A 558042
115
HONO
NOR
ET
SVLI
VERT
Richard Waller -
Alpheus Felch
BX.
9178.
663.
1790
SERMONS,
BY
64723-
HUGH BLAIR, D. D.
ONE OF THE MINISTERS OF THE HIGH CHURCH,
AND
PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC AND BELLES LETTRES
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH.
THE FIFTEENTH EDITION.
VOL. I.
DUBLIN:
Printed for WILLIAM COLLES, No. 17, Dame-ſtreet.
M, D C C, X C.
THE
*
CONTENT S.
SERMON I.
On the Union of Piety and Morality.
ACTS x. 4. Thy prayers and thine
alms are come up for a memorial be-
fore God.
Page
I
SERMON II.
On the Influence of Religion upon
Adverfity.
PSAL. XXVii. 5. In the time of trou-
ble, he shall hide me in his pavilion ;
in the fecret of his tabernacle fhall
be hide me ; he ſhall ſet me up upon a
rock.
→
25
A 2
iv
CONTENTS.
2
Page
SERMON III.
On the Influence of Religion upon
Profperity.
PSAL. i. 3. He shall be like a tree
planted by the rivers of water, that
bringeth forth his fruit in his feaſon;
his leaf alfo fhail not wither, and
whatſoever he doth fhall profper.
SERMON IV.
On our imperfect Knowledge of a
Future State.
I CORINTH. xiii. 12. For now we
Jee through a glaſs, darkly—
SERMON V.
On the Death of Chrift.
JOHN Xvii. 1. Jefus lift up his eyes
to heaven, and faid, Father! the bour
is come.
58
85
115
}
CONTENT S.
Page
SERMON VI.
On Gentleneſs.
JAMES iii. 17. The wisdom that is
from above, is-gentle—
SERMON VII.
On the Diſorders of the Paffions.
ESTHER V. 13. Yet all this availeth
me nothing, ſo long as I fee Mordecai
the few fitting at the King's gate.
SERMON VIII,
On our Ignorance of Good and Evil
in this Life.
ECCLESIAST. vi. 12. Who knoweth
what is good for man in this life, all
the days of his vain life, which he
Spendeth as a fhadow?
145
173
204
vi
CONTENTS.
SERMON IX.
On Religious Retirement.
PSAL. iv. 4. Commune with your own
heart, upon your bed, and be ftill.
SERMON X.
On Devotion.
Page
234
ACTS x. 2. Cornelius-a devout man. 264
SERMON XI.
On the Duties of the Young.
TITUS ii. 6. Young men likewife ex-
bort, to be fober-minded.
SERMON XII.
On the Duties and Confolations of
the Aged.
306
PROV. xvi. 31.
The hoary head is a
crown of glory, if it be found in the
way of righteouſneſs.
341
CONTENT S.
Vii
SERMON XIII.
On the Power of Confcience.
GENESIS xlii. 21, 22.
And they ſaid
Page
verily guilty
one to another, we are
concerning our brother, in that we
Saw the Anguiſh of his foul, when he
befought us; and we would not hear:
Therefore is this diftrefs come upon
us. And Reuben anfwered them, ſay-
ing, Speak I not unto you, faying,
Do not fin against the child; and
ye would not hear? Therefore, be-
hold alfo his blood is required.
SERMON XIV.
On the Mixture of Joy and Fear in
Religion.
375
PSALM ii. 11. Rejoice with trembling. 412
viii
CONTENT S.
Page
SERMON XV.
On the Motives to Conftancy in
Virtue.
7
GAL. vi. 9. And let us not be weary
in well-doing; for in due feafon we
Shall reap, if we faint not.
439
SERMON
SERMON I.
On the Union of PIETY and MORALITY.
ACTS, x. 4.
Thy prayers and thine alms are come up for
a memorial before God.
THE High and Lofty One who inha-
biteth eternity, dwelleth alſo with him that
is of humble and contrite beart. In the
midſt of his glory, the Almighty is not
inattentive to the meaneft of his fubjects.
Neither obfcurity of ſtation, nor imperfec-
tion of knowledge, finks thoſe below his
regard,
VOL. I.
B
SERM.
I.
}
2
On the Union of
I.
SER M. regard, who worſhip and obey him. Every
prayer which they fend up from their fe-
cret retirements, is liftened to by him;
and every work of charity which they per-
form, how unknown foever to the world,
attracts his notice. The Text preſents a
fingle inftance of this comfortable truth.
In the city of Cæfarea, there dwelt a
Roman centurion, a military Officer of
inferior rank, a Gentile, neither by
birth nor religion entitled to the privi-
leges of the Jewish nation. But he was a
devout and a benevolent man; who, ac-
cording to his meaſure of religious know-
ledge, ftudied to perform his duty, prayed
to God always, and gave much alms to the
people. Such a character paffed not un-
obſerved by God. So highly was it ho-
noured, that to this good centurion an
Angel was fent from heaven, in order to
direct him to the means of full inftruc-
tion in the truth. The Angel accoſts him
with this falutation, Cornelius, Thy prayers
and thine alms are come up for a memorial
before God.
It
Piety and Morality.
3
*
I.
}
It is to the conjunction of prayers and SERM.
alms, that I purpoſe now to direct your
thoughts, as defcribing the refpectable
and amiable character of a man, as form-
ing the honour and the bleffedneſs of a
true Chriftian; piety joined with charity,
faith with good works, devotion with mo-
rality. Theſe are things which God hath
connected, and which it is impious in
man to ſeparate. It is only when they
remain united, that they can come up as
a grateful memorial before God. I ſhall firſt
endeavour to ſhow you, That alms with-
out prayers, or prayers without alms, mo-
rality without devotion, or devotion with-
out morality, are extremely defective ;
and then ſhall point out the happy effects
of their mutual union.
Let us begin with confidering the cafe
of alms without prayers; that is, of good
works without piety, or a proper fenfe
of God and religion. Examples of this
are not uncommon in the world. With
many, Virtue is, or at leaft is pretended
B 2
to
4
Union of
On the -
P
SERM. to be, a refpectable and an honoured
I.
name, while Piety founds meanly in their
ears. They are men of the world, and
they claim to be men of honour. They
reſt upon their humanity, their public
ſpirit, their probity, and their truth.
They arrogate to themſelves all the manly
and the active virtues. But devout affec-
tions, and religious duties, they treat with
contempt, as founded on ſhadowy ſpecu-
lations, and fit to employ the attention
only of weak and fuperftitious minds.
Now, in oppofition to fuch perfons, I
contend, That this neglect of piety ar-
gues depravity of heart; and that it in-
fers an irregular diſcharge of the duties of
morality.
1
FIRST, It argues internal depravity;
for it diſcovers a cold and a hard heart.
If there be any impreffion which man is
formed by nature to receive, it is a fenfe
of religion. As foon as his mind opens
to obfervation and reflection, he difcerns
innumerable marks of his dependent ſtate.
He
Piety and Morality.
5
When
He finds himſelf placed, by fome fupe-
rior power, in a vaft world, where the
wiſdom and goodneſs of the Creator are
confpicuous on every fide. The magni-
ficence, the beauty and order of nature,
excite him to admire and adore.
he looks up to that omnipotent hand
which operates throughout the univerſe,
he is impreffed with reverence. When
he receives bleffings which he cannot
avoid afcribing to divine goodnefs, he is
prompted to gratitude. The expreffions
of thofe affections under the various forms.
of religious worſhip, are no other than
native effuſions of the human heart. Ig-
norance may miſlead, and fuperftition may
corrupt them; but their origin is derived
from fentiments that are effential to man.
Caft your eyes over the whole earth.
Explore the moft remote quarters of the
eaft or the weſt. You may difcover tribes
of men, without policy, or laws, or cities,
or any of the arts of life: But no where
will you find them without fome form of
religion. In every region you behold the
proftrate
SER M.
I.
6
On the Union of
SERM. proftrate worfhipper, the temple, the al-
I.
}
tar, and the offering. Wherever men have
exiſted, they have been ſenſible that ſome
acknowledgment was due, on their part,
to the Sovereign of the world. If in their
rudeſt and moſt ignorant ftate, this obli-
gation has been felt, what additional force
muſt it acquire by the improvements of
human knowledge, but efpecially by the
great diſcoveries of the Chriftian revela-
tion? Whatever, either from reverence or
from gratitude, can excite men to the
worſhip of God, is by this revelation
placed in fuch a light, as one ſhould
think were fufficient to over-awe the moſt
thoughtleſs and to melt the moſt obdurate
mind.
Canft thou, then, pretend to be a man
of reaſon, nay, a man of virtue, and yet
continue regardleſs of one of the firſt and
chief dictates of human nature? Where
is thy ſenſibility to what is right and fit,
if that loud voice which calls all nations
throughout the earth to religious homage,
has never been heard by thee? Or, if it
has
Piety and Morality.
7
I.
has been heard, by what ftrange and falfe SERM.
refinements haft thou ftifled thofe natural
fentiments which it tends to awaken ?
Calling thyfelf a fon, a citizen, a friend;
claiming to be faithful and affectionate
in theſe relations; haft thou no fenfe of
what thou oweft to thy firft Parent, thy
higheſt Sovereign, thy greateſt Benefac-
tor? Can it be confiftent with true virtue
or honour, to value thyſelf upon thy re-
gard to inferior obligations, and yet to
violate that which is the moſt facred and
the moſt ancient of all? When ſimple in-
ftinct teaches the Tartar and the Indian,
together with his alms and good works to
join his prayers to that Power whom he
confiders as the fource of good, ſhall it be
no reproach, in the moſt enlightened ſtate
of human nature, and under the pureft
difpenfation of religion, to have extin-
guiſhed the ſenſe of gratitude to Heaven,
and to flight all acknowledgment of the
great and the true God? What does fuch
conduct imply, but either an entire want
or a wilful fuppreffion, of fome of the beſt
and
8
On the Union of
SERM. and moft generous affections belonging to
I.
human nature?-Surely, there muſt be
än effential defect in that heart which re-
mains cold and infenfible, where it ought
to be affected moft warmly. Surely, fuch
a degree of depravity muſt be lodged there
as is fufficient to taint all the other fprings
of pretended virtue.
BUT befides this, I must contend, in
the fecond place, that where religion is
neglected, there can be no regular nor
fteady practice of the duties of morality.
The character will be often inconfiftent;
and Virtue, placed on a baſis too narrow
to ſupport it, will be always loofe and
tottering. For fuch is the propenſity of
our nature to vice, fo numerous are the
temptations to a relaxed and immoral
conduct, that ſtronger reftraints than
thoſe of mere reafon, are neceffary to be
impoſed on man. The fenfe of right and
wrong; the principle of honour, or the
inftinct of benevolence, are barriers too
feeble to withſtand the ftrength of paffion.
In
2
Piety and Morality.
9
I.
In the tranquil feafons of life, thefe natu- SERM.
ral principles may, perhaps, carry on the
ordinary courſe of focial duties with fome
regularity. But wait until fome trying
emergence come. Let the conflict of
paffions ariſe. Let the heart be either
wounded by fore diſtreſs, or agitated by
violent emotions; and you ſhall preſently
fee, that virtue without religion is inade-
quate to the government of life. It is de-
ſtitute of its proper guard, of its firmeft
ſupport, of its chief encouragement. It
will fink under the weight of misfortune;
or will yield to the folicitation of guilt.
The great motives that produce con-
ftancy and firmneſs of action, muſt be of a
palpable and ſtriking kind. A divine Le-
giflator, uttering his voice from heaven;
an omnifcient Witnefs, beholding us in
all our retreats; an almighty Governor
ſtretching forth his arm to puniſh or re-
ward, diſcloſing the fecrets of the inviſible
world, informing us of perpetual reſt pre-
pared hereafter for the righteous, and of
indignation and wrath awaiting the wicked:
Theſe
1-
ΙΟ
On the Union of
SERM. Theſe are the confiderations which over-
I.
awe the world, which fupport integrity,
and check guilt. They add to virtue that
folemnity which ſhould ever characterize
it. To the admonitions of confcience they
give the authority of a law. Co-operating
with all the good difpofitions of a pious
man, they ſtrengthen and infure their in-
fluence. On his alms you can have no
certain dependance, who thinks not of
God, nor has joined prayer to his cha-
ritable deeds. But when humanity is fe-
conded by piety, the fpring from which
it flows is rendered, of courſe, more re-
gular and conftant.-In fhort, withdraw
religion, and
you ſhake all the pillars of
morality. In every heart you weaken the
influence of virtue: And among the mul-
titude, the bulk of mankind, you over-
throw its power.
HAVING thus fhewn that morality
without devotion is both defective and
unftable, I proceed to confider the other
extreme, of prayers without alms, devo-
tion without morality.
In
Piety and Morality.
ΙΙ
I.
In every age the practice has prevailed, SERM.
of fubftituting certain appearances of piety
in the place of the great duties of huma-
nity and
mercy. Too many there have
always been, who flatter themſelves with
the hope of obtaining the friendſhip of
their Creator, though they neglect to do
juftice to their fellow-creatures. But fuch
perfons may be affured, that their ſuppoſed
piety is altogether of a ſpurious kind. It
is an invention of their own, unknown to
reaſon, unknown in the word of God. In
ſcripture we are ever directed to try our
faith by our works, our love of God by our
love of men. We are directed to confider
piety as a principle which regenerates the
heart, and forms it to goodneſs. We are
taught, that in vain we addreſs any acts of
homage to Chrift, unless we do the things
which he faith, and that love, peace, gen-
tleness, goodness, meekness and temperance
are not only the injunctions of his law, but
the native fruits of his Spirit *. If, there-
fore,
* Luke vi. 46. Gal. v. 22.
I 2
On the Union of
SERM. fore, while piety ſeems ardent, morality
I.
ſhall decline, you have full reaſon to be-
lieve that into that piety fome corrupting
ingredients have entered. And if ever
your regard to morality fhall totally fail;
if, while you make many prayers, you
give no alms; if, while you appear to be
zealous for God, you are falſe or unjuſt to
men; if you are hard or contracted in
heart, fevere in your cenfures, and oppref-
five in your conduct; then, conclude with
certainty, that what you had termed piety
was no more than an empty name. For
as foon, according to the ſcripture fimili-
tude, will bitter waters flow from a fweet
fountain, as fuch effects be produced by
genuine piety.
you
What have called by that name,
refolves itſelf into one or other of three
things. Either it is a hypocritical form
of godlineſs, affumed in order to impofe
on the world; or which is the most fa-
vourable fuppofition, it is a tranfient im-
preffion of ferioufnefs, an accidental melt-
ing of the heart, which paffes away like
the
Piety and Morality.
13
the morning cloud and the early dew; or,
which I am afraid is too often the cafe,
it is the deliberate refuge of a deluded
and fuperftitious, but at the fame time
a corrupted mind. For all men, even the
moſt depraved, are ſubject more or leſs,
to compunctions of confcience. It has
never been in their power to withdraw
totally beyond the reach of that warning
voice, which tells them that fomething is
neceffary to be done, in order to make
their peace with the Ruler of the world.
But, backward at the fame time to refign
the gains of diſhonefty, or the pleaſures
of vice; averſe from fubmiffion to that
facred law which enjoins righteouſneſs
in its whole extent, they have often at-
tempted to make a fort of compofition
with heaven; a compofition, which,
though they dare not avow it in words,
lurks in fecret at the bottom of
many a
heart. If God will only difpenſe with
fome articles of obedience, they will re-
pay him with abundant homage. If they
fail in good practice, they will ſtudy to
be
SERM.
I.
!
1
14
On the Union of
I.
