ends 
 of justice. A wise parent, for example, may see in 
 the case of a disobedient child, that the great ob- 
 ject of parental oversight, the welfare and order of 
 his family, may be perfectly attained, without in- 
 flicting the punishment which had been threatened 
 to the disobedience in question. In such a case 
 the inquiry arises, do the claims of justice impera- 
 tively demand a strict and literal adherence to the 
 threatened penalty ? Has wisdom nothing to say 
 in this matter ? Does benevolence put in here no 
 claims which must be heard ? It is but an artful 
 evasion to say, that there can be no goodness, no 
 wisdom, contrary to justice ; whatever is right, 
 must be wise and good. True, but if there can be 
 wisdom and goodness without any conflict with 
 justice, who will stand in the way of their mani- 
 festation ? The great end of government is order, 
 and suffering in case of crime, only where it is 
 essential to order. It never seeks or inflicts suffer- 
 
256 NATURE OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 ing for its own sake, "but in view of some good 
 results which are to flow from it; and if those 
 results can be secured, w r kile at the same time the 
 amount of suffering necessary may be diminished, 
 where is the injury ? Goodness accomplishes its 
 purpose, and justice is satisfied because its ends are 
 attained. The case is a much stronger one, where 
 the ends of justice can be better secured without, 
 than with the literal infliction of the penalty. If I, 
 as a parent, can discover any way in which I can 
 better secure the welfare of my family, and exhibit 
 the uprightness of my character, than by the literal 
 punishment of disobedience, surely in the adoption 
 of that method, while I exhibit my wisdom and my 
 benevolence, I do at the same time show myself 
 more regardful even of justice, than I should do 
 were I to decline the adoption of such an expe- 
 dient. Nay, in the latter case I could not, I im- 
 agine, escape the charge of vindictiveness, a dis- 
 position to inflict punishment for punishment's 
 sake, irrespective of the ends to be secured by it, 
 when I refuse to adopt a method by which the 
 suffering might be spared, while at the same time 
 the object of that suffering could be much more 
 certainly and easily attained. 
 
 These principles, it strikes me, are unquestiona- 
 ble, and they commend themselves to the common 
 sense of every thoughtful mind ; and these, I ima- 
 gine, are the principles upon which the doctrine of 
 atonement proceeds, and which serve most clearly 
 to illustrate its nature. We do not indeed sup- 
 pose that any transaction has ever taken place 
 
NATURE OF THE ATONEMENT. 257 
 
 among men which, in every respect is a parallel to 
 the sacrificial offering of Jesus Christ ; and there 
 are no analogies in any of God's procedures with 
 which we can compare it ; it is a procedure per- 
 fectly unique in its nature, without parallels and 
 without analogies ; and yet there are many things 
 which, when closely examined, furnish us with a key 
 by which to unlock its mysteries, and introduce us 
 to an acquaintance with their meaning. 
 
 Now, when we look at the revelations of the 
 Bible upon this subject, we find a being, called the 
 Son of God, presenting exhibitions which shew him 
 to be more than human, and yet clad in the vest- 
 ments, and wearing all the sinless attributes of 
 humanity; we find him going through an expe- 
 rience of shame, suffering, and death. The untold 
 agony which convulsed his frame, and the deep 
 anguish which preyed upon his spirit, invest the 
 scene with an air of mystery. We feel that this 
 suffering must have some connection with sin. No 
 man can read the record of the garden scene, or 
 the scene upon the cross ; can trace the evidences 
 of mental anguish which there present themselves, 
 anguish over and above, and entirely different in 
 its nature from that which was connected with the 
 external circumstances of the sufferer, without be- 
 ing compelled to bring, in some shape or form, sin 
 as the only exponent of the scene. The Bible tells 
 us that for " others' guilt the man of sorrows wept 
 in blood." It gives the detail of his experience, 
 and as we read it, it adds, he " was made a curse 
 for us ;" he " bore our sins in his own body on the 
 17 
 
258 
 
 NATUKE OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 •tree." " God hath set him forth as a propitiation to 
 declare his righteousness in the forgiveness of sin." 
 The doctrine of atonement, as I gather it from the 
 inspired testimony, is this : that God has substi- 
 tuted the sufferings of his Son in place of the pun- 
 ishment of the guilty ; and that those sufferings an- 
 swering the great ends of justice which the threat- 
 ened penalty contemplated, constitute a good valid 
 reason for the remission of the penalty itself. This 
 is the way in which the atonement becomes avail- 
 able as a ground of forgiveness. We are forgiven, 
 if we know any thing of forgiveness, only because 
 the sufferings of Christ have come in the place of 
 the punishment due to our sins, as answering the 
 end of our punishment equally well and much 
 better. 
 
 He who underwent that great travail of his soul, 
 clothed himself with our nature, and became one 
 with us, not simply that he might become capable 
 of suffering, but that he might identify himself 
 with the nature of sinful man ; that the same 
 nature which had sinned might suffer ; and that the 
 relation between his sufferings, and our forgive- 
 ness, might be at once and clearly perceived. And 
 as we look at the whole subject, can we doubt for 
 a moment, that his sufferings answered the great 
 ends of justice, and preserved unsullied in its glory, 
 and unimpaired in its sanctions, the law which had 
 been broken, and which they were designed to sus- 
 tain \ The infinite dignity of his person, gave an 
 infinite value to his work. The higher and nobler 
 the subject upon whom, in case of transgression, the 
 
NATUEE OF THE ATONEMENT. 259 
 
 law takes its course, the more impressive the lesson 
 taught of its majesty, and the mightier the enforce- 
 ment given to its sanctions. And if the Son of 
 God, notwithstanding the excellence and dignity of 
 his person and station, was not spared that bitter 
 cup of suffering, when he consented to assume the 
 legal responsibilities of the transgressor, what an 
 effective lesson is taught us of that sternness which 
 belongs to the righteousness of the eternal throne, 
 and of the certainty that sin shall receive its just 
 award ? Take any view of penalty you please, and 
 see if its ends are not better answered upon the 
 cross. "What lesson does it teach, which is not bet- 
 ter taught — what warning does it utter which 
 is not more distinctly heard — what security for 
 order and righteousness is gathered from it which 
 is not better gathered from the cross ? Every thing 
 which punishment, in its own nature, as a mere 
 sanction of law, involves, is involved in the great 
 sacrificial offering of Jesus Christ — and more — for 
 punishment, strictly speaking, has no remedial 
 influence about it. Penalty contemplates not so 
 much the good of the offender, as the good of the 
 community or state whose rights he has outraged 
 and whose interests he has sacrificed. The atone- 
 ment of Jesus Christ contemplates both. By one 
 and the same means, it upholds and illustrates the 
 righteousness of God, and reforms and renews the 
 guilty. It constitutes the mightiest, nay the only 
 power which can be brought to bear upon the' 
 alienated heart, and recover it to the love and ser- 
 vice of its rightful Sovereign ; and thus it gives to 
 
260 
 
 NATTTKE OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 justice all its claims, and affords goodness free scope 
 for its exercise ; makes kindness to the sinner con- 
 sistent with righteousness — blends mercy and truth, 
 good will and justice together, shewing to every 
 intelligent being, how God can be just and yet 
 justify the sinner. And if this is so, what difficulty 
 can there be in clearly comprehending the doctrine 
 of atonement, when it amounts simply to this: 
 the sufferings of Christ are substituted in the place 
 of my punishment, and thus secure my forgive- 
 ness, while they answer a much better end, and 
 teach far more impressively all the lessons of 
 penalty, than my punishment could in any circum- 
 stance possibly have done. 
 
 To sustain this view of atonement, I know we 
 must consider the sufferings of Christ as strictly 
 vicarious — to be available to me as a sinner, those 
 sufferings must come in the place of my punish- 
 ment. I can, upon no other principle, understand 
 the doctrine of atonement ; and if I greatly mis- 
 take not the spirit of the Bible, this idea pervades 
 and gives meaning to all its teachings. The very 
 terms which it uses to describe the Redeemer's 
 work, are borrowed from sacrificial offerings, every 
 one of which in its own nature implies a transfer 
 of some kind from the person sacrificing to the 
 victim sacrificed. The whole Jewish ritual, which 
 derived its meaning and importance and value 
 from a Redeemer's atonement, which was, in fact, 
 but a shadow of good things to come, is full of the 
 same idea — and when you see, under that ritual, 
 the offender bringing his victim to the altar — when 
 
NATUEE OF THE ATONEMENT. 261 
 
 you see the high priest, on the great day of expia- 
 tion, confessing the sins of the whole congregation 
 over the head of the scape goat, it would be mar- 
 vellously strange, if, when we come to the suffer- 
 ings of Christ, which they were intended to typify, 
 we should find nothing at all to correspond with 
 the essential idea of the type. "We confess to our 
 fixed, settled conviction on this point, that if you 
 take away from the sacrifice of Christ the idea of 
 a strict substitution, and convert it into a mere 
 instructive or declarative lesson, you take away 
 that which constitutes the very nature of atone- 
 ment, and render the whole story of our Eedeem- 
 er's passion a tale of inexplicable mystery. With- 
 out this idea, the Bible, to my mind, is a sealed 
 book. I may open its pages and read, but upon 
 every leaf there rest " shadows, clouds, and dark- 
 ness," which conceal the meaning of every one of 
 its passages from my view. 
 
 And yet, while I stand so strongly by the vica- 
 riousness of Christ's sacrifice, as an essential truth 
 of revelation, I am not to be considered as inti- 
 mating that there is any thing like a transfer of 
 personal character or desert from the guilty to 
 their surety. We do not require to be told that 
 sin and righteousness are moral and personal qual- 
 ities and acts, and therefore cannot be transferred 
 — we know it. The beings for whom Christ suf- 
 fered, are none the less sinners because Christ 
 suffered for them, nor was Christ the less innocent 
 because he " bare their sins in his own body on the 
 tree ;" andjret, while we agree to the moral inipos- 
 

 262 NATUEE OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 sibility of transferring moral qualities or acts, we 
 see no such impossibility in transferring their legal 
 connections. Such a principle is common in the 
 administration of God — to a certain extent, it is 
 common in the transactions of human govern- 
 ments; and, while we see children suffering every 
 day for the sins of their forefathers, in which they 
 had no agency ; while men suffer for the mistakes, 
 the faults, the sins of their rulers and representa- 
 tives, which they themselves abhor and disavow, it 
 is idle for any one to say that it is absurd to sup- 
 pose that Christ could assume the liabilities of the 
 guilty, and so "suffer the just for the unjust. 1 ' 
 
 Nor do we mean that the vicariousness of Christ's 
 sacrifice implies that the threatened penalty of the 
 law was literally inflicted upon him, and that he 
 suffered in kind and amount precisely what all men 
 would have suffered had he not offered his atone- 
 ment. Such a notion, constituting as it does the 
 only idea which some men have of atonement, is, to 
 say the least of it, exceedingly crude ; and when 
 examined is seen to be wholly untenable. In the 
 very nature of things penalty inflicted upon the 
 personally guilty must be different from the suffer- 
 ing for sin endured by one who is personally inno- 
 cent. If I choose to step in between an offender 
 and a violated statute to screen him from punish- 
 ment by suffering in his place that which will honour 
 and sustain the law, it is perfectly absurd to say that 
 my experience must be precisely the same with the 
 experience of the offender, as it would have been 
 had he endured the threatened penalty ; the ab- 
 
NATURE OF THE ATONEMENT. 263 
 
 sence, in the one case, and the presence in the other 
 case of all sense of personal sinfulness and desert 
 of punishment, must essentially alter the expe- 
 rience. The sufferings of the Redeemer, therefore, 
 could not possibly have been what the penalty of 
 the law would have been had it been literally in- 
 flicted on the personal offenders. 
 
 The idea, moreover, that the atonement of Christ 
 consisted in his suffering what those for whom he 
 atoned deserved to suffer, is, in my apprehension, 
 a contradiction of the very nature of atonement. 
 Its source is goodness, as its design is to diminish 
 the amount of suffering resulting from sin ; and its 
 wisdom is apparent from the fact, that it secures 
 the great ends of the divine government at a less 
 expense than the literal infliction of the penalty 
 upon all offenders. But if Christ suffered in kind 
 and amount precisely what all the redeemed 
 would have suffered, what is gained ? where is the 
 goodness, where is the wisdom of God's wondrous 
 plan of mercy ? There is just as much suffering 
 with the atonement as there would have been 
 without it ; and nothing, absolutely nothing is 
 gained by this wondrous expedient, which fills all 
 heaven with astonishment, which is to give its 
 greatest glory and brightness to a world of light, 
 and pour its richness and sweetness into its eternal 
 song, but a simple transfer of punishment from the 
 guilty to the innocent. "We have no such idea of 
 atonement. The sufferings of the Redeemer were 
 indeed vicarious, strictly so, inasmuch as he stood 
 in the place of man when he suffered — putting his 
 
<ll 
 
 264 NATUKE OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 endurances in the place of human punishment, en- 
 durances which deriving their value from the dig- 
 nity of the sufferer, were a full equivalent for the 
 punishment remitted, and served amply to com- 
 pensate for the absence of its infliction. 
 
 I am perfectly aware, my brethren, that notwith- 
 standing all these explanations, we may "be told 
 that we do not meet the real difficulty of the case, 
 which grows out of the fact, that the doctrine of 
 atonement still supposes, after all, a substitution of 
 the innocent for the guilty, an exaction from one 
 who never sinned of that which justice could claim 
 from the transgressor alone ; and there are not a 
 few who think that such a substitution is wholly 
 inconsistent with the principles of an upright ad- 
 ministration ; it supposes, we are told, God doing 
 that which is unjust, in order to maintain justice. 
 
 And yet I cannot possibly see the difficulty, 
 because I find the principle of the atonement, that 
 of substitution, interwoven in the very texture of the 
 human mind, and in all the operations of human 
 society. Yes, this doctrine of men's being bene- 
 fitted or injured by the acts of others, in which 
 they took no part, is the very soul of the social 
 system, the life-spring of intercourse among men, 
 and the affairs of the world could not move on one 
 step without it. We find the same principle per- 
 vading the administration of God ; and while chil- 
 dren suffer for the wickedness, or are blessed for 
 the righteousness of their forefathers ; while God 
 pours out the vials of his wrath upon the posterity 
 of those who betrayed his truth, and shed the 
 
NATUEE OF THE ATOXEMEIsT. 265 
 
 blood of his people ; while we read that " in Adam 
 all die," and see thousands of Adam's children, be- 
 fore they can distinguish between their right hand 
 and their left, writhing in agony, and sinking into 
 death, in consequence of his transgression, in which 
 they took no part, we have facts to prove that 
 substitution is not inconsistent with God's adminis- 
 tration, and that upon the very same principle upon 
 which men die in Adam, they may be made alive in 
 Christ. 
 
 Now, to apply this principle to the case in hand, 
 If there is any injustice in the substitution of 
 Christ, it must be injustice to the person who is 
 forgiven, or injustice to Christ who suffered, or in- 
 justice to the interests of God's kingdom, which 
 demanded the punishment of the offender. If the 
 sinner is not injured, and Christ is not injured, and 
 the kingdom of God is not injured, where is the 
 injustice ? In all earthly administration, a magis- 
 trate may do wrong in allowing a substitute to 
 take the place of a murderer ; that substitute may 
 have no right to lay down his life, and the com- 
 munity might justly complain that a valuable 
 member of society had been withdrawn in place of 
 a worthless one, and that thus the securities of its 
 interests were diminished rather than increased. 
 But in the case of the atonement, Christ had a 
 right over his own life, and voluntarily gave it for 
 the life of men. Had it been otherwise, then the 
 substitution would have been inadmissible. We 
 admit, moreover, that any substitution, which 
 would have told out in less impressive and over- 
 
266 NATUBE OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 coming tones, than the punishment of the trans- 
 gressors would have done, thenature and conse- 
 quences of sin, would have been inconsistent with 
 God's character, and unjust, because injurious to 
 the well-being of God's kingdom. But who can 
 make such a supposition concerning the arrange- 
 ment by virtue of which Christ " bare our sins in 
 his own body on the tree" ? Who will say that 
 the majesty of law was less rigorously asserted, 
 when he who was " in the beginning with God," 
 sunk under his woes, than it would have been, had 
 the whole population of the globe been ground to 
 powder under the weight of divine indignation ? 
 Who will venture on the bold statement, that as 
 piercing a voice would have gone out through the 
 peopled immensity from the wailing cry of the lost 
 children of our race, given up hopelessly to the 
 penalties of their transgression, as now issues from 
 the cross on which Christ was bruised by the 
 Father, that he might reconcile man unto himself ? 
 So far from there being any room for such a sup- 
 position, if there is any thing which can make a 
 man fear to sin, it is the atonement, in its myste- 
 rious awfulness. There is a power in the scenes of 
 Gethsemane and Calvary, which could not be sur- 
 I D passed or equalled, if we had present before us all 
 
 • the torments of all the lost. The overwhelming 
 
 thing about the atonement is that " God spared 
 not his own Son." A substituted angel would 
 have made sin appear " exceeding sinful ;" but 
 when we go beyond the angel, and have before us 
 the substitute, incomprehensible indeed, yet con- 
 
NATUBE OF THE ATONEMENT. 267 
 
 fessedly " the brightness of his Father's glory, and 
 the express image of his person ;" when we find 
 that his dignity is no shield against suffering, but 
 that he is reckoned with rigidly and unflinchingly, 
 so that the poison of death for a time overcomes 
 him, oh ! then there is set in array before us, such 
 an exhibition of God's thoughts of sin, and deter- 
 mination to punish it, as leaves far behind the 
 highest picture which the imagination can sketch, 
 of the whole earth visited with the extreme of di- 
 vine indignation. If thus there is no injury done 
 to the securities of righteousness, which indeed are 
 strengthened ; if there is no injury done to Christ, 
 who voluntarily became our surety ; if no injury is 
 done to us, who receive redemption through his 
 blood, where is the injustice of that atonement 
 which was wrought out by Christ's redeeming us 
 from the curse of the law, as he became a curse for 
 us ? 
 
 This, my brethren, is the view of the nature of 
 Christ's sacrificial offering, and its vindication, 
 which I would desire to commend to your rational 
 faith. And I am the more earnest in insisting 
 upon clear views here, because I apprehend many 
 have little or no distinct notion of atonement, and 
 therefore are so easily carried about by every wind 
 of doctrine. If we could but incorporate these 
 views among men's elements of thought, we should 
 be satisfied ; we should fear neither the inroads of 
 heresy on the one hand, "nor the baneful influences 
 of mere formalism on the other. Study the atone- 
 ment, gain clear and discriminating views of the 
 
268 NATTTKE OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 work of the Redeemer, and we know you will stand 
 firmly by every essential principle of evangelical 
 truth. Be loose, or wrong in your notions here, 
 and in reference to no one point of religious truth 
 can you have clear or correct apprehensions. 
 
 I insist upon clear views here, because without 
 them, we cannot feel the power of the gospel. It 
 is not the simple proffer of forgiveness, which gives 
 to the gospel message such a penetrating and affect- 
 ing character, but it is the awful, fearful, wonderful 
 fact, upon which that offer is based. When we 
 listen to the proclamations of the gospel, if we 
 would feel their power, we must listen to them as 
 utterances from the cross. It is not enough that 
 there be laid before us a picture of man, brought 
 out from that condition in which sin had placed 
 him, and again brightening in the smile of his Ma- 
 ker. It is not enough, though it may waken in you 
 emotions of gladness and wonder, that you should 
 be addressed with the tidings of mercy, and that 
 the ambassadors of God should make proclamation 
 that pardon now requires only penitence. In that 
 picture, radiant though it be with the glorious and 
 the beautiful, there would be one spot hung with 
 thick clouds and darkness, but from this spot would 
 issue all the light which falls so beautifully and 
 transportingly on every other part. We need not 
 tell you, that this spot is Calvary — a spot on which, 
 indeed, the sun dared not shine, but which, never- 
 theless, is the centre of illumination, whence the 
 beams go forth to irradiate and give life to a world 
 in the darkness and horror of spiritual death. With 
 
 •II 
 
NATUEE OF THE ATONEMENT. 269 
 
 the gladdening proclamation of life, there should 
 always be made mention of the dreadful death 
 which secured it — the death, I need hardly tell you, 
 of that mysterious being, that " word made flesh," 
 who indeed yielded to the curse, but who by yield- 
 ing, abolished it, yea, converted it into a blessing. 
 If we would feel the power of the reconciliation, 
 we must understand the process by which it is 
 brought about. It can hardly fail to make us 
 listen with deeper interest to the offer of pardon, 
 and shun with greater fear the idea of neglecting 
 or resisting it. Christ, Christ in his deep, un- 
 known, mysterious agony in the garden ; Christ 
 bearing our sins in his own body on the tree. 
 Oh ! remember, when in the Master's name we 
 offer you forgiveness, it is the result of this untold 
 anguish, this immeasurable sacrifice. And if you 
 do, what a lesson does it teach you, not only of 
 your own sinfulness, which demanded such an offer- 
 ing, but of the love of God which provided it. 
 You cannot comprehend this thought without feel- 
 ing that " herein is love." You may trace love in 
 the arrangements of Providence, in the furniture 
 of the universe, in the operations of nature ; yet 
 you must fall back upon the cross as that which 
 transcends every other manifestation, and say, " here- 
 in is love." If it had not cost God much to redeem 
 us, if man might have been saved as man had been 
 created, by an act of will, by a word of mouth, 
 then, perhaps, we should not have been staggered 
 by the wonderfulness of the love. But when you 
 remember the obstacles to be surmounted ere the 
 
•(I 
 
 270 NATUKE OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 purpose could be reached, when you remember 
 that, unlike creation, redemption required an effort 
 on the part of God, (and, oh ! what an effort) you 
 cannot fail to be confounded by the love, and to 
 confess that of all mysterious, overpowering, sub- 
 duing truths, this is the most mysterious, overpow- 
 ering, subduing, and, at the same time, most encou- 
 raging. God gave his Son " to be the propitiation 
 for our sins ;" and when you go hence, take the 
 gospel, read the account of the sufferings of Christ. 
 Read it with true prayer to God that he would 
 take away the " heart of stone," and give you " a 
 heart of flesh ;" and we cannot but think that you 
 will know the gushings of a penitent and thankful 
 spirit, and feel a thrill of joy and hope at the an- 
 nouncement. " Christ has redeemed us from the 
 curse of the law, being made a curse for us." 
 
 • 
 
EXTENT OF TEE ATONEMENT 
 
 " And he is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but 
 also for the sins of the whole world,"— First Epistle of St. John, ii. 2. 
 
 The amplitude and all-sufficiency of God's pro- 
 vision for the lost, is a no less important article of 
 the Christian faith, than the fact itself, that such a 
 provision has been made. Every one must feel, the 
 moment the subject is laid before him clearly, that 
 the value of the atonement, to any one, is insepara- 
 ble from its sufficiency for all. To tell me in my 
 sorrows, under a sin-oppressed conscience, that pro- 
 vision is made for forgiveness, and yet to cast sus- 
 picion upon its fulness, is but- to awaken a hope, 
 the warrant of which is uncertain, because it leaves 
 me entirely in the dark upon the question, whether 
 that provision is within my reach. There is no- 
 thing here to relieve my straitened spirit, nothing 
 to authorize my confidence ; so far as all practical 
 effects are concerned, I am in very much the same 
 condition as before the announcement of pardon, 
 through the atonement, was made. Better not say 
 any thing of forgiveness of sin, if in the same 
 breath you must suggest^ a doubt as to the poss^ 
 
'•I 
 
 272 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 bility of my forgiveness. You do but make my 
 case the more wretched, as you awaken a hope only 
 for the purpose of destroying it. 
 
 The great question which throws its overwhelm- 
 ing burden upon the mind, in view of its spiritual 
 relations, is, after all, a personal question — it relates 
 to my own individual circumstances and hopes. 
 The value of the gospel, therefore, to me as a sin- 
 ner, grows out of the answer which it furnishes to 
 this question. The mere fact that God can forgive 
 sin, is nothing, except as it is brought home to my 
 own personal interests. The pages upon which 
 that fact is announced, may beam with the bright and 
 the beautiful, but if they do not bring home to me, 
 as an individual, this truth as a certainty, that God 
 can be just and forgive my sin, they have no bright- 
 ness and beauty for me ; they do but put me in the 
 condition of the famishing wretch, who is told of 
 abundance, but not that he may touch it, or the vic- 
 tim of some dreadful disease, who is told of a cer- 
 tain remedy, but not how he may reach it. 
 
 The question, then, as to the extent of the atone- 
 ment, is not a question, as some men would have us 
 believe, of mere speculative theology, but one of vast 
 practical interest. Every man can understand its 
 importance, if he will but observe how the whole 
 aspect of the gospel will vary ; how its power over 
 his own spirit will be increased or diminished, ac- 
 cording to the views which lie may take of this 
 single question ; and I cannot, therefore, think that 
 I am giving myself up to a useless task, or one 
 without its interest to all my hearers, when I under- 
 
EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 273 
 
 take to agitate, for the purpose of reaching a sat- 
 isfactory conclusion, the inquiry as to the extent of 
 the atonement of Jesus Christ. 
 
 I need not say to my hearers, that in taking up 
 this subject, we are entering upon disputed ground. 
 The Christian world here presents to us opposite 
 extremes of opinion, as well as diversities. If we 
 except, on the one hand, those who put a limitation 
 upon the intrinsic value of the Redeemer's sacrifice, 
 who by a kind of arithmetical process, estimate the 
 worth of atonement by the number of those whom 
 it actually saves ; and on the other hand, those who 
 infer universal salvation as a necessary consequence 
 from the atonement of Jesus Christ — extremes of 
 opinion held by comparatively few in the Chris- 
 tian church, and with neither of which we can sym- 
 pathize — the remaining discrepancies are, I appre- 
 hend, for the most part, the result rather of misap- 
 prehension, than of any opposition of view. It is 
 perfectly obvious, that the same object will strike 
 persons differently, as they look upon it from dif- 
 ferent points, and consider it in different relations ; 
 while if they look upon it in the same light, they are 
 perfectly harmonious in their views. So the man 
 who looks at the sacrifice of Christ, in view of 
 some secret purpose of God, and of the actual re- 
 sults which shall flow from it, becomes the stern 
 and unflinching advocate of limited atonement, 
 and seems to be directly at war with another, who, 
 looking at the intrinsic nature of the sacrifice of 
 Christ, and its adaptation to other and larger, and 
 more general results, becomes the no less stern and 
 18 
 
'• 
 
 274 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT, 
 
 unflinching advocate of unlimited atonement, while 
 in reality the difference of opinion between them 
 is not what at first sight it might appear to be. 
 
 In defining my own position, and stating what I 
 consider to be the scriptural truth upon the sub- 
 ject, I must be permitted to exhibit what I con- 
 sider to be the true state of the question, so as to 
 prevent all possibility of misconception. 
 
 There is, I apprehend, a distinction to be always 
 carefully maintained, between the work of atone- 
 ment and the work of redemption. The one does 
 not necessarily imply the other ; redemption in- 
 cludes atonement, but it includes more ; it includes 
 its actual results ; it is the application of the atone- 
 ment issuing in final and complete salvation. The 
 one, therefore, in its nature may be more exten- 
 sive than the other. An unredeemed sinner has 
 even now a deep interest in the atoning sacrifice of 
 Jesus Christ, and whether eventually lost or saved, 
 will feel that interest through the ages of his 
 deathless being. With this understanding, re- 
 demption certainly is not general; and to affirm 
 that it is limited is but stating the plainly revealed 
 fact, that all men will not be saved. 
 
 In the view which we take of the subject, more- 
 over, we separate the nature of the atonement from 
 any secret unrevealed purpose of the infinite mind 
 respecting its application. "We do not deny the 
 existence of such a purpose ; so far from it that we 
 cannot conceive of an intelligent, all-wise being 
 acting in any thiug without design, and we cannot, 
 without detracting from the honour and glory of 
 
EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 275 
 
 liini who is no less wise than holy in all his works, 
 suppose otherwise than that in this great plan, and 
 I may add effort of forgiving mercy, he had in 
 view some certain, specific results. We do not be- 
 lieve that the issue of the atonement is in the infi- 
 nite mind an open question. The results of a Ke- 
 deemer's work are not contingent results. They 
 are absolutely certain. It is fixed, ud alterably 
 fixed, that the Saviour is to be rewarded for his life 
 of toil and ignominy, and his death of shame and 
 agony. He is to " see of the travail of his soul and 
 to be satisfied ;" and a multitude greater than any 
 man can number, of those who " have washed their 
 robes, and made them white in the blood of the 
 Lamb," shall give grace and glory to his triumph. 
 But the ultimate design of the atonement as it 
 exists in the mind of God, is a very different thing 
 from the nature of the atonement itself, as it is 
 spread out before our view upon the pages of 
 revealed truth. The question before us is not, 
 what God intends to accomplish by virtue of the 
 sacrifice of Christ ; not how far the efficacy of that 
 sacrifice will in point of fact reach ; for upon these 
 questions God has thrown a veil of impenetrable 
 darkness ; but what is the great moral, revealed 
 purpose of the atonement; what is its intrinsic 
 value and sufficiency ; how far is it available in its 
 own nature to the salvation of men? Did God 
 mean to spread it over only a part, or the whole of 
 the race ? Are men, all men, as lost pinners, so in- 
 terested in the atoning death of Jesus Christ, that 
 they may, if they will, be saved by it ? This is the 
 
•■I 
 
 276 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 question, and we unhesitatingly take the affirma- 
 tive. Our position is, that through the sacrifice of 
 Christ, God can "be just, and yet forgive. Such is 
 the character of the atonement, that " it would com- 
 port with the glory of the divine character, the 
 sustentation of GocVs government, the obligation 
 and honour of his law, and the good of the rational 
 and moral system, to save all men, provided they 
 accepted of Christ." "Every legal bar and ob- 
 struction in the way of the salvation of all men is 
 removed."* Such is the nature and efficacy of the 
 atonement of the Son of God, that the relations not 
 merely of some men, but of the entire race, are 
 totally different from what they would have been, 
 had the Saviour never suffered and died ; different, 
 I mean, in this sense, that since this great atoning 
 sacrifice has been offered, God can upon the ground 
 of it consistently pardon the sins of all, and no- 
 thing now shuts a man out from forgiveness and 
 hope, but his own unwillingness to accept of the 
 offers of mercy made to him in the gospel. Such 
 is the view of the fulness of the atonement which 
 we desire to advocate, and which we would fain 
 commend to the intelligent faith of our hearers. 
 
 And in proceeding to the illustration of this 
 general view, I cannot but think that we have, at 
 least, strong presumptive proof of its correctness 
 in that characteristic of universality which marks 
 other of God's dispensations. All the laws by which 
 he governs the different systems are general in 
 their character, all his arrangements for our world 
 
 * Associate Reformed Synod's Report, p. 53. 
 
EXTENT OE THE ATONEMENT. 277 
 
 are made upon general principles. He has placed 
 his sun in the heavens to give light unto every 
 man who cometh into the world. He sendeth his 
 rain upon the entire surface of the earth. " He 
 causeth his sun to rise upon the evil and the good, 
 and his rains to descend upon the just and the un- 
 just." The same thing would be true though the 
 population of the world were increased a thousand 
 fold, and the earth's surface vastly enlarged. In 
 this case, we should need no other sun to lighten 
 the world, no other laws to regulate the earth's 
 productiveness under the refreshing showers of 
 heaven; and though half the population of the 
 world should Ibe smitten with blindness, still the 
 sun would shine as brightly as ever, and still it 
 would be true that it would enlighten the world, 
 and the rains fall upon the sterile earth and the 
 impervious rock as well as upon the thirsty fields 
 and the fertile soil. It is changing the question 
 entirely, and carrying the mind away to another 
 subject altogether, to say that God did not surely 
 mean, when he put his sun in the heavens, to give 
 light unto him who refused to ojoen his eyes ; or 
 when he sent his rain upon the earth, to fructify 
 the barren rock. "We would consider him a very 
 silly reasoner who should argue against the general 
 character of God's arrangements for the natural 
 system, from the fact that some men could not or 
 would not open their eyes ; and the fact that the 
 earth presented a surface as well of rock as of soil. 
 All we need to establish the general nature of his 
 provision, is, that the sun is designed to give light 
 
•II 
 
 278 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 to all who will open their eyes to behold it, and 
 the rain is designed to refresh and fructify the 
 earth wherever there is a capacity of production. 
 That man certainly does not understand God's 
 works, who imagines that if one now blind should 
 recover his sight, a new sun must be created, or the 
 light of the present sun must be increased ; or if a 
 single pebble upon the earth's surface should be 
 converted into soil, a new arrangement must be 
 made to meet the increased demand for moisture. 
 The light of the sun is enough for all ; the rains of 
 heaven are enough for all. And if a man does not 
 see the light, the reason is in himself and not in the 
 sun, or in any purpose of God respecting its nature 
 when he set the sun in the firmament ; and if the 
 surface of the earth is not fertile, the reason must 
 be in itself, not in the rain which descends upon it, 
 nor in any purpose of God which respects its 
 falling. 
 
 This illustration, which we have borrowed from 
 analogy, is perfectly simple and level to the com- 
 prehension of every one ; and so far as the argu- 
 ment from analogy goes, it demonstrates the gene- 
 ral character of Christ's atonement, and meets and 
 removes all the objections which are usually urged 
 against it. If, when we pass over the line which 
 separates the spiritual from the natural world, we 
 are arrested in our progress, and told that the two 
 are entirely distinct from each other, and therefore 
 the principles of the one do not and cannot furnish 
 us with any key to the interpretation of the prin- 
 ciples of the other, we cannot be considered unrea- 
 
EXTENT OF THE ATONEMEOT. 279 
 
 sonable, if we are not satisfied with a mere assump- 
 tion, and ask for some proof of the doctrine which. 
 is thus unceremoniously thrown in our pathway. 
 For ourselves, we believe that in the respects 
 already mentioned, the provisions of God in the 
 natural and spiritual worlds run perfectly parallel 
 with each other. The same characteristic of uni- 
 versality belongs to both, and the same difficulties 
 (if any) are found in both. And we question 
 whether a single objection to a general atonement 
 can be brought forward, which may not be urged 
 with equal force against plain and palpable facts. 
 
 Having cast our eye abroad over the arrange- 
 ments of nature, and observed the principles by 
 which they are all manifestly pervaded, we turn 
 now to the word of revelation, which unfolds God's 
 gracious arrangements for the spiritual world, that 
 we may see how far they sustain us in our supposi- 
 tion of the parallel between the dispensations of 
 nature and of grace. 
 
 And here you cannot fail to be struck, my 
 brethren, with the character of universality which 
 marks the terms in which the Bible speaks of the 
 sacrificial work of Jesus Christ. " God so loved 
 the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that 
 whosoever believeth in him might not perish, but 
 might have everlasting life." " Christ gave himself 
 a ransom for all." He is " the Lamb of God, who 
 taketh away the sin of the world." " He was 
 made a little lower than the angels, that he by the 
 grace of God should taste death for every man ;" 
 and " he is the propitiation for our sins, and not for 
 
'• 
 
 280 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world." 
 Language like this cannot well be mistaken. I 
 may add, it can have no meaning, if it does not 
 convey distinctly the idea, that every member of 
 our apostate race has a positive interest in the atone- 
 ment of Jesus Christ. 
 
 To a certain extent, this general thought is ad- 
 mitted, even by those who question the universality 
 of the atonement as a spiritual provision. It is not 
 denied that the arrangements of God, so far as 
 man's interests for time are concerned, are very es- 
 sentially modified by the mediation of Jesus Christ. 
 There is not a human being in our world, believer 
 or unbeliever, whose circumstances are not, at the 
 present moment, vastly different from what they 
 would have been, had the Redeemer never suffered 
 and died. This much, at least, has been effected 
 by his intervention, that the execution of the curse 
 has been staid, and men, though sinners, live 
 in a world of light and peace. The comforts of 
 men's earthly lot r the joys of their social condition, 
 and all the circumstances which make this a plea- 
 sant world, are the result of the grace which is in 
 Christ Jesus. The sinner farthest from God, may 
 learn his interest in the atonement, from the ar- 
 rangements of his earthly circumstances ; and the 
 veriest outcast of wickedness might be taught a 
 lesson of his obligation to redeeming love, by the 
 very forbearance of his insulted Maker, which that 
 love alone has secured. In this sense, then, and to 
 this extent certainly, all men have, without excep- 
 tion, an interest in the sacrifice of Christ, as there 
 
EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 281 
 
 is no man who does not enjoy some good as the 
 result of that sacrifice. 
 
 And why should it be otherwise, when we come 
 to look at the atonement as a spiritual provision ? 
 Why should not its nature be as extensive with 
 regard to man's eternal as to man's temporal inte- 
 rests ? If its primary reference is to the former, 
 why should its main be more restricted than its 
 incidental design ? But we come again to " the 
 word and the testimony," and there we read that 
 the gospel is " glad tidings of great joy which shall 
 be to all people ;" we are commanded to " preach 
 the gospel," as a system of forgiving mercy, " to 
 every creature." Our commission recognizes no 
 distinctions among those to whom we are sent ; our 
 message is a message for the world, for the whole 
 world, for every individual of this whole world's 
 population ; its language is, " Ho every one that 
 thirsteth, come unto the waters ; let him that 
 heareth say, come, and let him that is athirst come, 
 and whosoever will let him come, and take of the 
 water of life freely." 
 
 " Kivers of love and mercy here, 
 In a rich ocean join ; 
 Salvation in abundance flows 
 Like floods of milk and wine." 
 
 I confess, my brethren, I do not understand the 
 gospel, if this is not one of its cardinal doctrines ; 
 if the indiscriminate offer of Jesus Christ, and of 
 pardon and eternal life through him, is not made 
 to the race, and as truly and honestly and sincerely 
 
'• 
 
 282 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 made to one individual as another of the race. 
 This, I apprehend, is its great central point of light 
 and power, which gives meaning and beauty and 
 consistency to the system, without a clear appre- 
 hension of which the whole seems "but a formless 
 mass. If the entire population of the globe were 
 before me, and there should be one in the mighty 
 assembly for whom there was no provision, I could 
 not preach the gospel ; for how could I say in sin- 
 cerity and honesty to all and to each, come and 
 take of the waters of life freely ? 
 
 Such are the views I take of the offer of the gospel ; 
 and though for the ultimate authority of these views 
 we must and do fall back upon "the word and the tes- 
 timony of God," as the only reason of faith, yet it may 
 give strength in many minds to our position, if we can 
 sustain it by the authority, likewise, of human 
 opinions, as put forth by those who have been con- 
 sidered standards in the interpretation of the sacred 
 oracles ; while, at the same, it may serve to wipe 
 off the obloquy which ignorance has thrown upon 
 them as men of narrow and contracted views. I 
 do but quote the language of one whose name I 
 bear, and whom I honour not less as a spiritual 
 progenitor than as a father after the flesh, when I 
 say, that in the gospel u God hath made a grant of 
 his Son Jesus Christ, as an all-sufficient Saviour to 
 a lost and perishing world ; he hath not merely 
 revealed a general knowledge of him, but has dis- 
 tinctly and solemnly given him to sinners as such, 
 that they may le saved. The gift is indiscriminately 
 
EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 283 
 
 to all the hearers of the gospel, and to every one 
 of them in particular."* 
 
 There is, however, something more than this. 
 The gospel is not simply an offer of mercy, it is a 
 law. It has its own duties, and prescribes its own 
 penalties. It does not simply make it the privi- 
 lege, but the duty of all men, without exception, to 
 embrace Jesus Christ, and to accept the offer of 
 forgiveness which is made to them. It makes the 
 question of eternal life or eternal death to every 
 hearer of the gospel to hinge upon his acceptance 
 of proffered mercy, comiDg to him on the ground 
 and through the provisions of the atonement of 
 Christ. " This is the commandment of God, that 
 we should believe on the name of his Son Jesus 
 Christ." He is set before us, before every one of 
 us, in all his fulness and freeness, and it is at our 
 peril if we reject or neglect him. With these 
 views of the gospel offer, I cannot advocate a limit- 
 ed atonement ; I cannot put a restriction of the 
 provision which I do not find in the offer ; I can- 
 not believe that God would make to a sinner in 
 his wants and his woes the tender of a relief which 
 did not exist, or which he did not wish him to em- 
 brace ; I cannot believe that God w ould command 
 his creatures to embrace a provision which had 
 never been made for them, or sanction by the peril 
 of one's everlasting interests a commandment which 
 he never meant should be obeyed, and which itself 
 precluded the possibility of obedience. 
 
 * Act concerning Justification. Mason's Works. — Yol. iii. pp. 321, 
 322. 
 
'•I 
 
 • 
 
 284 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 It does not at all meet the difficulty of the case 
 to say, at this point, that we are required thus in- 
 discriminately to offer the gospel, and thus to 
 enforce its acceptance upon all, because we do not 
 know the persons for whom the provision is made, 
 and whom God designs shall accept it. The offer 
 is not ours ; we are hut the channel through which 
 it comes. God himself makes the offer ; we but 
 take up God's words, and announce them as he has 
 given them to us. We are ambassadors of Christ, 
 not speaking in our own name, but according to 
 our instructions, which bind us to say to each and 
 every one of our hearers, " Come, for all things are 
 now ready." In this matter we have no responsi- 
 bility beyond the simple utterance of the message, 
 u This is the will of God, that ye believe on him 
 whom he hath sent ;" and the question returns upon 
 us, how can we reconcile a universal offer with a 
 limited provision ? How can we acquit God of the 
 charge of insincerity in making to men a tender, 
 and enforcing upon them by the high sanctions of 
 eternity the acceptance of that which not only was 
 never designed for them in any sense, but which, 
 in fact, has never been provided ? 
 
 And yet it is said, at this point, "the Lord 
 knoweth them that are his ; it is not a matter of 
 doubtfulness to him, who sees the end from the 
 beginning, who shall and who shall not be saved 
 through the atonement ; he has his all-wise pur- 
 poses in reference to this subject, and the final 
 result will not vary one hair's breadth from his 
 purpose ;" and while the truth of this principle is 
 
EXTENT OP THE ATONEMENT. 285 
 
 claimed from us, and cheerfully admitted by us, 
 the difficulty of the subject is supposed to be 
 thrown over upon ourselves, as the question is re- 
 torted upon us, how can we reconcile a universal 
 offer with God's secret purpose; an unrestricted 
 jxrovision with a well-known definite and limited 
 result ? "Why should God make a provision to an 
 extent he knew would be unnecessary, and be 
 guilty of an expenditure beyond what the well- 
 known circumstances of the case required ? If he 
 knew that in many cases the atonement would be 
 rejected, why for such cases provide an atonement? 
 If he saw distinctly that there would be some, and 
 knew who they were, who would treat the blood 
 of the covenant as an unholy thing, where the 
 honesty of pressing it upon their acceptance, and 
 briDging such mighty sanctions to bear upon them 
 to enforce obedience ? 
 
 I do not know, my brethren, a better example 
 than the foregoing questions furnish, of that rule 
 of logic which forbids us to allow a weak argument 
 to stand isolated and unprotected, and requires us 
 to combine such arguments and present them in 
 one view, so that they may help each other, and 
 have the appearance, at least, of overwhelming 
 force. When you take all the questions together, 
 they seem to have no little weight ; but when 
 taken singly they are wholly pointless and ir- 
 relevant. 
 
 For we may ask in return, what has any secret 
 purpose to do with our rule of judgment and ac- 
 tion ? " Secret things," we are told, " belong unto 
 
•I 
 
 286 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 the Lord our God ; but things which are revealed, 
 unto us and to our children." The question taken 
 from the hidden purposes of the divine mind, can 
 have no force whatever, because it is an appeal to 
 our ignorance. We know, and can know nothing 
 about them. One thing, however, we do know. 
 God must be always and every where consistent 
 with himself ; and whether we can understand it 
 or not, it is certain that there can be no incon- 
 sistency between revealed and unrevealed truths ; 
 and if God has made an offer of eternal life through 
 the atonement unto all men, and commanded all 
 men to embrace it, there cannot be in any purpose 
 of God concerning its nature, any thing which will 
 clash with, and so contradict this universal offer. 
 
 This argument, however, from God's purposes, 
 which is so often brought forward to limit the na- 
 ture and a variableness of Christ's atonement, like 
 many other arguments, destroys itself by proving 
 too much. "With equal pertinacity, it might be 
 brought forward to put restrictions upon the law 
 of God, and prove it not to be a law for the race. 
 No fact is more palpable to human observation 
 than that the requirements of God do not bind all 
 men. This is a sinful world ; the race is corrupt ; 
 men have thrown off their obligations to their 
 Creator, and have turned rebels against his right- 
 ful authority. And God knew beforehand that it 
 would be so. Every thing has eventuated in 
 precise accordance with God's expectations. And 
 now we turn the question, and ask, is not 
 the law of God a law for the race ? Was it not 
 
EXTENT OE THE ATONEMENT. 287 
 
 designed for and adapted to secure the obedience 
 and happiness of the race ? Did not God mean 
 that it should be obeyed % And where is the con- 
 sistency of his publishing such a law, and enforcing 
 it with the tremendous sanctions of his eternal 
 throne, when he knew beforehand that it would 
 not be obeyed ? Look at these questions for a mo- 
 ment, and as you see the absurdity involved in 
 them, you can judge whether they are not quite as 
 pertinent, and do not contain an argument quite as 
 forcible as those by which some men would at- 
 tempt to put restrictions upon the atonement of 
 Jesus Christ, when they ask where is the wisdom, 
 where the consistency of preaching an unlimited 
 provision, and the sincerity of enforcing it univer- 
 sally, when it was well known beforehand that it 
 would not be universally accepted. 
 
 And now, if you still press the question, why 
 should God make provision for forgiveness, to an 
 extent he knew would be unnecessary, and be 
 guilty of an expenditure of means beyond what 
 the well known circumstances of the case required ? 
 We answer, by referring you to the characteristic 
 of universality, to which we have already adverted, 
 as marking his dispensations in the natural world, 
 and ask you why his sun shines and wastes its beams 
 upon sightless eye-balls, or upon those who will not 
 open their eyes to behold his goodly rays ? "Wliy 
 does he send his rains upon the barren rock, or 
 waste his showers upon the sandy and sterile soil 7 
 in which theseed can never vegetate ? If I propose 
 this question, you tell me in reply, that I mistake 
 
••I 
 
 • 
 
 288 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 altogether the nature of God's creations, and the 
 general principles of the system which he has es- 
 tablished. You tell me that the necessity for the 
 sun being what it is, does not depend upon the 
 number of the persons who are to be enlightened by 
 his rays, but grows out of the fact that it must be 
 what it is to give light to any one — that atmos- 
 pheric laws are general, and cannot in their nature 
 be so arranged as to secure the descent of rain only 
 where it will render the earth productive. You 
 cannot consider that there is any waste of light or 
 moisture, because there are some who do not see, or 
 because in some places the surface of the earth 
 presents the impervious rock to the rains of heaven. 
 We admit the explanation, and falling back upon 
 the authority we have already quoted, we use it in 
 reference to our present subject. The spiritual 
 system, as well as the natural system, is governed 
 by general laws — and the atonement of Christ 
 must be general. " Its necessity does not arise from 
 the number of sinners, but from the nature of sin. 
 The very nature of sin requires an infinite atone- 
 ment in order to its honorable remission. Such an 
 atonement as Christ offered, was indispensably 
 necessary to the pardon of one act of sin" — and 
 as the sun must be what it is, whether it lightens 
 one man, or every man who cometh into the world, 
 so it makes no difference as to the nature or avail- 
 ableness of the sufferings of Christ, whether one 
 sinner, or a race of sinners, is to be saved by them. 
 There is no more waste or unnecessary expenditure 
 in the one case than in the other. 
 
EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 289 
 
 And yet, my brethren, I feel that I would be 
 doing injustice to you and my subject, did I here 
 arrest my remarks. In advocating the doctrine of 
 unlimited atonement, I am not advocating the doc- 
 trine of universal salvation. There is a limitation 
 to the application of the atonement. It reaches 
 not to all men. It reaches only to those who em- 
 brace it. God pardons not the sin of unbelief, be- 
 cause that is a rejection of his only method of par- 
 don. Upon the ground of Christ's propitiation, he 
 can be just, while he justifies him who believeth. 
 He can save any man who accepts of Christ, 
 he can save none who refuse him. And this is the 
 limitation we are required to preach to you, and 
 the only limitation we dare put upon the suffering 
 of an Infinite Saviour. And in behalf of the cor- 
 rectness of these general views, we summon the 
 evidence of every enlightened conscience, and the 
 experience of the lost. Those self-reprovings 
 which often trouble the spirit of the worldly- 
 minded, when he turns away from the offer of a 
 free salvation, have their origin in the distinct con- 
 viction that he is shutting himself out from hope 
 and forgiveness. It would hush many a clamour of 
 an injured conscience, it would obliterate in many 
 a mind that deep sense of guilt which disquiets and 
 harasses it, could man but satisfy himself that for- 
 giveness is beyond his reach, and that the atone- 
 ment of the Son of God was never meant for him. 
 But he cannot do it. No arts of sophistry, no spe- 
 cial pleading, can convince any one that he is inno- 
 cent in " neglecting the great salvation." Every 
 19 
 
m 
 
 290 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 man feels that he might be saved if he would "be, 
 and that very feeling tallies exactly with the teach- 
 ings of the Bible, which shew us unbelief, and no- 
 thing else, as the barrier to eternal life. The same 
 feeling will be deeper and more distinct hereafter, 
 and go to form one of the most effective elements 
 in that poison cup from which the spirit lost will 
 for ever drink. The man who fails of the great sal- 
 vation, will stand speechless before his Judge ; the 
 vain apologies of earthly impenitence, will not bear 
 looking at in the light of eternity. And when the 
 wretched victim of abused mercy and a neglected 
 gospel, shall self-convicted go to his final allotment, 
 as he begins to sink in his deep perdition, remorse, 
 undying remorse, will prey upon his spirit ; and as 
 he sees in the mighty, and still increasing distance, 
 the brightening glories which cluster around those 
 who have washed their robes, and made them white 
 in the blood of the Lamb, oh ! this will be of all 
 the most overwhelming thought, I might have been 
 there, but I chose death. 
 
 My brethren, I am commanded to preach to 
 you, to-day, a full and perfected atonement. I 
 preach Jesus Christ as an all-sufficient Saviour for 
 each and every one of you. God says to you, 
 ■" come, for all things are now ready." Whosoever 
 will, may take of the waters of life, freely. I wish 
 you to take home this subject as a personal matter 
 — I speak to you in the name of my Master, as in- 
 dividuals. If you never have been placed in such 
 close contact with your Saviour before, I would 
 place you, my hearer, as an individual, in this close 
 
EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 291 
 
 contact with him, this morning ; I would testify to 
 you, to-day, in behalf of the gospel. I would tes- 
 tify to you that you are a sinner, under condemna- 
 tion ; that God offers to save you from your ruin 
 by the mediation of his Son. I testify to you, that 
 if you would no more make sure to yourself an 
 eternity of anguish and remorse, you must rise at 
 once and accept of this offer of forgiveness and 
 eternal life ; I testify to you, to-day, my hearer, by 
 the majesty of God, by a deluged world, by the 
 sufferings of Calvary, by the death-beds of saints, 
 by the wailings of the reprobate, by the anthems 
 of the ransomed, that everlasting life is placed 
 within your reach. But if you refuse to lay hold 
 upon this hope set before you, there remaineth no 
 more sacrifice for sin ; there can be no propitiation 
 for him who rejects the propitiation, and you must 
 go down to the grave and enter upon an eternal 
 scene unforgiven, unsaved, lost for ever. You may 
 be indifferent, you may go away from the house of 
 God careless about Christ as you entered it, but 
 here is the point — I wish you to ponder it — believe 
 me, there is meaning and truth and power in it. 
 Though you should never hear my voice again, as 
 a messenger of the truth, I have fastened myself to 
 you, and time cannot wear away the links, and the 
 earthquakes of the last day cannot dissolve them. 
 I could not keep back the testimony I have 
 already given you, in the words you have heard, 
 words which express nothing but the simple, well- 
 known truths of the Bible. They have sprung 
 forward, and they cannot be recalled ; you have 
 
41 
 
 292 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 heard theru, they have written themselves in God's 
 "book, and oceans cannot expunge them ; and, when 
 we shall meet again, hereafter, and memory, to 
 which God shall have given such a resuscitating 
 power that the events of every day and every 
 hour shall come back in their order and freshness, 
 and shall present this our assembly, and recall this 
 my testimony, it is not being too bold in imagining 
 the stirrings and heavings of the thoughts, when 
 " the great white throne" is erected, to suppose 
 that there will arise in your bosoms, and in my 
 bosom, the feeling that the ministry so imperfectly 
 discharged, is nevertheless fulfilling itself with ter- 
 rible accuracy. 
 
 My brethren, there are great ends to be answer- 
 ed by the infinite atonement of the Son of God, 
 and by this testimony to its fulness and all- 
 sufficiency, which I give you to-day — ends to be 
 answered in the experience of those who reject it 
 as well as in the experience of those who receive it. 
 I would not attempt to be wise above what is 
 w r ritten. But yet I know that the testimony which 
 I give to you, in behalf of Christ, though it may 
 seem not to prevail with you, is not fruitless. 
 There is no more waste in preaching, than there 
 has been in making an atonement which is not re- 
 ceived. The precious seed which, Sabbath after 
 Sabbath, is thrown out upon the moral desert, 
 which resists and sets at naught all the diligence 
 of the husbandman, is not lost. It will bring forth 
 fruit — the broad field upon which at last shall 
 be gathered the sublime, and awful, and mysterious, 
 
EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 293 
 
 and stirring magnificence of the end, is white unto 
 the harvest. Every grain is there giving produce 
 — every particle of gospel truth springs up and 
 waves on that awful field. I preach for a testi- 
 mony — oh ! it is in feebleness I speak. I cannot 
 throw might into my language. I cannot breathe 
 words which shall take a lasting form and sub- 
 stance, and fall upon my worldly-minded hearers 
 — but yet they die not. I seem already to hear 
 their reverberation from a thousand echoes, louder 
 and louder, and deeper and deeper, responding to 
 the anthems of the saved, or the bitter and deep- 
 toned knell which shall be rung over lost spirits. 
 God prepare us, my brethren, for the end. 
 
MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 
 
 " Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely."— Revela- 
 tion xxii. 17. 
 
 The statement which thus closes the book of 
 God's inspiration, is no more remarkable than in- 
 teresting. " The Spirit and the bride say, come. 
 And let him that heareth say, come. And let him 
 that is athirst, come. And whosoever will, let him 
 take the water of life freely." 'No salvation but 
 one absolutely free, could justify such language ; 
 none but an all-sufficient atonement for sin could 
 warrant an offer so unlimited. It seems to be the 
 spirit of the testimony of Jesus, concentrated in a 
 last appeal to those for whom he died. As we 
 dare not add to, or detract from either the fulness 
 1^1 or freeness of the offer, but at the peril of the 
 
 heaviest plagues which are written in the book of 
 
 God, we can say nothing less of the gospel, than 
 that it is a message for the lost, for all the lost ; for 
 men of all climes, all classes, all conditions ; men 
 of every shade and variety of character, men in all 
 the supposable circumstances in which any of the 
 race can be found. Thus it sets before each and 
 
MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 295 
 
 all, an open door of life, which no man can shut. 
 All the blessings purchased through a Eedeemer's 
 death, symbolized by " the water of life," are brought 
 within their reach. There is light for those who 
 are in darkness, pardon for those who are guilty, 
 purity for the vile, strength for the weak, joy for 
 the sorrowing, hoj3e for the desponding, life for the 
 dead. "Whosoever will," and here is the only 
 limitation which the Bible puts upon either the 
 efficacy of the atonement, or the offer which it pub- 
 lishes, " Whosoever will may take of the water of 
 life freely." Beyond all question, then, the posi- 
 tion in which the gospel places the man to whom 
 it comes, is one where every external obstacle to 
 his salvation is removed, and where, if he will, he 
 may have eternal life. Looking at this truth from 
 one direction, it is the most precious and delightful 
 truth which can be commended to the human 
 mind; looking at it from another direction it is 
 the most solemn truth which can engage human 
 thought. That there is forgiveness for the guilty, 
 and hope for the lost, — who does not hail the an- 
 nouncement, that has ever felt himself to be a sin- 
 ner, and has apprehended the retributions of eter- 
 nity ? and what voice can be more cheering to the 
 man who is no more aware of his indebtedness than 
 of his inability to meet it, than one which assures 
 him that salvation is " without money and without 
 price V 
 
 But then, is it not so, in view of the fulness and 
 freeness of God's provisions and arrangements, that 
 the responsibility of the result rests with man him- 
 
296 MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 
 
 self? Is the gospel of Jesus Christ, as thus we 
 look at it, any more the measure of the rich grace 
 of God, than it is of our obligation? Had the 
 provision been less full, or its offer been less free 
 and untrammelled, our responsibility had been pro- 
 portionably less. Every restriction you put upon 
 the fulness of the gospel is a limitation put upon 
 human duty ; and in proportion as you impair its 
 freeness, you take off from the weight it throws 
 upon the human conscience. If you insist upon a 
 full and free salvation, you must take it in all its 
 necessary connections and results — and there is no 
 truth which its fulness and freeness more conclu- 
 sively demonstrates than this, that every man to 
 whom the message of Christ comes, is responsible 
 for his failure to secure eternal life. To all his 
 reasonings to the contrary, to all his suggestions of 
 difficulty in the way of pardon and acceptance with 
 God, we oppose the simple language of the text, 
 which, if it means any thing, teaches us beyond all 
 controversy, that since Christ has died and the offer 
 of salvation in his name has gone forth to the 
 world, nothing can shut a man out from eternal life, 
 but an unwillingness to embrace the offer. 
 
 It is this simple truth (as a fitting" and legitimate 
 inference from previous discourses) that we wish 
 to commend to the minds of our hearers, in the 
 hope (God grant that it may not be a vain one) of 
 leading them to a clear perception and a just 
 appreciation of their circumstances as subjects of 
 the gospel of Jesus Christ. 
 
 The point then which we design to illustrate 
 
MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 297 
 
 this morning seems to grow necessarily out of a 
 clear and consistent view of the Saviour's atonement. 
 The glory of the gospel as a revelation of that 
 atonement is found in the fact that it represents 
 every external obstacle over which man had no 
 control removed out of the way of eternal life. 
 As a sinner, man has put himself in a position of 
 utter helplessness ; do what he may, he never can 
 amend the past so as to correct his errors, or re- 
 cover what he has forfeited by transgression. If 
 eternal life is brought within his reach, it must be 
 by virtue of some provision which shall relieve him 
 from this difficulty, and place him in circumstances 
 where the responsibility of past transgression may 
 be removed from his conscience. To meet this 
 exigency is the design of the sacrificial offering 
 of Jesus Christ, which demonstrates its value in 
 the assurance which it gives, that God can be just 
 and yet forgive. Now it must be perfectly obvious 
 to the most superficial thinker, that if any outward 
 obstacle of this kind remained, the atonement of 
 the Son of God is a failure, because it does not 
 meet all the difficulties it was designed to remove. 
 If God could not be just and forgive all a man's 
 sins, it is, so far as the result is concerned, the same 
 as though he could not forgive any of his sins ; upon 
 such a supposition the offer of eternal life could 
 not be laid before any man. ~No less manifest is it 
 that if there is a single human being, all of whose 
 outward difficulties the atonement does not meet, 
 there is one to whom the offer of eternal life can- 
 not honestly be made ; and upon either supposition 
 
298 MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 
 
 the language, " whosoever will may take of the 
 waters of life freely," involves a palpable contra- 
 diction of the truth. The free and unlimited offer 
 of the gospel, therefore, necessarily involves a pro- 
 vision for all human wants, a removal of all exter- 
 nal obstacles, a provision of unlimited value and 
 unrestricted sufficiency, a provision within the 
 reach of every one to whom it is presented, and 
 who is charged with its acceptance upon the peril 
 of eternal death. For ourselves we cannot see 
 how you can separate such an offer from man's re- 
 sponsibility as to the result. The two doctrines must 
 stand or fall together. If it is true, that whosoever 
 will may take of the waters of life freely, it must 
 be true that if man partakes not, it is because he 
 will not. 
 
 Of the position which we here assume, every 
 man carries within him the most clear and con- 
 vincing evidence. No testimony, upon any point, 
 is more conclusive than that which is furnished by 
 human consciousness. If I do not know that I 
 exist, I do not know any thing ; and yet conscious- 
 ness is the grand evidence of my existence. If I 
 do not know that I am free in my actions, I do not 
 know any thing, for consciousness is the evidence of 
 my freedom. It is the glory of my nature, as an 
 intelligent and moral being, that I choose my own 
 course, and fix my own position ; I may not be 
 able to answer all the metaphysical questions you 
 may propound to me upon this subject, nor to meet 
 and overthrow all the subtle arguments which 
 would convert me into a machine, or a victim of 
 
MAN UNWILLING TO BE SATED. 299 
 
 uncontrollable fate, and perhaps I might suggest 
 some puzzling inquiries as to the reality of your 
 existence; "but you consider all my inquiries as I do 
 all your subtleties, wholly forceless, because they 
 are every one of them met and refuted by the tes- 
 timony of consciousness. And does human con- 
 sciousness, my brethren, bear no testimony as to 
 the position which every man occupies in reference 
 to the gospel? Go catechize the man who has 
 found peace at the foot of the cross, and who 
 rejoices in the hope which that cross has brought 
 nigh unto him, and he will testify that in no act 
 which he ever performed was he more conscious of 
 his perfect freedom, than when he embraced the 
 offer of eternal life, made to him by Jesus Christ. 
 The impenitent and unbelieving hearer of the 
 gospel gives a no less forceful testimony — the con- 
 sciousness of his own spirit is the best answer to all 
 the arguments by which he would throw off from 
 himself the responsibility of his unbelief. Talk as 
 he may of his peculiar circumstances, as interfering 
 with his submission to Jesus Christ, when he comes 
 closely to scrutinize them, he finds, for the most 
 part, that they are circumstances of his own 
 arrangement, and even when they are not, they 
 are no farther hindrances in the way of life, than 
 as his own heart has invested them with prevent- 
 ive power. Talk as he may of the obscurity 
 which rests upon the pages of the gospel, prevent- 
 ing a clear perception of the principles they un- 
 fold, he perceives them with sufficient distinctness 
 to know that they involve truths which are dis 
 
300 MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 
 
 tasteful to his mind, and enforce claims to which 
 he is unwilling to submit. The difficulties of re- 
 ligion are not found in its obscurities — the insupe- 
 rable obstacles to obedience are not found in any 
 outward circumstances — a child has understood the 
 gospel so as to embrace it, and men have walked 
 with God, in the midst of abounding sensuality and 
 crime. But those difficulties are found in the 
 spiritualities of the gospel, in the holiness of its 
 principles, and the self-denying nature of its duties ; 
 the child of sense will not govern himself by 
 faith, the being of earthliness will not submit to 
 spiritual influences, and the slave of appetite will 
 not put a curb upon his passions. Did men but 
 love the truth as they love error, love holiness as 
 they love sin, regard the glory of God as they do 
 their selfish gratifications, the obstacles to religion 
 would vanish, and the path of life would be as 
 plain and as easy to travel as is now the pa th into 
 which their desires lead them. 
 
 There are moments in every man's history, when 
 the truth of these remarks and of the position they 
 are designed to illustrate, comes home to him with 
 irresistible power ; they are moments when con- 
 science breaks loose from the trammels which sin 
 had thrown around it, and emerges from the dark- 
 ness in which sin had enwrapped it, and acts in the 
 light of the gospel ; they are moments of self- 
 reflection, sometimes deep and overwhelming, in 
 view of a neglect of the great salvation. Not one 
 who hears me, and is not in reality a Christian dis- 
 ciple, but feels, and often deeply, that in reference 
 
MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 301 
 
 to the claims of the gospel, he ought to be vastly 
 different from what he is. And yet, my brethren, 
 we never reflect upon ourselves, in view of events 
 which are wholly beyond our control. We may 
 mourn over their occurrence, and bitterly lament 
 their influence, as it defeats our plans and deso- 
 lates our joys, but they inflict no wound like that 
 of conscious guilt. The self-condemnation of the 
 unbeliever, is the testimony which his own spirit 
 yields to the truth, that he might be different from 
 what he is ; that the responsibility of his present 
 position, and of all its apprehended necessary con- 
 sequences, rests entirely upon himself; and so in 
 the workings of his own mind he is illustrating 
 at one and the same time the fulness and 
 freeness of the provisions of the gospel, and 
 the doctrine which our Saviour advanced as 
 the exponent of man's unblessed condition, when 
 he said, u Ye will not come unto me that ye might 
 have life. And in view of this testimony of con 
 sciousness, harmonizing as it does so perfectly with 
 the plain statements of the word of God, will any 
 man who is out of Christ presume to throw off from 
 himself the responsibility of his hopeless condition ? 
 Will he undertake to say that the question of his 
 eventual safety is one the decision of which is so 
 wholly independent of himself, that feel and choose 
 as he may, the final result can in no way be affected 
 by the operations of his own mind, and the state of 
 his own heart ? Is there one of my unconverted 
 hearers who can look at the plain statements of the 
 word of God, and at his own experience, so fully 
 
m 
 
 302 MAN unwilling to be saved. 
 
 accordant as it is with all the principles which 
 those statements involve, and then define his 
 circumstances as those of one against whom the 
 straight gate is closed by a power over which he 
 has no control, and in whose pathway to eternal 
 life there are insuperable obstacles, whose existence 
 and magnitude are wholly independent of his own 
 feelings. In taking such a position, man must 
 array himself not only against God, whose truth 
 he disputes, but against his own spirit — whose 
 evidence he rejects. He has here nothing upon 
 which he can fall back for support in this unequal 
 and painful controversy. So far from it, that 
 when God throws upon him the fearful responsi- 
 bility of the issue of his course, and he examines 
 the testimony of his own consciousness upon the 
 subject, it tells him that in a moral point of view 
 he is precisely what he chooses to be ; that the path 
 upon which he is travelling, leading him, as he 
 sees it does, away from the forgiveness, and peace, 
 and hope of the gospel, is the one which, upon the 
 whole, is preferable to his mind ; and thus, out of 
 deference to the desires of his own heart, which 
 cling to the vanities, and pleasures, and honours of 
 this perishable world, — in the face of motives, 
 infinite as God can make them, forceful as the re- 
 tributions of a coming scene, bright as the fascina- 
 tions, and dark as the forbidding gloom of an 
 eternal world, he turns away from an offered sal- 
 vation, and with his own hand, closes against him- 
 self the gate of heaven, and puts the seal upon his 
 everlasting destiny. For this controversy between 
 
MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 303 
 
 God and man, God has the human spirit on his own 
 side, and no one can wring from it a testimony in 
 contradiction of the statement of the Saviour, " Ye 
 will not come unto me, that ye might have life." 
 
 The doctrine of man's responsibility for his own 
 salvation which we have thus deduced from the 
 free offer of the gospel, and which we have seen to 
 "be so fully sustained by the testimony of human con- 
 sciousness, so far as human consciousness can give 
 its testimony upon such a point, I may here add is 
 not only uncontradicted by, but is in perfect keep- 
 ing with the entire strain of the inspired record. 
 The whole Bible is throughout perfectly consistent 
 with itself. There is a beautiful harmony subsisting 
 between its different truths, which, like the different 
 parts of an edifice, all in keeping with each other, 
 indicate one design and one designer. Any al- 
 leged discrepancy between one and another state- 
 ment of the sacred oracles is apparent only, result- 
 ing from the medium through which we look at 
 them ; correct the medium and the discrepancy 
 vanishes. I advert to this fact, because of the con- 
 trariety which has been supposed to exist between 
 the position I have assumed and some of the ac- 
 knowledged doctrines of the inspired volume. It 
 is not without an air of apparent triumph that we 
 are sometimes called upon to reconcile our state- 
 ment of human responsibility with such doctrines, 
 for example, as that of human dependence, which 
 refers the conversion of the soul to the grace of 
 God as its only efficient, adequate cause, and the 
 sovereign agency of the Almighty, which we are 
 
m 
 
 304 MAN mrVYILLING TO BE SAVED. 
 
 told respects results in the spiritual as well as the 
 natural world, and without which no event of any 
 kind, much less such an event as that of the salva- 
 tion of the soul, can possibly occur. An appeal 
 like this demands the attention of the expositor of 
 truth, not more with the view of relieving an 
 honest mind of its difficulty, than of removing the 
 obstacle which false apprehensions interpose be- 
 tween the conscience and the full force of revealed 
 truth. 
 
 We admit then the scriptural doctrine of human 
 dependence. We admit that men are " born not 
 of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will 
 of man, but of God." The Spirit of grace and 
 truth must breathe upon the dry bones, ere they 
 live. It is the mighty power of God, by which a 
 man is brought from the error of his ways, to em- 
 brace an offered salvation. We admit, moreover, 
 that there is something, at first sight, exceed- 
 ingly plausible in the assertion, that an effect 
 which demands superhuman agency for its produc- 
 tion must be beyond the reach of human effort, 
 however disposed the heart may be towards it. 
 The special agency of the Holy Spirit, is the standing 
 argument of a deceitful heart against the doctrine 
 which I now inculcate. It is sufficient, however, to 
 strip this objection of all its speciousness, to direct 
 our attention, for a moment, to the reasons out of 
 which grows the necessity for this wondrous agency. 
 If any man supposes — I know the Bible does not 
 teach him — that the special influence of the Spirit 
 of God is designed to remodel him as a rational 
 
MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 305 
 
 being. It does not involve, by even the remotest 
 implication, the idea that either the elements or 
 laws of our mental organization must undergo a 
 change, in order that we may become new creatures 
 in Christ Jesus. We repudiate such fatalism as un- 
 worthy of a thinking man, and hurl back upon its 
 authors, as dishonouring to God, the imputation 
 which it casts upon his revealed truth. The spi- 
 ritual change upon which the Bible insists, is a 
 change of feelings and passions, hopes and joys, 
 rules and ends of action. The Spirit of the living 
 God, in translating a man from the kingdom of 
 darkness into that of his dear Son, does not give 
 him a heart, but a new disposition of heart — does 
 not give a man affections, but new objects of affec- 
 tions. He is " alienated from the life of God, 
 through the ignorance that is in him, because of the 
 blindness of his heart." The difficulty of his case 
 is, not that he cannot embrace Christ, if he will, 
 but that he will not embrace him. The Spirit acts 
 upon the heart, and man becomes " willing in the 
 day of God's power" — and the difference between 
 what he is and what he was, the secret of 
 his wondrous change lies in this, that he loves 
 what formerly he hated, and hates what formerly 
 he loved. 
 
 Do not suppose for a moment, my brethren, that 
 I have lost sight of human depravity, or that I am 
 disposed to fritter it away, or make any less of it 
 than does the word of God. Human depravity, 
 who doubts it ? "Who that calmly studies human 
 nature, or analyses his own experience, will ques- 
 20 
 
41 
 
 306 MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 
 
 tion either its reality or extent ? I do not need an 
 argument to prove it. I will not insult the under- 
 standing of my hearers, by constructing an argu- 
 ment to demonstrate it to their minds. We do not 
 need it, when we can see for ourselves, how men treat 
 the things of God. We do not need it, when we can 
 see men treading day by day upon the very verge 
 of an eternal world, and though they behold one and 
 another dropping hourly into its retributions, living 
 as secure and careless about futurity, as though 
 God has stamped immortality upon their present 
 mode of existence. We do not need the argument 
 while this sanctuary stands ; and the messages of 
 mercy tell no more of the kindness of heaven, than 
 does their fruitlessness tell of man's deafness to the 
 voice which utters them, and his insensibility to 
 the thrilling motives which enforce them. And 
 yet I find I have given you the argument ! I need 
 not — no man needs any more conclusive proof of the 
 totality of human sinfulness, than the position of 
 this discourse has furnished. But then let us re- 
 member that it is the wilfulness of man's depravity 
 which throws around him so dark a shade, and 
 brings down upon him so heavy a curse. Man's 
 wickedness is not mechanical action ; it is insepara- 
 ble from the feelings, and desires, and choices of 
 his heart. It consists essentially not in the absence 
 of a mind to think of God, a conscience to approve 
 of his requirements, affections to give to his Maker, 
 but in such a cherished blindness to spiritual reali- 
 ties, such a fixed aversion of heart from all that is 
 pure and excellent in the character and govern- 
 
MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 307 
 
 ment of God, that without the influence of hea- 
 venly grace he never will love holy things, nor 
 give his heart to his Saviour. 
 
 The doctrines of the gospel vary their aspect ac- 
 cording as they are looked at in or out of their 
 scriptural connexions. Take them as isolated doc- 
 trines, totally separated from their relations to 
 other truths which serve to explain them, and in 
 view of them, man, as a sinner, may seem to be a 
 subject deserving of pity rather than of blame. 
 But look at them in the light which they mutually 
 shed upon each other, and they serve to place men 
 precisely where we have put them, with the free 
 and untrammelled offer of the gospel set before 
 them for their acceptance, and with the words of 
 Jesus Christ written over them, as the only true ex- 
 ponent of their unsaved and unsanctified condition, 
 " Ye will not come unto me that ye might have 
 life." 
 
 If we have disposed of this difficulty, we turn 
 your attention to another, and apparently a more 
 formidable one, growing out of the Sovereignty of 
 God, and his inscrutable purposes concerning man. 
 And here, my brethren, allow me to say, if God is 
 a sovereign, he is not an arbitrary despot ; if he 
 has his purposes in respect to all things, and un- 
 questionably he has, they are formed in view of 
 all-sufficient reasons every way worthy of himself, 
 as a God infinite in his wisdom and his love. I do 
 not undertake to explain them ; far from me be 
 the unhallowed temerity which shall attempt to 
 unravel the mystery which enshrouds the un- 
 
308 MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 
 
 searchable God. "What is beyond my power of 
 comprehension, I receive upon the testimony of 
 Him who cannot lie, and refer its solution to that 
 august day, when the great white throne shall be 
 set, and God shall make plain all that was intri- 
 cate, and shed light upon all that was dark in his 
 administration of the affairs of this lost and ruined 
 world. 
 
 But, I would ask a man who talks of God's 
 secret will, and God's electing purposes, what he 
 can find in them by means of which he can throw 
 off from his conscience his responsibility in refer- 
 ence to the great salvation which has been offered 
 to him \ True, he may answer me, (and this is the 
 interpretation which thousands put upon the doc- 
 trine of election,) "That God, according to his 
 eternal purpose, saves some and casts off others, 
 whether they reject or embrace Christ ; and if I am 
 to be saved, I shall be saved, do what I may, and 
 if I am to be lost, I shall be lost, do what I can." 
 My hearer, if you ever thus have reasoned, let me 
 ask you if you are honest with yourself, or honest 
 with the word of God, the authority of which you 
 pretend to quote ? I take your argument and set 
 it before you in another form. " If I am to live 
 to-morrow, I shall live, though I should die ; and 
 if I am to die to-morrow, I shall die, though I 
 should live." God's purpose has settled it. Will 
 you as a thinking man, claim the paternity of such 
 a senseless and contradictory argument ? If not, 
 never say again, never even let your heart whisper 
 to your conscience, " If I am to be saved, I shall be 
 
MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 309 
 
 saved, do what I may ; and if I am to be lost, I 
 shall be lost, do what I can." The plea has no 
 meaning ; it is absurd ; it contradicts itself. 
 
 God is indeed a Sovereign God. We do not 
 question it ; but then sovereignty, as I understand 
 it, has to do with the dispensation of blessings, not 
 at all with the arbitrary infliction of punishment. 
 I can easily understand how God can shed down 
 his mercies upon a human being, for reasons which 
 are wholly irrespective of the character, and inde- 
 pendent of the doings of their subject. But I can- 
 not understand how he can send down his curse 
 upon any other ground than the guilt of its subject. 
 He may bless a man who does not deserve his 
 blessing ; but he cannot punish a man who does not 
 deserve punishment. The sovereign infliction of 
 evil would be an anomaly under any government, 
 a contradiction of all the principles of equity, and 
 all the laws of righteousness, and never can blot 
 the administration of him whose throne rests upon 
 justice and judgment. The sovereign grace of 
 God ! What being in the universe does it injure, 
 or what obstacles can it interpose between any 
 man and eternal life? It surely injures not the 
 being whom it saves, by making him willing in the 
 day of its power ; not surely the being whom it 
 does not constrain, but whom it permits to rest in 
 his own chosen objects, and walk in his own 
 chosen path. If there were two worlds of sinful 
 beings, — our own and another — and if to us God 
 made an offer of eternal life, full and free, the 
 responsibility of the result would rest entirely with 
 
310 MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 
 
 ourselves, and the character of his dispensations 
 toward that other world, whatever it might be ? 
 could not in any degree or in any way affect our 
 position. 
 