SERM. be found in belief; and, by the number of
their prayers, will atone, in fome meaſure ·
for their deficiency in charitable deeds.
But the attempt is as vain, as it is im-
pious. From the fimpleft and plaineft
principles of reafon it muft appear, that
religious worſhip, disjoined from juftice
and virtue, can upon no account what-
ever find acceptance with the Supreme
Being. To what purpofe is the multitude
of your facrifices unto me? faith the Lord.
Bring no more vain oblations. Incenfe is an
abomination unto me. The new moons and
fabbaths, the calling of affemblies, I cannot
away with; it is iniquity, even the folemn
meetings *.
-Ceafe, foolish and impious.
man! Ceaſe to confider the Almighty as
a weak or vain-glorious being, who is to
be appeaſed by thy devout proftrations,
and thy humble words; or to be gratified
by the parade and oftentation of external
worſhip. What is all thy worſhip to him?
Will be eat the flesh of thy facrifices, or
drink the blood of offered goats? Was wor-
fhip
* Ifa. i. II. 14.
Piety and Morality.
15
I.
fhip required of thee, doft thou think, SERM.
upon his account, that thou mighteſt
bring any increaſe to his glory and feli-
city by thy weak and infignificant praiſes?
Sooner mighteft thou increaſe the ſplen-
dour of the fun by a lighted taper, or add
to the thunder by thy voice. No: It is
for the fake of man not of God, that
worſhip and prayers are required; not that
God may be rendered more glorious, but
that man may be made better; that he may
be confirmed in a proper fenfe of his de-
pendent ſtate, and acquire thoſe pious and
virtuous difpofitions in which his higheſt
improvement conſiſts.
Of all the principles in religion, one
fhould take this to be the moſt evident;
and yet frequent admonitions are needed
to renew the impreffion of it upon man-
kind. For what purpoſe did thy Creator
place thee in this world, in the midſt of
human fociety, but that as a man among
men thou mighteft cultivate humanity;
that each in his place might contribute to
the general welfare; that as a ſpouſe, a
brother,
16
On the Union of
SERM. brother, a fon, or a friend, thou mighteft
I.
}
act thy part with an upright and a tender
heart; and thus afpire to reſemble Him
who ever confults the good of his crea-
tures, and whofe tender mercies are over
all his works? And dareft thou, who haft
been facrificing unfufpicious innocence to
thy looſe pleaſures; thou who haft been
diſturbing the repoſe of ſociety by thine
ambition or craft; thou, who, to increaſe
thy treaſures, haft been making the wi-
dow and the orphan weep; dareſt thou
approach God with thy worſhip and thy
prayers, and entertain the hope that he
will look down upon thee in peace? Will
the God of order and juftice accept fuch
poor compenfation for his violated laws?
Will the God of love regard the ſervices
of one who is an enemy to his creatures?
Shall a corrupter of the fociety of men
aſpire to the habitations of pure and blef-
fed fpirits?-Believe it, He that faith be
loveth God, muft love his brother also. Ceafe
to do evil; learn to do well. Seek judg-
ment, relieve the oppressed, judge the fa-
7
therless
Piety and Morality.
17
I.
therless, plead for the widow: And then, SERM.
Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh
to thee; call upon him in the day of trouble,
and he will answer thee. Thy prayers
and thine alms, fhall then afcend, in joint
memorial, before the Moft High.
I HAVE NOW fhewn the evil of maim-
ing and fplitting religion; of dividing
afunder two things, which though in
theory they may be ſeparated, yet in
practice muſt always co-exift if either of
them be real, Devotion to God and Cha-
rity to men. Let us confider next the
happy effects of their union.
Their union forms the confiftent, the
graceful, the refpectable character of the
real Chriſtian, the man of true worth.
If you leave either of them out of your
ſyſtem, even though you excel in the
other, you can ftand trial only in one
point of view. It is only on one fide
your character is fair; on the other it
will always be open to much reproach.
And as you diſhonour yourſelves, fo
VOL. I.
C
you
do
18
On the Union of
SERM.
I.
you
do great injuftice to religion. For, by
dividing its parts from one another, you
never fail to expofe it to the cenſure of
the world: And perhaps, by this fort of
partial and divided goodneſs, religion has
fuffered more in the efteem of mankind,
than by open profligacy. The unbeliever
will fcoff at your piety, when he ſees
negligent of moral duties. The bigot will
decry all morality, when he fees you pre-
tending to be a follower of virtue, though
you be a deſpiſer of God. Whereas he
who fears God, and is at the fame time
juft and beneficent to men, exhibits reli-
gion to the world with full propriety. It
fhines in his conduct with its native fplen-
dour; and its rays throw a glory round
him. His character is above reproach.
It is at once amiable and venerable. Ma-
lice itſelf is afraid to attack him; and
even the worft men refpect and honour
him in their hearts.
This too is the man whofe life will be
moſt peaceful and happy. He who fails
materially either in piety or in virtue, is
always
Piety and Morality.
19
I.
always obnoxious to the anguish of re- SERM.
morſe. His partial goodneſs may flatter
him in the day of fuperficial obſervation;
but when folitude or diftrefs awakens the
powers of reflection, he fhall be made to
feel, that one part of duty performed,
atones not for another which is neglected.
In the midſt of his prayers, the remem-
brance of injuftice will upbraid him with
hypocrify; and in the diftribution of his
alms, the prayers which the poor put up
for him, will make him bluth for his ne-
glect of God. Confcience will fupply the
place of the hand coming forth to write
over against him on the wall, Thou art
weighed in the balance, and art found want-
ing*. Whereas he who holds both faith
and a good confcience, who attends equally
to the diſcharge of his duty towards God
and towards man, enjoys, as far as hu-
man imperfection allows, the ſenſe of
fairneſs and confiftency in conduct, of in-
tegrity and foundneſs of heart.
The man of mere morality, is a ſtranger
to all the delicate and refined pleaſures of
devotion.
C 2
* Dan. v. 27.
}
20
On the Union of
SERM. devotion.
I.
In works of beneficence and
mercy, he may enjoy fatisfaction. But
his fatisfaction is deftitute of that glow of
affection, which enlivens the feelings of
one who lifts his heart at the fame time
to the father of the univerſe, and confi-
ders himſelf as imitating God. The man
again who refts folely on devotion, if that
devotion open not his heart to humanity,
not only remains a ſtranger to the plea-
fures of beneficence, but muft often un-
dergo the pain arifing from bad paffions.
But when beneficence and devotion are
united, they pour upon the man in whom
they meet, the full pleafures of a good
and pure heart. His alms connected him
with men; his prayers with God. He
looks without diſmay on both worlds.
All nature has to him a benign afpect.
If engaged in active life, he is the
friend of men; and he his happy in the
exertions of that friendſhip. If left in
retirement, he walks among the works of
nature as with God. Every object is en-
livened to him by the ſenſe of the Divine
prefence,
气
​Piety and Morality.
21
}
I.
prefence. Every where he traces the be- SERM.
neficent hand of the Author of nature;
and every where, with glowing heart,
he hears and anfwers his fecret voice.
When he looks up to heaven, he rejoices
in the thought that there dwells that God
whom he ferves and honours; that Sa-
viour in whom he trufts; that Spirit of
grace from whoſe inſpiration his piety and
his charity flow. When he looks around
him on the world, he is foothed with the
pleafing remembrance of good offices which
he has done, or at leaſt has ſtudied to do,
to many who dwell there. How comfort-
able the reflection, that him no poor man
can upbraid for having withheld his due;
him no unfortunate man can reproach for
having feen and defpifed his forrows; but
that on his head are defcending the prayers
of the needy and the aged; and that the
hands of thoſe whom his protection has
fupported, or his bounty has fed, are lifted
up in fecret to blefs him!
Life, paffed under the influence of fuch
difpofitions, naturally leads to a happy
end.
22
On the Union of
SERM. end. It is not enough to fay, that faith
I.
and piety, joined with active virtue, con-
ſtitute the requifite préparation for hea-
ven. They in truth begin the enjoyment
of heaven. In every ſtate of our exiſtence,
they form the chief ingredients of felicity.
Hence they are the great marks of Chrif-
tián regeneration. They are the figna-
ture of that Holy Spirit, by which good
men are ſaid to be fealed unto the day of
redemption. The text affords a ſtriking
proof of the eftimation in which they
are held by God. Amidst that infinite va-
riety of human events which paſs under
his eye, the
prayers and the alms of COR-
NELIUS attracted his particular notice. He
remarked the amiable difpofitions which
rofe in the heart of this good man.
he faw that they were yet imperfect,
while he remained unenlightened by the
principles of the Chriftian religion. In
order to remove this obftruction to his
rifing graces, and to bring him to the full
knowledge of that God whom he fought
to honour, he was favoured with a fuper-
natural
But
Piety and Morality.
23
natural meffage from heaven. While the
princes of the earth were left to act by
the counfels of their own wifdom; while,
without interpofition from above, Gene-
rals conquered or fell, according to the
viciffitude of human things; to this good
centurion an Angel was commiffioned from
the throne of God.
What can I fay more or higher in praiſe
of this bleffed character, than that it is
what God delights to honour? Men fingle
out as the objects of diſtinction, the great,
the brave, or the renowned. But he who
jeeth not as man feeth, paffing by thoſe
qualities which often ſhine with falſe ſplen-
dour to human obfervation, looks to the
inward principles of action; to thoſe prin-
ciples which form the effence of a worthy
character; and which, if called forth,
would give birth to whatever is laudable
or excellent in conduct.Is there one,
though in humble ſtation or obfcure life,
who feareth God and worketh righteouf
neſs; whoſe prayers and alms, proceeding
in regular unaffected tenour, befpeak the
upright,
SER M.
I.
24
On the Union of Piety and Morality.
I.
SERM. upright, the tender, the devout heart?-
Thole alms and prayers come up in me-
morial before that God who is no respecter
of perfons. The Almighty beholds him
from his throne with complacency. Di-
vine illumination is ready to inſtruct him.
Angels miniſter to him. They now mark
him out on earth as their future affociate;
and for him they make ready in paradiſe,
the white robes,the palms, and the fceptres of
the juft.
To this honour, to this bleffedneſs, let
our hearts continually afpire; and through-
out the whole of life, let thofe folemn and
facred words, with which I conclude,
found in our cars, and be the great di-
rectory of our conduct: * He bath fhewed
thee, O man, what is good; and what doth
the Lord thy God require of thee, but--to do
justly, and love mercy-and to walk humbly
with thy God?
* Micah, vi. 8.
SERMON
[ 25 ]
SERMON II.
On the Influence of RELIGION upon
ADVERSITY.
PSALM Xxvii. 5.
In the time of trouble, he ſhall hide me in
his pavilion; in the fecret of his taber-
nacle ſhall he hide me; he ſhall ſet me up
upon a rock.
THE life of man has always been a SERM.
very mixed ſtate, full of uncertainty and
viciffitude, of anxieties and fears. In every
religious audience, there are many who
fall uder the denomination of the unfor-
tunate; and the reft are ignorant how
foon they may be called to join them.
For the profperity of no man on earth is
ſtable and affured. Dark clouds may foon
gather
II.
、
26
On the Influence of
II.
SERM. gather over the heads of thoſe whoſe
fky is now moft bright. In the midft of
the deceitful calm which they enjoy,
the ftorm that is to overwhelm them has
perhaps already begun to ferment. If a
man live many years, and rejoice in them all;
yet let him remember the days of darkness, for
they shall be many *.
Į
Hence, to a thoughtful mind, no ſtudy
can appear more important, than how to
be ſuitably prepared for the misfortunes
of life; fo as to contemplate them in pro-
ſpect without difmay, and, if they muſt
befall, to bear them without dejection.
Throughout every age, the wifdom of the
wife, the treaſures of the rich, and the
power of the mighty, have been employ-
ed, either in guarding their ftatc againſt
the approach of diftrefs, or in rendering
themſelves leſs vulnerable by its attacks.
Power has endeavoured to remove adver-
fity to a diſtance. Philofophy has ftudied,
when it drew nigh, to conquer it by pa-
tience; and Wealth has fought out every
pleafure
* Ecclef. xi. 8.
Religion upon Adverfity.
27
II.
pleaſure that can compenfate or alleviate SER M.
pain.
While the wifdom of the world is thus
occupied, religion has been no leſs atten-
tive to the fame important object. It in-
forms us in the Text, of a pavilion which
God erects to fhelter his fervants in the
time of trouble, of a fecret place in his taber-
nacle into which he brings them, of a
rock on which he ſets them up; and elſe
where he tells us of a field and a buckler
which he ſpreads before them, to cover
them from the terror by night, and the ar-
row that flieth by day. Now of what
nature are thofe inftruments of defence,
which God is reprefented as providing
with fuch folicitous care for thoſe who
fear him? Has he reared up any bul-
warks, impregnable by misfortune, in
order to ſeparate the pious and virtuous
from the reft of mankind, and to fcreen
them from the common difafters of life?
No: To thoſe difafters we behold them
liable no less than others. The defence
which religion provides, is altogether of
an
28
On the Influence of
SER M. an internal kind. It is the heart, not the
II.
outward ſtate, which it profeffes to guard.
When the time of trouble comes, as come
it must to all, it places good men under
the pavilion of the Almighty, by afford-
ing them that fecurity and peace which
arife from the belief of divine protection.
It brings them into the fecret of his taber-
nacle, by opening to them fources of con-
folation which are hidden from others.
By that ſtrength of mind with which it
endows them, it fets them up upon a rock,
againſt which the tempeft may violently
beat, but which it cannot ſhake.
How far the comforts proceeding from
religion merit thofe high titles under
which they are here figuratively deſcrib-
ed, I fhall in this difcourfe endeavour to
fhow. I fhall for this end compare toge-
ther the fituation of bad men and that of
the good, when both are fuffering the
misfortunes of life; and then make ſuch
improvement as the ſubject will naturally
fuggeft.
I. RELIGION
Religion upon Adverfity.
29
II.
I. RELIGION prepares the mind for en- SER M.
countering, with fortitude, the moſt ſevere
fhocks of adverfity; whereas vice, by its
natural influence on the temper, tends to
produce dejection under the flighteſt trials.
While worldly men enlarge their poſſeſ-
fions, and extend their connections, they
imagine that they are ftrengthening them-
ſelves againſt all the poffible viciffitudes of
life. They fay in their hearts, My moun-
tain ftands ftrong, and I ſhall never be mov-
ed. But fo fatal is their delufion, that, in-
ftead of ftrengthening, they are weaken-
ing that which only can fupport them
when thoſe viciffitudes come. It is their
mind which must then fupport them;
and their mind, by their fenfual attach-
ments, is corrupted and enfeebled. Ad-
dicted with intemperate fondneſs to the
pleaſures of the world, they incur two
great and certain evils; they both ex-
clude themſelves from every refource ex-
cept the world, and they increaſe their
fenfibility to every blow which comes up-
on them from that quarter.
They
30
On the Influence of
SER M.
H.
They have neither principles nor tem-
per
which can ftand the affault of trouble.
They have no principles which lead them
to look beyond the ordinary rotation of
events; and therefore, when misfortunes
involve them, the profpect must be com-
fortleſs on every fide. Their crimes have
difqualified them from looking up to the
affiftance of any higher power than their
own ability, or for relying on any better
guide than their own wiſdom. And as
from principle they can derive no fup-
port, fo in a temper corrupted by pro-
ſperity they find no relief. They have
loft that moderation of mind which en-
ables a wife man to accommodate himfelf
to his fituation. Long fed with falfe
hopes, they are exafperated and ftung by
every diſappointment. Luxurious and
effeminate, they can bear no uneafinefs.
Proud and prefumptuous, they can brook
no oppofition. By nouriſhing difpofitions
which fo little fuit this uncertain ftate,
they have infuſed a double portion of bit-
terneſs into the cup of woe; they have
fharpened
Religion upon Adverſity.
31
tharpened the edge of that ſword which is
lifted up to fmite them. Strangers to all
the temperate fatisfactions of a good and
a pure mind; ftrangers to every pleaſure
except what was feafoned by vice or vanity,
their adverfity is to the laſt degree difcon-
folate. Health and opulence were the two
pillars on which they reſted. Shake either
of them; and their whole edifice of hope
and comfort falls. Proftrate and forlorn,
they are left on the ground; obliged to
join with the man of Ephraim in his ab-
ject lamentation, They have taken away
my gods, which I have made, and what
have I more*?-Such are the caufes to
which we muſt aſcribe the broken ſpirits,
the peevish temper, and impatient paffions,
that ſo often attend the declining age, or
falling fortunes of vicious men.
But how different is the condition of a
truly good man in thofe trying fituations
of life! Religion had gradually prepared
his mind for all the events of this incon-
ſtant ſtate. It had inftructed him in the
nature
*Judges xviii. 24.
SERM.
II.
32
On the Influence of
II.
SERM. nature of true happineſs. It had early
weaned him from the undue love of the
world, by diſcovering to him its vanity,
and by fetting higher profpects in his
view. Afflictions do not attack him by
ſurpriſe, and therefore do not overwhelm
him. He was equipped for the ftorm, as
well as the calm, in this dubious naviga-
tion of life. Under thofe conditions he
knew himſelf to be brought hither, that
he was not to retain always the enjoy-
ment of what he loved: And therefore he
is not overcome by diſappointment, when
that which is mortal, dies; when that
which is mutable, begins to change; and
when that which he knew to be tranfient,
paffes away.
All the principles which religion teaches,
and all the habits which it forms, are fa-
vourable to ftrength of mind. It will be
found, that whatever purifies, fortifies
alfo the heart. In the courfe of living
righteously, foberly, and godly, a good man
acquires a fteady and well-governed fpi-
rit. Trained, by Divine grace, to enjoy
with
Religion upon Adversity.
33
II.
with moderation the advantages of the SERM.
world, neither lifted up by fucceſs, nor
enervated with fenfuality, he meets the
changes in his lot without unmanly de-
jection. He is inured to temperance and
reftraint. He has learned firmneſs and
felf-command. He is accuſtomed to
look up to that Supreme Providence,
which difpofes of human affairs, not
with reverence only, but with truft and
hope.
The time of profperity was to him not
merely a feafon of barren joy, but pro-
ductive of much ufeful improvement.
He had cultivated his mind. He had
ftored it with uſeful knowledge, with
good principles, and virtuous difpofi-
tions. Theſe reſources remain entire
when the days of trouble come. They
remain with him in fickneſs, as in
health; in poverty, as in the midſt of
riches; in his dark and folitary hours,
no less than when furrounded with
friends and gay fociety. From the glare
of profperity, he can, without dejection,
VOL. I.
withdraw
D
34
On the Influence of
SERM. withdraw into the fhade. Excluded from
+}
ſeveral advantages of the world, he may
be obliged to retreat into a narrower
circle; but within that circle he will find
many comforts left. His chief pleaſures
were always of the calm, innocent, and
temperate kind; and over thefe, the
changes of the world have the leaft power.
His mind is a kingdom to him; and he
can ftill enjoy it. The world did not
beſtow upon him all his enjoyments; and
therefore it is not in the power of the
world, by its moſt cruel attacks, to carry
them all away.
II. THE diftreffes of life are alleviated
to good men, by reflections on their paſt
conduct; while, by fuch reflections, they
are highly aggravated to the bad. During
the
gay and active periods of life, finners
elude, in fome meaſure, the force of con-
ſcience. Carried round in the whirl of
affairs and pleaſures; intent on contriv-
ance, or eager in purfuit; amufed by hope,
or elated by enjoyment; they are ſheltered
}
by
Religion upon Adverfity.
35
II.
by that crowd of trifles which furrounds SER M.
them from ferious thought. But con-
ſcience is too great a power to remain
always fuppreffed. There is in every
man's life, a period when he ſhall be
made to ftand forth as a real object to
his own view: And when that period
comes, Wo to him who is galled by the
fight! In the dark and folitary hour of
diftrefs, with a mind hurt and fore from
fome recent wound of fortune, how fhall
he bear to have his character for the firſt
time difclofed to him, in that humiliating
Light under which guilt will neceffarily
prefent it? Then the recollection of the
paſt becomes dreadful. It exhibits to him
a life thrown away on vanities and follies,
or confumed in flagitiouſneſs and fin; no
ſtation properly fupported; no material
duties fulfilled. Crimes which once had
been cafily palliated, rife before him in
their native deformity. The fenfe of guilt
mixes itſelf with all that has befallen him.
He beholds, or thinks that he beholds,
the hand of the God whom he hath of-
fended,
D 2
36
On the Influence of
II.
SERM. fended, openly ſtretched out againſt him.
-At a ſeaſon when a man ſtands moſt in
need of fupport, how intolerable is the
weight of this additional load, aggravat-
ing the depreffion of diſeaſe, diſappoint-
ment, or old age! How miferable his
ſtate, who is condemned to endure at once
the pangs of guilt, and the vexations of
calamity! The Spirit of a man may fuftain
his infirmities; but a wounded fpirit, who
can bear?
Whereas, he who is bleffed with a clear
confcience, enjoys, in the worft conjunc-
tures of human life, a peace, a dignity,
an elevation of mind, peculiar to virtue.
The teſtimony of a good confcience is
indeed to be always diftinguiſhed from
that preſumptuous boaſt of innocence,
which every good Chriftian totally dif
claims. The better he is, he will be the
more humble, and fenfible of his failings.
But though he acknowledge that he can
claim nothing from God upon the foot-
ing of defert, yet he can truft in his mer-
ciful acceptance through Jefus Chrift ac-
cording
Religion upon Adverfity.
37
But
II.
cording to the terms of the gofpel.. He SERM.
can hope, that his prayers and his alms
have come up in memorial before God. The
pięty and virtue of his former life were
as feeds fown in his profperous ſtate, of
which he reaps the fruits in the ſeaſon of
adverſity. The riches, the pleaſures, and
the friends of the world, may have made
wings to themſelves, and flown away.
the improvement which he made of thoſe
advantages while they lafted, the tempe-
rate ſpirit with which he enjoyed them,
the beneficent actions which he perform-
ed, and the good example which he fet to
others, remain behind. By the memory
of thefe, he enjoys his profperity a fe-
cond time in reflection; and perhaps this
ſecond and reflected enjoyment is not in-
ferior to the firft. It arrives at a more
critical and needful time. It affords him
the high fatisfaction of having extracted
lafting pleaſure from that which is fhort;
and of having fixed that which by its
nature was changing." If my race be
66
now about to end, I have this com-
"fort,
1
38
On the Influence of
II.
SERM. fort, that it has not been run in vain.
"I have fought the good fight; I have kept
"the faith. My mind has no load. Fu-
CC
turity has no terrors. I have endea-
"voured to do my duty, and to make
my peace with God. I leave the reſt
"to Heaven." Thefe are the reflections
which to the upright make light arife in
darkness; reflections which cheer the
lonely houſe of virtuous poverty, and at-
tend the confcientious fufferer into priſon
or exile; which footh the complaints of
grief, lighten the preffure of old
age, and
furniſh to the bed of fickneſs, a cordial
of more grateful relish, and more fove-
reign virtue, than any which the world can
afford.
Look abroad into life, and you will
find the general fenfe of mankind bearing
witneſs to this important truth, that mind
is fuperior to fortune; that what one
feels within, is of much greater importance.
than all that befalls him without. Let a
man be brought into fome fuch fevere
and trying fituation, as fixes the attention
of
Religion upon Adverfity.
39
II.
of the public on his behaviour. The SERM.
firſt queſtion which we put concerning
him, is not, What does he ſuffer? but,
How does he bear it? Has he a quiet
mind? or, Does he appear to be un-
happy within? If we judge him to be
compofed and firm, refigned to Provi-
dence, and fupported by confcious inte-
grity, his character rifes, and his mifery
leffens in our view. We eſteem and ad-
mire, rather than pity him. Recollect
what holy men have endured for the fake
of confcience, and with what cheerfulneſs
they have fuffered. On the other hand,
when confcience has concurred with out-
ward misfortunes in diftreffing the guilty,
think of the dreadful confequences which
have enfued. How often, upon a reverſe
of fortune, after abufed profperity, have
they madly hurried themſelves over that
precipice from which there is no return;
and, in what nature moſt abhors, the vo-
luntary extinction of life, have fought re-
lief from that torment of reflection, which
was become too great for them to bear?
Never
40
On the Influence of
SERM.
II.
Never then allow yourſelves to imagine,
that misfortunes alone form the chief
mifery of man. None but the guilty are
completely miſerable. The miſgiving and
diftruft, the accufations and reproaches of
their minds, the ſenſe of having drawn
down upon their heads the evils which
they ſuffer, and the terrifying expectation
of more and worfe evils to come; theſe
are the effential ingredients of human
mifery. They not only whet the edge,
but they envenom the darts of affliction,
and add poifon to the wound. Whereas
when misfortunes affail a good man, they
carry no fuch fatal auxiliaries in their
train. They may ruffle the furface of
his foul; but there is a ftrength, within,
which reſiſts their farther impreffion. The
conftitution of his mind is found. The
world can inflict upon it no wounds, but
what admit of cure.
III. ILL men, in the time of trouble,
can look up to no protector; while good
men commit themfelves, with truft and
hope,
Religion upon Adverfity.
41
II.
hope, to the care of Heaven. The hu- SERM.
man mind, naturally feeble, is made to
feel all its weakneſs by the preffure of
adverfity. Dejected with evils which
overpower its ſtrength, it relies no longer
on itſelf. It cafts every where around, a
wiſhing, exploring eye, for ſome ſhelter to
fcreen, fome power to uphold it; and if,
when abandoned by the world, it can
find nothing to which it may fly in the
room of the world, its ſtate is truly for-
lorn. Now, whither fhould the ungodly,
in this fituation, turn for aid? After hav-
ing contended with the ftorms of adverſe
fortune till their ſpirits are exhauſted,
gladly would they retreat at laſt to the
fanctuary of religion. But that fanctuary
is fhut againſt them; nay, it is environed
with terrors. They behold there, not a
Protector to whom they can fly, but a
Judge whom they dread; and in thoſe
moments when they need his friendſhip
the moft, they are reduced to deprecate
his wrath. If he once called when they
refuſed, and ſtretched out his hands when
they
42
On the Influence of
SERM. they would not regard, how much reafon
II.
have they to fear that he will leave them
now to eat the fruit of their own ways,
and to be filled with their own devices;
that he will laugh at their calamity, and
mock when their fear cometh.
But of all the thoughts which can enter
into the mind, in the ſeaſon of diſtreſs,
the belief of an intereft in his favour
who rules the world is the moſt foothing.
Every form of religion has afforded to
virtuous men fome degree of this confola-
tion. But it was referved for the Chri-
ftian revelation, to carry it to its higheſt
point. For it is the direct fcope of that
revelation to accommodate itſelf to the
circumſtances of man, under two main
views; as guilty in the fight of God,
and as ftruggling with the evils of the
world. Under the former, it diſcovers
to him a Mediator and an atonement;
under the latter, it promifes him the
Spirit of grace and confolation. It is a
fyftem of complete relief, extending from
our fpiritual to our temporal diftreffes.
The
Religion upon Adverfity.
43
The fame hand which holds out forgive-
neſs to the penitent, and affiſtance to the
frail, difpenfes comfort and hope to the
afflicted.
It deferves your particular notice, in
this view, that there is no character
which God more frequently affumes to
himſelf in the facred writings, than that
of the Patron of the diftreffed. Compaf-
fion is that attribute of his nature which
he has chofen to place in the greateſt va-
riety of lights, on purpoſe that he might
accommodate his majefty to our weak-
neſs, and provide a cordial for human
griefs. He is the hearer of all prayers;
but with particular attention he is repre-
fented as liftening to the cry of the poor,
and regarding the prayer of the deftitute.
All his creatures he governs with juſtice
and wiſdom; but he takes to himſelf, in
a ſpecial manner, the charge of executing
judgment for the oppressed, of protecting the
Stranger, of delivering him who hath no
helper from the hands of the spoiler. For the
oppreſſion of the poor, and for the fighing of
the
SER M.
II.
44
On the Influence of
II.
He
SERM. the needy, will I arife, faith the Lord, to
fet him in fafety from him that puffeth at
him. He is the father of the fatherless, and
the Judge of the widow, in his holy habi-
tation. He raifeth up them that are bowed
down. He dwelleth with the contrite. He
healeth the broken in heart. For he know-
eth our frame; be remembereth that we
are duft-If the wifdom of his provi-
dence faw it neceffary to place fo many
of his creatures in an afflicted ſtate, that
ſtate, however, he commiferates.
difdains not to point out himſelf as the
refuge of the virtuous and pious; and to
invite them, amidst all their troubles, to
pour out their hearts before him. Thoſe
circumſtances which eftrange others from
them, intereft him the more in their fitu-
ation. The neglect or ſcorn of the world
expoſes them not to any contempt in his
fight. No obfcurity conceals them from
his notice; and though they fhould be
forgotten by every friend on earth, they
are
* Pfal. ix. 8.--cii. 17.-cxlvi. 7.-Ixviii. 5.-cxlvii. 3.
--cili. 14. Sc.
Religion upon Adverfity.
45
II.
are remembered by the God of heaven. SERM.
That figh, heaved from the afflicted bo-
fom, which is heard by no human ear, is
liftened to by him; and that tear is re-
marked, which falls unnoticed or defpifed
by the world.
Such views of the Supreme Being, im-
part the moſt fenfible confolation to every
pious heart. They prefent his admini-
ftration under an afpect fo mild and be-
nign, as in a great meaſure to diſperſe
the gloom which hangs over human life.
A good man acts with a vigour, and ſuf-
fers with a patience more than human,
when he believes himſelf countenanced
by the Almighty. Injured or oppreſſed
by the world, he looks up to a Judge
who will vindicate his caufe; he appeals
to a witneſs who knows his integrity;
he commits himſelf to a Friend who will
never forfake him. When tired with the
vexations of life, devotion opens to him
its quiet retreat, where the tumults of the
world are huſhed, and its cares are loft in
happy oblivion; where the wicked ceaſe
from
46
On the Influence of
SERM. from troubling, and the weary are at reft.
II.
There his mind regains his ferenity; the
agitation of paffion is calmed; and a ſof-
tening balm is infuſed into the wounds
of the ſpirit. Diſcloſing to an invifible
Friend thofe fecret griefs which he has
no encouragement to make known to the
world, his heart is lightened. He does
not feel himſelf folitary or forfaken. He
believes God to be prefent with him, and
the Holy Ghoft to be the inſpirer of his
confolations. From that fecret place of
the divine tabernacle, into which the Text
reprefents him as admitted, he hears this
voice iffue, Call upon me in the day of
trouble, and I will anfwer thee. Fear not;
for I am with thee. Be not difmayed; for
I am thy God. And as he hears a voice
which ſpeaks to none but the pure in
heart, fo he beholds a hand which finners
cannot fee. He beholds the hand of
Providence conducting all the hidden
fprings and movements of the univerſe;
and with a ſecret, but unerring operation,
directing every event towards the happi-
nefs
Religion upon Adverfity.