 To mate our point still plainer, we will suppose 
 for a moment, that the doctrine of the Divine Sove- 
 reignty had never been revealed in the Bible ; that 
 not one word had ever been written upon its pages 
 concerning the purposes of God, and then, as we 
 read, " Whosoever will may come and take of the 
 water of life freely/' nobody would doubt man's 
 perfect liberty of choice, nor hesitate a moment as 
 to the question where rested the responsibility, if 
 any being who heard the offer should be lost — 
 and if upon the supposition, that man knew nothing 
 of any of God's purposes, he would be under God 
 perfectly free, the author of his own character and 
 the framer of his own destiny, I see not how the 
 revelation of the doctrine can alter a man's posi- 
 tion in the least, when in case of a failure of the 
 great salvation, it leaves a man precisely where and 
 what it found him. 
 
 But, my brethren, let me remind you that the 
 purposes of God, as he has revealed them, are uni- 
 versal They extend as truly to the sparrow,, 
 which falleth to the ground, as to the seraph who 
 burns before his throne. They embrace the hairs 
 of your head, which are all numbered^ as well as 
 the greatest events of your life, all of which are con- 
 trolled by an overruling Providence. If they 
 respect man's future allotments, they must respect 
 with equal certainty man's present movements. I 
 
MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 311 
 
 have, however, yet to learn that any one feels their 
 constraining power in any of his earthly plannings 
 and actions. I have yet to learn that any man 
 considers himself a mere passive instrument in the 
 doings of his daily life, or looks npon the results of 
 his undertakings as in no way connected with his 
 own sagacity, his own energy, and his own perse- 
 verance. To convince me of a sinner's honesty, 
 when he refers the spiritual results of his course to 
 the purposes of God, I must find him in perfect 
 carelessness, giving the same reference to the ac- 
 tions of his daily life, to the plans and movements 
 of the morrow. I must see him refusing the nour- 
 ishment which nature demands for its sustenance,. 
 or quaffing the poison cup which contains the ele- 
 ments of death, upon the plea that the question of his 
 life or death is regulated and to be determined by 
 the purposes of God, irrespective wholly of his own 
 doings. When I see this, then, but not before, 
 will I believe a man sincere when he says, " If I 
 am to be saved, I shall be saved, do what I may ; 
 and if I am to be lost, I shall be lost, do what I 
 can." Who can doubt, my brethren, that men 
 take refuge in God's election, only that they may 
 garnish and persevere in their own election — and 
 every man ought to know better, and does know 
 better than to say, " If I am not elected, I cannot 
 be saved." This is making a false issue altogether. 
 The great question for me, as a sinner for whom 
 Christ died, and to whom the offer of eternal life 
 has been made, a sinner responsible to God and to 
 my own soul for every step I take, and every de- 
 
312 MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 
 
 cision I form, and every choice I make in reference 
 to my everlasting interests, is, am I willing to em- 
 brace the. offer of eternal life which is placed before 
 me ? If I am not, it is not God's purpose, bnt my 
 own election in opposition to the will and com- 
 mandment of Gocl, which destroys me, body and 
 soul for ever. This is the thought I would have 
 distinctly apprehended, and which I would throw 
 with all its fearful and crushing weight upon the 
 conscience of every man who has not accepted of 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 Divest the thought for a moment from its rela- 
 tion to ourselves. Go back to the scene where the 
 voice of " peace on earth and good will to men," 
 was heard breaking from the heavens when the 
 sun of righteousness rose in spotless and unsha- 
 dowed splendour upon the plains and mountains of 
 Judea, and lest the light should dazzle, and the 
 heat destroy, gentleness and condescension tempered 
 his rays ; and the languishing revived, and the dy- 
 ing lived. And surely the favoured people hailed 
 his rising ; and the voice, u Come unto me, and I 
 will give you rest," awakened strains of gratitude 
 and joy as they exclaimed, " Lo ! this is our God, we 
 have waited for him, and he will save us ; lo ! this 
 is the Lord, we will rejoice and be glad in his sal- 
 vation." But, no ! they saw no beauty in him that 
 they should desire him ; they did but glance at 
 his glories, and then firmly closed their eyes against 
 his penetrating beams, and retired into the deep 
 recesses of their ignorance and unbelief, lest the 
 light of life should shine into them. And since 
 
MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 313 
 
 they loved darkness rather than light, because 
 their deeds were evil, this was their condemnation, 
 they found the night they sought, a night without 
 morning, the blackness of darkness for ever. 
 
 We do not, for a moment, question the equity of 
 God's judicial administration in their case. Dread- 
 ful as it was, it was no more than their flagrant 
 and inexcusable unbelief deserved. " But think- 
 est thou, O man, who judgest them which do 
 such things, and doest the same, that thou shalt 
 escape the judgment of God V To what in your- 
 self will you ascribe that which in others you 
 ascribe to criminality % Compare yourself with others 
 upon whom you have been sitting in judgment, 
 and wherein are you dissimilar ? Be not deceived, 
 God is not mocked. "What are you doing, as es- 
 tranged from him who came to save you, but ful- 
 filling the desires of the flesh and the mind, and 
 walking in your own chosen way ? You may talk 
 of your weakness, your inability to embrace the 
 offer of eternal life ; but if you felt it, it might give 
 rise not to apologies but to sorrow, and lead you 
 to humble yourself before God, and exclaim, " O ! 
 wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me 
 from the body of this death V But when or where, 
 my hearer, have been your desires for the salvation 
 of the gospel which you have beeu unable to 
 gratify \ In what hour of your history, — be candid 
 with yourself — did you ever put forth an effort cor- 
 responding in any just degree with the importance 
 of religion and eternity ? When did you strive 
 against sin, resist the devil, and agonize to enter 
 
• 
 
 314 MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 
 
 in at the straight gate ? Rather has not yonr 
 heart leaped to meet the follies of the world, and 
 has not the prince of darkness been invited to hold 
 dominion over its desires ? Have you not exerted 
 yourself rather to repress than to strengthen reli- 
 gious influence in the soul ? Have you not laboured 
 to resist the conviction which truth has sometimes 
 forced home upon the mind, and fled to the vani- 
 ties of earth to free your thoughts from the intru- 
 sion of eternal things ? Let conscience do its duty ; 
 let it speak unchecked by the influence of a false 
 philosophy, or a crude and partial theology ; let 
 conscience freely speak, and yield its first unbi- 
 assed testimony, and you will own your unbelief to 
 be your guilt, your separation from Christ to be 
 the result of your own choice. 
 
 Talk not, my beloved hearer, of the power of sur- 
 rounding temptations, which constrain your move- 
 ments contrary to your better feelings. "What 
 gives these temptations their power, but their har- 
 mony with your own desires ? But the world can- 
 not constrain, it can only allure. And what are 
 the allurements of the world compared with the 
 attractions of the cross ? Look to that blessed, 
 though accursed tree on which Christ your Saviour 
 loved and died ; look to the peerless glory which 
 now encircles him ; and remember that all which 
 his sinless blood and unknown agony could merit ; 
 that all the grace which his Spirit can afford, that 
 all the bliss which his presence can impart, and all 
 the honour, inestimable and undying which he can 
 bestow, are yours, unalterably, for ever yours, if 
 
MAN TTN WILLING TO BE SAVED. 315 
 
 you will embrace his offer. Compared with such 
 treasures worldly affluence, worldly joys, diadems 
 and thrones are but " trifles light as air ;" and if 
 you can withstand the powerful attractions of the 
 cross, oh ! surely, you can, if you will, withstand 
 the pitiful allurements of this poor and fleeting 
 world. 
 
 My beloved hearers, I would have you to under- 
 stand your true position to-day, and to apprehend 
 the truth I have been striving to commend to your 
 mind. I appear before you, a messenger from a 
 Redeemer's cross, empowered to publish to you a 
 full and free salvation. This is the message which 
 I am instructed to lay before you, " "Whosoever 
 will, may take the water of life freely." If you 
 drink not it is because you will not. You are not 
 straitened in God, you are straitened in yourself. 
 And here, in the name of the Master, in whose 
 words, and by whose authority I have spoken, I 
 would this day, in view of the judgment-seat of the 
 Son of Man, throw over the responsibility of the 
 result upon you conscience. God has put it there, and 
 there it must remain. You never, no ! never, while 
 " life, or thought, or being lasts, or immortality en- 
 dures," can shake off that dreadful responsibility 
 from your spirit. At times you feel it now, and it 
 seems a crushing weight, as you know you are not 
 what you should be ; but in a little while, after a 
 few more Sabbath suns shall rise and set, you will 
 perceive it more distinctly and feel it more deeply. 
 And if it sometimes torments, and harasses, and 
 almost crushes you now, under the feeble and par- 
 
316 MAN UNWILLING TO BE SAVED. 
 
 tial light which is thrown upon it, what will it he 
 in the light, brilliant and unclouded, of the judg- 
 ment throne ? " If thon hast run with the footmen 
 and they have wearied thee, then how canst thou 
 contend with horses ? And if in the land of peace 
 wherein thou trustedst, they wearied thee, then 
 how wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan? 1 ' 
 We can shut the subject from our thoughts now, 
 but then we shall not be able to do so. We may 
 invent a thousand apologies, and they may satisfy 
 conscience now, but then every mouth will be 
 stopped. And tell me, my unconverted hearers — 
 bear, I pray you, with the pressure, which the soli- 
 citudes of a pastor's heart put upon you — tell me 
 what you wiil answer, when he whose salvation 
 was proffered to you, and urged upon you, and 
 rejected by you, shall say, as at the last, he turns 
 away from you and leaves you to sink in the dark- 
 ness of that night which knows no morning — a How 
 often would I have gathered you together, as a hen 
 gathereth her chickens under her wings, but ye 
 would not !'" 
 
 " Stop, ! stop and think, before you farther go." 
 
A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 
 
 " And as he reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to 
 come, Felix trembled." — Acts xxiv. 25. 
 
 It has been often and justly remarked concern- 
 ing Felix, the Governor of Juclea, that the con- 
 venient season of which he spake, when he should 
 give attention to the truths which now agitated his 
 spirit, never arrived. His succeeding history pre- 
 sents the same characteristics, though more fully 
 developed, which when set before him in the light 
 of truth, made him tremble. We see no change in 
 him but for the worse ; and so far as w^e have any evi 
 dence concerning his end, it tells us that he utterly 
 perished in his own corruption. As we look at him, 
 under the preaching of Paul, we find that he had a 
 conscience, a conscience which reproved him of sin 
 and filled him with dire apprehensions. As we 
 look at him afterward, we find him the subject of a 
 stifled conscience, going on from bad to worse. 
 We doubt not that the moment when Paul rea- 
 soned with him of righteousness, and temperance, 
 and a judgment to come, was a crisis in his moral 
 history, upon his action in which, the whole charac- 
 
318 A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 
 
 ter of his future life turned. He might, at the bid- 
 ding of conscience, and under the teachings of the 
 truth, have changed his whole course and become 
 a new man, but he stifled those monitions, and re- 
 sisted those teachings, and went on more confirmed, 
 and hopelessly confirmed in his old unrighteousness. 
 
 In this brief exhibition of the text, and its con- 
 nections, we have presented to us a subject of pain- 
 ful, but intensely interesting study. It is the hu- 
 man mind, in two distinct states, or stages of its 
 spiritual history — first, as agitated in view of the 
 appeals which truth addresses to the conscience, 
 the subject of strong moral influences, and of 
 clear and decided convictions of truth and duty ; 
 the other is that state, in which after having 
 resisted these influences and suppressed these con- 
 victions, it remains inaccessible to the power of 
 truth, and goes on in a career of determined and 
 growing sinfulness, uninfluenced by any of the coun- 
 teracting agencies which may be brought to bear 
 upon it. The two states are intimately connected 
 with each other, the movements of the mind in 
 the one state determining the character of the 
 other. And thus we have before us the thought 
 upon which we design to dwell this morning. 
 A stifled human conscience, or in other words, the 
 nature and consequences of resisting one's own con- 
 victions of truth and duty. "Without any further 
 introduction, then, we proceed to the illustration of 
 our general thought. 
 
 The careful observer of human things cannot 
 have failed to notice the fact that every man's 
 
A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 319 
 
 peculiar history dates its commencement, and takes 
 its cast from his conduct in some particular com- 
 bination of circumstances. It is true, as a general 
 principle, that one period of life regulates to a very 
 great extent those which succeed it, and certain 
 trains of conduct give shape and colouring and 
 character to those which follow them ; thus youth 
 receives its cast from childhood, and in its turn 
 gives a cast to mature years. In early life ele- 
 ments not unfrequently disclose themselves which 
 promise future dignity and usefulness, or threaten 
 future inefficiency, degradation, and crime. The 
 analogy in this respect is very striking between 
 the physical, intellectual, and moral world. A de- 
 formity resulting from accident or carelessness in 
 early life regulates all subsequent bodily develop- 
 ments. The mental powers, when fully disclosed, 
 shew the character of the early training to which 
 they were subject, and in the absence of powerful 
 counteracting causes the moral temper of maturer 
 years will be but the clearer and fuller develop- 
 ment of the spirit of childhood. 
 
 Without giving countenance to any of those 
 forms of fatalism now so current in the community 
 which make man the sport of casualties, and give 
 to events an irresistible power to control his 
 character and destiny, in perfect consistency with 
 his entire freedom of action, we may say that there 
 is generally, in every man's history, some particular 
 combination of circumstances, his conduct in which 
 determines the whole course of his after life. The 
 idea which I make the basis of my illustration this 
 
320 A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 
 
 morning will be perceived in view of facts with 
 which, doubtless, many of my hearers are familiar. 
 There have been men in our world who at a criti- 
 cal juncture of their temporal affairs have taken 
 some immoral step ; as you have looked at their 
 subsequent course, you have found them unable to 
 recover themselves from the influence of that step ; 
 it has followed them continually, marring their 
 every project, defeating their every plan, and they 
 have passed onward in their course exhibiting a 
 character constantly deteriorating in a moral point 
 of view until death has closed their earthly career. 
 Now, it strikes me, that a principle which thus 
 runs through the physical, intellectual, and moral 
 world, must find some analogies in the spiritual 
 world likewise, and the exhibition of those analo- 
 gies is our object on the present occasion. If it is 
 true that man's conduct in early life has an impor- 
 tant bearing upon his temporal relations, it may be 
 true that it has an important bearing upon his 
 eternal relations likewise. For ourselves, we be- 
 lieve that in the majority of cases, if the truth upon 
 this point could be reached, it would appear that 
 the question of man's destiny is settled before his 
 habits of thought and feeling are confirmed, and he 
 is found busied amid the cares and perplexities and 
 struggles of life ; his conduct anterior to that time 
 has shaped his course and determined its results. 
 There have been in his spiritual history circum- 
 stances, his conduct in which has placed him be- 
 yond the reach of change ; in which his spiritual 
 relations have been altered ; a crisis in his history 
 
A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 321 
 
 when he was introduced to an acquaintance with 
 the hopes and joys, and sanctifying influence of the 
 gospel, or when a seal was put upon him which, 
 humanly speaking, determined his condition as 
 hopeless. Whether this be so to the full extent of 
 our supposition or not, this much is certain, there 
 is in every man's history a combination of circum- 
 stances, a crisis, his conduct in which determines 
 whether his character in a spiritual point of view 
 shall deteriorate, and his prospects of future good 
 become more equivocal, or his character improve 
 in moral excellence, and his hope grow brighter. 
 
 To some of these circumstances, and to man's 
 conduct in them leading to such issues, we shall 
 turn our attention, and we ask our hearers to fol- 
 low us step by step, and closely examine the posi- 
 tions we assume. 
 
 The salvation of the soul, my brethren, is always 
 to be viewed in connection with, and as dependent 
 upon the influence of the gospel. We do not 
 mean to say that the gospel has in itself any direct 
 efficiency, but that such is the constitution of the 
 human mind, and such the corresponding arrange- 
 ments of God, that men are not ordinarily con- 
 verted, separate from the means which God has 
 wisely appointed. I bring in this thought here, 
 to neutralize the influence of a sentiment enter- 
 tained by some, that circumstances, or a man's con- 
 duct in them, can have no vital bearing upon the 
 result of his conversion, which is brought about by 
 a power above all circumstances, and which in fact 
 controls them. True it is, that man becomes the 
 21 
 
322 A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 
 
 subject of a spiritual change by the agency of the 
 Holy Ghost, but that agency is put forward in con- 
 nection with means ; and if the sentiment adverted 
 to is good for the purpose for which it is used, it is 
 equally good to prove that the means of God's ap- 
 pointment have no manner of connection with con- 
 version as an end ; that the end is quite as probable 
 without them as with them, and that God's ability 
 to work a miracle is a good ground for their belief 
 that he will do so. And yet, in opposition to this, men 
 feel universally that there is a very great difference, 
 so far as their prospects for eternity is concerned, be- 
 tween those who are, and those who are not favored 
 with the means of grace. Not one of us would ex- 
 change his circumstances in this respect for those of 
 an opposite character, shewing that however we may 
 reason from the efficiency of the Holy Spirit, circum- 
 stances have, in our own estimation, a very important 
 bearing upon the question of our destiny. In short, 
 it is a common-sense opinion, which no reasoning can 
 change, a deep-seated feeling which no philosophy 
 can eradicate, that when a man has placed himself 
 beyond the reach of means, he has placed himself 
 beyond the reach of hope. It is immaterial to the 
 point, what agency secures the conversion of the 
 soul, if that agency is put forth only in circumstan- 
 ces in which I never can be placed ; and so far as a 
 man's conduct has an influence in defining his posi- 
 tion, so far has his conduct a happy or a disastrous 
 bearing upon the question of his eventual safety. 
 
 We will then take a man and place him under 
 the preaching of the gospel, and the means of grace. 
 
A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 323 
 
 It is not to be denied that there is much which is 
 stirring and exciting in revealed truth. There is 
 a remarkable adaptation on the part of the gospel 
 both to the conscience and the heart. Under its 
 developments feeling is often enkindled which con- 
 cedes the righteousness of its claims, and does 
 honour to the power of its motives. Facts in every- 
 day 's history show how the human mind may be 
 reached by the simple verities of the gospel, and 
 thrown into a mood of thoughtfulness upon spirit- 
 ual subjects. Whatever may be a man's control- 
 ling spirit, there are seasons when subjected to 
 the power of heavenly truth, it is for the moment, 
 at least, suspended in its influence. It often is so 
 in the house of God, when he who ministers the 
 sacred oracles arms himself with the strength of his 
 master, and brings the mighty force of truth to 
 bear upon the conscience. Though there may in 
 such circumstances be no outward display of tremu- 
 lousness, there are beating hearts, and throbbing 
 and agitated spirits. If the attention is once gained, 
 and rivetted to the declarations of the inspired tes- 
 timony, very little effort is required to awaken 
 feeling. There is not an announcement of God 7 s 
 word which, when its nature is distinctly perceived, 
 does not commend itself as reasonable to the mind, 
 and which, when its claims are presented in the light 
 of their own appropriate enforcements, does not kin- 
 dle conviction of duty, and a feeling of self reflection 
 on account of its neglect. I am not surely speak- 
 ing mysteries to any who hear me, for within the 
 walls of this sanctuary has the gospel been hon- 
 
324 A STIFLED COKSCIESTCE. 
 
 oured in its truth, and felt in itspower, as here 
 under its simple ministration has many a wakeful 
 conscience, and many a beating soul testified to 
 the righteousness of its claims, and the forceful- 
 ness of their sanctions. 
 
 Similar states of mind are sometimes produced 
 under the influence of divine providence, when 
 God so arranges or disorders men's private circum- 
 stances as to compel thought ; yet here you will 
 perceive, that as in the other cases, thought has 
 been kindled in view of truth, and the only differ- 
 ence is, that in one case truth has been ministered 
 by the living voice, and in the other by the provi- 
 dence of God. 
 
 We direct your attention then, for a moment, to 
 the human mind in these circumstances, and ask 
 you to analyze its experiences. Thought is awak- 
 ened in view of truth and duty, set out in the 
 broad, clear light of the gospel. There is a con- 
 viction of error, of guilt, of danger ; there is self- 
 dissatisfaction ; and the man retires perhaps from 
 the scenes amid which his mind has been so stirred 
 within him, feeling the necessity of subduing the 
 spirit which has carried him away from the path 
 of truth and duty, and purposing to wrestle 
 against it, and if possible to obtain the mastery. 
 The movements of the conscience of Felix under 
 the demonstrations of Paul, were not unaccom- 
 panied by purposes and resolutions. 
 
 And, my brethren, is this the whole of it ? Are 
 there no results pending ? Are there no conse- 
 quences of mighty magnitude hanging upon the 
 
A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 325 
 
 conduct of a man in these peculiar circumstances ? 
 Or is it not so, must it not be so, that there is here 
 something like a crisis in his moral and spiritual 
 historv, which is to throw its influence over his 
 whole future course, if not to give shape and char- 
 acter to his future destiny \ Let us look at this 
 question for a moment. 
 
 We suppose then, for the sake of example, that 
 in these circumstances, the subject of such exercises 
 yields to his own convictions, and at once carries 
 out his purpose into execution, in an intelligent and 
 cheerful submission to the terms and requirements 
 of the gospel. And do you not perceive that all 
 his spiritual relations are at once changed, and that 
 a, new light is thrown upon his future experience ? 
 If he has truly given himself up to the service of 
 Jesus Christ, he never will be the same man he 
 was before. In every respect, of character, condi- 
 tion, prospects, he is an altered man. He has 
 commenced a process of improvement, and his path 
 will be " as the shining light, which shineth more 
 and more unto the perfect day." What has been 
 the spiritual history of every true Christian, but 
 the history of a process of ongoing sanctification, 
 commencing with such a movement of his mind in 
 circumstances like those we have detailed ? 
 
 We make an opposite supposition, and we think 
 you will find the converse of the foregoing state- 
 ment to be true. We set before you now, a man 
 who in these circumstances turns away from the 
 commandment delivered unto him. It is immate- 
 rial how this movement of his mind is explained, 
 
•> 
 
 326 A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 
 
 so long as the fact is certain. The impressions of 
 truth wear away, his convictions are hushed, his 
 purposes are forgotten, and he appears to be the 
 same he was before. It may have been the re- 
 sult of resistance offered, either directly or indirectly, 
 to the responses of his own mind to the truth and 
 Spirit of the living God. It may have been the 
 result either of an intelligent throwing away from 
 him of the truth which has affected him, or of an 
 effort to relieve himself from its present pressure, 
 by a simple postponement of its claims to a more 
 convenient season, as it was in the case of Felix ; 
 but in either case, according as the convictions of 
 truth and duty have been more or less clear and 
 deep, there has been a conflict more or less painful 
 and severe between them and the desires of their 
 heart. His energies must have been taxed for 
 strength to oppose the influences which acted upon 
 him, or his ingenuity for cunning to evade their 
 force. In whatever way he may accomplish his pur- 
 pose, he at all events succeeds in mastering his con- 
 science, and in schooling his moral sensibilities to 
 submission to the dictates of a sinful and deceitful 
 heart, and he appears to be what he was before — 
 but when this process is ended, and he who but 
 just now trembled under the truth is unmoved and 
 unaffected, is he really the same, has no change 
 whatever come over the spirit of that man, over his 
 relations and his prospects ? Or is it not so, that he 
 has gathered about him the shades of a deeper 
 depravity, wrapped himself in a garb of more im- 
 penetrable adamant, and stirred still more bitter 
 
A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 327 
 
 ingredients into the cup from which hereafter he 
 must hereafter drink ? Was it not so with Felix ? 
 And must it not be so with every one, who in the 
 same circumstances acts the same part, as the 
 movements of the human mind are uniform, regu- 
 lated by the same general laws ? This is the plain, 
 but at the same time startling and thrilling doc- 
 trine, which I wish to commend to the minds of my 
 hearers. Here you have the picture of a stifled 
 conscience, in the results which it certainly developes. 
 I. In commending this doctrine, there are three 
 views of these results which I wish to set before 
 you; the first respects the moral and spiritual 
 character of their subjects. I need not surely say 
 to any of you, my brethren, who believe in these 
 sacred oracles, or who have been at all attentive 
 students of human history, that by nature the ten- 
 dency of the human mind is sinful. We do not 
 enter upon a philosophical inquiry here which would 
 carry us too far away from the object at present 
 before us. We assume the fact as granted by those 
 to whom we address our argument. It is certain, 
 moreover, that the outward developments of moral 
 feeling are regulated, checked or fostered by cir- 
 cumstances and influences of God's arrangement. 
 Among these influences, conscience as the most 
 powerful, holds, probably, the most important 
 place. In fact, it is by means of conscience mainly 
 that God controls his sinful subjects. So long as 
 it remains unperverted, no one can advance any 
 great length in outbreaking sin ; and sinfulness is 
 progressive only as man obtains by degrees the 
 
328 A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 
 
 ascendancy of his moral judgment. Hence the 
 plain inference, that every new triumph over con- 
 science is connected with a new impulse in the 
 career of unholiness, and the more unequivocal the 
 dictates of conscience which have been silenced, 
 the clearer and brighter the light of it which has 
 been put out, the deeper the succeeding dark- 
 ness, and the fewer and feebler the restraints to 
 lawless desire, and the more rapid and fearful the 
 development of the innate depravity of the human 
 heart. The man whose case we have been con- 
 sidering is one who has succeeded in stifling his 
 conscience when it acted under the clear and de- 
 cided light of God's truth. Its convictions, which 
 he could not disprove, and its remonstrances in all 
 their palpable propriety, have been overborne in 
 the conflict with the heart. Worldly ambition, 
 carnal passion, sinful desire have triumphed over 
 it when it acted in circumstances most favourable 
 to its success. And do you think that the subject 
 of these experiences will, in the same circumstances, 
 ever be similarly affected by the truth of God ? 
 Will he tremble as he formerly did in view of sin, 
 and shrink back from the thought of trifling with 
 sacred things? Or, having broken through the 
 restraints which controlled him, will he not feel a 
 freedom in sin, and be prepared to perpetrate 
 without much scruple actions at which, antecedent 
 to these struggles with his conscience, his soul 
 would have shuddered ? In this simple thought, 
 we have the whole philosophy of progressive ini- 
 quity. We have explained to us, what to many 
 
A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 329 
 
 wears an aspect of mystery — how a man can go on 
 step by step in a downward course, becoming less 
 accessible to the influences of good, and more and 
 more open to the suggestions of evil. His onward 
 movement has its stages distinctly marked by con- 
 tests within, a mysterious something within him to 
 which he has risen superior, and at each of these 
 stages he has received a new impulse in his down- 
 ward course, until, at last, his character becomes 
 that of one who, neither fearing God nor regarding 
 man, drinks in iniquity like water, and sins without 
 compunction and without remorse. 
 
 I am not dealing in fancies, believe me, my 
 brethren, as I give utterance to these solemn 
 thoughts. Alas ! alas ! the world is too full of 
 their painful illustrations, to leave room for any 
 skepticism here. You will find them in the con- 
 trasts which men, no more matured in age than in 
 every form of ungodliness, whose consciences seem 
 to be buried in the darkness of an eternal death, 
 present to the quick susceptibility of impression, 
 and tender moral sensibilities of their early years. 
 You will find them in the children of prayers, and 
 tears, and parental instruction, who for a while, it 
 may be, moved on full of promise and of hope, till 
 they were brought by the Providence of God into 
 decisive circumstances, where the light of truth 
 shone with mora than ordinary brilliancy in upon 
 their minds, and they felt in deeper and more aw- 
 ful sincerity than ever the impressive simplicities 
 of the gospel, as conscience spake with unusual 
 power, and with unwonted emphasis. That was a 
 
330 A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 
 
 crisis in their history. There was a severe struggle 
 between a sense of duty, and the love of sin — 
 doubtfully for a time may the conflict have been 
 waged — but eventually the love of sin triumphed, 
 and they who before would have paused in their 
 course, in view of the simplest prohibition of the 
 word of God, who would have melted down under 
 the influences of heavenly entreaty, are heedless to 
 the one, and insensible to the other ; yea, are often 
 heard boasting their deliverance from the preju- 
 dices of early education, and as an evidence of 
 their emancipation, sporting on the lip of profanity 
 the solemn realities, in view of which once they 
 trembled, and laughing with an almost maniac's 
 sneer at the influences which formerly controlled 
 them. And when the convictions of which men 
 have been the subjects have been peculiarly deep, 
 and the struggles through which they have passed 
 have been severe, you will often find their subjects 
 coming forth unsubdued by all of them, and enter- 
 ing upon a course, in which in respect to principle, 
 they seldom stop short of the most unblushing in- 
 fidelity, and in respect to practice, they give them- 
 selves up to an open abandonment to every vice. 
 Such are the effects of a stifled conscience upon 
 the character, more or less strikingly manifested, 
 as the convictions stifled have been more or less 
 deep, and the efforts to overcome them conse- 
 quently more or less severe. 
 
 II. I turn to another view of my subject, viz., the 
 results of the course I have described, upon the 
 moral and spiritual condition of its subject. We 
 
A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 331 
 
 use the term condition here, to designate the state 
 of a man in relation to any particular experience, 
 or event, as that state is defined by the circum- 
 stances in which he is placed. A man's worldly 
 condition is determined from his temporal circum- 
 stances, as they administer to his present happi- 
 ness or discomfort, or may be ominous of his 
 coming prosperity or adversity. And a man's 
 spiritual condition is determined by his circum- 
 stances, as they bear upon the question of his 
 future destiny. 
 
 The salvation of any man out of the kingdom 
 of God, is, as yet, an unsolved problem, because 
 there are difficulties to be overcome, which we 
 cannot say that he will ever master, and sacrifices 
 to be made to which we do not know that he ever 
 will submit — and yet the circumstances of some 
 men are more favorable to a happy issue than 
 those of others, simply because some men are more 
 accessible to the influence of the truth than are 
 others ; and a man's circumstances are promising or 
 otherwise, according as they prepare the mind for 
 and give enforcement to these influences, or tend 
 to close the mind against them, or neutralize their 
 power. A man's relation to the means of grace 
 may be determined by feeling as well as by local- 
 ity — that is, a man living under the light, and 
 blessed with the privileges of the gospel, may be, 
 on account of his moral feelings, as wholly unaf- 
 fected by them as though he were living in a land 
 of pagan darkness. Upon a man who closes his 
 eyes, an object set before him will produce no 
 
332 A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 
 
 more effect than if it had no existence. The 
 thought then, I would here have you ponder is, 
 that a stifled conscience puts a man in a position 
 where the truth of God has no effect upon him. 
 The conversion of the soul is difficult, because it is 
 difficult to make upon the minds of men deep and 
 effective impressions of spiritual things. They 
 may be brought under the action of the gospel, 
 and summoned to think upon themes of an import 
 so high and solemn, that one would suppose they 
 never could forget them ; and yet they carry away 
 with them an impression, at best, but transient, of 
 the truths with which they have been communing, 
 and that because the conscience, to which these 
 truths appeal, is laid in so deep a slumber ; hence, 
 the man who by stifling his conscience has obtained 
 the completest mastery over it, and has laid it in 
 the deepest slumber, is most inaccessible to the 
 influences of the truth, and consequently in the 
 most hopeless spiritual condition. Never is man 
 brought into that state in which he becomes the 
 subject of a spiritual change, except as his con- 
 science is roused to action under the influence of 
 heavenly truth. "While it slumbers, all our demon- 
 strations, however clear, and all our appeals, how- 
 ever forceful, are but " like a lovely song of one 
 who hath a pleasant voice and can play well on an 
 instrument" — as pleasing it may be to the ear, but 
 as evanescent in their impression upon the mind ; 
 and when we know that stifling conscience is but 
 throwing it into a stupor, we can easily understand 
 that he who has been able to keep it down, and to 
 
A STIFLED COjS'SCIEK'CE. 333 
 
 smother its remonstrances, under the clearest light 
 of the gospel, has, in so doing, triumphed over his 
 better self, and over all that is powerful in the 
 means of grace, and all that was hopeful in his 
 condition — and when you look at him, after having 
 thus mastered his conscience, sitting unmoved wdien 
 the messenger of truth takes his stand for God, 
 and clearly illustrates and enforces with mighty 
 urgency the claims of his Saviour, it seems as 
 though all that was impressible about him, had 
 been turned to ice and iron and adamant ; and we 
 do not hesitate to say that as he has rendered him- 
 self more inaccessible to recovering influences, he 
 has to the same degree, rendered his spiritual con- 
 dition hopeless. You have then the premises and 
 conclusion of my argument before you. The most 
 hopeless of God's creatures in this world, is not, 
 necessarily, the man of the greatest outward defor- 
 mities of character, not necessarily the man of the 
 fewest spiritual advantages, but the man of the 
 most ; the man who has been the subject of the 
 deepest and most pungent convictions of truth and 
 duty, which he has mastered ; the man who has 
 been brought nearest to the kingdom of heaven, 
 yet has never entered it. 
 
 III. I have one more view of my subject. What 
 kind of an experience, hereafter, think you, must a 
 stifled conscience describe ? It is unquestionably 
 true, that the scenes through which we are passing 
 now, and our action in them, have something to do 
 with our coming destiny ; and if I mistake not, the 
 workings of our minds now will show with some dis- 
 
*l 
 
 334 A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 
 
 tinctness what will be the workings of our minds 
 hereafter. It is perfectly immaterial whether you 
 look at the coming scenes in the light of inflicted 
 punishment, or as the results of the natural opera- 
 tions of the human mind. In either view the sub- 
 ject of a stifled conscience must prepare for a bitter 
 experience. The teaching of the Bible upon the 
 subject of retribution, is very simple. "Unto 
 whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be 
 required." Responsibility, and of course guilt, are 
 measured by the light and privileges enjoyed, and 
 there will be degrees in punishment, as there are 
 gradations in wickedness. And upon whom can 
 we fix, as in circumstances of greater responsibility, 
 than upon the man upon whom not merely the 
 truth of God has been brought to act, but upon 
 whom that action has been effective, into whose 
 mind the Spirit of Grod has been pouring light, 
 and upon whose heart the most solemn and im- 
 pressive motives have been urged ? The man who 
 in these circumstances does not bow to the authori- 
 tative announcement of heaven, robs himself for- 
 ever of the plea of ignorance in extenuation of his 
 guilt, or in abatement of the fearfulness of his com- 
 ing catastrophe. And if his doom, in its sorrows, 
 is to be determined from the intelligence which 
 has marked his spiritual resistances, oh ! there 
 must be many stripes for him, because he knew his 
 Master's will. Better for him that his conscience 
 never should have been roused to action, than that 
 it should have awakened only to drink the ano- 
 dyne which he himself had mingled for it. 
 
A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 335 
 
 Or, look at the coming scenes of another world, 
 simply as the natural results of our feelings and 
 movements here ; and is not he who is smothering 
 the reproofs of his spirit, and hushing the remon- 
 strances of this faithful monitor within him, laying 
 up the stings and the goads which shall madden 
 him for ever ? "Will not the spirit which is so in- 
 genious now, in inventing excuses for sin, and 
 methods for getting rid of convictions of truth and 
 duty, be equally ingenious hereafter, in teaching 
 the undying worm new modes of torture. He 
 cannot then but see that the cup of sorrow from 
 which he drinks, has been mingled by himself, as 
 he finds that the repressed movements of con- 
 science, its smothered convictions, its hushed 
 remonstrances, constitute its bitterest ingredients ; 
 and the reason why he cannot escape from, or alle- 
 viate his miseries, will be that he cannot escape 
 from or blot out the remembrance of himself. 
 