47
neſs of the righteous. Thofe afflictions
which appear to others the meffengers of
the wrath of Heaven, appear to him the
minifters of fanctification and wiſdom.
Where they difcern nothing but the hor-
rors of the tempeft which furrounds.
them, his more enlightened eye beholds
the Angel who rides in the whirlwind,
and directs the ftorm. Hence a peace
keeping the mind and heart, which is no
where to be found but under the pavilion
of the Almighty.
IV. GOOD men are comforted under
their troubles by the hope of Heaven;
while bad men are not only deprived of
this hope, but diftreffed with fears ariſing
from a future ftate. The foul of man
can never diveſt itſelf wholly of anxiety
about its fate hereafter. There are hours
when even to the profperous, in the midſt
of their pleaſures, eternity is an awful
thought. But much more when thofe
pleaſures, one after another, begin to
withdraw; when life alters its form, and
becomes
SER M.
II.
48
On the Influence of
¡
II.
SERM. becomes dark and cheerlefs; when its
changes warm the moſt inconfiderate, that
what is fo mutable will foon paſs entirely
away; then with pungent earneſtneſs
comes home that queftion to the heart,
Into what world are we next to go ?
How miferable the man, who, under the
diſtractions of calamity, hangs doubtful
about an event which fo nearly concerns.
him; who, in the midft of doubts and
anxieties, approaching to that awful
boundary which ſeparates this world from
the next, ſhudders at the dark proſpect
before him; wiſhing to exift after death,
and yet afraid of that exiftence; catching
at every feeble hope which fuperftition
can afford him, and trembling, in the
fame moment, from reflection upon his
crimes!
But bleffed be God who hath brought
life and immortality to light; who hath not
only brought them to light, but fecured
them to good men; and by the death and
refurrection of Jefus Chrift, hath begotten
them unto the lively hope of an inheritance
incorruptible,
Religion upon Adverfity.
49
II.
incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not SERM.
away. Juftly is this hope ftiled in fcrip-
ture, the anchor of the foul, both fure and
fedfaft. For what an anchor is to a ſhip
in a dark night, on an unknown coaft,
and amidst a boifterous ocean, that is
this hope to the foul when diftracted by
the confuſions of the world. In danger,
it gives fecurity; amidst general fluctua-
tion, it affords one fixed point of reft. It
is indeed the most eminent of all the
advantages which religion now confers.
For, confider the mighty power of hope
over the human mind. It is the univer-
fal comforter. It is the fpring of all hu-
man activity. Upon futurity, men are
conftantly fufpended. Animated by the
profpect of fome diftant good, they toil
and fuffer through the whole courſe of
life; and it is not fo much what they are
at prefent, as what they hope to be in
fome after time, that enlivens their mo-
tions, fixes attention, and ftimulates in-
duftry. Now, if in the common affairs.
of life fuch is the energy of hope, even
VOL. I.
when
E
50
On the Influence of
II.
SERM. when its object is neither
very confider-
able, nor very certain; what effects may
it not be expected to produce, when it
refts upon an object fo fplendid as a life
of immortal felicity? Were this hope en-
tertained with that full perfuafion which
Chriſtian faith demands, it would, in truth,
not merely alleviate, but totally annihilate
all human miferies. It would baniſh dif-
content, extinguiſh grief, and fufpend
the very feeling of pain.
But allowing for the mixture of hu-
man frailty; admitting thofe abatements
which our imperfection makes upon the
effect of every religious principle, ftill
you will find, that in proportion to the
degree in which the hope of Heaven
operates upon good men, they will be
tranquil under fufferings; nay, they will
be happy in compariſon of thoſe who
enjoy no fuch relief. What indeed, in
the courſe of human affairs, is fufficient
to diftrefs, far lefs to overwhelm, the
mind of that man who can look down
on all human things from an elevation fo
much
Religion upon Adverfity.
5 I
II.
much above them? He is only a paffenger SERM.
through this world. He is travelling to a
happier country. How diſagreeable ſoever
the occurrences of his journey may be, yet,
at every ftage of that journey, he receives
the affurance, that he is drawing nearer
and nearer to the period of reft and fe-
licity. Endure, and thou fhalt overcome.
Perfevere, and thou fhalt be fuccefsful,
The time of trial haftens to a cloſe. Thy
manfion is prepared above; thy reft re-
maineth among
the people of God. The
diforders which vice has introduced into
the works of God, are about to terminate,
and all tears are foon to be wiped away
from the eyes of the juft.-The firm af-
furance of this happy conclufion to the
vexations and the vanities of life, works a
greater effect on the fincere illiterate Chri-
ſtian, than all the refinements of philofo-
phy can work on the moſt learned infidel.
Theſe may gratify the mind that is at
eafe; may footh the heart when ſlightly
difcompofed; but when it is fore and
deeply torn, when bereaved of its beſt
E 2
and
52
On the Influence of
SER M. and moft beloved comforts, the only con-
II.
folations that can then find accefs, ariſe
from the hope of a better world; where
thoſe comforts fhall be again reſtored; and
all the virtuous fhall be affembled, in the
preſence of him who made them. Such
hopes baniſh that defpair which over-
whelms, and leave only that tender melan-
choly which ſoftens the heart, and often
renders the whole character more gentle
and amiable.
Of this nature are the refources which
religion provides for good men. By its
previous difcipline, it trains them to for-
titude; by the reflections of a good con-
ſcience it fooths, by the fenfe of Divine
favour it fupports them; and when every
comfort fails them on earth, it cheers
them with the hope of heaven. Diftin-
guiſhing his fervants with fuch advantages,
God is juftly faid to erect his pavilion over
them in the evil time. He not only Spreads
a tent for them in the wilderness, but he
transforms in fome meaſure the ftate of
nature
Religion upon Adverfity.
53
1
nature around them.
To ufe the beau-
tiful language of ancient prophecy; In
the defart, the thirsty land, where no water
is, be openeth Springs. Instead of the thorn,
he maketh the fir-tree to come up; instead
of the briar, the myrtle to Spring. In midft
of the habitation of dragons, he maketh green
paſtures rife, and ftill waters flow around
bis people.
SER M.
THE improvement to be made of thefe
truths, is as obvious, as it is important.
Let us ftudy fo to conduct our lives, that
we may be qualified for deriving fuch con-
folations from religion. To their reality,
and their importance, all mankind bear
witneſs. For no fooner are they overtak-
en by diſtreſs, than to religion they fly.
This, throughout every age, has been the
univerſal ſhelter which the young and the
the old, the high and the low, the giddy and
the ſerious, have fought to gain, as foon
as they found that reft could be no where
elfe procured for the weary head, or the
aching heart. But amidst thoſe multitudes
15
that
II.
54
On the Influence of
II.
SERM. that crowd to religion for relief, how few
are entitled to approach that facred fource
of comfort? On what feeble props do
their hopes and pretenfions reft? How
much fuperftition mingles with that reli-
gion to which men are driven by diftrefs
and fear?-You must first apply to it as
the guide of life, before you can have re-
courſe to it as the refuge of forrow. You
muſt ſubmit to its legiſlative authority,
and experience its renewing influence, be-
fore
you can look for its confolatory effect.
You muſt ſecure the teftimony of a good
conſcience, and peace with God through
Jefus Chrift; otherwiſe, when the floods
Shall come, and the rains defcend, and the
winds blow, the houſe which you had
pro-
poſed for your retreat, fhall prove the bouſe
founded on the land, not on the rock.
There are two plans, and there are but
two, on which any man can propoſe to
conduct himſelf through the dangers and
diftreffes of human life. The one is the
plan of worldly wifdom; the other, that
of determined adherence to confcience.
He
Religion upon Adverfity.
55
He who acts upon the former, lays prin-
ciple afide, and trufts his defence to his
art and ability. He avails himſelf of
every advantage which his knowledge of
the world ſuggeſts. He attends to nothing
but what he confiders as his intereft;
and, unconfined by confcience, purſues it
by every courſe which promiſes him fuc-
cefs. This plan, though too often adopt-
ed, will be found on trial, ineffectual and
deceitful. For human ability is an un-
equal match for the violent and unfore-
feen viciffitudes of the world. When
theſe torrents rife in their might, they
fweep away in a moment the banks which
worldly wisdom had reared for defence,
and overwhelm alike the crafty and the
artleſs. In the mean time, perfons of this
character condemn themſelves to live a
moft unquiet life. They pafs their days,
in perpetual anxiety, liftening to every
motion; ftartled by every alarm; chang-
ing their meaſures on every new occur-
rence; and when diftrefs breaks in over
all their defences, they are left under it,
hopeleſs and difconfolate.
The
8 ERM.
II.
56
On the Influence of
II.
SERM. The plan which, in oppofition to this,
religion recommends, as both more ho-
nourable in itſelf, and more effectual for
fecurity, is, at all hazards, to do your
duty, and to leave the confequences to
God. Let him who would act upon this
plan, adopt for the rule of his conduct,
that maxim of the Pfalmift's, Trust in the
Lord, and do good*. To firm integrity,
let him join an humble reliance on God.
Let his adherence to duty, encourage his
religious truft. Let his religious truft,
infpire him with fortitude in the perfor-
mance of his duty. Let him know no
path but the ſtraight and direct one. In
the moſt critical moments of action, let
him afk no further queftions, than What
is the right, the fit, the worthy part?
How as a man, and as a chriftian, it be-
comes him to act? Having received the
decifion of conſcience, let him commit his
way unto the Lord. Let him, without
trepidation or wavering, proceed in dif
charging his duty; refolved, that though
*Pfal. xxxvii. 3.
the
Religion upon Adverfity.
57
II.
✓
the world may make him unfortunate, it SERM.
ſhall never make him baſe; and con-
fiding, that in what God and his con-
ſcience require him to act or ſuffer, God
and a good confcience will fupport him.-
Such principles as thefe, are the beſt
preparation for the viciffitudes of the
human lot. They are the fhield of in-
ward peace. He who thinks and acts
thus, fhall be expofed to no wounds
but what religion can cure.
He may
feel the blows of adverfity; but he ſhall
not know the wounds of the heart.
}
1
SERMON
[ 58 ]
SERMON III.
On the Influence of RELIGION upon
PROSPERITY.
PSALM i. 3.
He fhall be like a tree planted by the rivers
of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in
his feafon; his leaf alfo fhall not wither,
and whatsoever he doth fhall profper.
SERM. THE happy influence of religion
III.
upon human life, in the time of ad-
verſity, has been confidered in the pre-
ceding diſcourſe. Concerning this the fen-
timents of men are more generally agreed,
than with reſpect to fome other preroga-
tives which religion claims. They very
readily affign to it the office of a Comfor-
But as long as their ftate is profpe-
rous, they are apt to account it an unnecef-
ter.
fary
Religion upon Profperity.
59
fary gueft, perhaps an unwelcome intruder.
Let us not be thus unjuft to religion, nor
confine its importance to one period only
in the life of man. It was never intended
to be merely the nurſe of ſickneſs, and the
ſtaff of old age. I purpoſe now to ſhow
you, That it is no leſs effential to the en-
joyment of profperity, than to the comfort
of adverſity: That profperity is profperous,
if we may be allowed the expreffion, to a
good man only and that to every other
perfon, it will
prove, notwithſtanding its
fair appearance, a barren and joyleſs ſtate.
The Pfalmift, in the Text, by an image
taken from one of the moſt beautiful ob-
jects in nature, deſcribes a man who flou-
riſhes in full profperity. But to whom is
the deſcription limited? To him, as the
preceding verfes inform us, that walketh
not in the counſel of the ungodly, nor ſtand-
eth in the way of finners, nor fitteth in the
feat of the fcornful, but hath his delight in
the law of God. He only is like the tree
planted by the rivers of water; whilft the
ungodly, as he adds, are not fo; but, how
profperous
SER M.
III.
60
On the Influence of
III.
SERM. profperous foever they may appear to the
world, are in truth but like the chaff which
the wind driveth away. In confirmation
of this doctrine, I fhall lay before you,
fome of thofe circumftances which diftin-
guiſh the profperity of the good man be-
yond that of the finner; and fhall conclude,
with pointing out the dangers and miferies,
into which the latter is apt to be betrayed,
by his favourable fituation in the world.
I. PIETY, and gratitude to God, con-
tribute in a high degree to enliven pro-
ſperity. Gratitude is a pleaſing emotion.
The ſenſe of being diftinguiſhed by the
kindneſs of another, gladdens the heart,
warms it with reciprocal affection, and
gives to any poffeffion which is agreeable
in itſelf, a double relifh, from its being
the gift of a friend. Favours conferred
by men, I acknowledge, may prove bur-
denfome. For human virtue is never per-
fe&t; and fometimes unreaſonable expecta-
tions on the one fide, fometimes a morti-
fying fenſe of dependence on the other,
corrode
Religion upon Profperity.
61
III.
corrode in ſecret the pleaſure of benefits, SERM.
and convert the obligations of friendſhip
into grounds of jealoufy. But nothing of
this kind can affect the intercourſe of gra-
titude with Heaven. Its favours are wholly
diſintereſted; and with a gratitude the
moſt cordial and unfufpicious, a good man
looks up to that Almighty Benefactor, who
aims at no end but the happineſs of thoſe
whom he bleffes, and who defires no re-
turn from them but a devout and thankful
heart. While others can trace their
ſperity to no higher fource than a concur-
rence of worldly caufes, and often, of
mean or trifling incidents, which occafi-
onally favoured their deſigns; with what
fuperior fatisfaction does the fervant of
God remark the hand of that gracious.
Power which hath raiſed him up; which
hath happily conducted him through the
various ſteps of life, and crowned him
with the moft favourable diftinction be-
yond his equals ?
pro-
Let us farther confider, that not only
gratitude for the paſt, but a cheering ſenſe
of
62
On the Influence of
SERM. of God's favour at the preſent, enter inte
III.
the pious emotion. They are only the
virtuous, who in their profperous days
hear this voice addreffed to them: Go thy
way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy
wine with a merry heart; for God now
accepteth thy works*. He who is the
Author of their profperity, gives them a
title to enjoy with complacency, his own
gift. While bad men fnatch the pleaſures
of the world as by ftealth, without counte-
nance from God the proprietor of the
world; the righteous fit openly down to
the feaft of life, under the fmile of ap-
proving Heaven. No guilty fears damp
their joys. The bleffing of God refts upon
all that they poffefs; his protection fur-
rounds them; and hence, in the habitations
of the righteous, is found the voice of re-
joicing and falvation. A luftre unknown
to others, inveſts, in their fight, the whole
face of nature. Their piety reflects a fun-
fhine from Heaven upon the profperity of
the world; unites in one point of view,
* Ecclef. ix. 7.
the
Religion upon Profperity.
63
III.
the ſmiling aſpect, both of the powers SERM
above, and of the objects below. Not
only have they as full a reliſh as others, of
the innocent pleaſures of life, but more-
over, in theſe they hold communion with
God. In all that is good or fair, they trace
his hand. From the beauties of nature,
from the improvements of art, from the
enjoyments of focial life, they raiſe their
affection to the ſource of all the happineſs
which furrounds them; and thus widen
the ſphere of their pleaſures, by adding
intellectual, and fpiritual, to earthly joys.