 Believe me, my brethren, there is an intimate con- 
 nection between the scenes through which we are 
 passing now, and the scenes amid which we are to 
 mingle hereafter. You and I, and all men every- 
 where, are now defining the future, and giving birth 
 to the elements of its experience. And he who 
 now moves upon the confines of the kingdom of 
 God, without entering it, will move at the greatest 
 distance from it forever. We had better not think 
 upon spiritual things, if thought amounts to no- 
 thing. We had better not feel under the influ- 
 ence of spiritual realities, if feeling does not lead 
 to obedience to the truth. Better that we should 
 
«m 
 
 336 A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 
 
 never have known any thing of the way of righ- 
 teousness, if we do not walk in it. Better had it 
 been for Felix if Paul had never reasoned with him 
 on "righteousness, temperance, and judgment to 
 come," or had he never trembled under the truth. 
 Of the general subject, which I have thus set 
 before you, it is hardly necessary for me to make a 
 particular application, for I see not how any one 
 uninterested in Jesus Christ, can fail to take it 
 home to himself. We are here, my brethren, in 
 the providence of God, under the preaching of the 
 gospel. It cannot be that the ministrations of 
 the truth have been powerless upon the conscience, 
 or that the appeals of the gospel have been with- 
 out effect upon the mind. It cannot be that the 
 providence of God has in vain seconded these min- 
 istrations, or to no purpose added its enforcements 
 to the truth. Experience has proved that uni- 
 formly, in these circumstances, thought is awakened, 
 and feeling more or less deep is kindled, and that 
 men have evidence within them, of the reality of 
 that mighty agency which works upon the mind 
 and heart in connection with a preached gospel. 
 You will let me speak to you, my brethren, not in 
 unkindness, but from the fulness of a heart which 
 seeks as the source of its highest joy the salvation 
 of your souls. You will let me speak to you in 
 view of the truth which I have been illustrating. 
 Under this gospel you have thought, under this gos- 
 pel you have felt, under this gospel you have pur- 
 posed — but, these convictions have been hushed — 
 perhaps by direct resistance, perhaps by evasion, 
 
A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 337 
 
 perhaps by promises — I know not how — but 
 conscience has been stifled. Thought, feeling, 
 conviction have not led to obedience. And are 
 these, my brethren, circumstances which justify 
 apathy and spiritual unconcern ? If I am right in 
 the position I have assumed to-day, I know of no 
 circumstances of greater moral peril in which a 
 man can be placed. My beloved hearers, whose 
 history tells of frequent seasons of the strivings of 
 the Spirit of God, and as frequent resistances to 
 them, is it not so that you are called to an agony of 
 effort ? The scenes through which you have passed, 
 and the position you now occupy, give emphasis to 
 the voice, and power to the exhortation which calls 
 upon you to " agonize to enter in at the straight 
 gate." It will be a mighty conflict with a heart so 
 long triumphant, which shall issue in a spiritual 
 deliverance ; but that conflict must be joined, and 
 won, or all is lost. " Agonize while yet there is 
 hope ; while yet " the Spirit of God worketh in 
 you." You may not think it, but, believe me, there 
 is a hand upon you which will palsy and crush you 
 if its grasp be not loosened; there is a withering 
 influence thrown over you which will overcome 
 you, and sink you far beyond the reach of hope, if 
 you struggle not with superhuman strength, like 
 the agony of man for life. Oh ! " agonize to enter 
 in at the straight gate ;" for, if ye are saved, there 
 is an eternal crown ; if ye fail, there are scorpion 
 stings, and flames fanned by the breath of the 
 Almighty ; a heart of joy or an undying worm, a 
 garland of glory or a wreath of fire ; these are the 
 22 
 
*t 
 
 338 A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 
 
 issues pending ; " agonize to enter in at the straight 
 gate," 
 
 It is quite possible that there may be some who at 
 this very moment may be going through the expe- 
 rience upon the result of which hang such mighty 
 issues. I confess I should be surprised if there 
 were not, especially among my more youthful 
 hearers, some active, troubled, and reproving con- 
 sciences ; if there were not some to whom a " still, 
 small voice," was whispering, " Behold now is the 
 accepted time, now is the day of salvation." If there 
 is one such in my hearing, I beseech him to give 
 me his mind one moment. You know not, my dear 
 friend, you cannot conceive the issues which may, 
 at this very moment, be hanging on the movements 
 of your mind. There may be more of glory or 
 more of shame, more of life or more of death, more 
 of heaven or more of hell than you imagine ; and 
 of one or the other, according as you act in this crisis 
 through which you are now passing. Oh ! beware of 
 a stifled conscience, beware of smothered, overpow- 
 ered convictions. They are so death-like in their 
 influence, so dirge-like in their sound, that they 
 seem to indicate the fatal grasp of the great de- 
 stroyer. You will be tempted, and I fear success- 
 fully, to stifle that conscience, and hush its convic- 
 tions now, by the hope that God may awaken it to 
 more powerful action hereafter. Oh ! be not de- 
 ceived ; do not build a hope of God's gracious 
 influence hereafter upon your provoking him to 
 withdraw it altogether. You would not be tempted 
 ito take a viper to your bosom by the hope that 
 
A STIFLED CONSCIENCE. 339 
 
 God would extract the sting. You would not "be 
 tempted to fill and mix and quaff the poison cup, 
 by the hope that God might neutralize its hemlock ; 
 give up such a vain hope, it is one of the deceits of 
 a sinful heart. You may hush that conscience, but 
 in doing so you may sink it into a sleep from which 
 nothing but the trumpet of judgment will awaken 
 it. You may drink of that poison cup which a 
 deceitful heart is mingling, but you may drain the 
 very dregs of the second death. You may stifle 
 that conscience — Felix did it, and trembled no 
 more — you may do it, and cut the last tie which 
 fastens you to God, and sever the only cord which 
 binds you to a world of hope. Beware ! beware of 
 stifled convictions, and of seared and hardened con- 
 sciences. You will act in your circumstances ; you 
 must act ; but, remember, oh ! remember the amaz- 
 ing issues. " To-day, if ye will hear his voice, 
 harden not your heart." 
 
RESISTING THE SPIRIT. 
 
 ♦» 
 
 " My Spirit shall not always strive with man." — Genesis vi. 3. 
 
 The agency of God in all his works, in all places 
 of his dominion, is a first principle of truth, which 
 on the present occasion, I may consider as unques- 
 tioned. How that agency is exerted, through 
 what channels that influence, which upholds, and 
 directs, and controls all things, and evolves all 
 results, is put forth, no man may be able positively 
 to determine. Here we may have our theories, 
 varying from, or if you please, opposed to each 
 other, and they are all perfectly harmless, so long 
 as they do not shut out from the view of men the 
 fact itself of the divine agency and control. This 
 much is clear and certain : God's hand is in every 
 thing. This physical system is upheld by his 
 power, and moves at his bidding, and each indi- 
 vidual part of it, demands for itself, in order to its 
 existence and motion, the power of God, as truly 
 as does the wondrous whole. The moment it is 
 withdrawn, each and all sink and revert to their 
 original nothingness. 
 
 This characteristic of dependence is not, however, 
 
RESISTING THE SPIRIT. 341 
 
 peculiar to the physical or inanimate creation ; it as 
 truly pervades and marks with equal distinctness 
 the intellectual and moral world. God's influence 
 runs through every department of being, uphold- 
 ing each, and controlling and regulating the move- 
 ment of each according to the laws which he him- 
 self has given to each respectively. I am as truly 
 dependent upon God for thought, as I am for mus- 
 cular action; and in the exercise of my mental 
 powers, and in the play of my varied feelings, ac- 
 cording to the laws of my own mind, God is as 
 really engaged as in the motions of the planets, 
 the revolutions of the earth, or the changes of the 
 seasons. 
 
 The moral or spiritual world has precisely the 
 same attribute of dependence. The nature of the 
 divine influence here, and the mode of its exercise, 
 may be somewhat different, growing out of a differ- 
 ence in the constitution of the subjects upon which 
 it acts ; but the dependence here is as real as in 
 the other case. I can no more do without God, as 
 a spiritual being, than I can do without him as an 
 intellectual or merely animal being ; and I will not 
 stop to quarrel with a man respecting his philoso- 
 phical theory of dependence, so long as he does 
 not on the one hand deny its existence and abso- 
 luteness, nor on the other reduce dependence to 
 fatalism. 
 
 For every proper thought then, for every holy 
 emotion, for every right purpose and action, we 
 need the power of God. We need it as creatures, 
 but oh ! we need it especially as sinful creatures. 
 
«» 
 
 342 KESISTING THE SPIEIT. 
 
 Man wakes to righteousness only at the biddings 
 and under the influence of him who gives life in 
 the spiritual world ; and holiness is sustained only 
 as the same power which originated , nourishes and 
 preserves it. If this be so, and if every Christian 
 knows, however far he may have advanced in the 
 experimental knowledge of Jesus Christ, that, 
 
 " When God withdraws, his comforts die, 
 And all his graces droop ;" 
 
 surely if he ceases to act, if his peculiar influence 
 as a renewing God be withheld from a lost and 
 ruined world, not a single ray of light will break 
 in upon the darkness in which it is shrouded, nor 
 a single element of life break the deep repose of 
 spiritual death to which it has been hushed. 
 
 The peculiarity of the gospel, therefore, as a 
 recovering system, is, that it is a dispensation of 
 the spirit of God, and as such it is the only source 
 of hope to apostate man ; and it cannot surely be 
 an uninteresting or an unprofitable occupation for 
 ourselves, to study for a few moments our position 
 and our circumstances, as subjects of this dispensa- 
 tion ; and keeping distinctly in view the fact of an 
 absolute dependence, to ponder some truths which 
 the gospel has revealed respecting the agency of 
 the Spirit ; truths of deep moment to us, and which 
 should have a very effective and decided influence 
 upon the movements of our minds and the feelings 
 of our hearts in our spiritual relations. 
 
 My object, then, upon the present occasion, is to 
 lay before you three distinct trains of thought, all 
 
RESISTING THE SPIRIT. 343 
 
 leading to one and the same general result. The 
 first, relating to the fact itself, will direct your at- 
 tention to some indications of the reality and power 
 of the Spirit's influence upon the human mind. 
 The second, relating to the suspension of that influ- 
 ence, will furnish the evidence of the position, that 
 the Spirit of God does not always strive with man ; 
 and the third, relating to the condition of one thus 
 abandoned, will furnish an argument for careful- 
 ness as to the movements of our minds under the 
 gospel of Jesus Christ. 
 
 I. There are certain states of mind, belonging, I 
 think I may with safety say, to all who are placed 
 under the clear and faithful exhibition of " the 
 truth as it is in Jesus," which shew them to be the 
 subjects of an influence greatly different from that 
 of their own hearts, or that of the world around 
 them, and even superior to both. We do not now 
 say how marked these states are, nor how decided 
 their manifestations. We merely state the fact, 
 that every man is at times conscious of peculiar 
 conditions of thought and feeling, which he may 
 not be able fully to explain to himself, which are 
 not in accordance with his prevailing desires, and 
 are not originated by any of those objects, in view 
 of which he naturally loves to act. Sometimes his 
 state is that of uneasiness — he is dissatisfied with 
 himself. Not that there is any source of disquiet 
 in his outward relations and circumstances, these 
 may all be peaceful. As a mere creature of sense, 
 he may be in possession of all the elements of en- 
 
•0 
 
 344 RESISTING THE SPIRIT. 
 
 joyment, and yet, surrounded by the means of 
 gratification, he is disturbed and restless. 
 
 These experiences, it must be remembered, are 
 inseparable from the influence of the truth of God 
 upon the mind. They exist, as their subject is 
 brought to think upon the statements of the word 
 of God. If he can banish the truth from his 
 thoughts, his painful emotions often cease ; but un- 
 der its light and power he is unhappy, and his un- 
 easiness, in its degree, is generally proportioned to 
 the clearness of the truths' manifestations, and the 
 power of the appeals which they make to his con- 
 science. There are circumstances, moreover, in 
 which the light of the gospel shines very strongly 
 in upon the mind. " The power of the world to 
 come" takes hold upon the spirit, and while he is 
 conscious of contrariety to the being who controls 
 him, he cannot but be fearful of the retributions 
 which await him. Spiritual things have an air of 
 reality, and as he feels that he is not what he 
 should be, he dreads to think of what he may be ; 
 in short, he is now awakened to a perception of 
 his condition, and to a sense of his danger as a 
 sinner. 
 
 Connected with this state of mind, as either ac- 
 companying or succeeding, though essentially dis- 
 tinct in its character, is another, often belonging to 
 man in the same, or very similar circumstances. 
 It is a state marked not simply by a perception of 
 danger, but also by a conviction of guilt. In ordi- 
 nary circumstances, when the moral judgment is 
 but partially enlightened, man can without much 
 
KESISTING THE SPIEIT. 345 
 
 compunction, take an attitude of opposition to 
 every thing like spiritual religion. He can either 
 very ingeniously evade all the requirements of the 
 gospel, or he can work out a very elaborate justifi- 
 cation of himself in his neglect of them ; and it is 
 truly admirable to observe what sagacity the hu- 
 man mind can display in reasoning against the com- 
 mandments of heaven, and in what a close web of 
 skilful sophistry it can entangle itself, in its endea- 
 vour to get rid of the righteousness of heavenly 
 claims. But now, he can do so no longer; the 
 conviction of his guilt is too clear to be resisted, 
 and under the combined influence of his apprehen- 
 sion of danger and sense of sinfulness, he feels the 
 necessity of doing something which shall change at 
 once his character and his state. 
 
 These are mental experiences, by no means un- 
 common under the faithful preaching of the gospel. 
 How are we to explain them ? To what cause, or 
 causes, shall we attribute them ? You will not 
 surely account for them by supposing them to be 
 the results of any independent movement of the 
 human spirit ! " Dead in trespasses and sins,' 1 man 
 does not of himself awaken to a sense of his spirit- 
 ual danger. The human heart does not sponta- 
 neously come to the light, that its mysteries may 
 be revealed. Left entirely to the workings of his 
 own mind, under the influence of the purely sensi- 
 ble objects by which he is surrounded, there is no 
 reason to suppose that man will ever think of any 
 other than his merely sensible relations, or ever 
 dream of his sin and danger as a subject of the 
 
*p 
 
 346 EESiSTma the spieit. 
 
 spiritual government of God. There is such a thing, 
 we admit, as natural conscience, and it has indeed 
 a wondrous power to overwhelm with its rebukes 
 and distract with its terrors — but then it must be 
 roused by an influence independent of itself — for 
 sin stupefies the conscience as well as blinds the 
 vision. The human mind acts, as it is acted upon, 
 and experience, as it illustrates this great character- 
 istic of our mental nature, testifies that all mental, 
 and of course all moral changes, are secured by 
 outward influences. When the Son of God was 
 about to leave this world, having finished the work 
 which the Father had given him to do, he left be- 
 hind him this promise, " I will send the Comforter, 
 who shall convince the world of sin, and righteous- 
 ness, and judgment ;" and in this promise we have 
 the explanation of these mental phenomena, which 
 are themselves the evidences that the promise has 
 been fulfilled. 
 
 Have we not, then, the proofs of the power and 
 reality of the Spirit's influences among ourselves ? 
 If the word of God is the sword of the Spirit, is not 
 that Spirit present in his sanctuary, where that 
 word is illustrated in its principles and enforced in 
 its claims? What means that almost breathless 
 stillness which sometimes pervades the house of 
 God, when the simplicities of the gospel are exhi- 
 bited ? What does the mind made thoughtful in- 
 dicate, but the presence and agency of him who 
 with " a still small voice," does " stop the sinner's 
 way ;" of what are all our awakened anxieties the 
 fruits, if not of his influence, whose province it is 
 
RESISTING THE SPIRIT. 347 
 
 " to convince the world of sin." And what mean 
 those oft-formed resolutions, to which kindled fears 
 give birth, and what those oft-repeated vows, 
 originating in intelligent conviction, if they are not 
 the evidence of some mighty though mysterious 
 agency at work upon the mind ? Lo ! we carry 
 within us the proofs of the position that the Spirit 
 of God strives with man. Truth, a thousand 
 times heard before without awakening emotion, 
 now rousing us to thought ; claims a thousand 
 times before presented, and at best but listlessly 
 received, now securing a prompt and intelligent 
 response from conscience ; feeling, quick, deep, per- 
 manent, perhaps excited under the demonstrations 
 of the gospel ; these as facts defining our own cir- 
 cumstances, and testified to by our own conscious- 
 ness, are the evidences of our subjection to the in- 
 fluences of the Holy Ghost. 
 
 II. Now, we cannot tell beforehand, in reference 
 to any given case, what are to be the results of 
 these spiritual movements upon the human mind. 
 We know what their tendency is in themselves 
 considered. The gospel is a recovering system. 
 Christ came " to seek and to save the lost," and 
 the Holy Spirit is the agent for carrying out the 
 great moral purposes of the Gospel; though his 
 influences do not always lead to such an issue. 
 Viewed in this light, the operations of the Spirit of 
 God are to the mind of man invested with amazing 
 interest. They stand connected with the best wel- 
 fare, and the highest hopes of his immortal spirit ; 
 they furnish the only ground for the expectation 
 
•P 
 
 348 RESISTING THE SPIRIT. 
 
 that he may be born again ; they are the only secu- 
 rity he has against perdition. Let them but cease, 
 and the question of his spiritual destiny is decided. 
 Let it be certain that over that mind the Holy 
 Ghost will never again move, that he will never 
 again touch that conscience, or influence that heart, 
 and the eternal enslavement of that soul is sure, as 
 it is placed forever beyond the reach of any power 
 which can break its chains, and it must sink under 
 their weight into the darkness of an everlasting 
 night. 
 
 And are we not taught by the very words of 
 our text the possibility of such a condition ? Do 
 we need any plainer indication than is here given 
 us of the reality of spiritual abandonment ? Has 
 not the history of our world furnished its comments 
 and its proofs ? What have become of the con- 
 victions which belonged to those who have shewn 
 themselves strangers to the hopes of the gospel ? 
 How many have apprehended the terrors of the 
 world to come, trembled in the retrospect of the past, 
 and the prospect of the future ? Under the influence 
 of an awakened conscience and solemn premonitions, 
 have thought, have resolved and promised, and yet 
 have either entered upon the experience they so 
 much dreaded, or else live only to manifest an 
 entire unconcern about spiritual things, and to pre- 
 sent to the realities and claims of the truth an 
 indurated heart and a callous conscience. We have 
 read of an Esau, who shed the tears of a bitter but 
 unavailing repentance ; of an Ahab, who humbled 
 himself in view of threatened judgments ; of a Saul, 
 
EESISTTNG THE SPIKIT. 349 
 
 from whom God departed ; of a Judas, who rushed 
 upon the very ruin which gave to his conscience its 
 tormenting and appalling power ; of a Felix, who 
 trembled on his judgment seat ; and an Agrippa, 
 who was " almost persuaded to be a Christian." 
 These are gleanings from amid the memorials of 
 the past, in perfect keeping with the demonstra- 
 tions of the present. We point you to the man who 
 has been laid upon a bed of sickness, and whose 
 mental exercises, in his hour of solemn thought- 
 fulness, told of the workings of the Spirit of God. 
 We point to the man once alarmed by some start- 
 ling dispensation of Providence, or awakened by 
 the faithful preaching of the word in the sanctuary, 
 whose emotions, and the language which expressed 
 them, revealed the agency of some mysterious 
 power ; and then I turn over another page of their 
 history, and there stands that once troubled sinner, 
 brought back from the gates of the grave, and 
 there is a smile of skepticism, or indifference 
 upon his countenance as he is spoken to of " the 
 powers of the world to come ;" and yonder moves 
 that once thoughtful and inquiring one, and he re- 
 ceives with an air of the greatest unconcern every 
 appeal upon the importance of spiritual and eternal 
 things; and here is the subject of providential 
 discipline, from whose spirit the impressions once 
 made upon it are entirely gone, shewing not a trace 
 of the influence of the trials under which his heart 
 once bled profusely. And these are the proofs 
 which every day and every hour are heaving into 
 being, of the truth that the Spirit of God does not 
 
»» 
 
 350 RESISTING THE SPIRIT. 
 
 always strive with man. I can appeal then, for my 
 arguments upon this point, my careless hearer, to 
 you. Subject of stifled convictions ! Child of tears 
 and prayers, and entreaties and warnings, you 
 whose conscience has ere now been wakened to 
 action, and whose feelings have been excited in 
 view of truth, over whom a mother's heart has 
 yearned while she wrestled with her covenant 
 God, and to whom a father's tenderest anxieties 
 have been given as he has laid hold on your behalf 
 of the heavenly promise — you who have wept at the 
 bedside of sickness, or formed the purpose of re- 
 pentance at the grave of a departed friend ; while 
 your past experience is my proof of the reality of 
 the Spirit's influence, your present apathy shall be 
 my demonstration of its suspension. 
 
 Considering this point as established, allow me 
 to turn your attention to some of its connections, 
 that my doctrine may be made to subserve the 
 great practical purpose it contemplates. 
 
 The position, then, which I here assume, is that 
 such a dispensation upon the part of God, as the 
 withdrawal from a man of his Holy Spirit, is never 
 the result of a dark and mysterious sovereignty. 
 Most men are very prone to resolve every thing 
 into sovereignty, and they mean by it only caprice, 
 arbitrary action, without any reason. There is, 
 however, no such sovereignty taught in the Bible, 
 and it is incompatible with a wise, and intelligent, 
 and upright administration. God is a sovereign, 
 but he has the very best possible reason for every 
 thing he does, though he has not made known to 
 
KESISTTSG THE SPIEIT. 351 
 
 us the reasons of all his doings, and probably our 
 minds are not large enough to comprehend them, 
 should they all be revealed. But then sovereignty 
 is an attribute of grace. God may bestow favours 
 upon a being in the exercise of sovereignty, that is, 
 for reasons wholly irrespective of the character of 
 the being himself. Thus the salvation of every 
 sinner is an act of sovereignty ; but the infliction of 
 evil falls within the province of justice, and its 
 reasons are always taken from the character and 
 doings of its subject. Hence, when you read in 
 the Bible of the suspension or withdrawal of 
 divine influences from a man, you always find it 
 represented in connection with some previous 
 wrong conduct on his part, and as a punishment 
 of that conduct. Spiritual abandonment is the 
 judicial result of spiritual resistance. The Spirit 
 of God ceases to strive because he is driven from 
 the human bosom. 
 
 We have already adverted to certain states of 
 feeling, certain conditions of thought, of which man 
 is the subject under the preaching of the gospel, 
 and we have traced them to their source in spiritual 
 influences, and exhibited their general moral ten- 
 dency to draw us away from sin to holiness, from 
 the world to God. These influences are, in the 
 results they contemplate, opposite to the natural 
 bias of the heart. Hence, when a man becomes 
 their subject, there is a counter movement often 
 times of the human mind ; there is a sudden and 
 distinct recoil from the impressive power which 
 comes upon the soul. There is generally an effort 
 
*p 
 
 352 EESISTING THE SPIEIT. 
 
 to throw in something between the mind and the 
 realities which affect it, and in all this there is 
 resistance to the Holy Ghost. The forms in which 
 this resistance is seen, are varied by the manner in 
 which truth approaches a man, by the character 
 and force of its appeal, by his own natural tem- 
 perament, and by the outward circumstances and 
 associations in which he may be thrown. Some- 
 times it is shown in an effort as determined as it is 
 direct, to get rid of his convictions. He will pre- 
 occupy his mind with other subjects, or with views 
 of the truth different from those which impress 
 him. Sometimes he will break up entirely his asso- 
 ciations, in which he comes under these troublous 
 influences, or he will put himself in a position 
 where he thinks the arrows of the truth can never 
 reach him, by vacating his seat in the house of 
 God, or forming his Sabbath associations where he 
 thinks the truth will be less clear in its light, less 
 pointed in its application, or less urgent in its en- 
 forcements. His design is apparent. It is to give 
 the mind an opportunity to recover itself from the 
 shock it has received from the demonstration of the 
 gospel, or to secure a counteracting movement 
 which shall neutralize its power. There is a won- 
 derful sympathy between our outward aspect and 
 our inward feelings. We all know how very ea- 
 sily and quickly we can secure any particular emo- 
 tion, simply by assuming its corresponding outward 
 expression. A forced smile will not infrequently 
 wake up a momentary gladness in the heart, and a 
 tear started, we know not how, and dropped, we 
 
RESISTING THE SPIEIT. 353 
 
 know not why, will sadden the spirit, and a scorn- 
 ful look will at once excite something like contempt 
 for the person to whom it is directed. Hence, it 
 is by no means an uncommon thing for a man, 
 whose conscience has been affected in the house of 
 God, to assume an air of entire indifference, not 
 simply for the purpose of screening from others the 
 workings of his bosom, but also of securing in him- 
 self that very feeling of unconcern of which he has 
 assumed the outward expression. And I surely 
 need not tell you, that here is a clear evidence of 
 a strife between the mind and the Holy Ghost. 
 There is a direct and intelligent resistance to his 
 influences, the result of which is to banish him from 
 the soul. 
 
 Such a method, however, may not be successful. 
 There are circumstances in which it must prove 
 itself a failure ; circumstances where no direct op- 
 position will be of any avail. The gospel in its 
 influence over the mind, is at times not unlike some 
 other attractions, powerful in proportion as they 
 are painful, when a man cannot pass beyond 
 the bounds of that charmed circle which the truth 
 has drawn around him. If he cannot by any 
 direct effort rid himself of the impressions which) 
 the gospel has made upon him, if its claims so dis- 
 turbing to his conscience follow him wherever he 
 goes, and present themselves to his mind in what- 
 ever direction he turns, then he will endeavour to- 
 gain by evasion what he cannot effect by any direct 
 resistance. He will not meet manfully the claims 
 of repentance, and throw them entirely away from 
 23 
 
*» 
 
 354 BESISTITO THE SPIE1T. 
 
 him. He will not say intelligently and determin- 
 edly of the Son of God, " I will not have this man 
 to reign over me," but he will do it indirectly. 
 Conscience cannot be forced into quietness, but it 
 may be hushed into stillness by stratagem. Hence 
 originate those false trains of reasoning so common 
 in the world, those sophistries by which the human 
 mind is carried, to its own undoing. It is a re- 
 markable fact, my brethren, that men never reason 
 so much upon the subject of religion, and popular 
 errors, and false and delusive pleas never spring 
 up with such mushroom growth, as when the Spirit 
 of grace accompanies to the mind the clear and 
 powerful enforcements of gospel claims. Men do 
 not argue from their peculiar circumstances against 
 holy devote dness, except as they feel the pressure 
 of its obligations. They do not fly to the doctrine 
 of sovereignty, or take shelter behind that of 
 divine decrees, except as they are driven there by 
 some influences which they cannot directly resist, 
 and to which they are unwilling to yield. And 
 whenever you find a man endeavouring to reason 
 down the claims of God — whenever you hear him 
 using such arguments as these: "I would be a 
 Christian if I could"—" I must wait God's time for 
 my conversion" — -" If I am to be saved I shall be 
 saved, do what I may ; and if I am to be lost I shall 
 be lost, do what I can"— you may set it down as a 
 settled point that the Spirit of God is striving with 
 him. And in these false movements and ingenious 
 pleas, he is only retreating to, or falling back upon 
 ?what he deems a secure position, where he may 
 
RESISTING THE SPIRIT. 355 
 
 successfully resist the mighty demonstrations of the 
 Holy Ghost. 
 
 There is yet another form in which opposition to 
 spiritual influences manifests itself, more common I 
 imagine, and more effective, than either of those 
 which have been mentioned. There are circum- 
 stances in which the light of conscience is too 
 strong to be in this manner extinguished. What- 
 ever the human heart, or a sinful world may say, 
 many a man has reached this conviction, clear and 
 decided, "I must repent or perish, there is no 
 other alternative ; I must be interested in Je- 
 sus Christ, or be lost f but then he feels that the 
 question before him is not one which demands an 
 immediate answer. A dying hour is not so close 
 at hand, a judgment bar is not so near, the realities 
 of eternity are not so pressing as to force me to a 
 prompt decision. "To-morrow shall be as this 
 day" — " I will hear thee again on this matter" — 
 " When I have a convenient season I will send for 
 thee." Thus runs that siren song, which has 
 hushed more souls to the sleep of death than all 
 other influences combined, soothed more troubled 
 consciences, driven the Spirit of God from more 
 souls, and added the largest number to the fright- 
 ful catalogue of the lost. For when the Holy 
 Ghost saith, " To-day if ye will hear his voice," 
 while he lends enforcement to the message, " Now 
 is the accepted time," can there be a more certain, 
 though covert resistance to his influences, than to 
 promise for the future what he urges as a present 
 duty ? A man had much better intelligently and 
 
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 356 EESISTINO THE SPIRIT. 
 
 openly throw from hiin the claims of Jesus Christ, 
 than thus tamper with and gain the mastery of 
 conscience, because in doing so, he is but yielding 
 to the arguments and throwing himself under the 
 power of what has not inaptly been called " the 
 thief of time" and " the murderer of souls." 
 
 It is impossible to follow these illustrations far- 
 ther, and I must content myself, therefore, with a 
 statement of the general principle. The Spirit of 
 God is the agent of conviction and conversion. 
 Any movement of the mind, therefore, which does 
 not accord with his design, any restlessness under or 
 dissatisfaction with the truth and providences of 
 God, which are the instruments of his agency ; any 
 reasoning which tends to weaken a sense of per- 
 sonal obligation ; any apology for sin, any promise 
 for the future, no matter how sincere, honest, and 
 well meant it may be at the time of its utterance, 
 puts a man in a position in which he resists the 
 influences of the Holy Ghost, and drives him from 
 the soul. 
 
 The question has often been asked, how long 
 may such a process be carried on in the mind with- 
 out reaching the catastrophe of a final abandon- 
 ment? In other words, what are the limits of a 
 man's day of grace ? To this question the answer 
 must be, we cannot tell. You might as well pro- 
 pose the analogous question, how long may a man 
 live in this world ? We cannot tell. It does not 
 belong to us to fix, or to point out the limits of 
 human life. Who but the Sovereign disposer of 
 all things can say with certainty when death shall 
 
RESISTING THE SPIRIT. 357 
 
 meet a man ? But yet, we know what God has 
 said, " Bloody and deceitful men shall not live out 
 half their days." We know, moreover, from the 
 laws of our animal economy, and from experience 
 and observation, that there are some habits and 
 courses of life which lead to its termination more 
 rapidly than habits and courses of an opposite 
 character. And, therefore, analogy may, perhaps, 
 throw some light upon this question. We cannot 
 tell how long the Spirit of God will strive with a 
 man ; we cannot, we dare not set the limits of God's 
 forbearance, but then if we throw aside speculation 
 and take a practical view of the subject, we know 
 that there are some states of mind which induce 
 far more rapidly than others a condition of con- 
 firmed impenitence and undisturbed spiritual death. 
 If the Spirit of God always departs from a man in 
 judgment because of resistance to his influences ; 
 then it would seem that his strivings would be 
 regulated in their duration not so much by the 
 time as by the degree of their resistance ; and this 
 must be determined from the amount of influence 
 exerted upon him. Such a principle draws deep, 
 and tells with mighty effect wherever it applies. 
 The more hopeful a man's circumstances are in view 
 of his opportunities, and the spiritual influences of 
 which he is the subject, the more perilous is his 
 resistance. The man of few privileges, whose mind 
 has seldom been called into action by the truth of 
 God, occupies a very different moral position from 
 the child of prayers and tears and counsels — a very 
 different position from the man who has lived long 
 
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 358 KESISTING THE SPIKIT. 
 
 under the full blaze of gospel truth, whose spiritual 
 experience has been that of alternate anxieties and 
 insensibility, of painful convictions and successful 
 strifes with conscience. Tell me what a man's past 
 spiritual history has been; paint rne the scenes 
 amid which he has moved, describe the influences 
 to which he has been subject, and shew me what 
 has been his action under them, and I will shew 
 you how you may rationally calculate his hopes for 
 the future, and determine how near he is to the 
 crisis of his spiritual being. If we may draw an 
 inference from God's recorded dispensations towards 
 men of old ; then, when we read, " they vexed and 
 rebelled against his Holy Spirit, therefore, he 
 turned to be their enemy and fought against them," 
 surely, we are right in saying, that often stifled 
 convictions, and long continued resistances to the 
 truth, if they are not the attributes of the repro- 
 bate, are fearfully ominous of a fatal and speedy 
 catastrophe. 
 
 III. And now, my brethren, we do not pretend 
 — language would fail us in the effort— to pourtray 
 the condition of a man who has reached this mel- 
 ancholy crisis, and has been abandoned of God. 
 The scriptures have given us upon this subject but 
 a few hints, yet those are hints of unutterable 
 painfulness. They talk of being left to the desires 
 of one's own mind, and the devices of one's own 
 heart. They speak of there being " no more sac- 
 rifice for sin, but a fearful looking for of judg- 
 ment ;" of being given up to " delusion, so as to 
 believe a lie." The sinner forsaken of God, has his 
 
RESISTING THE SPIRIT. 359 
 
 doom forever sealed ; for him hope has been blot- 
 ted out ; and he has inscribed his own name upon 
 the catalogue of the lost. He may live in the 
 world, but only to harden himself the more ; and 
 under the withering influence of heaven's judg- 
 ments, to develop a character, which, in view of the 
 whole universe, will fully justify the dread chastise- 
 ment which shall certainly be measured out to 
 him. He may hear the gospel, and at times there 
 may be something like a momentary start from his 
 deep slumbers ; but it is only the spasmodic action 
 of conscience after the death blow has been in- 
 flicted, or the fearful looking for of judgment. 
 Thus he moves through the world, becoming daily 
 more callous to the impression of spiritual good, 
 till in an hour when his security is most profound, 
 with his heart more than ever wedded to the 
 world, he bursts with all his unpreparedness upon 
 an eternal scene, and his doomed spirit falls into 
 the hands of the living God. The bare thought is 
 one of agony. It is almost enough to break one's 
 heart, and make him shed tears of blood, to think 
 of a human being gone so far that a God of for- 
 bearance must forsake him, beyond the reach of 
 heavenly compassion, standing upon the verge of 
 the world before him, his heart-strings about to 
 snap under the sorrows which are coming, and his 
 voice nearly strung and pitched to his eternal 
 death-wail. Oh ! that there never had been the 
 original of such a picture ! Oh ! that there was 
 no danger of any one reaching such a painful catas- 
 trophe. 
 
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 360 EESISTING THE SPIEIT. 
 
 But I read, " My Spirit shall not always strive 
 with man ;" and when I read, I turn with peculiar 
 emotions to those who are out of Christ. I speak 
 to the subjects of the Spirit's influence. Are there 
 none within my hearing ? Has the Spirit of God 
 moved over none of these minds ? Have there not 
 been under the demonstrations of the gospel feel- 
 ings which none but the Spirit of God could excite, 
 anxieties which none but the Spirit of God could 
 kindle, and purposes which none but the Spirit of 
 God could lead you to form ? Ah ! when you 
 were forced to think upon your ways, there was 
 the Spirit of God. When you were checked by 
 some startling providence, there was the Spirit of 
 God. When under the convincing arguments and 
 forceful appeals of the truth, you were "almost 
 persuaded" to be a Christian, the Spirit of God 
 was there. When you left the sanctuary, and 
 turned your back upon the emblems of a Saviour's 
 body and blood which invited you to peace, the 
 Spirit of God was there. Am I mistaken, or 
 have none ever resisted the Holy Ghost ? Am I 
 mistaken, or have there been no inward struggles 
 to drive away from the mind religious impressions ? 
 Have there been no apologies and excuses in an- 
 swer to the claims of spiritual religion ? No pro- 
 mises and purposes numerous as the Sabbath's 
 arguments, and frequent as the Sabbath's appeal ? 
 No, I am not mistaken ; there have been and there 
 are many and mighty strivings against the Spirit 
 of God. It is a spectacle over which an angel 
 might weep, if there could be tears in heaven, — 
 
EESISTING THE SPIEIT. 361 
 
 man, feeble man, child of the dust, and crushed 
 before the moth, strives with Almighty God. 
 Who has not done it ? how many are doing it yet \ 
 And while man does it in his thoughtlessness, he 
 hears not, or if he hears, he heeds not, the sound 
 which comes from the distance and falls upon the 
 ear in tones so solemn and distinct, and with a 
 cadence so dreadful, " My Spirit shall not always 
 strive with man." He heeds it not, but goes on 
 his way resisting the Holy Ghost. Thus he has- 
 tens on to a condition of hopelessness and helpless- 
 ness. Quick as the mind can act, he speeds him 
 onward. Every stifled conviction accelerates his 
 movements. Every Sabbath's light but lights him 
 forward. Every message of the truth, every argu- 
 ment and appeal of the sanctuary which falls upon 
 his ear, and reaches his spirit, serve but to quicken 
 his progress. Ere long the crisis comes. In an 
 unlooked for moment the grieved and insulted 
 Spirit spreads his wings for a final flight, and as he 
 goes, he leaves upon the soul a seal which neither 
 earth, nor heaven, nor hell, can break. The die 
 is then cast, the work is done, the decision is re- 
 corded. " Let him alone," is the sentence which 
 has gone forth, and the man is lost. Thencefor- 
 ward his career is one of growing sinfulness. 
 Thenceforward his state is one of spiritual sleep, 
 profound as that of the grave, undisturbed by any 
 Sabbath argument, unbroken by any threatening 
 omen, unaffected by the approaching realities of 
 another world ; and though he may live amid 
 scenes of spiritual beauty, and though the refresh- 
 
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 362 RESISTING THE SPIRIT. 
 
 ing showers of heavenly grace may brighten and 
 give new verdure to the moral landscape around 
 him — there he is — a spot blasted by heaven's fire, 
 which can never be cultivated, a tree scathed by 
 heaven's lightning, ready to be cut down as fuel 
 for the burning. I may seem to you to speak 
 strongly, but oh ! how lame and feeble are my 
 words to give expression to the sentiment which 
 God has uttered, " Woe unto them when I depart 
 from them." 
 
 Subject of the Spirit's influences — my dying un- 
 converted fellow-sinner — have you a troubled con- 
 science, a thoughtful mind, an anxious soul ? The 
 Holy Ghost is with you now — he is moving upon 
 that heart — you have within you, and around you 
 the evidences of his presence and power. "Now 
 is" your " accepted time, now is your day of salva- 
 tion." " To-day," as the Holy Ghost saith, " if you 
 will hear his voice, harden not your heart." 
 
 " Quench not the Spirit of the Lord, 
 The Holy One from heaven, f ^ 
 The Comforter, beloved, adored, 
 To man in mercy given. 
 
 " Quench not the Spirit of the Lord, 
 He will not always strive ; 
 0, tremble at that awful word ! 
 Sinner, awake and live ! 
 
 " Quench not the Spirit of the Lord, 
 It is thy only hope ; 
 0, let his aid be now implored. 
 Let prayer be lifted up." 
 
THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST, 
 
 " Wherefore I say nnto you, all manner of sin and blasphemy shall 
 be forgiven unto men ; but the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall 
 not be forgiven unto men. And whosoever speaketh a word against 
 the Son of man, it shall be forgiven him, but whosoever speaketh 
 against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, neither in this 
 world, neither in the world to come." — Matthew xii. 31, 32, 
 
 It is needless for me to say, my brethren, that 
 the Son of God never would have uttered the 
 words of my text, nor would the inspired evangel- 
 ist have put them upon this permanent record, did 
 they not contain truth of deepest interest to ourselves, 
 and suggest lessons for our profitable study. For 
 one I cannot sympathize with those who imagine 
 that God has purposely thrown a veil of mystery 
 over the sin of which our Saviour speaks, that men 
 ignorant of its precise nature might be careful in 
 reference to spiritual influences, and so be kept 
 from an approximation to its guilt. I cannot bring 
 myself to believe, that God has revealed any thing 
 to us which he did not intend we should under- 
 stand, or that there is any truth upon these sacred 
 pages, affecting our character and interest, which is 
 not in itself perfectly intelligible to the docile 
 
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 364 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 
 
 learner. Granting the truth of all that may be 
 said concerning the mysteries of the Bible, yet you 
 will remember that these mysteries appertain to 
 the facts of the Christian system, their nature and 
 modes, which are not matters of revelation, and 
 never to the doctrines of the system, which are re- 
 vealed truths requiring our faith and obedience, and 
 demanding, therefore, an intelligent apprehension 
 of them. With these views, therefore, I am not, as 
 I come before you with this subject to-day, to be 
 considered a vain and speculating theorist, nor am 
 I to be classed among those whom an idle and pru- 
 rient curiosity tempts to pry into the unveiled secre- 
 cies of the Infinite mind. Eather let me have your 
 attention, as one who believes there is truth here, 
 of vast moment to ourselves, truth perfectly intel- 
 ligible, and which he wishes to set before you as 
 part of the counsel of God, pointing out our duty 
 and warning us of our danger. 
 
 The difficulty, if difficulty there is about our sub- 
 ject, grows, I imagine, out of the different and con- 
 flicting theories which have been brought forward 
 in its explanation, according as their various authors 
 have had different ends in view to guide their in- 
 vestigations, and control their reasonings. With 
 these theories we have nothing to do ; we will not 
 stop even to mention them ; we would rather dis- 
 possess our minds of their influences, and come and 
 study the sacred oracles upon this point as though 
 we were approaching them for the first time to as- 
 certain their meaning. With such a spirit then, I 
 ask my hearers to accompany me to-day. 
 
THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 365 
 
 Now, when we look at the language of Jesus 
 Christ, the obvious truth upon the face of it, is, that 
 it is possible for a man to put himself in a position 
 where forgiveness never can reach him ; and he 
 does so by sinning not against Jesus Christ, but by- 
 sinning against the Holy Ghost. Here is the fact ; 
 no words could more plainly express it, and as a 
 naked fact it is perfectly intelligible. But you ask 
 me to explain it ; to point out, if possible, those of 
 its features which constitute its malignity, and ex- 
 clude it from forgiveness, and to shew those workings 
 of the human mind by which a man reaches a 
 position of such absolute hopelessless. We acknow- 
 ledge the propriety of the demand you make upon 
 us, and we claim your strict attention to the effort 
 we make to meet it. 
 
 Indulge me then, if you please, in two or three 
 preliminary remarks which may serve as prepara- 
 tives to, and guides in the discussion upon which 
 we are about to enter. 
 
 The Bible then, we remark in the first place, is 
 eminently a practical book ; it is not a volume of 
 theories to amuse the speculative, nor are its con- 
 tents designed to excite or to satisfy the appetites 
 of the inquisitive and the curious. Its statements 
 all have a direct bearing upon human character ; 
 its doctrines are the points whence the lines of 
 Christian conduct are drawn. Its obvious aim is 
 to make men holy. It is meant " for reproof, for 
 correction, for instruction in righteousness, that 
 the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly fur- 
 nished unto every good work." As the value of 
 
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 366 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 
 
 every truth, in any department of human know- 
 ledge, is derived from its adaptation to the end it is 
 calculated to subserve, the value of any religious 
 principle is derived from its bearing upon the con- 
 cerns of practical godliness ; and, if it is true, that 
 he does not rightly understand the gospel who does 
 not feel its moral influence, it is no less true that 
 he does not understand any particular doctrine of 
 the gospel, in whose mind that doctrine is not im- 
 mediately connected with some practical results. 
 Grant this point, and there is no difficulty in dis- 
 posing of not a few of the theories in reference to 
 our present subject, which have been given to the 
 world ; for of the vast majority of them, we may 
 affirm, that they are profitable neither for doctrine, 
 nor for reproof, nor for instruction ; profitable for 
 nothing, but to shew the ingenuity of their authors, 
 and gratify a taste for the wonderful on the part 
 of the curious. 
 
 My second remark is, that the Bible, as a whole, 
 is throughout consistent with itself. It is one of the 
 strong arguments for its divinity, that though its 
 truths have been revealed at " sundry times, and in 
 divers manners," yet they are perfectly harmo- 
 nious. Acuteness, and learning, and labour have 
 been pressed into the service of its enemies, in order, 
 if possible, to discover some contradiction or incon- 
 sistency, but in vain. There may be, indeed, prin- 
 ciples herein revealed, the perfect consistency of 
 which with each other, we, on account of our short- 
 sightedness, may not be able to make manifest, but 
 there are none between which the most powerful 
 
THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 367 
 
 mind has been able to show the slightest opposi- 
 tion. As in the system of the universe every 
 planet has its own orbit, and every star its own 
 position, and all roll on in perfect harmony, 
 no one affecting, so as to disturb the precision of 
 another's movement, to the production of one gen- 
 eral result ; so in the system of God's revelation, 
 every truth has its proper bearing, every doctrine 
 its appropriate place in its relation to the rest, no 
 one clashing with or neutralizing the influence of 
 the other, but all combining to bring about one 
 grand end. Hence there is no safer rule of Scrip- 
 tural interpretation than that which grows out of 
 the consistency of Scripture doctrines ; no view of 
 one part of the word of God can be correct which 
 clashes with a true view of any other part of the 
 word of God. 
 
 It is worthy of remark, moreover, concerning 
 this revelation of truth, that its distinctive features, 
 or fundamental doctrines, are presented so fully, 
 that " the wayfaring man, though a fool, need not 
 err" regarding them. They are like lines of light 
 running through the Bible, illuminating all, and 
 explaining all. No man who is willing to give to 
 the interests of his deathless spirit a tithe even of 
 the attention which he knows they justly demand, 
 need remain in doubt about the revelations of the 
 Bible concerning the essentials of vital godliness, 
 nor commit a mistake as to the method it discloses 
 for securing everlasting life. 
 
 All the statements and principles of the word of 
 God, grow out of two or three great fundamental 
 
*p 
 
 368 THE SIN - AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 
 
 facts. Its different doctrines are but the presenta- 
 tion of these simple, undeniable facts, in their 
 different relations, whether to God or to man, 
 whether to the past, the present, or the future, 
 whether to the world which is, or the world which 
 is to come. And as in studying the more abstruse 
 and complicated problems of any human science, 
 we derive our light and our help from its axioms, 
 its postulates, its first principles, so in order to en- 
 lighten what may seem dark, and explain what 
 may seem difficult of comprehension on the pages 
 of this inspired testimony, we must borrow light 
 and help from its essential doctrines, those which 
 are revealed so plainly, and exhibited so fully, 
 that their meaning cannot be but through wilful 
 ness mistaken. 
 
 And now, as under the influence of these re- 
 marks, and under the guardianship of this great 
 law of scriptural interpretation, we approach the 
 task of explanation which is set before us, let us 
 see if we cannot discover some principle, so plainly 
 revealed, and lying so directly upon the face of the 
 Bible that no one can mistake its meaning or avoid 
 its perception, which may shed its light upon the 
 apparent intricacies of our subject, and afford us 
 help in our effort to solve its mysteries. Is there 
 one central point of light in the Bible which we 
 may always so keep in view as to prevent us from 
 being entangled in the thickets, or swamped in the 
 quagmires of human speculation? Is there one 
 raised position which commands the whole field of 
 Christian truth ? I think there is ; and upon that 
 
 
THE SUST AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 369 
 
 light I fix my eye, and upon that position I plant 
 my feet. I have it here, my brethren, in this sim- 
 ple truth, which shines out with irresistible power 
 of conviction upon every page of the Bible, that 
 the forgiveness of sin and eternal life through Jesus 
 Christ, is offered to every man to ivhom the gospel is 
 made known. That offer is based upon the atone- 
 ment of the Son of God, on that wondrous sacrifice, 
 whose blood, we are told, " cleanseth us from all sin." 
 This is the peculiar glory of the gospel as a system 
 of relief for fallen man ; that it excepts none from 
 an interest in its provisions, excludes none from its 
 pardons, because of the greatness of his guilt. It 
 meets the apostate sons and daughters of an apos- 
 tate parent, whatever the position they may oc- 
 cupy on the graduated scale of human sinfulness, 
 with the only help for the highest, and a sufficient 
 help for the lowest. The uprightness of one will 
 not do away the necessity of his pardon ; the aban- 
 donment of the other will not of itself prevent his 
 forgiveness. The offer is limited not by the char- 
 acter of its subjects, but by the value of the sac- 
 rifice out of which it grows ; and, therefore, it is 
 that we can go with the gospel to the farthest out- 
 cast from God, and say to him, " Come, now, and let 
 us reason together ; though your sins were as scar- 
 let, they shall be white as snow ; though they were 
 red as crimson, they shall be as wool." Strictly 
 speaking, then, there is no such thing as a sin in its 
 own nature unpardonable, because there are no 
 limits to the value of that blood which cleanses 
 from sin. There is not a case of transgression, 
 24 
 
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 370 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 
 
 magnify it as you may, which redeeming mercy 
 cannot reach, nor a sin of a dye so deep, as to neu- 
 tralize the purifying efficacy of a Redeemer's atone- 
 ment. The unpardoned sinner carries his oppress- 
 ive load of guilt upon the conscience, and at last 
 sinks under its weight to a deep perdition, not be- 
 cause God could not, or would not save him, but 
 because he refuses to avail himself of the ample 
 provision which a God of infinite wisdom and 
 mercy has made for his relief. 
 
 While in view of this first element of truth, we 
 must claim that no sin whatever is in its own na- 
 ture unpardonable, we must at the same time ad- 
 mit that there is a sin, which, in point of fact, never 
 has forgiveness. There is a guilt — there may be 
 none of those outward deformities about it, which 
 make us shrink from its exhibition — yet of such a 
 nature that in point of fact, the cleansing blood of 
 the Redeemer never reaches it. Its subjects, (they 
 are found, believe me, in the ranks of our gospel- 
 hearing population,) its subjects have placed them- 
 selves in such a position that they never will know 
 the power of a Saviour's atonement, except as it is 
 to them " a savor of death unto death," and in- 
 creases the weight and the woe of their final con- 
 demnation. 
 
 Now, we have here a principle and a fact, and 
 they are both presented in the Bible, and presented 
 so distinctly that we can neither controvert the one, 
 nor question the other. No sin can transcend the 
 infinite value, and the cleansing efficacy of a Sa- 
 viour's blood ; but the sin against the Holy Ghost 
 
THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 371 
 
 never hath forgiveness. There may be, at first 
 sight, an apparent, but a careful examination will 
 show that there is no real contradiction between 
 them ; and hence no explanation of the sin in 
 question can be the correct one which clashes, in 
 the least degree, with this fundamental principle, 
 that " the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from 
 all sin." 
 
 We bring in then, at this point, another princi- 
 ple of the Bible, no less clearly announced, no less 
 indisputable than the former, which may serve to 
 carry us one step farther forward in our investiga- 
 tion. It relates to the necessity of repentance and 
 faith in Jesus Christ, in order to the forgiveness of 
 any sin. " Repent ye, and believe the gospel ; 
 Repent, that your sins may be forgiven," are the 
 plain Scriptural statements of the only terms upon 
 which mercy coming through the atonement is dis- 
 pensed unto the children of men. Thus the limita- 
 tions of God's pardoning love are regulated by the 
 contrition and faith of its recipients. Repentance 
 and forgiveness always go hand in hand throughout 
 the Bible, and human experience. The least sin 
 unconfessed and unforsaken, shuts a man out from 
 hope. The greatest sin, if sincerely and honestly 
 mourned over and acknowledged, is no barrier to 
 a full forgiveness. 
 
 I suppose, that up to this point, I have carried 
 the assent of all my hearers along with me, because 
 I have been dealing with the first and simplest 
 elements, the axioms, if I may so call them, of re- 
 vealed truth. 
 
*p 
 
 372 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 
 
 Let us come then with these as our guides, to the 
 record before us, and see whether we cannot make 
 plain its apparent mysteries. You will find, if you 
 give a careful attention to the words of our Sa- 
 viour, that there is a broad and palpable distinction 
 between sin against the Son of man and sin against 
 the Holy Ghost. Strange, you may say, that it 
 should be so, but no less true that it is so. There 
 must be some reason for the distinction, and in that 
 reason, if we can discover it, we shall find, if I mis- 
 take not, the key to our subject. Now, in our 
 estimate of human sinfulness, we have been accus- 
 tomed to take our measures of it solely from the 
 personal dignity of him whose laws have been 
 transgressed, and whose authority has been re- 
 sisted ; and, if this is our only rule of judgment, 
 then, I confess, that the sin against the Holy Ghost 
 is perfectly inexplicable; for I cannot find from 
 the Scriptures, that in point of personal dignity 
 there is any difference between the Son and the 
 Holy Ghost. And in view of those who imagine 
 that they can discover a difference, the mystery of 
 our subject must be deeper and more impenetra- 
 ble, placing as they do the Spirit in a position of 
 inferiority to the Son, according to which arrange- 
 ment, if iniquity as to its demerit is to be measured 
 by the personal dignity of Him who is sinned 
 against, the sin against the Son must be more 
 heinous than the sin against the Spirit. But as I 
 read the testimony of inspiration, the Father is 
 God, the Son is God, the Holy Ghost is God. The 
 scriptural doctrine of the Trinity, as I understand 
 
THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 373 
 
 it, is that of three personal subsistences of one and 
 the same God, "the same in substance, equal in 
 power and glory." I bring up this doctrine here 
 not to illustrate it ; not to defend it, but merely 
 for the purpose of shewing that the reason of the 
 difference between sin against the Son, and the sin 
 against the Holy Ghost, is not to be found in a dif- 
 ference of personal dignity between them, making 
 this the measure of sin's heinousness. There is no 
 more criminality in one sin than in another ; for 
 what in this sense is said against the Son is said 
 againsj God, as truly as what is said against the 
 Holy Ghost. 
 
 But is there no other measure of human sinful- 
 ness ? Is there not something due to office as well 
 as character ? Is there not thrown around the 
 chief magistrate an authority which does not belong 
 to him as a private citizen ? Is a child no more 
 guilty when he spurns the counsel and tramples 
 upon the command of a parent than when he 
 spurns the counsel and tramples upon the will of 
 a stranger; and that though in point of personal 
 dignity, the parent and the stranger may stand 
 upon an equal footing, or if there is any difference, 
 in this respect, between them, it may be even in 
 favour of the stranger ? 
 
 Now I find the reason of the difference between 
 the sin against the Son and the sin against the 
 Spirit, in the different offices which they respec- 
 tively exercise in the great work of redeeming 
 man from sin and death. Here is the key with 
 which I would unlock the mysteries of this unpar- 
 
*p 
 
 374 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 
 
 donable transgression. The office of the Son, as 
 we are taught in the Scriptures, is to make an 
 atonement for sin — the office of the Spirit is to 
 apply that atonement. The Holy Ghost is the 
 great agent of the Gospel, who brings nigh to us 
 its blessings, its pardons, and its hopes, as he brings 
 us to that state of mind, that repentance and faith, 
 without which we can never receive them. Hence, 
 in the discharge of his work, according to the 
 promise of the Saviour, he convinces " the world 
 of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment." He 
 brings truth, in its clearness and power, before the 
 mind, and opens the mind to receive it. He sets 
 the obligations of the truth before the view, and 
 quickens the conscience to feel them. When the 
 facts of the gospel come home to the mind and 
 heart, as great and solemn and stirring realities, 
 the Holy Ghost is there. When conscious guilt 
 troubles the spirit, and fear takes hold upon one, 
 so as to force from him the anxious inquiry, " What 
 shall I do to be saved V the Spirit of God is 
 there. When the cross of Christ, girt with its bow 
 of promise and of hope, and yet red with the 
 blood of atonement, meets the eye, and the soul 
 bows and casts itself, humbled, penitent, and be- 
 lieving, at the Eedeemer's feet, the Holy Ghost is 
 there. Thus, without his influences, we see no evil 
 in sin, and no beauty in the cross; without his 
 influences, we know not the remonstrances of a 
 gospel-stirred conscience, nor the peace-speaking 
 power of atoning blood. Conviction, it is his gift ; 
 repentance, faith, they are his gifts. His design is 
 
THE SEN" AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 375 
 
 to bring us to the experience of the former, and to 
 the exercise of the latter, and thus to place us in 
 that moral position, where alone the blood of 
 Christ, in its efficacy, and the forgiveness of God 
 in its fulness and freeness, can possibly reach us. 
 
 Now, when you say of Jesus Christ, that he is 
 " as a root out of dry ground, without form or 
 comeliness," you sin against the Son of man, and it 
 shall be forgiven you ; but when you resist the 
 influences of the Holy Ghost, which would con- 
 vince you of sin, of righteousness and judgment, 
 and place you where you can see a Redeemer's 
 beauty, and feel the power of his cross, and rely 
 upon his atonement, then you sin against the 
 Holy Ghost, and it shall never be forgiven — and 
 that not because the blood of Christ will not 
 cleanse us from all sin, but because by our opposi- 
 tion to the Spirit's influences, we put ourselves in 
 a position, where that blood can never reach to 
 cleanse us. 
 
 Hence, in view of the principles above illustra- 
 ted, we reach our conclusion. The sin against the 
 Holy Ghost, which never hath forgiveness, seems 
 to be such a resistance to all his spiritual influences, 
 to all his invitations, to all his pleadings, to ail his 
 remonstrances — such a wilful blinding of the 
 mind to all the revelations of spiritual things which 
 he makes to the soul, such a wanton stifling of all 
 the convictions of conscience, which he kindles, as 
 grieves him in all his kindness, and quenches him 
 in all his light, neutralizes him in all his power, and 
 drives him away from the soul for ever. When 
 
m 
 
 376 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 
 
 the Spirit of the living God has for the last time 
 knocked at the door of the human heart, made his 
 last appeal to the human conscience, and moved for 
 the last time without effect upon the human soul, 
 and then takes his final flight, and leaves man to 
 himself, then we say, the work is done-— the soul is 
 irrecoverably lost — as the man never will be 
 brought to repentance, so he will never be forgiven. 
 He has resisted God in the closest approach he can 
 make to the human spirit, he has resisted him in 
 view of the clearest light, he has resisted the most 
 effective instrumentality and the most powerful 
 motives ministered by the Holy Ghost. He is sealed 
 up for judgment — and the moment the cup of his 
 iniquity begins to run over, he will be delivered up 
 to its dreadful and undying penalties. 
 
 I am not ignorant of the fact, that the view 
 which I have given of my subject, differs from some 
 usually adopted, all of which find the sin in ques- 
 tion in some overt act, such for example as the as- 
 cription of the miracles of our Saviour to Satanic 
 influence, and some of which consider it as peculiar 
 to the days of miraculous agency. Now we admit 
 that it was an overt act on the part of the Phari- 
 sees which drew this solemn language from the lips 
 of our Lord ; it was " because they said he had an 
 unclean spirit." The conclusion, however, that it 
 requires words to commit this crime, or that the 
 Pharisees had been guilty of it, are entirely too 
 broad for the premises. Words are nothing, sepa- 
 rate from the thought and feeling which they ex- 
 press — an overt act is nothing, separate from the 
 
THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 377 
 
 moral principle it embodies. The heart is the seat 
 of moral character, and the sphere of divine legis- 
 lation ; and where the temper of mind involved in 
 any overt act exists, there, in the sight of God, is 
 the sin, even though it found no outward expression ; 
 and existing there, it shuts a man out from hope, as 
 truly as though it had found a public manifesta- 
 tion. We cannot surely be mistaken here, when 
 we find Jesus Christ, in this very context, acting as 
 his own interpreter, telling us that " for every idle" 
 or malicious " word, man shall give account in 
 the day of judgment f that " by our words we shall 
 be justified and by our words we shall be con- 
 demned," because "out of the abundance of the 
 heart the mouth speaketh." The persons who were 
 now addressed, had unquestionably displayed a bit- 
 ter hostility to the truth, and a determination to 
 resist it, in opposition to the most convincing evi- 
 dence ; and the words of our Saviour had undoubt- 
 edly reference to this, their moral temper and spi- 
 rit — and yet we should be slow to charge them 
 with the sin in question. That they were in dan- 
 ger, in great danger of passing over the line which 
 would separate them from the prisoners of hope, is 
 admitted, but that they had actually crossed that 
 line there is no certain evidence in the narrative to 
 prove — rather do we suppose that our Saviour, 
 perceiving their temper, their fixed determination 
 to resist all the light and moral influence which could 
 be shed down upon them, was uttering the lan- 
 guage of warning in view of the scenes of Pente- 
 costal times, which were close at hand, when the 
 
«w 
 
 378 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 
 
 Holy Ghost was to descend, as the peculiar agent 
 of the gospel dispensation — the last and crowning 
 evidence of the divinity of the Kedeemer's mission 
 and kingdom. 
 
 We place then our subject with this explanation 
 before you, simply remarking in view of what we 
 have said, that if you would discover this "sin 
 against the Holy Ghost," you must look for it in 
 the temper of the human heart, its determined and 
 effectual resistance to the promised influences of the 
 Spirit of God. The degree of that resistance, and 
 the extent to which it must be carried in order to 
 convict a man of this transgression, we shall not 
 undertake to define. We leave that point to the 
 determination of him who can measure guilt much 
 better than we can, and who knows how far he can 
 consistently go, in his means to reclaim the sinner 
 to his forsaken love and obedience. 
 
 But, my brethren, if the principles we have laid 
 down are true, and the explanation which they have 
 furnished of our doctrine is correct, there are some 
 lessons taught us we would do well to study, and a 
 practical bearing of our subject which we dare not 
 overlook. If I am right in my positions, then it is 
 evident that "the sin against the Holy Ghost" 
 does not consist in any one individual act. You 
 must not attempt to find it in this sinful thought or 
 that sinful thought, in this or that unholy deed. 
 You must not attempt to find it in any sin, no mat- 
 ter how great it may have been, which has filled 
 the soul with contrition, and has been followed by 
 deep repentance. You must not find it in any 
 
THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 3^9 
 
 thing, the recollection of which penetrates the 
 heart with a sense of its own vileness, loathsome- 
 ness, and shame. You can never find it amid tears 
 of repentance and confessions of sin, but you must 
 find it in a settled habit of the soul, a habit of de- 
 termined resistance to God in the nearest approaches 
 he can make to the conscience and the heart — a habit 
 of mind to which repentance is a stranger, which 
 knows nothing of the pangs of ingenuous sorrow, 
 which locks up the secret places of feeling and of tears 
 in the human soul against all the appeals of the Holy 
 Ghost, which can breast itself in proud defiance 
 to the whole moral armament of heaven, and binds 
 the spirit with the stronger than adamantine chains 
 of a confirmed and eternal impenitence. Never 
 should I think to find the victims of this damning 
 transgression among those who fear that they are 
 its subjects ; such a fear never can coexist with that 
 callousness of conscience and insensibility to spirit- 
 ual things, which are inseparable from the sin 
 against the Holy Ghost. No, I would find it among 
 those who fear it least. I would seek for its dis- 
 tinctive features among those who, year after year, 
 have crowded our sanctuaries, where truth has been 
 ministered weekly in the demonstration of the 
 Spirit ; who have listened to arguments, to which 
 though they could not answer them, they have 
 refused to yield, and have resisted " the pow- 
 ers of the world to come," as they threw their 
 mighty influences over the soul. The ice has been 
 gathering round their hearts, under the beams of 
 the Sun of Righteousness ; the iron has turned to 
 
•P 
 
 380 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 
 
 steel, under the action of the fire which should have 
 melted it, and the stone has become adamant under 
 the strokes of the hammer which should have 
 broken it to pieces. The influences of the truth 
 play around them, but find no permanent lodge- 
 ment in their minds ; and they pursue their wonted 
 path of worldliness and sin, clinging to their spi- 
 ritual idolatry, unawed by all that is fearful, un- 
 moved by all that is tender, unaffected by all that 
 is startling, unhumbled by all that is touching in 
 the disclosures which have been made by a God of 
 truth and of love. Within the circle, around which 
 these are travelling, you will find the subjects of 
 the unpardonable sin. 
 
 If I am right in the view which I have given, 
 then does my subject come home to all of us with 
 peculiar emphasis ; I speak not to one within these 
 sanctuary walls, who has not a deep and eternal 
 interest in the theme upon which I have been 
 dwelling. In these days of spiritual declension, 
 when worldly influences seem to be coming over 
 the church of God like a flood, quenching the fire 
 upon its altars, and sweeping away the landmarks 
 which define its limits, there is danger that not a 
 few who have professed the name of Christ, may 
 be led away to a returnless distance from the peace 
 and hope of the gospel. The Apostle Paul ap- 
 pears to have taken his hint from our present sub- 
 ject, when he gave utterance to his impressive 
 warning, " It is impossible for those who were once 
 enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, 
 and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and 
 
THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 381 
 
 have tasted the good word of God, and the powers 
 of the world to come ; if they shall fall away, to 
 renew them again unto repentance, seeing they cru- 
 cify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put 
 him to an open shame." " If we sin wilfully after 
 that we have received a knowledge of the truth, 
 there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin." The 
 catastrophe in man's moral history, then, of which 
 we speak, is placed in connection with a neglect of 
 gospel privileges, as the means through which the 
 Spirit of God operates, an undervaluing or abuse 
 of which is consequently a resistance to his influ- 
 ences which forfeits them forever. Hence all de- 
 clensions from the life and power of godliness tend 
 to this very result. With these declensions you will 
 find uniformly associated an insensibility of con- 
 science, and a listlessness in reference to spiritual 
 things. It is this insensibility which makes the 
 matter so alarming. Decline in religion, like de- 
 cline in nature, blinds us to its symptoms. There 
 is, perhaps, no disease which indicates less the fatal 
 errand upon which it is sent, none which like this 
 presents to its subject such flattering promises. It 
 gives to the eye a peculiar brilliancy, and to the 
 cheek an appearance of health, filling the heart 
 with hope, and suffusing it with life, when the 
 winding sheet has already been woven, and the 
 shades of death are fast falling upon the pathway. 
 Thus the road which leads to a spiritual abandon- 
 ment, is a gradual descent, travelled at first by an 
 easy and imperceptible though constantly acceler- 
 ated progress. Its stages are first, indifference ; 
 
«w> 
 
 382 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLT GHOST. 
 
 then carnality of spirit, concealed under a constant 
 attention to the forms of religion, and then, an 
 open departure from the life and power of godli- 
 ness, and a final renunciation of the vows as well 
 as the spirit of religion. 
 
 " The fearful soul that tires and faints, 
 And walks the ways of God no more, 
 Is but esteemed almost a saint, 
 
 And makes his own destruction sure." 
 
 We do not indeed pretend to say of every one 
 who may be thus described, that he has placed 
 himself forever beyond the reach of those spiritual 
 influences by which alone he can be recalled to 
 repentance. God forbid that we should write 
 down any man as lost, while the pulse, though 
 feeble, yet beats, and the eye, though dim, yet 
 moves ; but oh ! if our subject has any meaning, 
 it tells us that the man who is grieving the Spirit 
 of God, by departing from his ways, is treading 
 upon dangerous ground, because ground enchanted 
 by the wiles and witcheries of sin ; and it will be 
 owing to the wondrous grace of God, if he does not 
 pass the line which separates him from hope for- 
 ever, while in the midst of his carnal security, he 
 is crying peace to his infatuated spirit. Our only 
 security, my Christian brethren, is found in a life 
 of growing piety, in a constant walk with God, 
 and separation from the world ; for as piety de- 
 clines, we resist and grieve the Spirit, and walk in 
 the path which leads to apostacy and death. 
 
 And oh ! that all my hearers would remember 
 that they are living under " the ministration of the 
 
THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 383 
 
 Spirit." Strangers to his influences we are not ; 
 the quickened conscience, and the beating heart, 
 the wakened anxiety, and the starting tear, are the 
 demonstrations of the power of the Holy Ghost. 
 That blessed Comforter, with whose gracious influ- 
 ences our best, and brightest, and only spiritual 
 hopes are connected, moves over the soul, and 
 gives in its view a reality and impressiveness to 
 the truth of God. Solemn and interesting are our 
 circumstances as the subjects of his agency; and I 
 would bring the influence of my subject, this morn- 
 ing, to bear upon those whose memory of the past, 
 or whose consciousness of the present, testifies to 
 ineffectual, because resisted strivings of the Holy 
 Ghost. There is such a thing, believe me, my 
 brethren, as putting one's self in a position where 
 neither repentance nor forgiveness can ever be 
 reached, because there is such a thing as resisting 
 the Spirit of God, until he takes a final leave of 
 the soul. I cannot calculate the amount of resist- 
 ance which will place a man in a condition in 
 which his forgiveness will be impossible, but I can 
 correct a dreadful delusion, under which the hu- 
 man mind often labours. I mean the delusion that 
 a man fruitlessly plied with the influences of the 
 gospel, may go on, just as he is, and that at some 
 future time the way of repentance will be as open 
 to him, as it was when first he was conscious of the 
 movement of the Spirit of God upon his soul. It 
 is a terrible statement, but a true one, calculated 
 to awaken the salutary and deep anxiety of every 
 unconverted hearer of the gospel. The day of 
 
«' 
 
 384 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 
 
 grace does not always run on parallel with human 
 life, to its utmost limit ; a man may be abandoned 
 by God's spirit at any time, as having been suffi- 
 ciently striven with, and admonished, and warned. 
 And thus, in this case, when the day arrives which 
 may have been marked out in his chronology as a 
 fit day for repentance, a day the anticipations of 
 which have served as anodynes to all his spiritual 
 fears, when it arrives it may pass by as a day of 
 little or no anxiety. The mortification has com- 
 menced, and the pain has departed, and spiritual 
 death is there ; or if not this, if an approaching 
 catastrophe startles him, he may be terrified by 
 the phantom of wrath, and yet not be induced to 
 seek for mercy. He may have faith enough to be- 
 lieve in a certain perdition, but not faith enough 
 to cling to the only deliverer. Oh ! where is this 
 mysterious line of God's forbearance ? I know not. 
 One may stand on one side of it, at one moment, 
 and cross it the next. One may reach it after 
 years of walking ; another, while his step has lost 
 nothing of its youthful spring. But if there be 
 one who remembers the seasons of the Spirit's 
 power within his soul ; if there be one who cannot 
 compute (because their number is so large) his 
 stifled convictions ; if there be one who in view of 
 the truth of God, has thought oft and deeply upon 
 the concerns of his soul; if there be one who, 
 though he could not resist the evidence of the 
 truth, brought home to him by the messenger of 
 the truth in his Sabbath argument, has yet often 
 resisted the truth itself, oh ! surely we may say of 
 
THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. 385 
 
 him, that lie is standing on the mysterious thresh- 
 old, to cross which is to enter upon a region of 
 hopelessness and death. And a conscience every 
 day getting weaker, because the unseen author of 
 its remonstrances is every day lifting a feebler 
 voice, shall be to him the proof of my assertion. 
 Look at it for a moment. Conscience will have its 
 last conviction ; the Son of God will knock for the 
 last time at the door of the heart ; the Spirit of 
 truth will move for the last time over the soul. 
 Amid all these convictions, and knockings, and 
 strivings, some one must be the last. Oh ! ye to 
 whom I have preached so long, so earnestly, and 
 so fruitlessly, how near are ye to your last oppor- 
 tunity ; and if it should pass unimproved, will it 
 not be true of you, that you will be crushed by 
 the very weight of your mercies ; that privileges 
 which God meant for blessings, shall prove the 
 heaviest curses ; and the influences of the Spirit of 
 God, which should have prepared you for a crown, 
 and fitted you for joy, will help only to build 
 your prison and fan your flames. Quench not, I 
 pray you, the Holy Spirit. 
 
 25 
 
*p 
 
 JUDAS ISCARIOT; OR, THE CONSEQUENCES OF A 
 WORLDLY SPIRIT. 
 
 " It had been good for that man if he had never been born." — 
 Matthew xxvi. 24. 
 
 The words of the text which we have just read 
 to you are no more remarkable for the preciseness 
 of their statement than for the perspicuity of their 
 meaning. They form one of those propositions we 
 occasionally meet with which carry along with 
 them their own interpretation and proof. We un- 
 derstand them perfectly, we feel their truth the 
 moment they are uttered ; no ingenuity of criticism 
 can extort from them any but one sentiment, no 
 process of special pleading can pervert or neutralize 
 their inherent evidence of truth. They form, as 
 my hearers are all aware, the prophetic history (if 
 I may use such language,) which our Saviour has 
 written of the man who betrayed him — the in- 
 spired epitaph written over the grave of Judas 
 Iscariot. Among candid readers of the Bible there 
 is, I believe, but one opinion concerning the des- 
 tiny of this false and apostate disciple. We feel 
 in reference to him as we feel in reference to no 
 
CONSEQUENCES OF A WORLDLY SPIRIT. 387 
 
 other man who has figured upon the theatre of the 
 world, and then passed off the stage to enter upon 
 a scene of retribution ; you may take the greatest 
 monster of wickedness whom God ever flung into 
 the world seemingly to curse it, whose actions were 
 but a catalogue of the blackest vices in the calendar 
 of crime, whose every foot-print was stained with 
 blood ; who, in fact, seemed to be but the personi- 
 fication of the spirit of evil ; yet when you think of 
 him as gone, you do not think of him as you think 
 of Judas Iscariot. Of all men who have ever 
 passed through this scene of probation to their 
 reward, he is the only one of whom you can say 
 without hesitation, he is lost ; and if you undertake 
 to analyse this feeling, and trace it to its source, 
 you cannot possibly explain it, except as originating 
 in this language of Jesus Christ concerning him, " It 
 had been good for that man if he had never been 
 born." The moment you read these words, you 
 feel — you cannot help feeling — that the person of 
 whom they may be affirmed is lost, and not only 
 so, but irreparably lost ; that his destiny is one of 
 conscious misery without mitigation, and without 
 end. It is by this simple statement of the Master, 
 and by nothing else, that we are driven to the con- 
 clusion which seems to be well nigh universal con- 
 cerning the betrayer of his Lord, that whatever 
 there may be for others, for him there is and can 
 be no redemption. The mental process by which 
 we are forced to this conclusion is so rapid that we 
 do not always perceive distinctly the steps by 
 which we reach it ; it is, therefore, our object upon 
 
«w 
 
 388 CONSEQUENCES OE A WORLDLY SPIRIT. 
 
 the present occasion to subject it to an examination 
 preparatory to applying the principles herein in- 
 volved, that you may perceive how it is reached 
 by means of several almost self-evident consecutive 
 truths. Grant this proposition concerning any man, 
 that it would have been better for him never to 
 have been born ; and I see not how it is possible 
 for the human mind to escape the conclusion that 
 his destiny must be one of interminable suffering, 
 without contradicting some of its intuitive, I had 
 almost said, instinctive perceptions. When we make 
 this plain, I think we shall have reached a general 
 principle, in which many a man in our day has a 
 deep and eternal interest. 
 
 I begin then my subject with a statement which 
 no one, I suppose, will dispute. Existence is a 
 blessing ; every man desires it ; the love of life 
 is an essential element of our being. There is a 
 felt horror at the thought of passing into nothing- 
 ness, which forms one of the finest arguments of 
 natural theology in favour of the immortality of 
 the human spirit ; and yet, if we examine our con- 
 sciousness upon this point distinctly, we shall dis- 
 cover that our desires do not terminate upon life 
 in itself considered, but upon the good, or the en- 
 joyment which is supposed to be connected with 
 it. Strip life of all enjoyment, and it ceases to be 
 an object of desire. Thus we cling instinctively to 
 the good of existence, and shrink as instinctively 
 from the evil of its loss, which we look upon as 
 inseparable from annihilation ; if you could separate 
 existence from every thing in the shape of happi- 
 
CONSEQUENCES OE A WORLDLY SPIRIT. 389 
 
 ness and sorrow, it would have no properties what- 
 ever by means of which we could determine its 
 value. And upon this supposition, it would be 
 a matter of entire indifference to every man, and 
 the question whether he would be or cease to be 
 would be one which would not call up a single 
 thought. It is evident, therefore, that life is de- 
 sirable, or otherwise, according to the amount of 
 happiness or misery which it brings along with it. 
 If this is true, then it is no less true that the good 
 of life must preponderate over the evil to make it 
 an object of desire. If we could suppose a case in 
 which the happiness and misery of a being exactly 
 balanced each other in every respect, we would 
 have the case of a being to whom it would be per- 
 fectly immaterial whether he continues or ceases 
 to be ; for he gains nothing by living, and loses 
 nothing by being blotted from existence. It is 
 only as the one preponderates over the other, that 
 there is room for the question, whether it is good 
 or otherwise for a man that he has ever been born ? 
 If there is more happiness than misery, then we 
 cling to life with an unyielding tenacity ; if there is 
 more misery than happiness, annihilation has no 
 horrors. 
 
 True it is, you may tell me, that there have been 
 men whose portion seemed to be nothing but misery, 
 or if this is an overcharged statement, whose hours 
 of comfort, not to say enjoyment, were very few, in- 
 terspersed here and there among their long continued 
 seasons of sorrow, pain and agony, who have yet 
 clung to life with a tenacity quite as remarkable as 
 
* 
 
 390 CONSEQUENCES OF A WOELDLY SPIEIT. 
 
 that of those whose circumstances have been ex- 
 actly the reverse, who seem to be contradictions of 
 my doctrine, and conclusive proofs of the desirable- 
 ness of existence in itself, irrespective of all its attri- 
 butes. Even admitting the statement to be correct, 
 (supposing as it does the possibility of such an 
 acquaintance on our part with all the circum- 
 stances of another, as will enable us to determine 
 accurately the question of his experience,) it is seen 
 at once that the statement is a partial one, since 
 it confines our observation to present circum- 
 stances, and leaves altogether out of view the 
 mighty influence of hope. Find me a human be- 
 ing whose life is a life of unmingled sorrow, and 
 who withal has no hope of a favourable change, 
 and I will find you one for whom annihilation has 
 no horrors, and who can say with perfect sincerity, 
 " It had been better for me if I had never been 
 born." 
 
 Hence, in studying a question like the present, 
 we never reach a correct conclusion except as we take 
 into view the whole of existence, and form our 
 judgment from the sum total of human experience, 
 as the aggregate of enjoyment or suffering may 
 seem to preponderate. You may trace the course 
 of a man from the cradle to the grave, and you 
 may be satisfied that not one ray of light has ever 
 beamed upon his pathway from its commencement 
 to its close upon earth ; that every hour has been one 
 of suffering, that every moment has been one of 
 agony. Yet, if when he reaches the close of his 
 earthly career, he is ushered upon a scene of unh> 
 
CONSEQUENCES OE A WOELDLY SPIEIT. 391 
 
 terrupted, eternal blessedness, it were idle to say, 
 it had been good for him had he never been born, 
 and for this simple reason ; however great his evils 
 may have been, his actual good is more than suffi- 
 cient to overbalance the whole of them. So, on 
 the other hand, if you could find a man whose ex- 
 istence is one of joy, whose every hour is one of 
 gladness, whose every moment is one of unalloyed 
 bliss, so that not a single cloud lowers on his path- 
 way, nor a single event occurs to interrupt the even 
 current of his happiness, yet if you suppose that at 
 the end of his earthly career, all his enjoyment is 
 at an end, and that he plunges into the darkness, 
 and anguish, and despair of eternal night, it is true 
 of him that " it had been better for him if he had 
 never been born," because, however great has been 
 his good, the actual evil of his experience will more 
 than counterbalance it all. 
 
 If we are safe thus far, we take another position. 
 In the present state of things, good, at least in hu- 
 man estimation, overbalances evil, and hence all 
 men wish to live ; and for one I am satisfied that 
 men's apprehensions in this respect are in accord- 
 ance with truth. There is more good than evil in 
 this world, take it all together. As there are more 
 beauties than deformities in nature, so there is more 
 happiness than misery in human experience. If it 
 were otherwise, this world would no longer be a 
 world of probation, but a world of retribution. 
 My experience may not appear to you to bear out 
 this statement — and your experience may to me 
 seem to contradict it — but every man's experience 
 
* 
 
 392 CONSEQUENCES OF A WOKLDLY SPIEIT. 
 
 proves it to his own mind. The reason of these 
 diverse appearances is perfectly obvious. We do 
 not know either the elements or sources of each 
 other's joys and sorrows. What might elevate me 
 might be no source of happiness to you — and what 
 might depress you might not in the least degree 
 affect me, and perhaps might administer to my en- 
 joyment. I may have joys which you cannot ap- 
 preciate, and you may have sorrows to which I am 
 an utter stranger. Place me in your circumstances, 
 or place you in my circumstances, and it is quite 
 possible, that in the experience of both of us con- 
 sequent upon this change, the evil might overbal- 
 ance the good ; but take man as he is, and judge of 
 him in view of his actual capacities, and the cir- 
 cumstances in which Providence has placed him, 
 and the good overbalances the evil in the present 
 life, so that if death were to terminate human exist- 
 ence, it could not be said of any man, " it had been 
 good for him if he had never been born." Such, at 
 least, is the unanimous practical decision of our 
 race, or if there are exceptions, they are anomalies 
 which we cannot explain. Who will pretend to 
 give a rational explanation of suicide ? Who does 
 not feel that it is in itself evidence of a morbid, un- 
 healthy, unnatural state of mind ; that it is the act 
 of one, who for the time being has lost the balance 
 of his reasoning powers, and under the influence 
 of a temporary hallucination is unable to look at 
 things in their true light, and judge of them by a 
 proper standard. 
 
 Now I take these positions as unquestioned and 
 
CONSEQUENCES OF A WORLDLY SPIRIT. 393 
 
 unquestionable, and throw their light upon the 
 sentiment of my text, and ask if we can form any 
 adequate idea of the condition of the man, of whom 
 it may with truth "be said, " It had been better for 
 him if he had never been born." The sentence 
 speaks volumes to the mind. Without a figure, it 
 is more imposing, more striking, more terrific, than 
 a cluster of a thousand frightful images could 
 make it. It gives a bare outline of human destiny, 
 and leaves the imagination to run wild, as it fills 
 up the picture with forbidding and horrid crea- 
 tions. "What does it mean ? Can it be that it de- 
 signs to afiirm annihilation of the human spirit ? 
 Then it affirms a positive untruth ; for if the per- 
 son whose condition it describes, has been what we 
 usually term a happy man in this world, then he 
 has actually gained something by his existence. 
 If he has shared in the common allotments of hu- 
 manity, still, since his enjoyment has exceeded in 
 amount his suffering, he is yet a gainer, because 
 the annihilation which is to put an end to his hap- 
 piness, is to put an end to his suffering also. Or, 
 if you can find a man in whose experience evil pre- 
 ponderates over good, if hope remains and gilds 
 the prospect of the future with its beautiful and 
 flattering, though too often delusive hues, he can- 
 not understand the sentiment in reference to him- 
 self. No ! while hope remains, annihilation has no 
 charms for him ; he had rather be than not be. 
 
 We cannot avoid the conclusion, my brethren, 
 that in these words Jesus Christ has given us a mean- 
 ingless sentence, if he does not convey the idea that 
 
* 
 
 394 CONSEQUENCES OF A WOELDLY SPIEIT. 
 
 there is to be, consequent upon this life, a state of 
 positive, and necessa y, and perpetuated existence. 
 Man is^to live, and live on, with all his suscepti- 
 bilities and capacities of pleasure and of pain. The 
 human mind is to be alive to every thing that 
 affects its relations, and the sensibilities are to be 
 quick to apprehend every thing that touches the 
 experience. Man will understand himself per- 
 fectly ; be conscious of his losses as well as his 
 gains. Carrying with him into a future scene all 
 the elements and laws of his nature, he will be a 
 living, thinking, feeling, anticipating being. It 
 must be so ; he cannot prevent it ; he can no more 
 check the current of his existence, as it continues 
 to roll on, than he could originate it in the first 
 instance. He can no more of himself cease to be, 
 than he could of himself begin to be. The ques- 
 tion of his existence is, by a necessity of nature^ 
 entirely beyond his control. The power which 
 creates is the only power equivalent to destroy. 
 Man may modify substances, and change their 
 form ; but he can annihilate nothing. He may 
 change the circumstances or mode of his existence, 
 but he cannot by any possibility destroy it. If he 
 could, he would be omnipotent. If he could, then 
 it would not be true of any man that " it had been 
 better for him if he had never been born," be- 
 cause, since existence, separate from its good or 
 evil, is a matter of no moment, and since man in 
 the present state, is a subject of more good than 
 evil, no matter how severe the sufferings of another 
 world would be, he might, by annihilating himself, 
 
CONSEQUENCES OF A WORLDLY SPIRIT. 395 
 
 terminate at once all his experience of pain. How 
 then could the sentiment of my text be true of any 
 man, if the moment a scene of unmingled misery 
 were entered, he could blot himself at once from 
 existence ? Hence, our first conclusion is, that man 
 always must be a subject of positive, sensitive, ne- 
 cessary existence. 
 
 Equally indispensable is it, in our apprehension, 
 to make good the sentiment of the text, that man's 
 circumstances hereafter must involve greater suffer- 
 ing than can be found in any condition of existence 
 in this world; for if in the estimation of man, ex- 
 istence is preferable to non-existence ; if while any 
 enjoyment remains he would rather live for the 
 sake of that enjoyment, than not live, the conclu- 
 sion is inevitable, that no condition could justify 
 our Saviour's language, but one reft of all enjoy- 
 ment, one of unmitigated and uninterrupted suffer- 
 ing. Oh ! I read in the words of the Son of God 
 —I wonder how any man can fail to read it — the 
 utter hopelessness of the lost. Give me hope, and 
 no argument can convince me of the desirableness 
 of annihilation ; nothing but an utter despair can 
 ever commend it to the wishes of the heart. The 
 present moment may be one of unalleviated sor- 
 row. There may be nothing in any of our actual 
 experiences, to foster the desire of life. There 
 may be every thing to force us to say, " I loathe it, 
 I would not live always." But when hope sheds 
 its influence over the mind, and leads me to balance 
 expected good against actual, present evil, then I 
 shrink back (I cannot help it) from the thought 
 
* 
 
 396 CONSEQUENCES OF A WORLDLY SPIRIT. 
 
 of destruction. Hang round a man in every direc 
 tion the emblems of sorrow, to correspond with his 
 inward experience, and let hope remain, and his 
 spirit is cheered and sustained, and no argument 
 can convince him that annihilation is a blessing 
 Nothing can justify the language of the text, but a 
 condition of absolute despair. The position is in- 
 controvertible, existence is a blessing, if wretched- 
 ness stops short of immortality. A man may wear 
 away millions of ages in the experience of woe ; 
 he may have heaped upon him torment after tor- 
 ment ; there may be no abatement, but rather an 
 increase of misery, as century crowds upon century, 
 till imagination fails in telling up the period ; yet 
 if there is to break upon him a moment of deliver- 
 ance, to be succeeded by an eternity of rest and 
 joy, it is good for him that he has been born. At 
 whatever point his sufferings may terminate, there 
 will remain for him an immeasurably longer season 
 for the enjoyment of happiness, than had been con- 
 sumed in his agony, which will make him feel that 
 the boon of existence demands from him the most 
 glowing gratitude. If perdition is to be but tem- 
 porary, and the gates of the eternal prison-house, 
 which close upon the lost, are ever to be thrown 
 open, so that its inmates may go free, every one of 
 them will feel so. I care not what may have been 
 a man's misdoings and sufferings upon the earth, 
 his life may have been uncheered by a single 
 smile, his history may have been but one black 
 and biting calamity, he may have gone down an 
 accursed thing to the pit of despair, a period which 
 
CONSEQUENCES OF A WOKLDLY SPIEIT. 397 
 
 we cannot compass, may have been spent amid the 
 penal fires of a fierce retribution, yet let this be 
 the close of the appalling tale, that he is emanci- 
 pated, his crimes are purged away, his vast debt 
 cancelled, and I am sure, in view of the well-known 
 principles of human nature, that as he sees an eter- 
 nity of peace opening brightly before him, he will 
 join as cheerfully and as loudly as any in the words 
 of the general thanksgiving, " We bless thee for 
 our creation." It is telling me, then, that sorrow 
 is to be eternal, to tell me of a man, that " it had 
 been good for him if he had never been born." 
 
 And now, my brethren, if we have the meaning 
 of our Saviour's proposition distinctly before us, 
 let us turn our attention to another question, Where 
 does it apply ? How far does it reach ? 
 
 If we should confine the sentiment of my text 
 strictly to the immediate connections in which the 
 Master has placed it, no one, perhaps, would ques- 
 tion its propriety. We have such an estimate of 
 the character of Judas Iscariot, that we think no 
 punishment too severe for him; while there are 
 other forms of wickedness, in reference to which 
 we do not hesitate to say of the man who mani- 
 fests them, that annihilation would be the greatest 
 blessing God could send him. But I feel that in the 
 sentiments I am about to advance, I shall go far 
 beyond the ordinary apprehensions, and come into 
 collision with the feelings of the majority ; but 
 I design only to walk in the light which Jesus 
 Christ has shed upon my pathway, and in doing so 
 I come to the conclusion, that if the proposition of 
 
* 
 
 398 CONSEQUENCES OF A WOELDLY SPIEIT. 
 
 my text is justifiable and true in the case of Judas 
 Iscariot, it is no less justifiable and true in the case 
 of many a man who thinks he has the least possible 
 interest in it. I am sure, my brethren, that we 
 are blinded in this matter. We look at the act, 
 the terrible act, the damning act of this traitor, 
 and say no judgment is too severe for him. But 
 what was that act — what character, what meaning 
 had it, if you divorce it from the controlling temper 
 of mind which it served to develope. In a moral 
 point of view it is nothing, except as an expression 
 of feeling ; and when the feeling exists and controls 
 one, there is the guilt, though its outward expres- 
 sion may be constrained and regulated, or even 
 prevented by independent providential circum- 
 stances ; precisely as in the eye of God, he who 
 hateth his brother is as truly a murderer as though 
 he had imbrued his hands in his blood. Long be- 
 fore this act was committed, the Master called 
 Judas Iscariot a devil ; he was a devil before as 
 really as after he had given his master the trai- 
 torous kiss. 
 
 Be not startled at the assertion which now I 
 make, that so far as his outward life was concerned, 
 in a worldly point of view, this traitor was an irre- 
 proachable man. The Saviour would not have se- 
 lected him, the other disciples could not have asso- 
 ciated with him if he had been otherwise. They who 
 were on terms of intimacy with him gave him their 
 implicit confidence. He had won upon their hearts, 
 and so unsuspecting was their trust, that they did 
 not understand their Master's reference when at 
 
CONSEQUENCES OF A WOKLDLY SPIEIT. 399 
 
 the last supper lie gave Iscariot the sop, thereby 
 pointing him out distinctly as his "betrayer. Yet he 
 was a radically ungodly man, because his control- 
 ling spirit was an inordinate love of money. This 
 was the element of his character ; the parent of 
 his crime, the cause of his doom. 
 
 It is a home question in this age of ours — I know 
 it — are there none like him ? When you see a 
 man all of whose energies are consecrated to money, 
 who looks upon every thing and determines the 
 value of every thing in view of its relation to this 
 one object, who is dead to all claims but those 
 which it enforces, and cares not what interests he 
 sacrifices, or what law, divine or human, he tramples 
 under foot in obeying them, how far think you 
 does he stand in the eye of God below Judas Is- 
 cariot in the scale of moral character ? 
 
 Or, when you see a man who will break through 
 no restraints, who will sacrifice no private interests, 
 who will, so far as his outward life is concerned, 
 subject himself to no penal enactments of civil law, 
 yet will descend to plans from which an honorable 
 spirit will recoil ; will be mean, if not dishonest ; 
 degrade himself, though he will not break the 
 statute ; will act upon any principle, and embark 
 in any plan, legalized by custom, or uncondemned 
 by the world, however contrary it may be to the 
 spirit of the gospel, or destructive to the interests 
 and hopes of his soul ; who will act upon a large 
 scale, though in a different form, upon the same prin- 
 ciples, which viewed as the life and spirit of the 
 
* 
 
 400 CONSEQUENCES OF A WORLDLY SPIRIT. 
 
 gaming table are odious and detestable, where will 
 you place him ? 
 
 Bear with me a moment while I cease from par- 
 ticulars, and present a general principle, which 
 every man may apply for himself. I am not afraid, 
 at all, of being classed with those who are eter- 
 nally crying down wealth, and who speak of the 
 possession of riches as synonymous with certain per- 
 dition. My hearers know me too well to suppose 
 me guilty of that wholesale declamation, which 
 originating rather in carnality than in grace, evin- 
 ces the ignorance, more than the wisdom of its au- 
 thors. Riches have their use, but there is a point 
 of possession beyond which, if a man go, they are 
 useless ; destitute of intrinsic worth, and valuable 
 only on account of the purposes to which they may 
 be applied. When a man reaches that point, where 
 through inability or indisposition, they are not 
 made subservient to useful ends, they are worse 
 than valueless. Now I am perfectly aware that 
 my principle takes a wide sweep, but in view of 
 these general premises it seems to be unquestiona- 
 ble. When a man has no other object than simply to 
 make money, when he has more than he can, or 
 which is the same thing, is willing to apply to useful 
 purposes ; when his whole ambition is to see how 
 many pieces of stamped metal he can gather to- 
 gether and call his own ; when he has no ultimate 
 purpose in view, but his desires terminate upon pro- 
 perty for its own sake, I care not who he may be, 
 what his outward exhibitions of character, or what 
 his visible relations, he is under the influence of the 
 
CONSEQUENCES OF A WOELDLY SPIEIT. 401 
 
 same spirit, which as it controlled a false disciple, 
 led the Redeemer to the ignominy and death of the 
 cross ; and we can say of him without hesitation, if he 
 lives and dies under its power, "it had been better 
 for him if he had never been born" — for such a man 
 has lost the control of himself, he has thrown the reins 
 upon the neck of a degrading worldly passion, and 
 he cannot tell what developments of character he 
 yet may make. He is rushing forward blindfolded 
 in his course, and knows not where he may stum- 
 ble, and over what he may fall ; and if left entirely 
 to himself, unrestrained by independent influences, 
 untrammelled and unconfined by any outward cir- 
 cumstances, he will trample upon every thing, and 
 sacrifice every thing upon the altar of his unholy 
 ambition. We will not, however, restrict our prin- 
 ciple ; we extend it to earthly ambition, whatever 
 may be the peculiar form of its manifestation, or 
 the object it contemplates. The love of money is 
 not the only human passion which blinds the mind, 
 and wars against the kingdom of God and the in- 
 terests of the human soul. Any earthly lust, if it 
 gains the complete ascendancy, and mounts the 
 throne, as the governing principle of the mind, will 
 do precisely the same thing. If the love of power, 
 or the love of pleasure, had been as rampant in the 
 soul of Judas Iscariot, he would have betrayed his 
 Master at the bidding of either, as certainly as he 
 betrayed him at the bidding of his love of money. 
 It makes no difference what a man's controlling 
 spirit may be, if it is purely worldly and sensual, 
 and at war with God's commandments, it must 
 26 
 
* 
 
 402 CONSEQUENCES OF A WOELDLY SPIEIT. 
 
 be broken, subdued, eradicated, or the man is ru- 
 ined, lost for time and lost for eternity. It is diffi- 
 cult, I know, to commend this truth to the minds 
 of those who are specially interested. The slave 
 of his passions will not believe either in the wick- 
 edness of the dominion to which he subjects himself 
 or in the fear of any dangerous results. And 
 when Judas Iscariot attached himself to his Mas- 
 ter, and began his career of embezzlement, as he 
 gave full scope to his controlling temper, he never 
 dreamed of the results ; he had no conception of the 
 issues to which it would lead him. He would 
 have treated as an idle tale, the prediction which 
 should have shewn him going to the chief 
 priests to barter away his Master's liberty for 
 thirty pieces of silver. It is the characteristic of all 
 sinful passions, that they blind the minds of their 
 victims to their nature and their tendencies. 
 " Is thy servant a dog V said Hazael, as the 
 prophet Elisha foretold him of the horrid cruel- 
 ties of which he would be guilty when he 
 came to be king of Syria. " Is thy servant a dog 
 that he should do this thing ?" and yet as Henry 
 says, " the dog did it ;" and let a man give himself 
 up to the control of any passion, whether it be the 
 love of money, or the love of power, or the love of 
 pleasure, and he is ripe for any thing which his 
 governing spirit may demand for its gratification ; 
 he will perform acts, at the bare mention of which 
 his soul would .formerly have shuddered, and that 
 without compunction and without remorse. Nay, 
 more than this, he may, without being aware of it, 
 
CONSEQUENCES OF A WOKLDLY SPIEIT. 403 
 
 accumulate upon his own conscience, a guilt, in view 
 of which, as seen resting upon another, he actually 
 trembles. Are you a professing Christian, my 
 hearer, and under the influence of some temper 
 hostile to the spirit and requirements of the Mas- 
 ter ? You are shocked at the treachery of Judas 
 Iscariot. You can see the deep defilement of his 
 soul, and the guilt which no tears of repentance 
 could wash away, and no human conscience could 
 bear, and the thought of an approximation on your 
 part to such a fearful criminality, would convulse 
 your soul with agony. And yet it may be, that he 
 who seeth not as man seeth, may discover in you 
 some of the moral lineaments of the same image, 
 which as seen in Iscariot, are so positively frightful. 
 I have never betrayed my Master, is the language 
 of many a carnal and worldly disciple who is living 
 solely for the purpose of compassing some ambi- 
 tious views ; and, perhaps, we can discover the 
 reason why he has not done so, in the absence of 
 some sufficiently strong temptation, or in the in- 
 fluence of some outward circumstances, or of some 
 commanding earthly interest ; but in the eye of him 
 with whom principles are actions, and in view of 
 whose spiritual government the wish is put upon 
 a level with the overt act, who determines the 
 guilt of sin not from its actual effects, but from its 
 tendencies and from what would be its results if 
 circumstances favoured its full development ; what 
 difference does it make with him in his estimate of 
 character, that the opportunity of crime is absent 
 when the will to perpetrate it is ascendant in the 
 
* 
 
 4:04 CONSEQUENCES OF A WORLDLY SPIRIT. 
 
 soul ? The spirit of Iscariot, though not acted out, 
 stamps the soul with Iscariot's guilt. The controlling 
 temper fixes the character ; " as a man thinketh in 
 his heart, so is he." 
 
 " I have not, oh ! I could not, like the traitor, 
 betray my Master." To the man who, under the 
 confessed dominion of a worldly spirit, uses this lan- 
 guage to certify his innocence, I would propound 
 the question, Have you commended him to those 
 around you ? Can you honestly say, that in your 
 ardent pursuit of the world, you have as ardently 
 pursued the kingdom of God and his righteousness ? 
 That there has been nothing in your manifested 
 character, nothing in your plans and enterprises 
 originating in, matured, and carried out by an 
 absorbing spirit of earthliness, which has calum- 
 niated the gospel, and weakened the claims of your 
 Master in view of others, if it has not led them to 
 trample under their feet the religion of the gospel ? 
 If I cannot acquit myself in view of such inquiries, 
 oh ! surely I cannot complain if I am put on a par 
 with the bribed apostate, as one who in prophetic 
 language has " wounded Christ in the house of his 
 friends." 
 
 Judas Iscariot was " the son of perdition," and I 
 will not deny that his crime was peculiarly aggra- 
 vated by the confidence which was reposed in him, 
 and which he basely betrayed. We should be 
 greatly at fault, however, if we supposed that this 
 constituted the essence of his sin. If I understand 
 his crime, it was a sacrifice of his Master upon the 
 altar of his unhallowed ambition. His sole purpose 
 
CONSEQUENCES OF A WOKLDLY SPIEIT. 405 
 
 was to gratify his love of money. An injury to his 
 Master, so far from entering into his design, was 
 utterly foreign to his thoughts. Precisely like him 
 in all the essential ingredients of his sin is every 
 man who has no other end in view than to sub- 
 serve some worldly or sinful desire ; who at its 
 bidding can throw behind him all a Redeemer's 
 claims, and trample on all a Redeemer's command- 
 ments. No ! no, he does not mean to injure Christ, 
 or to disparage Christ's claims ; he means only to 
 gratify his own desires, and if he cannot do the 
 latter without doing the former, he will do both. 
 This is the spirit of which Judas Iscariot was but 
 the embodiment — are there none, my brethren, 
 like him ? Is not every man like him who cannot 
 be religious, because religion will interfere with 
 some of his plans of earthly aggrandizement, and 
 call him to sacrifice some of his earthly desires ? 
 And wherever there is such a man, and this spirit 
 cannot be subdued, " It had been better for him 
 that he had never been born." There is no parade 
 of words nor clustering of images in this language 
 in which Christ sets forth the doom of uncrucified 
 carnality. And yet, while it is perfectly simple, 
 there is not a human being who dares to grapple 
 with the representation, or is equal to the task of 
 unfolding its meaning. The futurity which will 
 furnish the explanation is all midnight. The eye of 
 the soul which enters upon it will open upon dark- 
 ness. God, who is all light, is before it ; but it is 
 darkness. Eternity, that unbroken day in which 
 there are no sunsets, is before it, and yet it is dark- 
 
406 CONSEQUENCES OF A WOKLDLY SPIEIT. 
 
 ness ; it is all fire, yet all darkness ; a flame which 
 consumes but never illuminates. My brethren, if 
 ye have not sacrificed all for Christ, the dark 
 mountains upon which you will stumble and fall 
 are before you. If you would look, you might 
 already see them in your horizon, like iron masses 
 covered with sackcloth. Oh ! give yourselves 
 speedily to Christ, and then with new hearts and 
 a right spirit you will see the Sun of Righteousness, 
 which has not yet gone down in your firmament, 
 skirting the edge of that black rampart with beams 
 of gold ; and then, as despair gives way to hope, in- 
 stead of lifting up the wail, " Oh ! that we had 
 never been born," you will be able to raise the 
 rapturous shout, " We bless thee, O God, for our 
 creation." It will be with you hereafter, as now 
 you love the world or the Saviour most. 
 
 * 
 
JUDAS ISCARIOT ; OR, THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 " Then Judas, which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was 
 condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of 
 silver to the chief priests and elders, saying, I have sinned in that I 
 have betrayed the innocent blood." — Matthew xxvii. 3, 4. 
 
 It is not among the least interesting facts which 
 this passage brings to our notice, that the betrayer 
 of his Master could not possibly become his ac- 
 cuser ; that he who could be prevailed upon by 
 bribery to play the traitor, could not in any way 
 be induced to testify against him whom he had 
 surrendered into the hands of his enemies. Nay, 
 more than this, he is constrained to publish his 
 own infamy in witnessing to his Master's innocence. 
 It would have been a great gain to the chief priest 
 and rulers of the Jews, could they by any means 
 have wrung from one of the intimate associates of 
 Christ, any thing respecting his character and de- 
 signs, upon the ground of which they might have 
 proceeded against him as a malefactor or disturber 
 of the public peace. They who gave thirty pieces 
 of silver to secure his person, would unquestiona- 
 bly have given much more for evidence to justify 
 
408 THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 their procedures against him ; and he who was base 
 enough to betray him, we should naturally sup- 
 pose base enough to play into their hands, even if 
 he should be compelled to do so at the expense of 
 truth. 
 
 Now you perceive that we might take advantage 
 of this fact, to set before you one of the most logi- 
 cal and conclusive demonstrations of Christ's truth 
 and righteousness, which can possibly be con- 
 structed. Judas Iscariot was one of the Re- 
 deemer's most intimate associates, and must have 
 been well acquainted with his private acts. If 
 Christ, therefore, had been a deceiver, and per- 
 formed his miracles by collusion, the traitor must 
 have known the deception, and this would, at least, 
 have relieved his self-condemnation and remorse . 
 But it is perfectly evident that the galling thing to 
 the mind of the betrayer, was the full conviction 
 of his Master's innocence. Had he known any 
 thing to the contrary, oh ! surely, in self-justifica- 
 tion, he would have told it; or even should he 
 have kept it to himself, (a supposition very un- 
 natural,) its knowledge would have preserved for 
 him a comparative quiet, or at least saved him 
 from suicide. Such is a mere outline of the argu- 
 ment, the more valuable because it is indirect. 
 
 It is not, however, to this point that we turn 
 your attention this morning. The question which 
 will open the subject upon which we design to dis- 
 course, relates to the wondrous influence which 
 constrained the mind of the traitor, not only pre 
 venting him from giving testimony against hk 
 
THE POWEK OF CONSCIENCE. 409 
 
 Master, but wringing from him reluctant evidence 
 in his favour. It was not the baseness of perjury 
 which deterred him, for a man who could with 
 cool and calm deliberation break such obligations 
 as those which bound Judas to the Redeemer, was 
 equal to any wickedness, however great. It was 
 not earthly interest which deterred him ; for in an 
 earthly point of view, he had better have carried 
 the matter through, than have committed suicide. 
 We must look, therefore, for an exponent of his 
 conduct to some unseen influence which swayed his 
 mind, an influence well nigh omnipotent; and 
 what could it have been but the simple influence 
 of conscience ? The acting of conscience, then, as 
 seen in the history of this man, shall furnish us 
 with our subject this morning, while we attempt 
 -to gather up some of the lessons which this history 
 furnishes, and impress them upon our minds. 
 
 There are three lights in which we look at Judas 
 Iscariot, each furnishing us with its distinct doc- 
 trine upon the subject of conscience. We see him 
 wrought up into agony by some mysterious influ- 
 ence which derives its meaning and power from 
 the future. We hear him acknowledging the 
 truth. We find him stripped of every thing like 
 an apology for his crime, and we thus reach the 
 following views : Conscience, the herald of the 
 future ; conscience, the advocate of truth ; con- 
 science, an answer to every excuse for transgres- 
 sion. An exhibition of these views will accom- 
 plish my design. 
 
 I. I am perfectly aware, my brethren, that there 
 
410 THE POWEB OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 have "been advanced, in behalf of this inward mon- 
 itor, claims which never can be made good. At- 
 tributes have been ascribed to it which it never 
 possessed, and its powers have been enlarged 
 and magnified, to an extent far surpassing any 
 thing which facts will warrant. The advocates of 
 mere natural religion, have used it as an argument 
 against the necessity of the Bible, by putting it in 
 the place, and making it subserve all the purposes 
 of a special revelation from God. While we can- 
 not sympathize at all with this position concerning 
 it, yet when we find how accurately it distinguishes 
 between right and wrong, how solemn and impress- 
 ive are the warnings which it utters against the 
 commission of the one, and how delightful is the 
 sense of satisfaction connected with the doing of 
 the other, we cannot but feel that its subject so far 
 carries about with him teachings from heaven, that 
 you cannot predicate of him an entire ignorance of 
 the will of God, and of the conse quences of obe- 
 dience and disobedience. For this is the peculiarity 
 which distinguishes conscience from every other 
 faculty of the mind — that it takes hold upon the 
 hopes and fears of another life, and works with 
 them as its instruments. Its power over the soul 
 springs from anticipation- — the element of its re- 
 ward is hope — the element of its punishment is 
 fear. Its reward is thus the expectation of reward ; 
 its punishment the expectation of punishment. In 
 proportion as a man can blind himself to the reali- 
 ties of the future, he can neutralize its influence ; 
 and if he could work himself up, by any means, to 
 
THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 411 
 
 a state of total unbelief as to a coming world, he 
 would be an entire stranger to all its inflictions. 
 Hence it is, that atheism and infidelity resolve the 
 influence of conscience into superstitious fears — an 
 explanation unworthy of a thinking mind, putting 
 as it does the effect for the cause ; the fears of 
 which they speak as originating conscience admit- 
 ting of no solution but one which brings in conscience 
 as their source. Hence they reason perpetually in 
 a circle, explaining conscience by man's unfounded 
 fears, and man's unfounded fears by conscience; 
 thus assuming every thing and proving nothing. 
 Every man is a witness to himself of the truth of 
 my general position ; for as all have been subjects 
 of the approval of conscience, when they have 
 hearkened to its voice, and have suffered in conse- 
 quence of their resistance to its dictates, they carry 
 the evidence within them that it draws its re- 
 sources not from the present but from the future, 
 and acts upon men by hope and by fear ; and if so, 
 then it preaches beyond all contradiction and all 
 question, another state of being ; a state of retri- 
 bution, in which the Supreme moral Governor will 
 recompense actions wrought on the earth. It is thus 
 that we explain the experience of Judas. There was 
 nothing in present circumstances to harm him. 
 Would the men in whose hands he had played, 
 wreak their vengeance upon one who had become 
 their co-worker, and had afforded them such signal 
 assistance in accomplishing their designs ? His Mas- 
 ter was now subject to his enemies ; the traitor saw 
 his condemnation certain, and he could fear nothing 
 
412 THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 from one whose tongue was shortly to be palsied, 
 and whose limbs were shortly to be stiffened in 
 death. No, it was remorse which now preyed upon 
 him — remorse springing from the apprehended cer- 
 tain connection between the past and present, and 
 the future. It was conscience, making every event 
 the herald of judgment, and every shadow the 
 minister of retribution. He could almost read the 
 record of his crime, made by one who would not 
 let it pass unavenged ; and though he had gained 
 what he coveted, and held in his hands the wages 
 of unrighteousness with which he meant to satisfy 
 his avaricious soul, there was a boding form, unseen 
 by others, yet flitting distinctly before his mind, 
 which no enchantment could will, and no menace 
 force from the scene. And thus he was a witness 
 to himself, as are all others, in their wrong doing, 
 witnesses to themselves, that this world is under the 
 government of a God who may allow wickedness 
 for a time to be successful, yet gives a boding of 
 judgment, and an earnest of retribution in the 
 dread imagery of wrath which conscience arrays 
 before the spirit. 
 
 It is worthy of observation here that these act- 
 ings of conscience are perfectly independent ; they 
 are not the fruits of reasoning, they spring from no 
 logic, they result from no lengthened investigation 
 into the propriety and fitness of things. Men may 
 reason in order to stifle conviction, they may ex- 
 cite their passions into a storm in order to drown 
 its voice, but this is after its testimony has been 
 given ; they can do nothing beforehand to prevent 
 
THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 413 
 
 that testimony. Unlike those propositions which 
 result from reasoning, the verdict of conscience 
 does not knock at the door of the mind, and sue 
 for admittance ; conscience is part of the mind 
 itself, and acts within, bidden or unbidden. If it 
 were otherwise, and we had to make out the being 
 of a God, and a future state of rewards and pun- 
 ishments, by a process of rational deduction, man 
 might meet argument by argument, and proof by 
 proof, and contend, and equivocate, and practice a 
 thousand subtleties to get rid of the force of evi- 
 dence. But it is not so ; for when conscience speaks 
 there is no room for evasion, no room for subtle- 
 ties ; conscience in reality is the commencement of 
 judgment itself; and what quibble, or equivocation, 
 or argument can stand before a plain fact ? 
 
 And thus it is that every man who does wrong 
 and fears the consequences (and no man can di- 
 vorce such wrong doing from such fears,) carries 
 within him evidence which he cannot overthrow 
 or gainsay to the being of God, and the retributive 
 character of his moral government. I care not who 
 he may be, or what may be his pretensions ; he 
 may tell me that he does not believe in God ; he 
 may tell me that he sees no evidence of his exist- 
 ence in the traces of design which are every where 
 stamped upon the works of nature ; but there is a 
 voice whose testimony to this fact rings in his own 
 bosom, and while conscience speaks, and the fore- 
 bodings of wrath keep company with unrepented 
 and unforsaken transgression^ and the path of him 
 who goes on in the way of evil is crossed and re- 
 
414 THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 crossed by images of woe and desolation, though 
 you should shut up the Bible, and blot out from 
 the universe of created things every thing which 
 tells us of a God mindful of the works of his hands, 
 still there would be proof enough left that we live 
 under the government of a ruler who is the avenger 
 of wickedness ; and not a subject of that govern- 
 ment could ever, in view of his experience, plead 
 ignorance in extenuation of crime. 
 
 II. Now, if we have made good our first position, 
 which presents conscience as an evidence of our 
 accountability and future existence, we proceed 
 another step in our illustration, to ascertain the 
 bearing of its testimony upon other questions of 
 truth and duty. The world in which we live 
 is full of error, both of principle and practice, and 
 we cannot but admire the pertinacity with which 
 men will often cling to falsehood, and the ingenuity 
 with which they will reason out its defence. We 
 question very strongly whether man is ever, in the 
 first instance, brought intelligently to the adoption 
 of error, or can ever adduce evidence in its favour 
 which will perfectly, in all circumstances, satisfy 
 his own mind. Where a man's opinions are 
 purely speculative, relating merely to questions of 
 natural science, we do not mean to say that his 
 errors, necessarily, involve moral delinquency. He 
 may be too hasty in his conclusions, or deduce 
 his results from an imperfect or partial examination 
 of facts ; we may doubt his wisdom, and withhold 
 our confidence in his judgment, without throwing 
 any imputation upon his heart ; but it is vastly dif- 
 
THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 415 
 
 ferent with, moral questions. Here, in all cases 
 where the means of arriving at a knowledge of the 
 truth are possessed, the advocacy of error of opinion 
 is usually associated with depraved inclinations, 
 which call for falsehood in their justification. It is, 
 I am aware, a startling doctrine that which I now 
 advocate, that sin or vice, in some form, is the pa- 
 rent of wrong moral principles ; that man does not 
 become an Atheist, a Deist, or an enemy of any 
 cardinal doctrine of revealed truth, except as de- 
 praved inclination makes it one's interest that there 
 should be no God, and no revelation. And the 
 evidence of my doctrine is found in this, that almost 
 all errors of this kind, however boldly they may 
 be put forth as purely rational truths, however 
 long they may have been held, however pertina- 
 ciously and skilfully they may have been defended, 
 give way at once to the influence of conscience. 
 And yet conscience has not to do directly with opi- 
 nions, but only with practice, and with opinions as 
 they spring from, or are necessarily connected with 
 practice. Conscience never will set a man right in 
 his purely theoretical views on many subjects ; it 
 will never expose his errors in astronomy, or physi- 
 ology, or natural or simply intellectual science ; but 
 let him adopt a radically false principle in morals, 
 and he cannot hold it a moment when conscience 
 begins powerfully to act. It shews him the error 
 of his opinions by rebuking the sinful desires or 
 plans in which such opinions originate. I know 
 not what principles Judas Iscariot may have 
 adopted as his principles of action while he was 
 
416 THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 carrying on his designs against his Master. He 
 must, however, have had some distinctly formed 
 views under the influence of which he thought he 
 might, in his circumstances, go forward properly, 
 or at least safely ; and yet no sooner does the emer- 
 gency arise which awakens conscience, than all his 
 finely arranged theories are completely blown 
 away, and a single rebuke of this inward monitor 
 furnishes a complete refutation of all his unan- 
 swerable arguments. 
 
 There is a parallel, and if any thing, a more 
 strongly marked case, illustrative of our general 
 idea, given in the history of Herod, the Tetrarch 
 of Galilee, and murderer of John the Baptist. No 
 sooner did the fame of Christ spread abroad, than 
 Herod, however unwilling to be disturbed again 
 by the presence of a prophet, yet knowing that 
 there was a worker of miracles abroad in the land, 
 was constrained to express an opinion concerning 
 him ; and of all opinions, none could be more in- 
 consistent with his professed faith. " It is John," 
 said he, " whom I have beheaded : he is risen from 
 the dead." ~Now by what process of reasoning 
 could he reach such a conclusion? Where was 
 the apparent likelihood that Jesus Christ was John 
 the Baptist ? What correspondence was there be- 
 tween Jesus working miracles, and John who 
 wrought no miracles ? Herod, moreover, was a 
 Sadducee, and according to his professed creed, 
 death was the end of man; there is no resurrec- 
 tion, no angel, no spirit. How, then, came Herod 
 to advance an opinion in such direct opposition to 
 
THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 417 
 
 his professed creed ? Do you suppose that in the 
 midst of his voluptuousness, this corrupt prince 
 had been re-examining the articles of his faith, and 
 as a result of such new examination, was renounc- 
 ing as erroneous, doctrines which he formerly held 
 as true ? Had he been studying the law and the 
 prophets, think you, analyzing the arguments in 
 favour of the soul's immortality and the body's 
 resurrection, and in view of the evidence which 
 flashed upon his mind, had he come to a conclusion 
 which completely overthrew every article of what 
 he once considered his rational faith ? How was it 
 that the marvellous stories which came to his ears 
 concerning the wonder working of Jesus Christ, 
 wrought such an entire revolution in all his theo- 
 retical opinions ? How but by starting conscience, 
 which, when once awaked, raised the spectre of the 
 murdered John, and made it impossible for him to 
 hide from his view his dreadful guilt, under the 
 pressure of which he could no longer hold his false 
 principles? He had probably never reasoned at 
 all about the doctrines of his creed; like most 
 other errorists, he had taken them for granted, be- 
 cause they suited his inclinations ; it was marvel- 
 lously convenient for him to disbelieve in futurity, 
 in a resurrection, and a judgment to come, because 
 his vices made it desirable that he should perish 
 with the brute. But no sooner did conscience be- 
 gin to act, than all his speculations or hopes 
 vanish, and Herod trembles in view of that futu- 
 rity at which he was wont to smile, and that judg- 
 ment to come, which he had been wont to think 
 27 
 
418 THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 was nothing but a dream. We put, then, Herod 
 in company with Judas Iscariot, as shewing how 
 completely conscience can refute all the false rea- 
 sonings of a sinful mind, and, therefore, evidence 
 of this truth, which men seldom believe, that when 
 man arrays himself against any plain, essential doc- 
 trine of God's word, he has not in reality a particle 
 of confidence in one of the positions he assumes. 
 