For illuftration of what I have ſaid on
this head, remark that cheerful enjoyment
of a profperous ftate which King David
had, when he wrote the twenty-third
Pfalm; and compare the higheſt pleaſures
of the riotous finner, with the happy and
ſatisfied ſpirit which breathes throughout
that Pfalm.-In the midſt of the fplendour
of royalty, with what amiable fimplicity
of gratitude does he look up to the Lord as
his Shepherd; happier in afcribing all his
fucceſs to divine favour, than to the policy
of
64
On the Influence of
SERM. of his counfels, or to the force of his
III.
arms! How many inftances of divine
goodneſs arofe before him in pleaſing re-
membrance, when with fuch reliſh he
ſpeaks of the green pastures and ſtill waters
befide which God had led him; of his cup
which he hath made to overflow; and of
the table which he hath prepared for him in
prefence of his enemies! With what perfect
tranquillity does he look forward to the
time of his paffing through the valley
of the shadow of death; unappalled by
that Spectre, whofe moft diftant appear-
ance blaſts the profperity of finners! He
fears no evil, as long as the rod and the
Staff of his Divine Shepherd are with him;
and, through all the unknown periods of
this and of a future exiftence, commits
himſelf to his guidance with fecure and
triumphant hope. Surely goodness and
mercy fhall follow me all the days of my
life; and I will dwell in the house of the
Lord for ever.-What a purified, fenti-
mental enjoyment of profperity, is here
exhibited! How different from that grofs
reliſh
Religion upon Profperity.
65
reliſh of worldly pleaſures, which belongs
to thoſe who behold only the terreſtrial
ſide of things; who raiſe their views to
no higher objects than the fucceffion of
human contingencies, and the weak efforts
of human ability; who have no protector
or patron in the heavens, to enliven their
profperity, or to warm their hearts with
gratitude and truſt!
II. RELIGION affords to good men pe-
culiar fecurity in the enjoyment of their
profperity. One of the first reflections
which muft ftrike every thinking man, af-
ter his fituation in the world has become
agreeable, is, That the continuance of fuch
a fituation is moft uncertain. From a va-
riety of cauſes, he lies open to change.
On many fides he fees that he may be
pierced; and the wider his comforts ex-
tend, the broader is the mark which he
ſpreads to the arrows of misfortune. Hence
many a fecret alarm to the reflecting mind;
and to thoſe who reject all fuch alarms,
the real danger increaſes, in proportion to
their improvident ſecurity.
VOL. I.
F
By
SER M.
III.
66
On the Influence of
!
SERM.
III.
By worldly affiftance it is vain to think
of providing any effectual defence, feeing
the world's mutability is the very
caufe of
our terror. It is from a higher principle,
from a power fuperior to the world, that
relief muſt be fought, amidft fuch difqui-
etudes of the heart. He who in his pro-
ſperity can look up to One who is witnefs
to his moderation, humanity, and charity;
he who can appeal to Heaven, that he has
not been elated by pride, nor overcome
by pleaſure, but has ftudied to employ its
gifts to the honour of the giver; this
man, if there be any truth in religion, if
there be any benignity or goodneſs in the
adminiftration of the univerfe, has juft
caufe for encouragement and hope. Not
that an intereſt in the Divine grace will
perpetuate to a good man, more than to
others, a life of unruffled proſperity.
Change and alteration form the very ef-
fence of the world. But let the world
change around him at pleaſure, he has
ground to hope that it fhall not be able to
make him unhappy. Whatever may vary,
God's
Religion upon Profperity.
67
God's providence is ftill the fame; and
his love to the righteous remains unaltered.
If it fhall be the Divine will to remove
one comfort, he trufts that fome other
ſhall be given. Whatever is given, what-
ever is taken away, he confides, that in
the laſt reſult all ſhall work for his good.
Hence, he is not diſturbed, like bad
men, by the inftability of the world.
Dangers which overcome others, fhake
not his more ſteady mind. He enjoys the
pleafures of life pure and unallayed, be-
cauſe he enjoys them, as long as they laſt,
without anxious terrors. They are not
his all, his only good. He welcomes
them when they arrive; and when they
paſs away, he can eye them, as they de-
part, without agony or defpair. His pro-
ſperity ftikes a deeper and firmer root
than that of the ungodly. And for this
reafon he is compared in the Text, to a
tree planted by the rivers of water; a tree,
whofe branches the tempeft may indeed
bend, but whofe roots it cannot touch;
a tree, which may occafionally be ftripped
F 2
of
SER M.
III.
1
68
On the Influence of
III.
SERM. of its leaves and bloffoms, but which ſtill
maintains its place, and in due ſeaſon flou-
riſhes anew. Whereas the finner in his
profperity, according to the allufion in the
book of Job, reſembles the rush that grow-
eth up in the mire *; a flender reed, that
may flouriſh green for a while by the ſide
of the brook, as long as it is cheriſhed by
the fun, and fanned by the breeze; till the
firſt bitter blaft breaks its feeble ftem, roots
it out from its bed, and lays it in the
duft. Lo! fuch is the proſperity of them
that forget God; and thus their hope fhall
periſh.
III. RELIGION forms good men to the
moft proper temper for the enjoyment of
profperity. A little reflection may fatisfy
us, that mere poffeffion, even granting it
to be ſecure, does not conftitute enjoyment.
Give a man all that is in the power of the
world to beſtow; furround him with riches;
crown him with honours; inveft him, if
you will, with abfolute dominion; but
leave
* Job, viii. 11.
Religion upon Profperity.
69
1
leave him at the fame time under fome fe-
cret oppreffion or heaviness of heart; you
beſtow indeed the materials of enjoyment,
but you deprive him of ability to extract
it. You fet a feaſt before him, but he
wants the power of tafting it. Hence pro-
fperity is fo often an equivocal word, de-
noting merely affluence of poffeffion, but
unjustly applied to the miferable poffeffor.
We all know the effects which any
indifpofition of the body, even though
flight, produces on external profperity.
Vifit the gayeſt and moſt fortunate man
on earth, only with fleepless nights; dif-
order any fingle organ of his fenfes; cor-
rode but one of his fmalleft nerves; and
you fhall preſently fee all his gaiety va-
niſh; you ſhall hear him complain, that
he is a miſerable creature, and expreſs his
envy of the peaſant and the cottager.
And can you believe, that a diſeaſe in the
foul is lefs fatal to enjoyment, than a dif-
eaſe in the animal frame; or that a found
mind is not as effential, as a found body,
to the proſperity of man?--Let us rate
fenfual
SERM.
III.
1
:
7༠
On the Influence of
SERM. fenfual gratifications as high as we pleaſe,
III.
we ſhall be made to feel that the feat of
enjoyment is in the foul. The corrupted
temper, and the guilty paffions of the
bad, fruftrate the effect of every advantage
which the world confers on them. The
world may call them men of pleaſure;
but of all men they are the greateſt foes
to pleaſure. From their eagerness to
grafp, they ftrangle and deſtroy it. None
but the temperate, the regular, and the
virtuous, know how to enjoy profperity.
They bring to its comforts the manly re-
lifh of a found uncorrupted mind. They
ftop at the proper point, before enjoyment
degenerates into difguft, and pleaſure is
converted into pain. They are ſtrangers
to thofe complaints which flow from fpleen
caprice, and all the fantaſtical diftreffes of
a vitiated mind. While riotous indulgence
cnervates both the body and the mind, pu-
rity and virtue heighten all the powers of
human fruition. Moderate and fimple
pleaſures reliſh high with the temperate;
in the midſt of his ftudied refinements, the
voluptuary languiſhes.
Wherever
Religion upon Profperity.
71
III.
Wherever guilt mingles with profperity, SER M.
a certain gloom and heavinefs enter along
with it. Vitious intrigues never fail to
entangle and embarraſs thoſe who engage
in them. But innocence confers eaſe and
freedom on the mind; leaves it open to
every pleaſing ſenſation; gives a lightneſs
to the fpirits, fimilar to the native gaiety
of youth and health; ill imitated, and ill
fupplied, by that forced levity of the viti-
ous, which arifes not from the health, but
from the drunkenneſs of the mind.
Feeble are all pleaſures in which the
heart has no part. The ſelfiſh gratifi-
cations of the bad, are both narrow in their
circle, and fhort in their duration. But
proſperity is redoubled to a good man, by
his generous uſe of it. It is reflected back
upon him from every one whom he makes
happy. In the intercourfe of domeftic
affection, in the attachment of friends,
the gratitude of dependents, the eſteem
and good will of all who know him, he
fees bleffings multiplied round him on
every fide. When the ear heard me, then
it
72
On the Influence of
III.
SERM. it bleffed me, and when the eye faw me
it gave witness to me: Because I delivered
the poor that cried, the fatherless, and him
that had none to help him. The bleffing of him
that was ready to perish came upon me, and I
caufed the widow's heart to fing with joy. I
was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to
the lame: I was a father to the poor;
and the cauſe which I knew not, I fearched
out*-Thus, while the righteous fou-
rifbeth like a tree planted by the rivers of
water he bringeth forth alfo his fruit in
bis feafon And that fruit, to purſue the
allufion of the Text, he brings forth not
for himſelf alone. He flouriſhes, not
like a tree in fome folitary defart, which
fcatters its bloffoms to the wind, and com-
municates neither fruit nor fhade to any
living thing: But like a tree in the midſt
of an inhabited country, which to ſome
affords friendly fhelter, to others, fruit;
which is not only admired by all for its
beauty, but bleffed by the traveller for the
ſhade, and by the hungry for the fufte-
nance it hath given.
*
Job, xxix. 11.-17,
IV.
Religion upon Profperity.
73
III.
IV. RELIGION heightens the profpe- SERM.
rity of good men, by the profpect which
it affords them of greater happineſs to
come in another world. I fhowed, in the
foregoing difcourfe, the mighty effect of
the hope of Heaven, in relieving the mind
under the troubles of life. And fure, if
this hope be able to fupport the falling, it
cannot but improve the flouriſhing ftate
of man; if it can difpel the thickeſt gloom
of adverſity, it muſt needs enliven profpe-
rity, by the additional luftre which it
throws upon it. What is prefent, is never
ſufficient to give us full fatisfaction. To
the preſent we muſt always join ſome
agreeable anticipations of futurity, in or-
der to complete our pleaſure. What an
acceffion then muſt the proſperity of the
righteous man receive, when borne with a
fimooth and gentle gale along the current
of life, and looking round on all the blef-
fings of his ftate, he can confider theſe
as no more than an introduction to higher
ſcenes which are hereafter to open; he
can view his prefent life, as only the
porch
74
On the Influence of
III.
SERM porch through which he is to paſs into the
palace of blifs; and his prefent joys, as
but a feeble ſtream, difpenfed for his occa-
fional refreſhment, until he arrive at that
river of life, which flows at God's right
hand!-Such profpects purify the mind,
at the fame time that they gladden it.
They prevent a good man from fetting
too high a value on his prefent poffeffion;
and thereby affift him in maintaining,
amidft the temptations of worldly plea-
fure, that command of himſelf which is
fo effential to the wife and temperate en-
joyment of profperity.
It is the fate of all human pleafures, by
continuance to fade of moſt of them;
to cloy. Hence, in the moſt profperous
ftate, there are frequent intervals of lan-
guor, and even of dejection. There are
vacuities in the happieft life, which it is
not in the power of the world to fill up.
What relief fo adapted to thofe vacant or
dejected periods, as the pleafing hopes
which ariſe from immortality? How bar-
ren and imperfect that profperity, which
can
Religion upon Profperity.
75
;
III.
can have recourſe to no fuch fubfidiary SERM.
comfort, in order to animate the ftagna-
tion of vulgar life, and to fupply the in-
fufficiency of worldly pleaſures!
Worldly profperity declines with de-
clining life. In youth its reliſh was
brifk and poignant. It becomes more
fober as life advances and flattens as
life defcends. He who lately overflowed
with cheerful ſpirits and high hopes, be-
gins to look back with heavineſs on the
days of former years. He thinks of his
old companions, who are gone; and re-
views paſt ſcenes, more agreeable than any
which are likely to return. The activity
of purfuit is weakened. The gaiety of
amufement is fled. The gratifications
of fenfe languifh. When his accuſtomed
pleafures, one after another, thus ſteal
treacherously away, what can he who is
an utter ftranger to religion, and to the
hope of heaven, ſubſtitute in their place?
But even in that drooping period, the
promiſes and hopes of religion ſupport
the fpirits of a good man till the lateſt
hour.
76
On the Influence of
III.
SERM. hour. His leaf, it is faid in the Text,
fhall not wither. It fhall not be in the
power of time to blaſt his profperity:
But old age ſhall receive him into a quiet
retreat, where, if lively fenfations fail,
gentle pleaſures remain to footh him.
That hope of immortality, which formerly
improved his other enjoyments, now in a
great meaſure fupplies their abfence. Its
importance rifes, in proportion as its ob-
ject draws near. He is not for faken by
the world, but retires from it with dig-
nity; reviewing with a calm mind the part
which he has acted, and trufting to the
promife of God for an approaching re-
ward. Such fentiments and expectations
ſhed a pleafing tranquillity over the old
age of the righteous man. They make
the evening of his days go down uncloud-
ed; and allow the ftream of life, though
fallen low, to run clear to the laſt drop.
THUS I have fhown, I hope, with full
evidence, what material ingredients reli-
gion and a good confcience are in the pro-
ſperity
W
Religion upon Profperity.
77
III.
fperity of life. Separated from them, SERM
profperity, how fair ſoever it
may ſeem
to the world, is infipid, nay frequently
noxious to the poffeffor: United with
them, it riſes into a real bleffing beſtowed
by God upon man. God giveth to a man
that is good in his fight, wisdom, and know-
ledge, and joy; but to the finner he giveth
jore travel, to gather and to heap up, that
he may give to him that is good before God*.
ALLOW me now to conclude the fub-
ject, with repreſenting to the profperous
men of the world, thofe crimes and miſe-
ries into which the abuſe of their condi-
tion is likely to betray them, and calling
upon them to beware of the dangers with
which they are threatened.
It is unfortunate for mankind, that
thoſe ſituations which favour pleaſure, are
too generally adverfe to virtue. Virtue re-
quires internal government and difcipline;
profperity relaxes the mind, and inflames
the paffions. Virtue is fupported by a
* Ecclef. ii. 26.
regard
!
!
48
On the Influence of
III.
SERM. regard to what is future; profperity at-
taches us wholly to what is prefent. The
characteriſtics of virtue, are modefty and
humility; the moſt common attendants of
profperity, are pride and prefumption.
One ſhould think that proſperity would
prove the ſtrongeſt incitement to remember
and to honour that God who beftows it.
Yet fuch is the perverfenefs of human na-
ture, that it proves much oftner the mo-
tive to impiety. The changes of the
world call the attention of men to an Ìnvi-
fible Power. But a train of events pro-
ceeding according to their with, leads
them to nothing beyond what they fee.
The fupreme Giver is concealed from view
by his own gifts. This inftance of fuccefs
they aferibe to a fortunate concurrence of
worldly cauſes; that acquifition, to their
own ſkill and induſtry; unmindful of
him, who from the beginning arranged
that feries of caufes, and who placed them
in circumftances where their induftry could
operate with fuccefs. From forgetting
God, they too often proceed to deſpiſe him.
All
Religion upon Profperity.
79%
III.
All that is light or giddy in their minds, SERM.
is fet in motion by the gale of profperity.
Arrogance and ſelf-ſufficiency are lifted
up; and their ſtate is confidered, as fe-
cured by their own ftrength. Hence that
pride of countenance, through which the
wicked, in their profperity, as David ob-
ferves, refuse to feek after God. They are
defcribed as Speaking loftily, and fetting
their mouth against the Heavens. They take
the timbrel and harp, and rejoice at the
found of the organ; and they say unto
God, Depart from us, for we defire not the
knowledge of thy ways. What is the All-
mighty that we fhould ferve him? Or
what profit should we have, if we pray
unto him?