 And it is precisely so, my brethren, with every 
 one whose depraved inclinations lead him to the 
 adoption or advocacy of error. A man may blind 
 his power of perception, and pervert his under- 
 standing, but he never can permanently stifle his 
 conscience with bad logic. While his circum- 
 stances are such as do not put his theory to the 
 proof, he may, perhaps, succeed by his ingenuity in 
 maintaining error. But whenever conscience re- 
 bukes him, or he is called to any great risk on the 
 strength of his opinion, his agitation will show that 
 he has no confidence in it, and in the course he 
 pursues lie will positively contradict his professed 
 faith. Every day, every hour, is heaving into 
 being illustrations of the general remark. We 
 have upon record the fact of atheists, in an hour of 
 peril, forgetful of their avowed system, calling for 
 help upon God, whom they had, as they thought, 
 reasoned out of existence. Place such a man in 
 circumstances of danger, in the midst of peril- 
 stricken companions, and do you tell me that he 
 will look with cool contempt upon the agitation of 
 his fellows, and preach atheism to them in the 
 midst of their terrors ? or will he not, sympathizing 
 
THE POWEK OF CONSCIENCE. 419 
 
 with them in their fears, join them in supplicating 
 in the tempest, the Deity whom he denied in the 
 calm ? Yes, and we have not only heard of, we 
 have seen men on their death-beds, who during 
 their whole lives had treated the religion of the 
 gospel as a fable, calling vehemently upon Christ 
 for forgiveness, as though their theories gave way 
 when the soul came to be separated from the body. 
 And it was not reason that silenced their argu- 
 ments, nor any external evidence which produced 
 such deep conviction of error. It was nothing but 
 conscience, which all along had been gently whis- 
 pering remonstrances, and was only waiting the 
 opportunity which then arrived, of giving full play 
 to its terrors, to throw to the winds every flimsy 
 argument, and wring from the man a contradiction 
 of himself. Oh ! it is wonderful, this power of 
 conscience, whereby it extorts from one a denial of 
 those doctrines with which he had laboured to de- 
 ceive others and himself, and forces him to become 
 a witness to the very truth he had endeavoured to 
 disprove ; and as every man possesses this attribute 
 of mind — I care not who he may be — how astute 
 a reasoner, if he becomes an advocate of error, con- 
 science will prove too much for his logic. He may 
 suffer himself to be carried away by any of the 
 thousand philosophical speculations which go to 
 overthrow the testimony of the Bible, and cut men 
 loose from its restraints ; he may think himself very 
 rational in smiling at the simple verities of the 
 word of God, and giving himself to a course of 
 life which those verities forbid ; but while we 
 
420 THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 know that lie can only smother conscience, but can 
 no more kill it than he can annihilate himself; 
 we know, also, that there is a time coming, when 
 it will raise itself with a superhuman might, and 
 preach to him, and compel him to preach to 
 others the doctrines which he now passes by in 
 silence, or reprobates with scorn. There may be 
 no prophet in the land armed with tremendous 
 powers, to strike terror into those whose creeds 
 have been found to patronize their sins, yet when 
 the hour of peril arrives, or the dread footstep of 
 approaching death is heard, then conscience will 
 be more than the voice of any earthly prophet ; 
 however magnificent his endowments, and wither- 
 ing his demonstrations, conscience will be more to 
 awaken, and agitate, and confound the spirit by 
 bringing up to view contradicted truth. And if 
 any man who rejects the gospel and adopts error, 
 tells me that he does not believe in this energy of 
 conscience ; that his faith is the result of patient 
 and calm investigation, and that he is not to be 
 disturbed by any prophecy of conviction and ruin 
 coming together, I will not stop to reason with 
 him, but simply remind him, that he carries about 
 with him continually a power precisely like that 
 which Judas illustrated, who, when he saw that 
 Jesus was condemned, threw away the gains of his 
 false reasoning, and wicked though cunning policy, 
 confessed his iniquity, and died, a self-immolated 
 witness to the reality and power of conscience. 
 
 III. There is yet another view we are called 
 to take of our subject. There are many men in 
 
THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 421 
 
 our world perfectly sound in their principles, who 
 are wholly unsound in their practice. In many of 
 the courses which they pursue, they can "but feel T 
 with the light they enjoy, that they are trampling 
 under foot some of the divine commandments. 
 And they differ from those to whom we have al 
 ready alluded, in that, while the latter deny or 
 reason away the principles which stand in opposi- 
 tion to their desires, the former admit the truth of 
 the principles themselves, but find a justification of 
 their neglect or disobedience of them, in some of 
 their peculiar circumstances. It is not every man, 
 who with all the aid a sinful and deceitful heart 
 may furnish, is able to work himself up to the 
 adoption of speculative atheism, or to assume the 
 position of the theoretical skeptic. The testimony 
 to the being of God, which is seen every where 
 upon the spreadings of creation, and to the re- 
 tributive character of his moral administration, 
 which is presented in the daily and hourly develop- 
 ments of Providence; and the evidence which 
 throngs around this revelation of truth, is too clear, 
 too abundant, too conclusive to be gainsayed, or 
 set aside or evaded — and yet there is many a man, 
 who admitting the being of God, can yet find, as 
 he thinks, sufficient reason to justify his disobe- 
 dience; and admitting the reality of the gospel 
 and the propriety of its claims, can yet justify his 
 rejection of them. These are your apologists for 
 acknowledged transgression. Set their impenitence 
 and their sins clearly before them, and you need 
 no argument to demonstrate their impropriety and 
 
422 THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 guilt — they are confessed at once — and yet there 
 are not wanting extenuating pleas. Their situation 
 is peculiar, their circumstances are peculiar, their 
 temptations have been peculiarly strong and try- 
 ing ; so that, what they can but confess to be ab- 
 stractly a crime, is in view of all the considerations 
 they can adduce in their case, no crime at all. Ju- 
 das Iscariot was unquestionably a very plausible 
 reasoner. However abandoned we may consider 
 him to have been, we cannot imagine him so far 
 lost to all sense of right, as to defend treachery to 
 his Master, as an act in itself proper ; but then, he 
 had doubts about his Master's course. He felt that 
 Jesus Christ was too slow in his movements, that 
 he suffered too many opportunities to pass, of which 
 he might have availed himself, to establish his 
 claims and manifest his glory ; he was, therefore, 
 but forcing him into a situation where no possible 
 harm could befal him, and where he would be com- 
 pelled, in self-defence, to make, as he easily could, 
 such a manifestation of his character as would com- 
 pletely triumph over incredulity, and bear down all 
 opposition. Moreover, if, after he had bargained 
 with the chief priests and rulers, conscience should 
 smite him, he felt that he was committed ; he had 
 entered into engagements which were binding upon 
 him, and which he could not innocently violate. 
 Very much in the same way Herod the tretrarch 
 seems to have reasoned. He felt that it was wrong 
 to murder John the Baptist, but how could he es- 
 cape the obligation of his rash and inconsiderate 
 oath ? His wickedness, therefore, in his case, was 
 
THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 423 
 
 not only proper, but necessary. Thus both Judas and 
 Herod extenuated their iniquities, by considering 
 them as forced upon them by imperative circumstan- 
 ces. And now the point at which I wish you to look, 
 is this : Conscience is too good a casuist to admit of 
 any such apology. In both of these cases, conscience 
 must have remonstrated, though its subjects were 
 setting flimsy sophisms against the imperious sense 
 of right, and persuading themselves that they were 
 acting upon good and sound principles in what they 
 did. But it required only some unexpected event, 
 to give conscience power enough to demolish the 
 false logic, and scare the guilty by a full exhibition 
 of the atrociousness of their crimes. Hence, when 
 Herod apprehended danger, he did not fall back 
 upon his oath, and say there was no alternative, 
 circumstances were imperative. Judas, when he 
 saw that Christ was condemned, did not fall back 
 upon his intentions and declare that he meant right, 
 and aimed only at good. No ! truth spake out 
 with terrible emphasis, and its tone and tenor made 
 them both tremble ; and Herod could not help 
 looking upon Christ as an avenger of his crime, 
 and Judas, under the weight of conscious guilt, 
 went and hanged himself. 
 
 And precisely like them, in our own day, are the 
 men (oh ! how large is their number) who flatter 
 themselves that they have some good apology for 
 their sins ; that peculiar circumstances render that 
 excusable, which otherwise would be criminal. 
 Precisely like them, are they who think they may 
 safely neglect duty and trespass upon right. When 
 
424 THE POWER OE CONSCIENCE. 
 
 I see a man violating truth, or practicing deception, 
 or going aside from the straight line of upright- 
 ness, because apparently good of any kind may 
 thus be gained or evil avoided — when I see a pro- 
 fessing Christian compromising principle, or justi- 
 fying conformity to the world, on the ground that 
 it is allowable in his peculiar circumstances— when 
 I find a man out of the kingdom of Christ, admit- 
 ting that he ought to be a Christian, yet unwilling 
 to submit at once to the requirements of the gos- 
 pel, thinking that he may, in view of some pecu- 
 liarity in his situation, not only safely, but even 
 rightly procrastinate his decision upon the subject, 
 I know that he is endowed with a power precisely 
 like that which convulsed the spirit of Iscariot with 
 an intolerable agony, and which only awaits the 
 opportunity which the Providence of God, sooner 
 or later, will furnish, of rising in the full majesty 
 and terror of its might, and pouring down upon its 
 wretched victim the full measure of its overwhelm- 
 ing and withering malediction. 
 
 These hearts of ours, my brethren, are very in- 
 genious in covering over sin. Never are our wits so 
 sharp, as when our transgressions are to be excused. 
 But oh ! let us learn from the case before us, that 
 all the wretched meshes in which we may entangle 
 conscience, will sooner or later break away, as a 
 thread of tow, when it touches the fire. God regu- 
 lates the movements of conscience, and God allows 
 of no apology for sin. He can forgive it ; he can 
 forget it ; he can blot it out as a cloud and a thick 
 cloud ; he can bury it in the depths of the sea ; he 
 
THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 425 
 
 can carry it away, so that no more mention shall 
 be made of it; but he never, no never can ex- 
 cuse it. And the man who is in the habit of apol- 
 ogizing for sin, and soothing himself with the 
 thought that he cannot well avoid doing what he is 
 doing — and that what he cannot well avoid doing, 
 he cannot be very guilty in doing — may be sure 
 that the time is coming, when conscience shall 
 awake, and cause the earth seemingly to ring again, 
 as though the footsteps of the avenger were ap- 
 proaching, and make him start and quake, as it 
 peoples the scene around him with the ghosts and 
 images of his iniquities. 
 
 It is a solemn truth which I am uttering, and a 
 fearful and real consummation I am portending. 
 Judas trembled and was overwhelmed when the 
 full guilt of his treachery burst upon his mind, as 
 he saw his Master condemned ; and the man who 
 rejects Christ now, and treats him with scorn, and 
 instead of forsaking his sins, extenuates and apolo- 
 gizes for them, may be sure, that if not before, he 
 will be startled by the trumpet peal of judgment ; 
 and then all his sophistry will leave him, and all 
 his apologies will vanish, and as the great white 
 throne is set, and the judge descends, there will be 
 a cry of agony, " This is Jesus whom I crucified ; 
 hide me from the presence of the Lamb." 
 
 It is perfectly idle for any man to say all this b 
 fable, for every man knows better. As no one can 
 be found who is not a subject of compunctions of 
 conscience, there is no one who does not carry within 
 him a prophet which portends precisely such an 
 
426 THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 issue. There is a process continually going on of 
 retribution — of reward for right and punishment 
 for wrong — showing us what kind of a government 
 is that of God, under which we live ; and however 
 desperate a man's struggles with himself may be, 
 he cannot get entirely rid of this process. There 
 is a tribunal set up every day in the human bosom, 
 and a judge there, and sentence pronounced there ; 
 aye, more than this, carried into effect there. But 
 then, when you come to analyze the nature of these 
 inflictions, you find that they consist in dread, and 
 therefore no man can get rid of the evidence of a 
 dreadful scene in the future. The certainty of the fact 
 itself, then, of which we speak, no man who reads 
 at all the workings of his own mind, can doubt. 
 If you ask when, where, how, I give you but the 
 same answer which our Saviour gave to a similar 
 question, proposed by his disciples, when he had 
 been predicting terrible judgments : " Wheresoever 
 the body is, there will the eagles be gathered to- 
 gether." Wherever there is prey, there is the bird 
 of prey. Vengeance seems to follow the sinner as 
 by a kind of instinct. He may cross the ocean, as- 
 cend the mountain, dive into the cavern, but he can 
 never hide himself from conscience, which like the 
 eagle, hovering over its prey, is ready at any mo- 
 ment to pounce upon its victim. The commission 
 of sin seems to produce the bird of prey. No 
 sooner is the act performed, but the fatal flap of 
 its wing is heard. And who, in view of this fact, 
 can doubt that every subject of unrepented and 
 unforsaken sin, must sooner or later fall under a 
 
THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 427 
 
 ministry of vengeance, whose terrors are prefigured 
 in the painful premonitions already felt? Wh can 
 escape ? Who can evade the scrutiny which must 
 be carried on, and the sentence which must be 
 passed in the solitudes of every human heart? 
 Some time or other, the antitypes to these convic- 
 tions must come. Man must reach the substance 
 of these dreadful symbols, enter upon the inherit- 
 ance, of which he has already the earnest. If we 
 are right in our views, then if man is a sinner, con- 
 science is ever at hand, like a bird of prey, with 
 an eye that scathes, and a beak that lacerates — 
 and if not before, when man falls, no matter how, no 
 matter where, no matter when, there it will be 
 instantly upon him, as though it had been watching 
 its moment, hovering over his dwelling, track- 
 ing his steps by night and by day, by sea and 
 land. This is conscience. Woe to the man who 
 falls its prey — he may fly, but it flies with him — it 
 is in him, it is an eternal part of himself. My im- 
 penitent and unforgiven hearer, the eagle is upon 
 thee — hie to the refuge which God has furnished 
 in the Redeemer's cross. 
 
HISTORY OF SAUL. 
 
 " Now Samuel was dead, and all Israel had lamented him, and buried 
 him in Ramah, even in his own city. And Saul had put away those 
 that had familiar spirits, and the wizards, out of the land. And the 
 Philistines gathered themselves together, and came and pitched in 
 Shunem : and Saul gathered all Israel together, and they pitched in 
 Gilboa. And when Saul saw the host of the Philistines, he was afraid, 
 and his heart greatly trembled. And when Saul enquired of the Lord, 
 the Lord answered him not, neither by dreams, nor by Urim, nor by 
 prophets. Then Saul said unto his servants, Seek me a woman that 
 hath a familiar spirit, that I may go to her, and inquire of her. And 
 his servants said to him, Behold, there is a woman that hath a familiar 
 spirit at Endor. And Saul disguised himself, and put on other raiment, 
 and he went, and two men with him, and they came to the woman by 
 night : and he said, I pray thee, divine unto me by the familiar spirit, 
 and bring me him up whom I shall name unto thee. And the woman 
 said unto him, Behold, thou knowest what Saul hath done, how he hath 
 cut off those that have familiar spirits, and the wizards, out of the land : 
 wherefore then layest thou a snare for my life, to cause me to die ? 
 And Saul sware to her by the Lord, saying, as the Lord liveth, there 
 shall no punishment happen to thee for this thing. Then said the wo- 
 man, Whom shall I bring up unto thee ? And he said, Bring me up 
 Samuel. And when the woman saw Samuel, she cried with a loud 
 voice : and the woman spake to Saul, saying, Why hast thou deceived 
 me ? for thou art Saul. And the king said unto her, Be not afraid : 
 for what sawest thou ? And the woman said unto Saul, I saw gods 
 ascending out of the earth. And he said unto her, W'hat form is he 
 of ? And she said, An old man cometh up ; and he is covered with a 
 mantle. And Saul perceived that it was Samuel, and he stooped with 
 his face to the ground, and bowed himself. And Samuel said to Saul, 
 Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up ? And Saul answered, 
 I am sore distressed ; for the Philistines make war against me, and God 
 
HISTOEY OF SAUL. 429 
 
 is departed from me, and answereth me no more, neither by prophets 
 nor by dreams : therefore I have called thee, that thou mayest make 
 known unto me what I shall do. Then said Samuel, Wherefore then 
 dost thou ask of me, seeing the Lord is departed from thee, and is become 
 thine enemy ? And the Lord hath done to him, as he spake by me : for 
 the Lord hath rent the kingdom out of thine hand, and given it to 
 thy neighbour, even to David : Because thou obeyedst not the voice of 
 the Lord ,nor executedst his fierce wrath upon Amalek, therefore hath 
 the Lord done this thing unto thee this day. Moreover, the Lord will 
 also deliver Israel with thee into the hand of the Philistines : and to- 
 morrow shalt thou and thy sons be with me : the Lord also shall deliver 
 the hosts of Israel into the hand of the Philistines." — First book of 
 Samuel xxviii. 3-19. 
 
 Our discourse this morning is designed to be 
 historical. We take for its subject the history, 
 more particularly its closing scenes, of Saul, the 
 king of Israel, contained in the chapter we have 
 read to you, on some accounts among the most 
 remarkable, as it certainly is among the most in- 
 structive biographies upon the sacred page. There 
 is, indeed, a wildness in some of its parts, there 
 is a mixture of the strange and supernatural which 
 excites attention and awakens curiosity ; and we 
 would avail ourselves of these features the more 
 easily to fasten the mind upon those great practical 
 lessons which are interwoven with the story, and 
 for the sake of which it has been preserved upon 
 the inspired record among the things which " were 
 written for our knowledge." The mysterious and 
 unearthly circumstances connected with the story 
 can in themselves minister only to an unprofitable 
 excitement of the feelings, and might be passed 
 over almost without notice, were it not that there 
 
430 HISTOEY OF SAUL. 
 
 are truths here which relate to the conscience, 
 which cannot be brought out fully to view, but in 
 canvassing those remarkable incidents which to 
 many give its only interest to the narrative. 
 
 If the history is remarkable, I cannot say that it 
 is peculiar. I doubt not that many a man living 
 can see, in the features of this first king of Israel, 
 his own moral lineaments — while I am sure that 
 the principles upon which he acted are receiving 
 now, in new forms indeed, their daily illustrations ; 
 and the course which he pursued is, in all its essen- 
 tial points, the same with that which not a few all 
 around us are treading, perhaps unconsciously to 
 themselves. With this view of the narrative, and 
 this explanation of my purposes, I ask my hearers 
 to come with me to its study. I wish to give the 
 outlines of the history, and then present the moral 
 lessons it suggests. 
 
 The commencement of the reign of Saul was full 
 of promise. His character as a son marked by 
 filial submission and obedience, seemed to fit him 
 for a sovereign, (as they only who have learned to 
 obey understand rightly how to govern,) while the 
 meekness with which he bore his honours, and the 
 vigour with which he entered upon his duties, were 
 ominous of a happy course both to himself and his 
 people. Gifted as a man with all those qualities 
 of head and heart requisite to the discharge of his 
 ofiice, nothing seems to have been wanting to com- 
 plete his character, and ensure prosperity, but the 
 influence of fixed religious principle. We are 
 among the number of those who look upon a deep 
 
HISTORY OF SAUL. 431 
 
 and controlling sense of responsibility to God as 
 essential to permanent security and success in any 
 department or sphere of human action. The sub- 
 jects of official trusts, men upon whom are devolved 
 the weighty interests and concerns of a nation, need, 
 above all others, its directing influence. No amount 
 of energy, no degree of political sagacity, no 
 shrewdness or cunning, no skill, however consum- 
 mate, of managing men, and availing one's self of 
 passing circumstances, can atone for the absence of 
 a spirit which leads one to do right in the sight of 
 God, or supply its place among the elements of 
 permanent prosperity. 
 
 Of this fixed religious principle, the king of Is- 
 rael seems to have been entirely destitute. There 
 is no evidence, in any of his doings, that he was a 
 man whose heart was right with God. We are 
 told, indeed, that he became another man — that 
 " God gave him another heart.' 1 And there is un- 
 questionable evidence that a great change came 
 over his views and feelings, over his abilities and 
 his inclinations, so that forgetting his former em- 
 ployments, his mind, as it was fixed upon the duties 
 of his new office, expanded in those qualities which 
 become a general and a monarch. We have no 
 doubt that, called suddenly as he was to his royal 
 station, he was endowed with high courage and 
 nobility of spirit, which did not before belong him, 
 because they were uncalled for in the circumstances 
 in which he had moved ; and in reference to these 
 new mental developments, it is said, that " God 
 gave him another heart." His whole subsequent 
 
432 HISTORY OF SAUL. 
 
 history, however, shews that he had never been 
 renewed in the spirit of his mind — even amid the 
 apparent solicitude for God's honour which he 
 sometimes assumed, you can discover nothing like 
 the influence of religious principle — nothing but 
 what is often common in our own day, a deference 
 to religious externals, which the nature of his office 
 or public opinion seemed to demand. 
 
 The wisdom, and prudence, and courage, which 
 marked the commencement of his administration, 
 won the hearts of his subjects, and secured the 
 complete triumph of their arms. Never were a 
 people apparently in more prosperous circumstan- 
 ces at home, and abroad never did a monarch 
 occupy a prouder position. 
 
 His elevation and success, however, seemed too 
 much for his unbalanced and ungoverned spirit to 
 bear, and in a very little while, his proud and un- 
 sanctified nature developed itself; his conduct 
 changed, and he began to decline almost as rapidly 
 as he had previously advanced. In disobedience to 
 the positive command of God, his impatient spirit 
 led him to assume the functions of the prophet, and 
 offer the peace-offering and burnt offering before 
 he went out against the Philistines. The excuses 
 he advanced, when reproved for his disobedience, 
 so far from evincing any sense of his wrong doing, 
 showed a disposition to defend, what in his con- 
 science he knew to have been wrong. The success 
 which was granted him in battle, notwithstanding 
 his rebellion, served only to harden his heart ; and 
 he went on in his course of almost reckless impiety, 
 
HISTOEY OF SAUL. 43 S 
 
 until, in the case of Amelek, he suffered personal 
 and selfish considerations to sway him, and in op- 
 position to the express order of God through his 
 prophet, spared the king of Amalek and the rich- 
 est of the booty, destroying only that which was 
 refuse and useless. He now seems to have passed 
 the point of Divine forbearance. Though for many 
 years thereafter he remained upon the throne, his 
 history is one of crime and suffering. Deprived of 
 the counsels and admonitions of Samuel the pro- 
 phet, who now entirely left him, troubled by an 
 evil spirit which came upon him in judgment from 
 God, he appears to have been given up altogether 
 to his own devices, and the unchecked dominion of 
 those evil passions which first led him astray from 
 the path of duty. 
 
 We now find the once wise and prudent and 
 happy king, an abandoned man ; a fierce, dark, mel- 
 ancholy man, a terror to himself and to those 
 around him. But in his distress he turned not to 
 the Lord. Like too many, in our own day, who 
 when disappointment and sorrow come upon them, 
 turn to the cup, the viol and the song, Saul instead 
 of seeking relief in prayer for his troubled mind, 
 sought it in the melody which the son of Jesse 
 swept from his harp-strings. But soon his source 
 of comfort became one of pain. JSTow all the bit- 
 terness of his spirit seemed to vent itself upon the 
 youth whose music had partially relieved his melan- 
 choly — to destroy him became his controlling, un- 
 governable passion, and though at times, when Da- 
 vid, the object of his malice, manifested the most 
 28 
 
434 HISTOKY OF SAUL. 
 
 generous forbearance, there seemed to be about 
 Saul some symptoms of remorse, some bursts of 
 better feelings, these were but pauses in the storm, 
 which seemed thereafter to rage with greater vio- 
 lence, and make the closing part of the monarch's 
 life darker and darker, without a single indication 
 of that true repentance, which even then might 
 have averted his coming doom. 
 
 And now we reach the end, where we find the 
 lessons upon which we wish mainly to dwell. 
 
 The Philistines are gathered together against 
 Israel. Samuel, who had been the king's counsel- 
 lor and friend, is dead, and all the circumstances 
 in which Saul was placed, conspire to harass him, 
 and fill him with the most gloomy forebodings. 
 Completely at a loss, his own wisdom, his own pru- 
 dence and skill at fault, not knowing in which 
 direction to turn, he betook himself to God ; and 
 here we have one of those cases which have been 
 put upon record by way of warning, to check that 
 presumption of the human heart, which leads man 
 to suppose that at any time he may make his peace 
 with heaven ; one of those cases which go to show 
 that there is a time, when, though we may seek 
 God, we cannot find him, though we call upon 
 him he will not hear us. Saul consulted God in 
 his extremity, but it was too late ; he answered 
 him not, neither by dreams, nor by visions, nor by 
 the prophets. We do not mean to say that if Saul 
 had sought God by true repentance and unfeigned 
 humiliation, he would not have found him. We 
 do not think we have a right to say of any man in 
 
HISTORY OF SAUL. 435 
 
 this world, that he is beyond the reach of pardon, 
 if whatever may have been his past life, there is at 
 any time a renunciation of sin, and true repentance. 
 But of this contrition Saul knew nothing. No 
 sense of the wrong he had clone moved him, but 
 simply a sense of the peril to which he was ex- 
 posed. He was the same unprincipled man now, 
 that he was when he spared the king of Amalek, 
 or persecuted David ; therefore God heard him 
 not ; the sentence of judgment had gone forth, the 
 king must be left to himself, and the mighty must 
 be gathered and fall at Gilboa. And now it is 
 that the wickedness of his heart fully developed 
 itself. Hear this man whom God had raised up to 
 be king ; this man whom Samuel, the prophet, 
 had instructed ; this man who knew truth and 
 duty, hear him, and see to what lengths of wicked- 
 ness one forsaken of the Spirit of God will go. 
 "Seek me a woman that hath a familiar spirit, 
 that I may go to her and inquire of her." If you 
 are acquainted with the Old Testament records, 
 you are not ignorant of the severity of God's laws 
 against every thing like witchcraft. " Thou shalt 
 not suffer a witch to live," were the words of God 
 to Moses, when giving him the code of laws by 
 which the Israelites were to be governed ; and by 
 this code Saul in the former part of his reign had 
 been governed, and in his measures had carried out 
 the spirit of this law to the letter. Without stop- 
 ping to inquire into the motive of his unrelenting 
 war against all who dealt in divination and necro- 
 mancy, it is enough to know that he was not influ- 
 
436 HISTOEY OF SAUL. 
 
 enced by any abhorrence of the crime as a viola- 
 tion of the laws of God, since we find him now, in 
 his anxiety to pry into the future, having recourse 
 to the very arts which he once sought to abolish ; 
 and herein he presents the melancholy picture of 
 man forsaken of God, giving himself up to the most 
 desperate wickedness. 
 
 In reference to these practices to which the king 
 now resorted, and to which God had affixed the 
 penalty of death, I cannot coincide in opinion with 
 those who think that they were nothing more than 
 jugglery and deceit, and that sorcery was little if 
 any thing else, than skilful imposition. I cannot 
 find in this view a justification of the really san- 
 guinary laws which were enacted against them. I 
 cannot bring myself to the belief, that under the 
 Jewish dispensation, mere sleight of hand was a 
 crime punishable with death, and I am forced to 
 the conviction that there was more than trick in 
 those who professed to have intercourse with the 
 spiritual world ; and without pretending to know 
 or divine any of the secrets of necromancy, I can- 
 not escape the conclusion that there was some com- 
 bination between human beings and impure spirits. 
 Nor is there any thing unphilosophical or irrational 
 in such an opinion. It is no more absurd, no more 
 difficult of credence, than are the demoniacal pos- 
 sessions recorded in the New Testament, the reality 
 of which is put past all doubt by the evidence sus- 
 taining it. If I may venture on a suggestion here 
 somewhat explanatory of this matter, (and no sug- 
 gestion is out of place which tends to throw light 
 
HISTOEY OF SAUL. 437 
 
 upon the sacred page,) it is this : The devil is 
 said to be the god of this world, and in the ages 
 of heathenism he reigned without a rival; the 
 whole system of idolatry, with its impious dogmas, 
 its profane rites, its mysterious oracles, was his 
 work, by means of which he was permitted to ex- 
 ercise his power over his deluded subjects, and to 
 the overthrow of this system, when Christianity 
 was fully introduced, I believe that our Saviour 
 referred, when he said, " I saw Satan as lightning- 
 fall from heaven ;" and now we can see why the 
 practice of sorcery and necromancy was a capital 
 offence under the Jewish law, as it tended to sub- 
 vert the very foundations of the system, bringing 
 in idolatry with its infamous rites, against the uni- 
 versal prevalence of which it was the design of 
 God, by means of the institutions of Moses, to pro- 
 tect mankind. It was not merely a spiritual, but 
 also a political offence ; it was an attack upon the 
 first principles of their civil policy ; it was treason 
 against the government of the nation. 
 
 While, however, I take this position, I am not to 
 be understood as intimating that evil agencies 
 could go beyond the permission of God, could in- 
 fringe upon the prerogative of the Creator, or com- 
 municate any information or power which tran- 
 scended the reach of the creature. They might 
 unquestionably reveal many hidden transactions of 
 the past, but they could never penetrate into the 
 secrets of the future. With much of human arti- 
 fice in the divination and necromancy of ancient 
 times, there was, as appears clearly proved by the 
 
438 HISTOKY OF SAUL. 
 
 testimony of Scripture, mingled not a little which 
 surpassed human power, which seems conclusively 
 to establish something like supernatural machina- 
 tion. 
 
 It was to an adept in such arts that Saul resorted. 
 Instead of being humbled because God heard him 
 not, he became desperate in his measures, and re- 
 solved as he could not obtain an answer from 
 above, to seek one from beneath. Herein he filled 
 up the measure of his wickedness ; he forsakes ut- 
 terly the God, by whom he had been raised to 
 power, becomes a transgressor of the law he had 
 sworn to preserve inviolate, a traitor to the govern- 
 ment whose honour and integrity he was solemnly 
 pledged to maintain. 
 
 And now for the sequel. Disguised, and at 
 the dead of night, the wretched and guilty king 
 goes to Endor, to consult with the wizard who 
 resided there, and he invokes her to bring up from 
 the grave the prophet Samuel — and here there is 
 an abruptness in the sacred narrative, as though 
 God would prevent us from prying too deeply into 
 such unhallowed mysteries. What the process of 
 necromancy was in this case we know not, but an 
 old man covered with a mantle rises up out of the 
 earth, and Saul recognizing Samuel, bowed his face 
 v.o the ground. 
 
 And who is this shrouded personage who rises 
 up, seemingly in obedience to the necromancer's 
 art ? We are aware of the very common interpre- 
 tation, that Satan here assumed the form of the 
 prophet, and that this spectral thing was the evil 
 
HISTORY OF SAUL. 439 
 
 spirit with whorn the woman of Endor was in com- 
 munion ; but from this view of the case we dissent. 
 "We believe that it was really the form of Samuel 
 by which the king was now confronted, and yet 
 we do not believe that his appearance had any 
 thing to do as a result with the witch's incantations. 
 We cannot for one moment harbour the opinion, 
 that the souls of the righteous, after being delivered 
 from the burden of the flesh, are to any degree un- 
 der the control of evil agency, so that they may be 
 summoned back again to the world — and yet here 
 was the form of Samuel which stood before Saul. 
 If it was not so, the inspired narrative would not 
 have spoken of the apparition as Samuel. There 
 is nothing in the language used to suggest a doubt, 
 but every thing to induce the belief that it was 
 Samuel who appeared, and Samuel who spoke, a 
 fact which must militate against the truthfulness of 
 the record, if it was an evil spirit, and not the pro- 
 phet, who addressed the king. 
 
 The sorceress, too, no less than her guest, was 
 surprised, startled and terrified by the mysterious 
 form which rose up out of the earth. Evidently she 
 expected no such apparition, and it is idle to suppose 
 that she would have been so surprised, if the ap- 
 pearance corresponded with her expectations. We 
 suppose that in the midst of the proceedings God 
 himself interfered, and before the necromancer had 
 completed her arrangements, he sent the dead 
 prophet with his message of woe. We are con- 
 firmed in this opinion by the fact that the appari- 
 tion delivered a prophecy of the future, which was 
 
440 HISTOKY OF SAUL. 
 
 verified to the letter by the events, and herein 
 transcended all human power. It is the preroga- 
 tive of God alone to foretell things to come, and the 
 accuracy of the uttered prediction forbids any 
 other supposition, but that the old man clothed with 
 a mantle, was Samuel himself, commissioned of God 
 to revisit the earth and pronounce the doom of the 
 obdurate king. 
 
 It was a wonderful and thrilling scene which 
 followed. How reproachfully must the well re- 
 membered voice of him who had been so grieved 
 and distressed while living have fallen upon the 
 ear of the guilty monarch. What madness in Saul 
 to think that by unhallowed means he could gain 
 from God's prophet what God himself refused to 
 bestow ; what could he look for in such circum- 
 stances, but the utterance of reproof, and the pre- 
 dictions of vengeance ? The Lord has become 
 thine enemy, says the prophet ; because of thy wick- 
 edness thou art forsaken and abandoned. The cup 
 of thine iniquity is filled up ; thine end is come ; 
 to-morrow thou and thy sons shall be with me ; and 
 the prophet disappears, and Saul is overwhelmed. 
 And yet, though he had heard his death-knell rung 
 in his ears, he recovers from his shock, and goes out 
 on the morrow to the battle. But his bravery availed 
 him nothing; the edict had gone forth against 
 him ; his sons fall on Gilboa ; he himself is among 
 the wounded, and even yet his pride and haughti- 
 ness of spirit prevail, and to prevent his death by 
 the hand of the uncircumcised he falls upon his 
 own sword, and rushes, a guilty suicide, into the pre- 
 
HISTOEY OF SAUL. 441 
 
 sence of that God whom be had so greatly insulted, 
 and by whom he had been utterly forsaken. 
 
 Thus perished one who promised fair in the com- 
 mencement of his course. Naturally unstable, ar- 
 rogant, and impetuous, and destitute of all religious 
 principle, rapidly, when he followed the bent of 
 his passions, did he tread the downward path ; 
 shewing us that, however happy may be a man's 
 beginning, there is no security for a happy contin- 
 uance and end, but in an abiding determination to 
 do right, and an abiding sense of dependence upon 
 God ; and when without these a man yields to tempta- 
 tion, he goes not by steps, but by strides, from one 
 degree of infatuation and recklessness to another, 
 until with a hardened heart and seared conscience 
 he rushes madly upon ruin, and perishes, at last, 
 in his own corruption. 
 
 We have already said that we do not look upon 
 this history, however remarkable, as by any means 
 singular. If in the course which Saul pursued he 
 stood alone, if there were none like him now, or 
 none in danger of becoming like him, the story 
 would be to us without its moral, and without its 
 warning ; but we believe that there are not a few 
 even in our day in whom the same sinfulness of the 
 human heart is acting itself out, modified, indeed, 
 in its form by external circumstances. 
 
 I. "We advert here, then, by way of instruction, 
 to one peculiarity of Saul's course, as evincing his 
 growing wickedness. I mean his becoming a pa- 
 tron of the sin of which before he had been the 
 opponent. Whatever the ascendancy which sor- 
 
442 HISTOEY OF SAUL. 
 
 eery had once over him — and it was unquestiona- 
 bly great — still he had professed his conviction of 
 its sinfulness, and had endeavoured to expel it 
 from the land ; and now he gives evidence of his 
 growing depravity, and his rapidly approaching 
 ruin, as he favours the very sin against which he 
 had once determinedly set himself. Herein he is 
 like the man of whom our Saviour speaks, when he 
 wishes to describe a desperate moral condition, 
 from whom the evil spirit had gone out, but to 
 whom he had returned, making u his last state 
 worse than the first ;" and who is not taught by 
 this striking narrative, the peril of the man, who 
 having been checked in an evil course, gives him- 
 self up thereafter to the influence of sin? The 
 slave of his appetite, who has felt his degradation, 
 and resolves to obtain the mastery, and after a 
 temporary abstinence returns to his former course, 
 becomes more degraded than he was before ; and 
 the man whose conscience has been acted upon by 
 the Spirit of God, and who has roused himself 
 from his security, and then again given himself up 
 to carelessness, only proves himself farther than 
 ever from all spiritual impressions. There must be, 
 in such cases, as there was in that of Saul, a grand 
 victory achieved over conscience, and a great de- 
 spite done to the Holy Ghost, and so the breach 
 widened between the soul and God, rendering all 
 ordinary means useless for the purpose of re- 
 covery. 
 
 I would that all who are not fully determined 
 upon a rejection of the gospel ; who are not past 
 
HISTOEY OF SAUL. 443 
 
 the wavering point upon the subject of religion, 
 but are yet halting between two opinions, to look 
 at Saul, as he goes to commune with the witch of 
 Endor, and learn from him a lesson of their dan- 
 ger. If there are those who have their hours of 
 anxiety, their seasons of spiritual disquietude, 
 when, obeying some secret impulse which is not of 
 an earthly origin, they essay to break away from 
 their sins and practice righteousness, and yet return 
 to their former ways of folly and transgression, we 
 bid them mark this monarch of Israel, as under 
 cover of the night he approaches the scene of un- 
 hallowed incantations ; and as they see him again 
 tampering with that which he once endeavoured 
 to destroy, what is he doing but that with which 
 they themselves may be justly charged, returning 
 to the sin which had been forsaken ; and what is 
 the very worst feature of the case, as indicating 
 the erasure of all good impressions, and a seared- 
 ness of conscience, finding comfort for the mind in 
 that which had occasioned disquietude ? And as 
 it was with Saul, so may we expect to find it with 
 every one who acts like him ; there will be a repro- 
 bate mind, and a rapid hastening to destruction. 
 
 II. I would have you observe, however, in or- 
 der to bring out a second lesson from this narra- 
 tive, that it was not until after Saul had consulted 
 God, and God had refused to answer him by 
 dreams, or the Urim and Thummim, or the pro- 
 phets, that he betook himself to the sorceress. 
 We need hardly repeat here, what has already 
 been said, that it was not unfeignedly and with 
 
444 HISTOEY OF SAUL. 
 
 full purpose of heart that Saul sought the Lord ; 
 had he done so, even in his then desperate condi- 
 tion, he would have found pardon and succour : 
 but, with an unhuinbled heart, and with the same 
 impatience of spirit which marked him when he 
 disobeyed God, by invading the priest's office and 
 offering sacrifice, now, because he did not at once 
 receive an answer according to his wishes, he flies 
 to find in necromancy what he could not find in 
 waiting upon the Lord. And herein I think he is 
 not unlike many in our own day, upon whose 
 minds some serious impressions have been made, 
 and who failing to find relief immediately from 
 their spiritual anxiety in the duties of religion, 
 seek it in other and forbidden things. I doubt 
 not that there are many, especially among our 
 youth, who seek to allay their mental uneasiness 
 by indulging in the pleasures, and engrossing 
 themselves with the occupations of earth. Unable 
 at all times to repress the pleadings of conscience, 
 those pleadings prevail upon them for a time to 
 give themselves to the study of the word of God, 
 and to secret prayer ; but very soon relief is sought 
 from their urgency in the business and amusements 
 of the world. 
 