They fay unto God, depart from us.
What an impious voice! Could we have
believed it poffible, that worldly pleaſures
fhould fo far intoxicate any human
heart? Wretched and infatuated men!
Have you ever examined on what your
confidence refts ?—You have faid in your
hearts, You fhall never be moved; you
fancy
80
On the Influence of
III.
your
SERM. fancy yourfelves placed on a mountain
which standeth ftrong. Awake from thoſe
flattering dreams, and behold how every
thing totters around you! You ftand on
the edge of a precipice; and the ground
is fliding away below feet. In your
health, life, poffeffions, connections, plea-
fures, principles of deſtruction work. The
mine advances in fecret which faps the
foundations, while you revel on the fur-
face. No mighty effort, no long prepara-
tion of events, is needed to overturn your
profperity. By flow degrees it rofe. Long
time, much labour, and the concurrence
of many affifting caufes, were neceffary
to rear it up; but one flight incident can
entirely overthrow it. Sufpicions are in-
fuſed into the patron or the prince on
whom you depend; and your diſgrace
enfues. Exercife, or amuſement, kindles
a fever in the veins of thoſe whom you
loved; and you are robbed of your com-
forts and hopes. A few grains of fand
lodge themſelves within you;
reſt of your life is difeafe and
and the
mifery.
Ten
Religion upon Profperity.
81
III.
Ten thouſand contingencies ever float on SERM.
the current of life, the ſmalleſt of which,
if it meet your frail bark in the paffing,
is fufficient to daſh it in pieces.—Is this
a place, is this a time, to fwell with fan-
cied ſecurity, to riot in unlawful pleaſure,
and by your difregard of moral and re-
ligious duties, to brave the government
of the Almighty? He hath ftamped every
poffeffion of man with this infcription,
Rejoice with trembling. Throughout every
age he hath pointed his peculiar difplea-
fure againſt the confidence of prefump-
tion, and the arrogance of profperity. He
hath pronounced, that whosoever exalteth
himſelf ſhall be abafed. And fhall neither
the admonitions which you receive from
the viſible inconftancy of the world, nor
the declarations of the Divine diſpleaſure,
be fufficient to check your thoughtleſs
career? Know, that by your impiety,
you multiply the dangers which already
threaten you on every fide; you accelerate
the ſpeed with which the changes of the
world advance to your deſtruction. The
VOL. I.
G
Almighty
82
On the Influence of
III.
SERM. Almighty touches with his rod that edifice
of duft, on which you ſtand, and boaſt of
your ftrength; and, at that inftant, it
crumbles to nothing.
As men, then, bethink yourſelves of
human inftability. As Chriftians, reve-
rence the awful government of God. In-
fure your profperity, by confecrating it to
religion and virtue. Be humble in your
elevation; be moderate in your views;
be fubmiffive to him who hath raifed and
diftinguiſhed you. Forget not, that on
his providence you are as dependent, and
to the obedience of his laws as much
bound, as the meaneft of your fellow-
creatures. Difgrace not your ftation, by
that groffneſs of fenfuality, that levity
of diffipation, or that infolence of rank,
which beſpeak a little mind. Let the af-
fability of your behaviour, ſhow that you
remember the natural equality of men.
Let your moderation in pleaſure, your
command of paffion, and your ſteady re-
gard to the great duties of life, thow that
you poffefs a mind worthy of your fortune,
Eſtabliſh
Religion upon Profperity.
83
III.
Eſtabliſh your character on the baſis of ef- SERM.
teem; not on the flattery of dependents,
or the praiſe of fycophants, but on the
teſpect of the wife and the good. Let in-
nocence prefide over your enjoyments.
Let uſefulneſs and beneficence, not often-
tation and vanity direct the train of your
purfuits. Let your alms, together with
your prayers, come up in memorial before
God. So fhall your profperity, under the
bleffing of Heaven, be as the shining light
which shineth more and more unto the per-
fect day. So fhall it refemble thofe celef
tial fires which glow above, with benefi-
cent, with regular, and permanent luftre;
and not prove that mirth of fools, which by
Solomon is compared to the crackling of
thorns under a pot, a glittering and fervent
blaze, but ſpeedily extinct.
On the whole, let this be our conclu-
fion, that both in profperity and in ad-
verſity, religion is the ſafeft guide of hu-
man life. Conducted by its light, we
reap the pleaſures, and at the fame time
eſcape the dangers, of a profperous ſtate.
G 2
Sheltered
III.
84
On the Influence of Religion upon Profperity.
SERM. Sheltered under its protection, we ftand
the ſhock of adverfity with moſt intrepi-
dity, and fuffer leaſt from the violence of
the ftorm. He that defireth life, and loveth
many days that he may fee good, let him keep
his tongue from evil, and his lips from guile.
Let him depart from evil and do good. Let
him feek peace with God, and purfue it.
Then, in his Adverfity, God fhall bide him
in his pavilion. In his profperity, he shall
flourish like a tree planted by the rivers of
water. The ungodly are not fo; but are
like the chaff, light and vile, which the wind
driveth away.
1
SERMON
[ 85
SERMON IV.
On our Imperfect KNOWLEDGE of a
FUTURE STATE.
:
I COR. xiii. 12.
For now we ſee through a glaſs darkly.
THE
HE Apoftle here defcribes the im- SERM.
perfection of our knowledge with rela-
tion to ſpiritual and eternal objects. He
employs two metaphors, to reprefent more
ftrongly the diſadvantages under which
we lie: One, that we fee thoſe ob-
jecs through a glass, that is, through the
intervention of a medium which obfcures
their glory; the other, that we ſee them
in a riddle or enigma, which our tranſla-
tors have rendered by feeing them darkly;
that is, the truth in part diſcovered, in
part
IV.
86
On our Imperfect Knowledge
SERM.
IV.
part concealed, and placed beyond our
comprehenfion.
This deſcription, however juft and true,
cannot fail to occafion fome perplexity
to an enquiring mind. For it may feem
ftrange that fo much darkneſs ſhould be
left upon thoſe celeftial objects, towards
which we are at the fame time commanded
to aſpire. We are ſtrangers to the uni-
verfe of God. Confined to that ſpot on
which we dwell. We are permitted to
know nothing of what is tranfacting in
the regions above us and around us. By
much labour, we acquire a fuperficial
acquaintance with a few fenfible objects
which we find in our preſent habitation;
but we enter, and we depart, under a to-
tal ignorance of the nature and laws of
the fpiritual world. One fubject in par-
ticular, when our thoughts proceed in this
train, muft often recur upon the mind
with peculiar anxiety; that is, the im-
mortality of the foul, and the future ftate
of man. Expofed as we are at preſent to
fuch variety of afflictions, and ſubjected
to
-
of a Future State.
87
pur-
to fo much diſappointment in all our
fuits of happineſs, Why, it may be ſaid,
has our gracious Creator denied us the
confolation of a full difcovery of our fu-
ture exiſtence, if indeed fuch an exiſtence
be prepared for us?-Reafon, it is true,
fuggefts many arguments in behalf of
immortality: Revelation gives full affu-
rance of it. Yet even that goſpel which
is faid to have brought life and immortality
to light, allows us to fee only through a
glafs darkly. It doth not yet appear what
we shall be. Our knowledge of a future
world, is very imperfect; our ideas of it,
are faint and confuſed. It is not diſplayed
in fuch a manner, as to make an impref-
ſion ſuited to the importance of the object.
The faith even of the beſt men, is much
inferior both in clearnefs and in force,
to the evidence of fenfe; and proves, on
many occafions, infufficient to counterba-
lance the temptations of the preſent world.
Happy moments indeed there fometimes
are in the lives of pious men, when ſe-
queſtered from worldly cares, and borne up
on
SERM.
IV.
88
On our Imperfect Knowledge
SERM. on the wings of divine contemplation, they
IV.
riſe to a nearer and tranſporting view of
immortal glory. But fuch efforts of the
mind are rare, and cannot be long fup-
ported. When the fpirit of meditation
fubfides, this lively fenfe of a future ftate
decays, and though the general belief of
it remain, yet even good men, when they
return to the ordinary buſineſs and cares of
life feem to rejoin the multitude, and to
re-affume the ſame hopes, and fears, and
interefts, which influence the reft of the
world.
From fuch reflections, a confiderable
difficulty reſpecting this important ſub-
ject, either ariſes, or feems to arife. Was
ſuch an obſcure and imperfect diſcovery of
another life worthy to proceed from God?
Does it not afford fome ground, either to
tax his goodneſs, or to fufpect the evi-
dence of its coming from him?-This is
the point which we are now to confider;
and let us confider it with that cloſe atten-
tion which the fubject merits. Let us en-
quire, whether we have any reaſon, ei-
}
ther
of a Future State.
89
ther to complain of Providence, or to ob-
ject to the evidence of a future ftate, be-
cauſe that evidence is not of a more fen-
fible and ſtriking nature. Let us attempt
humbly to trace the reafons, why, though
permitted to know and to fee fomewhat of
the eternal world, we are nevertheleſs per-
mitted only to know in part, and to fee
through a glass darkly.
Ir plainly appears to be the plan of
the Deity, in all his difpenfations, to mix
light with darkneſs, evidence with uncer-
tainty. Whatever the reaſons of this pro-
cedure be, the fact is undeniable. He is
deſcribed in the Old Teftament, as a God
that hideth himself*. Clouds and darkneſs
are faid to furround him. His way is in the
fea, and his path in the great waters; bis
footsteps are not known. Both the works
and the ways of God are full of myſtery.
In the ordinary courfe of his government,
innumerable events occur which perplex
us to the utmoſt. There is a certain limit
* Ifa. xlv. 15.
SER M.
IV.
to
90
On our Imperfect Knowledge
IV.
SERM. to all our enquiries in religion, beyond
which if we attempt to proceed, we are
loft in a maze of inextricable difficulties.
Even that revelation which affords fuch
material inſtruction to man, concerning
his duty and his happineſs, leaves many
doubts unreſolved. Why it was not given
fooner; why not to all men; why there
ſhould be ſo many things in it hard to be un-
derstood, are difficulties not inconfiderable,
in the midft of that inconteftable evidence
by which it is fupported. If, then, the
future ftate of man be not placed in fo full
and clear a light as we defire, this is no
more than what the analogy of all reli-
gion, both natural and revealed, gave us
reaſon to expect.
}
But ſuch a ſolution of the difficulty will
be thought imperfect. It may, perhaps,
not give much fatisfaction, to ſhow that
all religion abounds with difficulties of a
like nature. Our fituation, it will be faid,
is fo much the more to be lamented, that
not on one fide only we are confined in our
enquiries, but on all hands environed with
myſterious
of a Future State.
91
IV.
myſterious obfcurity.-Let us then, if fo SER M.
much diffatisfied with our condition, give
ſcope for once to Fancy, and confider how
the plan of Providence might be rectified
to our wish. Let us call upon the Scep-
tic, and defire him to ſay, what meaſure
of information would afford him entire
fatisfaction.
This, he will tell us, requires not any
long or deep deliberation. He defires only
to have his view enlarged beyond the li-
mits of this corporeal ftate. Inſtead of
refting upon evidence which requires dif-
cuffion, which must be fupported by much
reaſoning, and which, after all, he alleges
yields very imperfect information, he de-
mands the everlaſting manſions to be fo
diſplayed, if in truth fuch mànſions there
be, as to place faith on a level with the
evidence of fenfe. What noble and happy
effects, he exclaims, would inftantly fol-
low, if man thus beheld his preſent and
his future exiſtence at once before him!
He would then become worthy of his rank
in the creation. Inftead of being the ſport,
as
92
On our Imperfect Knowledge
IV.
SERM. as now, of degrading paffions and childish
attachments, he would act folely on the
principles of immortality. His purſuit of
virtue would be ſteady; his life would be
undiſturbed and happy. Superior to the
attacks of diftrefs, and to the folicitations
of pleaſure, he would advance by a regu-
lar proceſs, towards thofe divine rewards
and honours which were continually pre-
fent to his view.
as much eaſe and confidence as if it were
a perfect judge of creation, erects a new
world to itſelf, and exults with admira-
tion of its own work. But let us paufe,
and fufpend this admiration, till we
coolly examine the confequences that
would follow from this fuppofed reforma-
tion of the univerſe.
Thus Fancy, with
CONSIDER the nature and circumſtances
of man. Introduced into the world in
an indigent condition, he is fupported at
firft by the care of others; and, as foon
as he begins to act for himſelf, finds la-
bour and induſtry to be neceffary for fuf-
taining
of a Future State.
93
IV.
taining his life, and ſupplying his wants. SERM.
Mutual defence and intereft give rife to
fociety; and fociety when formed, re-
quires diftinctions of property, diverſity
of conditions, fubordination of ranks,
and a multiplicity of occupations, in or-
der to advance the general good. The
fervices of the poor, and the protection
of the rich, become reciprocally neceffary.
The governors, and the governed, muft
co-operate for general fafety. Various
arts muſt be ſtudied; fome refpecting the
cultivation of the mind, others, the care
of the body; fome to ward off the evils,
and fome to provide the conveniencies of
life. In a word, by the deftination of
his Creator, and the neceffities of his
nature, man commences, at once, an
active, not merely a contemplative being.
Religion affumes him as fuch. It fup-
poſes him employed in this world, as on
a buſy ſtage. It regulates, but does not
aboliſh, the enterprizes and cares of or-
dinary life. It addreffes itſelf to the va-
rious ranks in fociety; to the rich and
the
94
On our Imperfect Knowledge
"
SERM. the poor, to the magiſtrate and the ſub-
IV.
ject. It rebukes the flothful; directs the
diligent how to labour; and requires
every man to do his own bufinefs.
Suppoſe, now, that veil to be with-
drawn which conceals another world from
our view. Let all obfcurity vaniſh; let
us no longer fee darkly as through a glass;
but let every man enjoy that intuitive
perception of divine and eternal objects,
which the Sceptic was ſuppoſed to deſire.
The immediate effect of fuch a diſcovery
would be, to annihilate in our eye all
human objects, and to produce a total ſtag-
nation in the affairs of the world. Were
the celestial glory expofed to our ad-
miring view; did the angelic harmo-
ny found in our enraptured ears; what
earthly concerns could have the power of
engaging our attention for a fingle mo-
ment? All the ftudies and purſuits, the
arts and labours which now employ the
activity of man, which fupport the or-
der, or promote the happineſs of fociety,
would lie neglected and abandoned. Thoſe
•
defires
of a Future State.
95
IV.
defires and fears, thoſe hopes and interefts SER M.
by which we are at prefent ftimulated,
Human life
would ceaſe to operate.
would prefent no objects fufficient to
rouſe the mind; to kindle the fpirit of
enterprize, or to urge the hand of in-
duſtry. If the mere fenfe of duty en-
gaged a good man to take fome part in
the buſineſs of the world, the taſk when
fubmitted to, would
would prove diſtaſteful.
Even the preſervation of life would be
flighted, if he were not bound to it by
the authority of God. Impatient of his
confinement within this tabernacle of
duft, languiſhing for the happy day of
his tranflation to thofe glorious regions
which were diſplayed to his fight, he
would fojourn on earth as a melancholy
exile. Whatever Providence has prepared
for the entertainment of man, would be
viewed with contempt. Whatever is now
attractive in fociety, would appear infipid.
In a word, he would be no longer a fit
inhabitant of this world, nor be qualified
for thofe exertions which are allotted to
him
96
On our Imperfect Knowledge
SERM. him in his preſent ſphere of being. But,
IV.
all his faculties being fublimated above
the meaſure of humanity, he would be
in the condition of a being of fuperior
order, who, obliged to refide among men,
would regard their purſuits with ſcorn,
as dreams, trifles, and puerile amuſements
of a day.
But to this reafoning it may perhaps
be replied, That fuch confequences as I
have now ftated, fuppofing them to fol-
low, deferve not much regard.-For what
though the prefent arrangement of human
affairs were entirely changed, by a clearer
view, and a ſtronger impreffion of our fu-
ture ſtate? Would not ſuch a change prove
the higheſt bleffing to man? Is not his
attachment to worldly objects the great
fource both of his mifery and his guilt?
Employed in perpetual contemplation of
heavenly objects, and in preparation for
the enjoyment of them, would he not be-
come more virtuous, and of courſe more
happy, than the nature of his preſent em-
ployments and attachments permits him
to
of a Future State.
97
?
to be ?——————Allowing for a moment, the
confequence to be fuch, this much is
yielded, that upon the fuppofition which
was made, man would not be the crea-
ture which he now is, nor human life the
ftate which we now behold. How far the
change would contribute to his welfare,
comes to be confidered.
If there be any principle fully afcer-
tained by religion, it is, That this life was
intended for a ſtate of trial and improve-
ment to man, His preparation for a bet-
ter world required a gradual purification,
carried on by ſteps of progreffive diſci-
pline. The fituation, therefore, here af-
figned him, was fuch as to anſwer this
defign, by calling forth all his active
powers, by giving full ſcope to his moral
difpofitions, and bringing to light his
whole character. Hence it became pro-
per, that difficulty and temptation ſhould
arife in the course of his duty. Ample re-
wards were promiſed to virtue; but theſe
rewards were left, as yet, in obfcurity
and diftant profpect. The impreffions of
H
fenfe
VOL. I.
SER M.
IV.
98
On our Imperfect Knowledge
IV.
SERM. fenfe were fo balanced againſt the difco-
veries of immortality, as to allow a con-
flict between faith and ſenſe, between con-
ſcience and defire, between preſent plea-
fure and future good. In this conflict,
the fouls of good men are tried, improv-
ed, and ftrengthened. In this field, their
honours are reaped. Here are formed the
capital virtues of fortitude, temperance,
and ſelf-denial, moderation in profperity,
patience in adverfity, fubmiffion to the
will of God, and charity and forgiveneſs
to men, amidſt the various competitions.
of worldly intereſt.
Such is the plan of Divine wisdom for
man's improvement. But put the cafe,
that the plan deviſed by human wiſdom
were to take place, and that the rewards
of the juſt were to be more fully diſplayed
to view; the exercife of all thofe graces
which I have mentioned, would be entire-
ly fuperfeded. Their very names would
be unknown. Every temptation being
withdrawn, every worldly attachment
being fubdued by the overpowering dif
coveries
of a Future State.
99
IV.
=}
coveries of eternity, no trial of fincerity, SERM.
no difcrimination of characters, would re-
main; no opportunity would be afforded
for thoſe active exertions, which are the
means of purifying and perfecting the
good. On the competition between time
and eternity, depends the chief exerciſe
of human virtue. The obfcurity which
at preſent hangs over eternal objects, pre-
ferves the competition. Remove that ob-
fcurity, and you remove human virtue from
its place. You overthrow that whole fyf
tem of difcipline, by which imperfect crea-
tures are, in this life, gradually trained
up for a more perfect ſtate.
This, then, is the conclufion to which
at laſt we arrive, That the full difplay
which was demanded, of the heavenly
glory, would be fo far from improving
the human foul, that it would abolish
thoſe virtues and duties which are the
great inftruments of its improvement. It
would be unfuitable to the character of
man in every view, either as an active
being, or a moral agent. It would dif-
qualify
H 2
\
100
On our Imperfect Knowledge
IV.
SERM. qualify him for taking part in the affairs
of the world; for reliſhing the pleaſures
or for diſcharging the duties of life: In
a word, it would entirely defeat the pur-
pofe of his being placed on this earth.
And the queſtion, Why the Almighty has
been pleaſed to leave a ſpiritual world,
and the future exiſtence of man, under fo
much obfcurity, refolves in the end into
this, Why there fhould be fuch a crea-
ture as man in the univerſe of God?-
Such is the iffue of the improvements
propoſed to be made on the plans of Pro-
vidence. They add to the diſcoveries of
the ſuperior wiſdom of God, and of the
prefumption and folly of man.
FROM what has been faid, it now ap-
pears, That no reaſonable objection to the
belief of a future ftate arifes from the
imperfect diſcoveries of it which we en-
joy; from the difficulties that are mingled
with its evidence; from our feeing as
through a glass darkly, and being left to
walk by faith and not by fight. It cannot
be
of a Future State.
ΙΟΙ
IV.
be otherwiſe, it ought not to be other- SERM.
wife, in our prefent ftate. The evidence
which is afforded, is fufficient for the
conviction of a candid mind, fufficient
for a rational ground of conduct; though
not fo ftriking as to withdraw our atten-
tion from the prefent world, or altoge-
ther to overcome the impreffion of fenfi-
ble objects. In fuch evidence it becomes
us to acquiefce, without indulging either
doubts or complaints, on account of our
not receiving all the fatisfaction which
we fondly defire, but which our preſent
immaturity of being excludes. For upon
the fuppofition of immortality, this life is
no other than the childhood of exiftence;
and the meaſures of our knowledge muſt
be proportioned to fuch a ſtate. To the
fucceffive ftages of human life, from in-
fancy to old age, belong certain peculiar
attachments, certain cares, defires, and
intereſts; which open not abruptly, but
by gradual advances on the mind, as it
becomes fit to receive them, and is pre-
pared for acting the part to which, in
their
102
On our Imperfect Knowledge
IV.
SERM. their order, they pertain. Hence, in the
education of a child, no one thinks of in-
fpiring him all at once with the knowledge,
the fentiments, and views of a man, and
with contempt for the exercifes and amuſe-
ments of childhood. On the contrary,
employments ſuited to his age are allow-
ed to occupy him. By theſe his powers
are gradually unfolded; and advantage
is taken of his youthful purfuits, to im-
prove and ſtrengthen his mind; till, ftep
by ſtep, he is led on to higher profpects,
and prepared for a larger and more im-
portant ſcene of action.
This analogy, which ſo happily illuf-
trates the prefent conduct of the Deity
towards man, deferves attention the more,
as it is the very illuftration uſed by the
Apoſtle, when treating of this fubject in
the context. Now, fays he, we know in
part.—But when that which is perfect is
come, that which is in part ſhall be done
arvay. When I was a child, I spoke as a
child, I understood as a child, I thought as
e child; but when I became a man, I put
away.
of a Future State.
103
IV.
away childiſh things. For now we ſee SERM.
through a glass darkly; but then, face to
face: Now I know in part; but then, I
fhall know even as I am known. Under
the care of the Almighty, our education
is now going on, from a mortal to an
immortal ſtate. As much light is let in
upon us, as we can bear without injury.
When the objects become too fplendid
and dazzling for our fight, the curtain
is drawn. Exerciſed in fuch a field of
action, as fuits the ftrength of our un-
ripened powers, we are, at the fame time,
by proper proſpects and hopes, prompted
to afpire towards the manhood of our na-
ture, the time when childish things fhall
be put away.
But ftill, betwixt thoſe
future proſpects, and the impreffion of
preſent objects, fuch an accurate propor-
tion is eſtabliſhed, as on the one hand
ſhall not produce a total contempt of
earthly things, while we afpire to thoſe
that are heavenly; and, on the other,
fhall not encourage fuch a degree of at-
tachment to our preſent ſtate, as would
render
من
104
!
On our Imperfect Knowledge
SERM. render us unworthy of future advance-
IV.
ment. In a word, the whole courſe of
things is fo ordered, that we may nei-
ther by an irregular and precipitate educa-
tion, become men too foon; nor by a fond
and trifling indulgence, be ſuffered to con-
tinue children for ever.
LET theſe reflections not only remove
the doubts which may arife from our
obfcure knowledge of immortality, but
likewife produce the higheft admiration
of the wiſdom of our Creator. The ftruc-
ture of the natural world affords innume-
rable inſtances of profound defign, which
no attentive fpectator can furvey without
wonder. In the moral world, where the
workmanſhip is of much finer and more
delicate contexture, fubjects of ſtill greater
admiration open to view. But admi-
ration muſt rife to its higheſt point,
when thoſe parts of the moral conſtitu-
tion, which at firft were reputed ble-
miſhes, which carried the appearance of
objections, either to the wifdom or the
goodneſs
of a Future State.
105
IV.
goodneſs of Providence, are diſcovered, SERM
on more accurate infpection, to be ad-
juſted with the most exquifite propriety.
We have now feen, that the darkneſs of
man's condition is no lefs effential to his
well-being, than the light which he en-
joys. His internal powers, and his ex-
ternal fituation, appear to be exactly fitted
to each other. Thofe complaints which
we are apt to make, of our limited capa-
city and narrow views, of our inability to
penetrate farther into the future deftinati-
on of man, are found, from the foregoing
obſervations, to be juſt as unreaſonable, as
the childiſh complaints of our not being
formed with a microſcopic eye, nor fur-
niſhed with an eagle's wing; that is, of
not being endowed with powers which
would fubvert the nature, and counteract
the laws, of our prefent ftate.
In order to do juftice to the ſubject, I
muft obferve, That the fame reaſoning
which has been now employed with re-
ſpect to our knowledge of immortality, is
equally applicable to many other branches
of
106
On our Imperfect Knowledge
IV.
SERM. of intellectual knowledge. Thus, why
we are permitted to know fo little of the
nature of that Eternal Being who rules the
univerſe; why the manner in which he
operates on the natural and moral world,
is wholly concealed; why we are kept in
fuch ignorance, with refpect to the extent
of his works, to the nature and agency of
fpiritual beings, and even with reſpect to
the union between our own foul and body:
To all theſe, and ſeveral other enquiries
of the fame kind, which often employ the
folicitous reſearches of fpeculative men,
the anſwer is the fame that was given to
the intereſting queſtion which makes the
fubject of our difcourfe, the degree of
knowledge deſired, would prove incom-
patible with the defign, and with the
proper buſineſs of this life. It would
raiſe us to a ſphere too exalted; would
reveal objects too great and ſtriking for
our prefent faculties; would excite feel-
ings too ſtrong for us to bear; in a word,
would unfit us for thinking or acting like
human creatures. It is therefore reſerv-
ed for a more advanced period of our na-
ture;
1
of a Future State.
107
戛
​IV.
ture; and the hand of Infinite wiſdom hath SERM
in mercy drawn a veil over fcenes which
would overpower the fight of mortals.
One inftance in particular, of Divine
wiſdom, is ſo illuftrious, and correfponds
fo remarkably with our prefent fubject,
that I cannot pass it over without notice;
that is the concealment under which Pro-
vidence has placed the future events of
our life on earth. The defire of penetrat-
ing into this unknown region, has ever
been one of the moſt anxious paffions of
men. It has often feized the wife as well
as the credulous, and given riſe to many
vain and impious fuperftitions throughout
the whole earth. Burning with curioſity
at the approach of fome critical event, and
impatient under the perplexity of conjec-
ture and doubt, How cruel is Providence,
we are apt to exclaim, in denying to man
the power of forefight, and in limiting
him to the knowledge of the prefent mo-
ment? Were he permitted to look forward
into the courfe of deftiny, how much more
fuitably
108
On our Imperfect Knowledge
IV.
SERM. fuitably would he be prepared for the vari-
ous turns and changes in his life? With
what moderation would he enjoy his pro-
fperity under the fore-knowledge of an
approaching reverſe? And with what ea-
gernefs be prompted to improve the flying
hours, by feeing the inevitable term draw
nigh which was to finish his courſe?
1
But while Fancy indulges fuch vain de-
fires and criminal complaints, this coveted
fore-knowledge muft clearly appear to the
eye of reaſon, to be the moſt fatal gift
which the Almighty could beſtow. If in
this prefent mixed ftate all the fucceffive
fcenes of diftrefs through which we are
to paſs, were laid before us in one view,
perpetual fadneſs would overcaft our life.
Hardly would any tranfient gleams of in-
tervening joy be able to force their way
through the cloud. Faint would be the
reliſh of pleaſures, of which we forefa w
the clofe: Infupportable the burden of af-
flictions, under which we were oppreffed
by a load, not only of preſent, but of an-
ticipated forrows. Friends would begin
their
of a Future State.
109
IV.
their union, with lamenting the day which SERM.
was to diffolve it; and with weeping eye,
the parent would every moment behold
the child whom he knew that he was to
lofe. In fhort, as foon as that myſterious
veil, which now covers futurity, was
lifted up, all the gaiety of life would dif-
appear; its flattering hopes, its pleaſing
illufions, would vaniſh; and nothing but
its vanity and ſadneſs remain. The fore-
fight of the hour of death would conti-
nually interrupt the courfe of human af-
fairs; and the overwhelming profpect of
the future, instead of exciting men to pro-
per activity, would render them immove-
able with confternation and difmay.-
How much more friendly to man is that
mixture of knowledge and ignorance
which is allotted him in this ſtate! Igno-
rant of the events which are to befall us,
and of the precife term which is to con-
clude our life, by this ignorance our en-
joyment of preſent objects is favoured;
and knowing that death is certain, and
that human affairs are full of change, by
this
110
On our Imperfect Knowledge
IV.
}
SERM. this knowledge our attachment to thoſe
objects is moderated. Preciſely in the ſame
manner as, by the mixture of evidence
and obfcurity which remains on the pro-
ſpect of a future ftate, a proper balance is
preſerved betwixt our love of this life,
and our defire of a better.
In-
The longer that our thoughts dwell on
this fubject, the more we muſt be con-
vinced, that in nothing the Divine wiſdom
is more admirable, than in proportioning
knowledge to the neceffities of man.
ftead of lamenting our condition, that we
are permitted only to fee as through a glass
darkly, we have reaſon to bleſs our Creator,
no leſs for what he hath concealed, than
for what he hath allowed us to know. He
is wonderful in counfel, as he is excellent
in working. He is wife in heart, and his
thoughts are deep. How unfearchable are
the riches of the wisdom of the knowledge
of God!
FROM the whole view which we have
taken of the fubject, this important in-
ftruction
of a Future State.
III
IV.
ftruction arifes, That the great defign of SER M.
all the knowledge, and in particular of the
religious knowledge which God hath af-
forded us, is, to fit us for diſcharging the
duties of life. No uſeleſs diſcoveries are
made to us in religion: No difcoveries
even of uſeful truths, beyond the precife
degree of information, which is fubfer-
vient to right conduct. To this great end
all our information points. In this center
all the lines of knowledge meet. Life and
immortality are brought to light in the gof
pel; yet not fo difplayed as to gratify the
curiofity of the world with an afſtoniſhing
fpectacle; but only fo far made known,
as to affiſt and ſupport us in the practice
of our duty. If the diſcovery were more
imperfect, it would excite no defire of im-
mortality; if it were more full and ſtrik-
ing, it would render us careleſs of life.
On the firſt fuppofition, no fufficient mo-
tive to virtue would appear; on the fecond
no proper trial of it would remain. In the
one cafe, we ſhould think and act like men
who have their portion only in this world
;
in
112
On our Imperfect Knowledge
IV.
SERM. in the other cafe, like men who have no
concern with this world at all. Whereas
now, by the wife conftitution of Heaven,
we are placed in the moſt favourable fitua-
tion for acting, with propriety, our allotted
part here; and for rifing in due courſe,
to higher honour and happineſs hereafter.