 We protest, in view of the narrative we have 
 spread before you, against all such means of allay- 
 ing one's moral disquietude. The man who tells 
 us that he has tried by the relinquishment of sin- 
 ful practices, by prayer, and the study of the word 
 of God, and tried in vain to obtain comfort, and now 
 must search for it amoug the things of this life, is 
 
HISTOEY OF SAUL. 445 
 
 acting over again the part of Saul, who because 
 there was no answer at once from the Lord to his 
 impatient and unhumbled spirit, iied to the cave of 
 the sorceress, to be beguiled and deceived. Such 
 a man feels that he is in peril, that he is environed by 
 many forms of danger, but rather than meet boldly 
 the difficulties of his case, and follow steadily and 
 determinedly what he knows to be the will of the 
 Almighty, he hastens to drink of the cup which 
 shall render him insensible, and be soothed by 
 charms and spells into forgetfulness of his condi- 
 tion. 
 
 If there is one of my hearers who has been at 
 all aroused to a sense of his spiritual condition, as 
 unreconciled to God, we would endeavour to arrest 
 the fatal determination of turning to the delusions 
 and enchantments of earth, for that peace which 
 can be found only in the gospel of Jesus Christ. 
 If you would know the issue of such a course, we 
 will play the part of the enchantress ourselves, and 
 summon those who have gone before you, that you 
 may learn from them whether there can be safety 
 and peace in any thing but righteousness. We 
 will summon the dead who were cut down in their 
 wickedness, and they rise up and bemoan their 
 madness, in having been " lovers of pleasure rather 
 than lovers of God ;" and as they flit before you, 
 they will tell you that to follow in their footsteps 
 is to rush headlong upon destruction. We will 
 summon those who lived the life, and died the 
 death of the righteous, and as they pass before 
 you in their beauty and their joy, they exhort you to 
 
446 HISTOEY OF SAUL. 
 
 " lay aside every weight and the sin which doth 
 most easily beset you," and the air is filled with 
 sweet sounds of which this is the melody : " Blessed 
 are the dead who die in the Lord." 
 
 If there is one who is determined to act over 
 again the part of the monarch of Israel, who went 
 down for comfort to the cave of the sorceress — if 
 there is one, who in place of waiting upon God, 
 and seeking peace of conscience by believing upon 
 Jesus Christ, is determined to try the allurements 
 and fascinations of the things of time and sense, 
 we would meet him on the way, and bid him pause 
 while we bring up the dead, and lay bare the se- 
 crets of the future. You think of delighting your- 
 self in the things of earth, and in forgetfulness of 
 your Maker. ¥e tell you what it will be, as we 
 have learned it from communion with the dead, as 
 their words are given to us upon the sacred page. 
 We tell you what thousands before you have found 
 out from sad, bitter experience, that whatever may 
 be the fascinations of earthly pleasure, however the 
 mind may be amused for awhile with worldly pur- 
 suits, yet to yield ourself up to sensual gratifications 
 and to secular business, is to make shipwreck of 
 every thing. Thus, while you give yourself up to 
 the deceptions of the world, hoping that it may 
 soothe you with visions of peace, and delight you 
 with dreams of gladness, we rise up before you at 
 the bidding of God, and prophesy of evil — certain, 
 irremediable evil — but not of this alone, for herein 
 is a wonderful difference between the scene at En- 
 dor, and the scene through which we are now 
 
HISTOEY OF SAUL. 447 
 
 passing in the sanctuary. While Samuel had but 
 one message to deliver, and that one which told 
 only of destruction, we have indeed to speak of 
 ruin, if a man will not " seek first the kingdom of 
 God and his righteousness ;" but we have also to say 
 that God waiteth to be gracious, and that if a man 
 will but renounce that which cannot satisfy, he shall 
 have in its place " a peace which passeth all under- 
 standing," and " life for evermore." 
 
 III. I cannot but advert, in conclusion, to the 
 touching fact that when Saul wished counsel, it 
 was from Samuel that he wished to receive it; 
 often had the prophet boldly reproved the king, 
 and had, indeed, so offended him by his faithful- 
 ness, that for years previous to the prophet's death 
 there had been no intercourse between them. The 
 king had his creatures about him, whom instead of 
 Samuel he had consulted in reference to the affairs 
 of his kingdom ; and yet Saul could not help feeling 
 that the reprover and not the flatterer was the best 
 friend he ever had ; and, therefore, in his days of 
 distress and perplexity, he earnestly desired the 
 presence of the intrepid counsellor whom in his 
 prosperous hours he had hated and scorned. What 
 a testimony to the worth of one who will tell us of 
 our faults, and not leave us undisturbed in our sins. 
 What a warning that we should prize him while 
 present, lest we live to wish his services when they 
 can no longer be obtained. 
 
 How often, my brethren, does it happen in the 
 history of men that they wish to bring back from 
 the grave a friend, a father, or a mother whose 
 
448 HISTOEY OF SAUL. 
 
 advice they had despised, in order that they might 
 enjoy the benefit of the counsel which they once 
 slighted and scorned. If, in such circumstances, 
 they could go to the cave of some sorceress ; they 
 would say not, " Bring me up the companion who 
 cheered me in my thoughtlessness, and was with me 
 in the revel and the dance," but " bring me up my 
 father who told me that 4 the way of transgressors 
 was hard,' or my mother, who with weeping eyes 
 and broken voice warned me against the paths of 
 folly and sin." It is when men have learned from 
 wretched experience that there is no peace in the 
 paths of ungodliness, that memory recalls the do- 
 mestic fireside, and the customary seats around it, 
 and dwells upon the look, and tone, and gesture of 
 those who impressed upon them the truths of the 
 Bible ; and then there rises in the mind the passing 
 thought, " Oh ! that we could call them back again, 
 to profit as we might do now by their slighted in- 
 structions and counsels." 
 
 My brethren, if there are any of you who in 
 spite of the reproofs and warnings of which you 
 have been the subjects are giving yourselves up to 
 the world, " walking in the way of sinners," or sit- 
 ting, perhaps, in the seat of the scornful, " there 
 are evil days coming when sorrows shall be multi- 
 plied," and you will know what were the feelings 
 of the king of Israel when he said to the woman of 
 Endor, " bring me up Samuel." But of what avail 
 such feelings, even could they be gratified ? Saul 
 had his wish ; and Samuel came not with words of 
 consolation, but with this message, "to-morrow 
 
HISTORY OF SAUL. 449 
 
 thou and thy sons shall "be with me in the dark, 
 cold grave." For if a man has neglected the Lord, 
 and continued to resist the strivings of his Spirit 
 nntil, as in the case of Saul, God has departed from 
 him, of what avail to him could be the return of a 
 departed friend ? He who remembers with anguish 
 how he despised the command of his father, and for- 
 sook the law of his mother, around whom gather 
 the Philistines in his hour of extremity, who feels 
 that he must pay the penalty of his transgression, 
 how could he be profited if the earth should open, 
 and some well remembered form come up covered 
 with a mantle ? If a man has neglected God till 
 his last hour, and cannot then find him, though he 
 earnestly seeks him, they who watched over him 
 and prayed for him may be summoned to his bed- 
 side, but they could speak no consolation ; they 
 could but remind him of the sins he had commit- 
 ted, the opportunities he had squandered, and the 
 mercies he had scorned. 
 
 May not that remembered friend be one who 
 reproved and admonished from the sacred desk ; 
 week after week, and year after year, he may have 
 busily plied his instructions and appeals. He dies, 
 perhaps ; and you who have been offended by his 
 urgency are well pleased to be freed from his 
 home strokes and his pointed remonstrances ; but 
 you will think of him again when you feel that the 
 world is slipping from your grasp, and that you 
 have not laid hold upon eternal life. You will 
 think of him again as you toss upon your sick bed, 
 and have no hope that your sins are forgiven. You 
 29 
 
 
450 HISTOEY OF SAUL. 
 
 might, perhaps, wish him back again to instruct 
 and to guide you ; but what could you expect to 
 hear from his lips ? What could a God-forgetting, 
 and now a God-forgotten man expect to hear? 
 Sore pressed he might say, " God answereth me 
 no more," and when he said so, this must be the 
 answer : " Why hast thou disquieted me to bring me 
 up? Wherefore dost thou ask of me seeing the 
 Lord is departed from thee, and is become thine 
 enemy." God forbid that it should be so with any 
 who hear me to-day ; but, remember, I pray you, 
 such must be the end of him who, never having 
 made his peace with God, is haunted, at last, by 
 the memories of opportunities which have been 
 lost, and counsels which have been despised. 
 
ABUSED PRIVILEGES. 
 
 " For thou art not sent to a people of a strange speech, and of an 
 hard language, but to the house of Israel : not to many people of a 
 strange speech, and of an hard language, whose words thou canst not 
 understand : surely, had I sent thee to them, they would have heark- 
 ened unto thee. But the house of Israel will not hearken unto thee ; 
 for they will not hearken unto me : for all the house of Israel are impu- 
 dent and hard-hearted." — Ezekiel iii. 5, 6, 7. 
 
 Whei we read the first two of these verses 
 which, we have selected for our text, they seem to 
 speak of the peculiarly favourable and happy cir- 
 cumstances of the prophet, so far as the sphere of 
 his official labour was concerned. The contrast is 
 very great between his condition and that of one 
 whose engagement in the same work of delivering 
 the counsels of the Lord, involved a banishment 
 from his country, a residence in an unhealthy clime, 
 and an association with rude and ignorant and in- 
 hospitable tribes. The scene of the prophet's min- 
 istry was at home, among his kinsmen and friends, 
 to whom he was united by strong and enduring 
 ties, and among whom, as well by reason of long 
 acquaintanceship as of office, he occupied a station 
 of comfort and of influence. Now if we should 
 
452 ABUSED PKIVILEGES. 
 
 suppose, concerning the prophet, or concerning any 
 other man in similar circumstances, that he must 
 necessarily be a stranger to all the trials of a minis- 
 terial life, we should show that we are drawing our 
 conclusions from very partial premises, from an al- 
 together one-sided view ; and if we hut read the 
 concluding verse of our text, we should discover 
 an idea which throws a new light upon his position, 
 and appears to teach us that his trials are greater 
 than they would have been, had God thrown him 
 among a strange, untutored people, where he could 
 have looked for none of the comforts of home, and 
 none of the joys of an enlightened companionship. 
 We do not by any means consider of small import- 
 ance, the sacrifices which are made by one who 
 penetrates into the dark places of the earth to 
 preach to their benighted tenantry the unsearcha- 
 ble riches of Christ. There is on his part a relin- 
 quishment of substantial good ; there is an amount 
 of pains-taking, and self-denial, and suffering, which 
 experience alone will enable one rightly to calcu- 
 late ; and to these sacrifices, and endurances, and 
 privations, the man who labours in other circum- 
 stances, may be an entire stranger. And yet it is 
 a very superficial examination, leading to very 
 erroneous results, which in judging of a man's 
 position, looks no farther than these his external 
 relations ; for it is seen at once, that the most im- 
 portant element to a right standard of judgment, 
 the end a man has in view, is left entirely out of 
 the account. I take it for granted that this prin- 
 ciple is unquestionable, that a man's position is to 
 
ABUSED PK1VILEGES. 453 
 
 be estimated as favourable or unfavourable, not in 
 the light simply of some of its adventitious circum- 
 stances, but in the light rather of its relations to 
 the great object of his existence upon which his 
 heart is set. We take an example or two for illus- 
 tration. The great object of the warrior is mili- 
 tary renown ; and when he traverses inhospitable 
 regions, and submits to the privations of the camp, 
 and exposes himself to the dangers of the battle- 
 field, he makes many, and substantial, and painful 
 sacrifices ; but when you think of his object, and see 
 him returning covered with the glory of his mili- 
 tary successes, oh ! surely, his position has been far 
 more enviable, his circumstances far more desira- 
 ble, than those of one who has never moved from 
 the comforts of the domestic fireside, and never 
 been exposed to any of the dangers of flood or 
 field, or had an opportunity of signalizing himself 
 by any public achievement. The man whose ob- 
 ject is wealth, domesticates himself in a sickly 
 climate, and in associations of all others most un- 
 friendly to personal comfort ; and herein he suffers 
 evils to which a man who remains among his kins- 
 men and his friends, is an entire stranger ; but 
 when he returns from his wanderings, bringing 
 with him as his reward his large possessions, they 
 in whose eyes wealth is the chief good, do not 
 think of comparing to its disadvantage, his position 
 with that one, who, though he may have expe- 
 rienced but few discomforts, has yet scarce attained 
 a competency ; and the reason is obvious. The 
 success in the one case is more than an equivalent 
 
454 ABUSED PKIVILEGES. 
 
 for all the toils necessary to secure it ; and the 
 failure in the other case is not compensated by the 
 personal comforts, for the sake of which it has 
 been submitted to. 
 
 In applying this rule of judgment, then, to the 
 subject which in this discourse we have undertaken 
 to handle, I would ask my hearers, in the first 
 place, to form a right estimate of the great end of 
 ministerial labour, and keep their eyes fixed stead- 
 ily upon it. It will not be denied by those who 
 have with any degree of care looked at the subject, 
 that the work in which as ambassadors of Jesus 
 Christ we are engaged, is a work of no little pains- 
 taking and toil. The amount of intellectual effort 
 which the full proof of one's ministry demands, and 
 the degree of mental anxiety which it involves, the 
 earnestness of endeavour which a right spirit 
 brings to the work beforehand, the solicitude while 
 actually engaged in putting forth efforts, and the 
 intense and eager expectation, or the painful, sad- 
 dening fear of results, are not surpassed, if, indeed, 
 they are equalled in any department of human life, 
 or in any sphere of human industry. The result 
 contemplated as the reward of all our wearisome 
 endeavours, is not any earthly advantage, is not 
 any station of earthly influence, is not any amount, 
 however great, of earthly applause. I know there 
 are minds which ignorance contracts, and preju- 
 dice perverts, which seem to think that in our day, 
 at least, the ministry of reconciliation, in the most 
 unfavourable circumstances, receive, in an earthly 
 point of view, a very fair equivalent for all their 
 
 
ABUSED PRIVILEGES. 455 
 
 expenditure of time, and talent, and heart ; but all 
 my hearers, I am sure, will concede this fact, that 
 there is no man of mind enough, and industry- 
 enough, and heart enough for an able and faithful 
 minister of the New Testament, who could not, in 
 many other spheres of human effort, with far less 
 of toil, reach a higher position, and secure greater 
 distinction, and gather to himself a larger amount 
 of earthly good than he can ever think of doing, 
 or would ever wish to do in the sphere of labour 
 to which Providence has assigned him. But none 
 of these constitute the result at which our ministry 
 aims ; we look in another direction, we have to do 
 with the spiritualities of man's existence ; our object 
 is to give impressiveness and power to unseen 
 and eternal things. We set ourselves to war with 
 those influences which chain down the thoughts to 
 sense, and give to the affairs of this fleeting life a 
 paramount importance to the scenes of an eternal 
 duration. To elevate, and enlighten, and sanctify 
 the mind, to bring the human spirit back from its 
 sinful and hopeless wanderings, to reclaim man 
 from his spiritual alienation, to break the dominion 
 of sin, to lead the rebellious to submission to God, 
 and the weary and heavy laden to the liberty, 
 and peace, and refreshment of the gospel; these 
 are the objects at which we aim, and the attain- 
 ment of which is the only reward which we can 
 look upon as, in any light, a compensation for our 
 effort and our toil. 
 
 There are, indeed, other incidental and collateral 
 results following our labours. In the unmeasured 
 
456 ABUSED PEIVILEOES. 
 
 superiority of a Christian civilization over an untu- 
 tored barbarism, in the peace and security, in the 
 intellectual and moral development, in the honesties 
 and decencies and courtesies of life, every where 
 seen where religion, in its general influence, is in- 
 terwoven in the whole texture of society, and 
 cements its fabric, you behold that to which you 
 would be utter strangers, but for the cross of 
 Christ, and the pulpit which illustrates its princi- 
 ples, and enforces its claims ; yet notwithstanding 
 all this, which is undeniably the fruit of our min- 
 istry, we fall short of our great aim when through 
 our instrumentality sinners are not converted unto 
 God, and men are not presented perfect in Jesus 
 Christ. Now then, we insist upon it, that if you 
 would understand us aright, you must estimate us as 
 you estimate others, precisely as you estimate the 
 man of business, or the man of fame ; you must judge 
 of the advantage or disadvantages of our position 
 from its bearing upon the great end we have in 
 view. This rule of judgment, then, we shall en- 
 deavour to apply. 
 
 And here it will be admitted, that he who 
 (to borrow the language of my text) labours with 
 " the house of Israel," is in a position, in many re- 
 spects far more desirable than he who goes " to a 
 people of a strange speech and of a hard lan- 
 guage." I would not, for example, detract at all 
 from the admiration which is justly due to the self- 
 denying missionary, who in cutting himself loose 
 from the social circle, in whose sympathies he was 
 wont to live, and in renouncing the comforts of 
 
ABUSED PEIVILEGES. 457 
 
 home for the privations and toils of a foreign ser- 
 vice, makes a sacrifice of great and substantial 
 good. Here we, it is granted, submit to no such tem- 
 poral iu convenience, court no such temporal discom- 
 forts, expose ourselves to no such temporal dangers ; 
 we sit under our own vine and under our own fig- 
 tree, surrounded by those who interchange with us 
 the warmest affections, and in possession of every- 
 thing which can administer to the comforts of life. 
 But observe, my brethren, if we judge men in the 
 light solely of these considerations, we have a de- 
 fective and therefore a false standard ; and our con- 
 clusion will be very wide of the mark. The ques- 
 tion is, not who has the most comforts around him 
 of a personal character — not who makes the most 
 sacrifices, or submits to the fewest trials — here 
 there is no dispute ; but, who occupies the best po- 
 sition, so far as the successful accomplishment of 
 his great end is concerned ; whose ministry is likely 
 to produce the greatest results, in sinners brought 
 home to Jesus Christ ? 
 
 Now, to a superficial observer, even with this 
 standard of judgment, the advantages seem alto- 
 gether on the side of him who labours with the 
 house of Israel. The man who goes to an untu- 
 tored population, has a vast amount of preliminary 
 work to do, before he can put himself in the con- 
 dition which I occupy. I am saved the necessity 
 of establishiug the first principles of truth. I am 
 not called upon to begin with the lowest elements of 
 proof, and demonstrate the being and unity of God, 
 and the absurdity of idolatry and polytheism. 
 
458 ABUSED PKIVILEGES. 
 
 This process has all been gone through with al- 
 ready ; the fundamental principles at least of the 
 gospel, are established ; nay, with its cardinal doc- 
 trines, I may suppose my hearers intimately ac- 
 quainted, from the youngest to the oldest. I be- 
 lieve no one is ignorant, wholly, of the redemption 
 in Christ Jesus, the love of the Saviour, his sacrifice 
 for siu, or in short, of any of the great elemental 
 and distinguishing truths, in which resides the 
 mighty power of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I 
 occupy a more advanced point than another, in cir- 
 cumstances directly the opposite, and it would 
 seem as though my way was clear for the success- 
 ful accomplishment of my great end, as a minister 
 of Jesus Christ. And I do not say that it may not 
 be so. I do not say, that one in my circumstances 
 may not, by reason of his more favourable opportu- 
 nities, do more for his Master and win more souls 
 to Christ, than one for whom all this preliminary 
 work has not been accomplished. It may be so, 
 and yet there are reasons for thinking that gene- 
 rally it w T ill not be so ; and God, when speaking to 
 the prophet Ezekiel, did not think so. "When he 
 told him that he was sending him not to a strange 
 people, but to the house of Israel, he designed to 
 shew him beforehand the fruitlessness of his mission. 
 For, says he, " Surely had I sent thee to a strange 
 people, they would have hearkened unto thee." 
 And here I have an illustration directly in point, 
 furnished by a comparison between the ministry of 
 Ezekiel and the ministry of Jonah. The former 
 went to his work cheerfully, because he was going 
 
ABUSED PEIVILEGES. 459 
 
 among his own kinsmen, but when Jonah 
 was commissioned to bear a message to the Nine- 
 vites, he shrunk back, because it was such an un- 
 promising task to preach to a people of a strange 
 language, and uninstructed in religion. Yet look 
 at the results. Ezekiel's was a fruitless, and Jo- 
 nah's a successful ministry — the Mnevites repented, 
 and Israel remained obdurate. And now, we ask 
 the question, as to these two, who occupied the best 
 position, the man who laboured amid the external 
 comforts and encouragements of home, or the man 
 who went forward amid all that was disheartening 
 in the circumstances of a strange association ? 
 
 There is one consideration, my brethren, which 
 in forming our judgment upon such a subject, we 
 are very apt to overlook, which has nevertheless 
 more to do with the matter, than I had almost 
 said all others combined. When you look at the 
 prophet Ezekiel going to preach to the house of 
 Israel, there is indeed much that is pleasing in the 
 thought that he is going to his own kinsmen, and at 
 first sight, much that is encouraging in the fact that 
 they are not ignorant of the first principles of the 
 oracles of God ; but then the house of Israel had 
 been the subjects of frequent inculcations of divine 
 truth, and oft-repeated warnings ; prophet after 
 prophet had exhorted them to repentance in vain, 
 and each messenger, as he retired, left them more 
 obdurate than before. They are considered as be- 
 yond the reach of means, and the prophet acts 
 upon them but to harden them the more, and ren- 
 der them more inexcusable in their guilt. The 
 
460 ABUSED PKIVILEGES. 
 
 fact that they were the house of Israel, a people in 
 covenant with God, blessed with the revelation of 
 his will, and yet unprofited and unsanctified 
 through its truths, this is the reason why the pro- 
 phet's ministry among them would be less effectual, 
 and his position, therefore, less desirable, than they 
 would have been, had he, like Jonah, been sent to 
 the untaught and idolatrous Gentiles. 
 
 And thus it is that we wish you to take into the 
 account, that the likelihood of men obeying the 
 gospel, is usually diminishing in proportion to the 
 frequency with which that gospel is preached to 
 them, and its appeals ministered upon them. I 
 wish you thoroughly to understand me, that you 
 may not misinterpret my meaning, that I am not 
 speaking in the light of one's external relations, 
 but only in the light of one's great end in preach- 
 ing the gospel, the conversion of sinners unto God, 
 when I say that there may be more to disquiet, 
 and more to discourage, more to alarm, and more 
 to dishearten one, in preaching the gospel to pre- 
 cisely such a congregation as is now before me, 
 than in preaching the gospel to an untutored tribe. 
 That there is not, on the broad face of earth, an 
 audience so unfavourable, an audience out of which 
 there is so little probability of converts being, 
 brought to vital Christianity, as one made up like 
 my own, of a people so thoroughly indoctrinated, 
 and so completely versed in the theory, and in the 
 theory only, of religion. 
 
 I will not, my brethren, leave this statement be- 
 fore you, in this its bald and unsupported shape, 
 
ABUSED PEIVILEGES. 461 
 
 but will endeavour to furnish you with its proof, 
 and thus prepare your minds for the use, which in 
 the sequel, I intend to make of it. ~Now since 
 what is true of one person, must be true of an as 
 sembly of those who are precisely like him, and as 
 it is easier to speak of an individual than of masses, 
 we shall take an individual and illustrate, in refer- 
 ence to him, the truth of our doctrine ; and it 
 seems almost enough to force conviction, to ask the 
 question : Who is the most promising subject of 
 ministerial effort, the man who hears the gospel for 
 the first time, or the man who unaffected, unmoved, 
 and unchanged, has heard it a thousand times ? I 
 do not forget, in propounding this question, that it 
 is a higher than any human influence, which ren- 
 ders the gospel effectual. I do not forget that the 
 Spirit of Omnipotence, who brings the dead to life, 
 and gives to man who has worn the grave-clothes 
 of sin and death, to know the power of a spiritual 
 resurrection, is as mighty at one time as at another ; 
 but then, I would have you remember that he 
 works through an appointed instrumentality of 
 means ; and when those means have been used oft 
 and in vain, oh ! it is not limiting the might of 
 Omnipotence, to speak of the diminished proba- 
 bility of their ultimate success. Certainly there is 
 less hope of a man who has heard month after 
 month, and year after year, our message of recon- 
 ciliation with God, and yet remained indifferent to 
 the mighty and the stirring interests of his soul, 
 and his immortality, than of the man who is com- 
 paratively a stranger to its awakening truths, and 
 
462 ABUSED PRIVILEGES. 
 
 has never been influenced in Ms life by its won- 
 drous and mighty motives ; for in coming to a man 
 who has long been familiar with, and yet has with- 
 stood all the appeals of a spiritual Christianity, 
 who has given to the Bible the assent of his under- 
 standing, and withheld from it the affections of his 
 heart, we feel (and herein is our discouragement) 
 that we are coming to cope with a heart whose 
 hardness has already been more than a match for 
 the instrumentality which breaketh the rock in 
 pieces, and that, therefore, we are but repeating 
 an experiment which has a hundred times failed. 
 Granted that a rock which has under ninety-nine 
 blows showed no signs of yielding, may yet break 
 under the hundreth, yet when there is the same 
 amount of resistance, and only the same engine of 
 attack, there cannot be much hope in renewing 
 that which has often been tried in vain. But then 
 you must go farther, and remember that the 
 amount of resistance is actually increased by the 
 constant action of the power which would over- 
 come it, just as an arch becomes more coherent, 
 and compact, and strong, by the weight you put 
 upon it ; and the flood gathers mightier force by 
 means of the very dam which would obstruct its 
 current. 
 
 There is in spiritual as well as in natural things 
 the power of familiarity to be taken into the ac- 
 count as affecting man's susceptibility of impression. 
 We may by custom become so insensible to the 
 roar of cannon that our softest slumbers will not 
 be disturbed by its loudest reverberations ; and we 
 
ABUSED PEIVILEGES. 463 
 
 may grow deaf to all the declarations of the word 
 of God so as not to be startled by one of them. 
 We know it ; and how then can it be supposed 
 that there is more prospect of ministerial success 
 with him whom the gospel has completely deafened 
 than with him who has been so far removed from 
 its sound that he has never heard of immortality, 
 nor been offered salvation ? Is there any more war- 
 rant in Scripture than in reason for the hope that 
 he who has been educated in Christian principles, 
 and plied with the Christian ministry, and is yet 
 a stranger to spiritual religion, will yield to another 
 exhortation, or submit under another sermon ? nay, 
 is there as much ground for a hope of success in 
 this case, as in the case of a man who has been de- 
 prived of every advantage, that he will hearken to 
 our message delivered in all the first freshness of 
 redemption through the blood of Christ ? In the 
 latter case, we have, indeed, to cope with the for- 
 midable opposition of ignorance, and it may be of 
 superstition ; but, in the former case, we have the 
 mightier and more effectual resistance presented 
 by a combination of enlightened intellects and un- 
 affected hearts. 
 
 There is something, my brethren, in a mere nom- 
 inal Christianity which renders it on some accounts 
 more to be dreaded than the ignorance of untu- 
 tored nature. As with every other blessing, so it 
 is with religion, the easier it is of access the more 
 lightly is it esteemed, and the more apt is it to be 
 disregarded. Nothing seems too hard for us to 
 endure in order to attain a good which demands a 
 
464 ABUSED PKIVILEGES. 
 
 struggle ; but how prone are we to "become indif- 
 ferent to that for which when in jeopardy we 
 would have fought most manfully I We have the 
 gospel ; we are to reach its benefits not in the face 
 of persecution, nor by surrendering our worldly 
 advantages ; and because it is so our circumstances 
 are- not so favourable to the spread of a vital Chris- 
 tianity. It does not by any means follow that 
 religion will be ingrafted in the hearts of men, 
 because it is interwoven in the institutions of the 
 country ; the very opposite is more likely to be the 
 fact. The blessing may be undervalued, because 
 it is within the reach of all ; and while an outward 
 regard to it may be the marked characteristic of 
 a whole community, they may be no less distin- 
 guished by a practical indifference to it ; and thus 
 a people who have enjoyed the clearest light of the 
 gospel may, as they become hardened under its 
 influences, convert their very privileges into the 
 grounds of their more certain and severer condem- 
 nation. 
 
 I would not have you forget, at this point, that 
 it is a peculiarity of Christianity, that where its 
 light and instructions are enjoyed, there must be 
 the accompaniment of increased responsibility, and 
 the consequence either of faith in Jesus Christ, or 
 settled opposition to his claims. God's word, where 
 it is faithfully sent forth, never returns to him void, 
 accomplishing nothing either in the way of mercy 
 or of judgment. And so the clearness of gospel 
 light, and the multiplicity of gospel advantages, 
 may be not only the precursors, but the instru- 
 
ABUSED PRIVILEGES. 4:65 
 
 ments of a general blindness of mind, and deadness 
 of heart. And a people subjected to the well ar- 
 ranged and well plied machinery of religion may, 
 by reason of this fact, be fast falling into that state 
 into which we may suppose the hearers of Ezekiel 
 to have been, which rendered his ministry to them 
 more ineffectual and hopeless than it would have 
 been among a people as ignorant and superstitious 
 as the men of Nineveh, to whom Jonah preached 
 with such effectiveness and success. 
 
 It is this peculiarity of Christianity which throws 
 such an unpromising aspect over fields of ministe- 
 rial labour, which on other accounts seem so easy 
 of cultivation. We enter upon our work with zeal 
 and constancy, but we cannot forget the former 
 unpropitiousness of our labours ; though, here and 
 there, there may have been a conversion unto God, 
 shewing that Christ has not altogether left himself 
 without a witness, yet the general state of things 
 is unchanged ; and the very soil which former til- 
 lage has but rendered more unproductive, is to be 
 subdued into fruitfulness by means which have 
 thus far produced an opposite result. And how 
 can we help feeling that the very circumstances 
 which to a superficial observer render our work so 
 simple and so pleasing, in point of fact render it 
 more perplexed and trying ; and that we have in 
 reality less promise of ministerial success than we 
 should have were we coming for the first time to 
 pour the light of the gospel upon the minds of our 
 hearers, and to send home its wondrously stirring 
 motives to their hearts. 
 30 
 
4:§6 ABUSED PPJVILEGES. 
 
 So fully convinced am I of the main position of 
 this discourse, that I cannot forego appending to 
 my illustration a reflection of most thrilling in- 
 terest, and of deepest moment to all who hear me. 
 
 In view of the process (spiritual process, I mean,) 
 which is going on in the minds of those who are 
 the subjects of a nominal Christianity, and the re- 
 sults in which in all likelihood that process will 
 issue, what inference ought we to draw relative to 
 our position at the last ? This is but the first stage 
 of our being, and we are preparing for another. 
 It is ours to think — and oh ! it is a fearful reck- 
 lessness on our part painfully demonstrative of the 
 truth of my doctrine, that we do not think of it — 
 it is ours to think of that platform of judgment 
 which is soon to be erected, and upon which all of 
 human kind are to be gathered ; and when that 
 mighty congregation shall be summoned of every 
 tribe, and kindred, and people under the face of 
 the whole heaven, will there not, must there not 
 be, think you, the uprising of unbaptized thous- 
 ands, the swarming of many millions, who shall 
 unite their voices in calling to a severer condemna- 
 tion those for whom the light and privileges of 
 the gospel have accomplished no other end than to 
 develope their more thorough wickedness ? We can- 
 not draw aside the curtain of the future, and discover 
 the arrangement which will hereafter be made of 
 all the tribes who shall go up from this world to 
 judgment. But here is the thought with which I 
 would leave the discussion of my subject, and I 
 would that it might sink deep into the minds of all 
 
ABUSED PKIVILEGES. 467 
 
 of us : If we stand before the last tribunal unre- 
 conciled and unforgiven, and lie who is to fix our 
 destinies, shall say, as he points to some untutored 
 savage, " Had I sent unto him, he would have 
 hearkened to me," would we not at once under- 
 stand his verdict, and would we not ourselves join 
 with all orders of intelligences in applauding his 
 righteous decision ? 
 
 My dear brethren, I stand before you to-day as 
 a minister of reconciliation, in the spot which Pro- 
 vidence has assigned me, and where for more than 
 sixteen years I have been delivering the messages 
 of truth, and ministering the word of eternal life ; 
 and as the prospect of returning to the sphere in 
 which I have been called to act, has been before 
 me, I cannot tell you how oft the words which I 
 have chosen for my text, have come home to me 
 almost with the power and distinctness of a new 
 revelation, " Thou art not sent to a people of a 
 strange speech, and of a hard language, but to the 
 house of Israel ; not to many people of a strange, 
 and a hard language, whose words thou canst not 
 understand." 
 
 I feel it to be a privilege to stand where I do. 
 I should belie my own convictions, and dishonour 
 my own emotions, which constantly struggle for 
 utterance, if I did not express my views of the 
 kindness of Providence in placing me where I am. 
 If kind attention, and Christian sympathy, and 
 evidences of attachment too strong and numerous 
 to be overlooked, and a welcome, in its sincerity 
 and warmth far beyond any thing I had antici- 
 
468 ABUSED PRIVILEGES. 
 
 pated, give character to one's position, I cannot, in 
 view of these outward circumstances of my case, 
 be sufficiently thankful to him who has ordered my 
 lot. Externally my relations are every thing I 
 would have them to be. He who searches the 
 heart knows I would not change them if I could. 
 Yet while I could not without some such public 
 expression, do justice to my own feelings, I cannot 
 refrain from turning my mind in another direction. 
 I cannot but think of the end of my ministry, 
 which is not personal comfort, which is not per- 
 sonal fame, but which is to " present you all perfect 
 in Christ Jesus; 1 ' and the thought often comes 
 with a crushing weight upon my spirit, that the 
 comforts of life, however great, the pleasures of 
 earthly companionship, however many, the joys of 
 social sympathy, however enlightened and effective, 
 never, no, never, no, never, can compensate for an 
 unblessed and fruitless ministry. 
 
 Under the influence of this thought, I have 
 thrown my subject out before you, and with a two- 
 fold object; first, to show to those of my hearers 
 who have any power at the throne of grace, how 
 much I need an interest in their prayers. You 
 follow with your sympathies and your supplica- 
 tions, the man who leaves his home and goes to an 
 inhospitable clime to preach to some untutored 
 tribe the unsearchable riches of Christ. The pe- 
 culiar trials of his work, and the hardships of his 
 task, call out your sympathies and your prayers, 
 and I would not have you withhold one of them ; 
 he needs, he demands, he has a right to expect 
 
ABUSED PRIVILEGES. 469 
 
 them all ; and as Christians we ought to be hum- 
 bled because they are not more earnest and 
 effective in his behalf. But then, my Christian 
 brethren, does he who now addresses you, need 
 them less, in order that he may accomplish the 
 end of his ministry? True, there is about him 
 none, if I may speak so, of the moral romance or 
 chivalry which leads one to abandon home, and 
 give himself to the work of the missionary in 
 foreign lands. But then there is as much of the 
 stern realities of toil and labour, and less prospect 
 of success. You pray for the foreign labourer, that 
 the Spirit of God may accompany him, because his 
 wondrous agency is needed to remove the blind- 
 ness, and overcome the prejudices, and change the 
 hearts of the idolatrous and superstitious ; but is 
 the agency of that Spirit less or more needed, to 
 overcome the opposition not of involuntary, but of 
 wilful blindness ; to break the iron, as it is found 
 in its native beds, or the iron which has become 
 more hardened by the thousand fires which have 
 heated it ? Who needs your sympathies the most, 
 the man who goes to till the soil which he finds in 
 all the richness of undisturbed nature, or he who 
 goes to cultivate a field whose energies have been 
 exhausted by the very means which have been 
 used to render it productive ? 
 
 If my ministry in the field which God has set 
 me to cultivate proves an unfruitful one, it will not 
 be for want of laborious and toilsome cultivation ; 
 but then I know that it never can be a fruitful 
 one, without your hearty co-operation, and your 
 
470 ABUSED PEIVILEGES. 
 
 earnest and most ardent prayers. Hay my subject 
 before yon, then, as the ground of my appeal, 
 which I address to you in the language of an apos- 
 tle : " Brethren, pray for us, that the word of God 
 may have free course, and be glorified." 
 
 And you, my dear brethren, who have never yet 
 known " the gospel," as " the power of God unto 
 salvation ;" you " for whom I have so greatly 
 longed in the bowels of Jesus Christ ;" you will not 
 turn away from one who speaks to you out of the 
 fulness of a Christian pastor's heart. I am not in- 
 sensible to the interest of the relation which sub- 
 sists between us as men. I cannot but be thankful 
 to you for all your evidences of attachment, and 
 for the marked attention you have given to my im- 
 perfect ministrations. If these were the only 
 legitimate ends of my ministry with you, oh ! how 
 rich should I think my returns for all my labours 
 and my toil. I have not an unkind feeling to 
 cherish, nor an unkind thought to utter respect- 
 ing one of my unconverted hearers, so far as 
 I am personally concerned, but when I speak 
 for my Master, oh ! I have much to say against 
 them. They have given an attention to the ser- 
 vant which they have denied to his Lord — they 
 have given their hearts to the messenger, and 
 refused them to Him who sent him. Do I not 
 state the truth concerning you, and how faithless 
 would I be to my trust to wish to leave it so. No, 
 my brethren, no ! Christ only is worthy of your 
 love. Christ has been using my feeble instrumen- 
 tality only that he may gain your hearts, and I 
 
ABUSED PRIVILEGES. 471 
 
 would have you look at your peril, as those upon 
 whom that instrumentality has been plied in vain. 
 Oh ! beware of the deep guilt and fearful 
 danger of abused privileges. Better to have 
 been born worshippers of the unknown spirit 
 of the mountains, than to have been born un- 
 der the light of the gospel, and to have neg- 
 lected Him who has spoken to us by his Son, 
 Then God might have said, "They would have 
 hearkened had they been called ;" but now he must 
 say, " I have stretched out my hands to a disobe- 
 dient people." 
 
 Let me then beseech you not to act so as to turn 
 your very advantages into witnesses against you at 
 the judgment ; do not, I pray you, suffer yourselves 
 to be crushed by the weight of your mercies. In 
 God's name and in God's strength, from this very 
 moment, turn your privileges to account, and let 
 not these Sabbath hours and these means of grace, 
 a mother's prayers and a father's counsels, the in- 
 structions of Providence, and the warnings and 
 appeals of our ministry, which if improved might 
 save you — oh ! let them not help to build the 
 prison, and forge the chains, and fan the names 
 which shall confine and manacle and burn for ever. 
 
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