1
Let us then fecond the kind intentions
of Providence, and act upon the plan
which it hath pointed out. Checking
our inquifitive folicitude about what the
Almighty hath concealed, let us dili-
gently improve what he hath made known.
Inhabitants of the earth, we are at the
fame time candidates for Heaven. Look-
ing upon theſe as only different views of
one confiftent character, let us carry on
our preparation for Heaven, not by ab-
ftracting ourſelves from the concerns of
this world, but by fulfilling the duties and
offices of every ſtation in life. Living -
fo-
berly, righteously, and godly in the prefent
world, let us look for that bleffed hope, and
the glorious appearing of the great God, and
our Saviour Fefus Chrift.
Before
of a Future State.
113
IV.
Before I conclude, it may be proper to SERM.
obferve, that the reafonings in this dif
courſe give no ground to apprehend any
danger of our being too much influenced
by the belief of a future ftate. I have
ſhown the hurtful effects which would
follow from too bright and full a diſcovery
of the glory of that ſtate; and in fhewing
this, I have juſtified the decree of Provi-
dence, which permits no fuch diſcovery.
But as our nature is at prefent conftituted,
attached by fo many ftrong connections
to the world of fenfe, and enjoying a com-
munication fo feeble and diftant with the
world of fpirits, we need fear no danger
from cultivating intercourfe with the latter
as much as poffible. On the contrary,
from that intercourfe the chief fecurity of
our virtue is to be fought. The bias of
our nature leans fo much towards fenfe,
that from this fide the peril is to be dread-
ed, and on this fide the defence is to be
provided.
Let us then walk by faith. Let us
ftrengthen this principle of action to the
VOL. I.
I
utmoft
114
On our Imperfect Knowledge, &c.
SERM. utmoſt of our power. Let us implore the
IV.
}
Divine grace to ftrengthen it within us
more and more: That we may thence de-
rive an antidote againſt that fubtile poiſon,
which inceffant commerce with the objects
of fenfe diffuſes through our fouls; that
we may hence acquire purity and dignity
of manners, fuited to our divine hopes;
and undefiled by the pleaſures of the
world, unfhaken by its terrors may pre-
ferve to the end one conftant tenor of in-
tegrity. Til at laſt, having under the
conduct of Chriſtian faith, happily finiſhed
the period of diſcipline, we enter on that
ftate, where a far nobler ſcene ſhall open;
where eternal objects ſhall ſhine in their
native fplendor; where this twilight of
mortal life being paft, the Sun of righteouf-
neſs ſhall rife; and that which is perfect
being come, that which is in part ſhall be
done away.
SERMON
[ 115 ]
SERMON
MON V.
On the DEATH of CHRIST.
Preached at the Celebration of the SACRAMENT
of the LORD'S SUPPER.
JOHN XVii. I.
Jefus lift up his eyes to heaven, and faid,
Father! the hour is come.-
THESE were the words of our blef- SER M.
fed Lord on a memorable occafion. The
feaft of the paffover drew nigh, at which
he knew that he was to fuffer. The
night was arrived wherein he was to
be delivered into the hands of his ene-
mies. He had ſpent the evening in con-
ference with his difciples; like a dying
father in the midſt of his family, min-
gling confolations with his laft inftruc-
I 2
tions.
V.
116
On the Death of Christ.
SERM. tions. When he had ended his difcourfe
V.
to them, he lifted up his eyes to heaven,
and with the words which I have now
read, began that folemn prayer of inter-
ceffion for the Church, which clofed his
miniſtry. Immediately after, he went
forth with his difciples into the garden of
Gethsemane, and furrendered himſelf to
thoſe who came to apprehend him.
Such was the fituation of our Lord at
the time of his pronouncing theſe words.
He ſaw his miffion on the point of being
accompliſhed. He had the proſpect full
before him, of all that he was about to
fuffer.-Father! The hour is come.-What
hour? An hour the moft critical, the
moft pregnant with great events, fince
hours had begun to be numbered, fince
time had begun to run. It was the hour
in which the Son of God was to termi-
nate the labours of his important life, by
a death ſtill more important and illuſtri-
ous; the hour of atoning, by his fuffer-
ing for the guilt of mankind; the hour
of accompliſhing prophecies, types, and
fymbols,
On the Death of Chrift.
117
V.
fymbols, which had been carried on SERM.
through a ſeries of ages; the hour of con-
cluding the old, and of introducing to the
world the new diſpenſation of religion;
the hour of his triumphing over the
world, and death, and hell; the hour of
his erecting that fpiritual kingdom which
is to laft for ever. Such is the hour, fuch
are the events which you are to comme-
morate in the Sacrament of our Lord's
Supper. I fhall attempt to fet them be-
fore you as proper ſubjects at this time
of your devout meditation. To difplay
them in their genuine majefty, is beyond
the ability of man.
I. THIS Was the hour in which Chrift
was glorified by his fufferings. The
whole of his life had difcovered much
real greatneſs, under a mean appearance.
Through the cloud of his humiliation,
his native luftre often broke forth, but
never did it ſhine fo bright, as in this laft,
this trying hour. It was indeed the hour
of diftrefs and of blood. He knew it to
be
118
On the Death of Christ.
:
!
¡
نشه
SERM. be fuch; and when he uttered the words
V.
of the Text, he had before his
eyes, the
executioner and the cross, the fcourge, the
nails, and the ſpear. But by proſpects of
this nature his foul was not to be over-
come. It is diftrefs which ennobles every
great character; and diftrefs was to glo-
rify the Son of God. He was now to
teach all mankind by his example, how
to fuffer and to die. He was to ftand
forth before his enemies, as the faithful
witneſs of the truth; juftifying by his
behaviour the character which he affumed,
and fealing with his blood the Doctrine
which he taught.
What magnanimity in all his words.
and actions on this great occafion! The
court of Herod, the judgment-hall of
Pilate, the hill of Calvary, were fo many
theatres prepared for his diſplaying all the
virtues of a conftant and patient mind.
When led forth to fuffer, the firſt voice
which we hear from him, is a generous
lamentation over the fate of his unfortu-
nate, though guilty country; and, to the
laft
On the Death of Chriſt.
119
F
V.
laft moment of his life, we behold him in SERM.
poffeffion of the fame gentle and benevo-
lent fpirit. No upbraiding, no complain-
ing expreffion eſcaped from his lips, dur-
ing the long and painful approaches of a
cruel death. He betrayed no fymptom of
a weak or a vulgar, of a difcompofed or
impatient mind. With the utmoſt atten-
tion of filial tenderneſs he committed his
aged mother to the care of his beloved
diſciple *. With all the dignity of a So-
vereign, he conferred pardon on a peni-
tent fellow-fufferer. With a greatnefs of
mind beyond example, he fpent his laft
moments in apologies and prayers for
thoſe who were fhedding his blood.
By wonders in heaven, and wonders on
earth, was this hour diftinguifhed. All
nature feemed to feel it; and the dead and
the living bore witnefs to its importance.
The veil of the temple was rent in twain.
The earth fhook. There was darkneſs
over all the land. The graves were open-
ed, and many who ſlept arofe and went into
* See John xix. 26, 27.
the
120
On the Death of Chrift.
V.
SERM. the Holy City. Nor were theſe the only
prodigies of this awful hour. The moſt
hardened hearts were fubdued and chang-
ed. The Judge, who in order to gratify
the multitude paffed fentence against him,
publicly attefted his innocence. The
Roman centurion, who prefided at the ex-
ecution, glorified God, and acknowledged
the ſufferer to be more than man. After
he faw the things which had paffed, he
faid, Certainly this was a righteous per-
fon; truly this was the Son of God. The
Jewiſh malefactor who was crucified with
him, addreffed him as a King, and im-
plored his favour. Even the crowd of in-
fenfible fpectators, who had come forth as
to a common fpectacle, and who began
with clamours and infults, returned home,
Smiting their breafts.-Look back on the
heroes, the philofophers, the legiſlators of
old. View them in their laft moments.
Recall every circumftance which diſtin-
guished their departure from the world.
Where can you find fuch an affemblage of
high virtues, and of great events, as con-
curred
}
>
On the Death of Chrift.
121
V.
curred at the death of Chriſt? Where, fo SERM
many teſtimonies given to the dignity of
the dying perfon, by earth, and by hea-
ven ?
II. THIS was the hour in which Chrift
atoned for the fins of mankind, and ac-
compliſhed our eternal redemption. It
was the hour when that great facrifice was
offered up, the efficacy of which reaches
back to the firſt tranfgreffion of man, and
extends forward to the end of time; the
hour, when from the crofs, as from an
high altar, the blood was flowing, which
waſhed away the guilt of the nations.
This awful difpenfation of the Al-
mighty, contains myfteries which are be-
yond the diſcovery of man. It is one of
thofe things into which the angels defire to
look. What has been revealed to us, is,
that the death of Chrift was the interpo-
fition of Heaven for preventing the ruin
of human kind. We know, that under
the government of God, mifery is the na-
tural confequence of guilt. After rational
creatures
122
On the Death of Christ.
SERM. creatures had, by their criminal conduct,
introduced diforder into the Divine king-
dom, there was no ground to believe, that
by their penitence and prayers alone,
they could prevent the deftruction which
threatened them. The prevalence of pro-
pitiatory facrifices throughout the earth,
proclaims it to be the general fenfe of
mankind, that mere repentance was not
of ſufficient avail to expiate fin, or to
ftop its penal effects. By the conftant
allufions which are carried on in the
New Teftament to the facrifices under
the Law, as pre-fignifying a great atone-
ment made by Chrift; and by the ftrong
expreffions which are ufed in defcribing
the effects of his death, the facred writers.
fhew, as plainly as language allows, that
there was an efficacy in his fufferings, far
beyond that of mere example and in-
ftruction. The nature and extent of that
efficacy we are unable, as yet, fully to
trace. Part we are capable of behold-
ing; and the wifdom of what we behold,
we have reafon to adore. We difcern in
this
On the Death of Chrift.
123
V.
this plan of redemption, the evil of fin SERM.
ftrongly exhibited; and the juftice of the
Divine government awfully exemplified,
in Chrift fuffering for finners. But let
us not imagine, that our preſent diſco-
veries unfold the whole influence of the
death of Chrift. It is connected with
cauſes into which we cannot penetrate.
It produces confequences too extenfive for
us to explore. God's thoughts are not as
our thoughts. In all things, we fee only in
part; and here, if any where, we ſee alſo
as through a glass darkly.
This, however, is fully manifeft, that
redemption is one of the moft glorious
works of the Almighty. If the hour of
the creation of the world was great and
illuftrious; that hour, when from the
dark and formlefs mafs, this fair ſyſtem
of nature arofe at the Divine command;
when the morning ftars fang together, and
all the fons of God fhouted for joy; no lefs
illuftrious is the hour of the reſtoration
of the world; the hour when, from con-
demnation and mifery, it emerged into
happiness
124
On the Death of Chriſt.
SERM. happineſs and peace.
V.
With lefs external
majeſty it was attended, but is, on that
account, the more wonderful, that under
an appearance fo fimple, fuch great events
were covered.
III. IN this hour, the long ſeries of
prophecies, vifions, types, and figures,
was accompliſhed. This was the centre
in which they all met: This the point,
towards which they had tended and
verg-
ed, throughout the courfe of fo many
generations. You behold the Law and
the Prophets ſtanding, if we may ſpeak
fo, at the foot of the crofs, and doing
homage. You behold Mofes and Aaron
bearing the ark of the covenant; David
and Elijah preſenting the oracle of tefti-
mony. You behold all the prieſts and
facrifices, all the rights and ordinances,
all the types and fymbols, affembled
together, to receive their confummation.
Without the death of Chrift, the worſhip
and ceremonies of the law would have
remained a pompous, but unmeaning in-
Atitution.
}
On the Death of Chriſt.
125
!...
ftitution. In the hour when he was cru-
cified, the book with the feven feals was
opened. Every rite affumed its fignifi-
cancy; every prediction met its event;
every ſymbol difplayed its correfpond-
ence.
The dark and feemingly ambiguous
method of conveying important diſcove-
ries under figures and emblems, was not
peculiar to the facred books. The Spi-
rit of God, in pre-fignifying the death of
Chrift, adopted that plan, according to
which the whole knowledge of thoſe
early ages was propagated through the
world. Under the veil of myfterious al-
lufion, all wifdom was then concealed.
From the fenfible world, images were
every where borrowed to defcribe things
unfeen. More was underſtood to be
meant, than was openly expreffed. By
enigmatical rites, the Prieft communi-
cated his doctrines; by parables and al-
legories, the Philofopher inftructed his
difciples, even the Legiflator, by figu-
rative fayings, commanded the reverence
of
SERM
V.
126
On the Death of Chriſt.
SERM. of the people. Agreeably to this prevail-
V.
ing mode of inftruction, the whole dif
penſation of the Old Teftament was fo
conducted, as to be the fhadow and the
figure of a ſpiritual fyftem. Every re-
markable event, every diftinguiſhed per-
fonage, under the Law, is interpreted in
the New Teftament, as bearing fome re-
ference to the hour of which we treat.
If Ifaac was laid upon the altar as an in-
nocent victim; if David was driven from
his throne by the wicked, and reſtored
by the hand of God; if the brazen ſer-
pent was lifted up, to heal the people; if
the rock was ſmitten by Mofes, to furniſh
drink in the wilderneſs; all were types
of Chrift, and alluded to his death.
In predicting the fame event, the lan-
guage of ancient prophecy was magnifi-
cent, but feemingly contradictory: For it
foretold a Meffiah, who was to be at once
a fufferer and a conqueror. The Star was
to come out of Jacob, and the Branch to
Spring from the ftem of Jeffe. The Angel of
the Covenant, the Defire of all Nations, was
to
On the Death of Chrift.
127
1
V.
to come fuddenly to his temple; and to him SERM
was to be the gathering of the people. Yet
at the fame time, he was to be deſpiſed and
rejected of men; he was to be taken from
prifon and from judgment, and to be led as
a lamb to the flaughter. Though he was a
man of forrows and acquainted with grief,
yet the Gentiles were to come to his light,
and Kings to the brightneſs of his rifing. In
the hour when Chrift died, thoſe prophe-
tical riddles were folved; thofe feeming
contradictions were reconciled. The ob-
fcurity of oracles, and the ambiguity of
types vaniſhed. The Sun of righteousness
rofe; and, together with the dawn of reli-
gion, thoſe ſhadows paſſed away,
IV. THIS was the hour of the abolition
of the Law; and the introduction of the
Goſpel; the hour of terminating the old,
and of beginning the new difpenfation of
religious knowledge and worſhip, through-
out the earth. Viewed in this light, it
forms the moſt auguft æra which is to be
found in the hiſtory of mankind. When
Chrift
128
On the Death of Chriſt.
t
SERM. Chrift was fuffering on the croſs, we are
V.
informed by one of the Evangelifts, that he
faid, I thirst; and that they filled a ſpunge
with vinegar, and put it to his mouth. Af-
ter he had tafted the vinegar, knowing that
all things were now accomplished, and the
fcriptures fulfilled, be faid, It is finished *;
that is, this offered draught of vinegar
was the laft circumftance predicted by an
ancient Prophet †, that remained to be
fulfilled. The viſion and the prophecy
are now fealed: The Mofaic difpenfation
is clofed. And he bowed his head, and gave
up the ghost.
It is finished. When he uttered theſe
words, he changed the ftate of the uni-
verſe. At that moment the Law ceaſed,
and the Goſpel commenced. This was the
ever-memorable point of time, which ſe-
parated the old and the new world from
each other. On one fide of the point of
feparation, you behold the Law, with its
prieſts, its facrifices, and its rites, retiring
from fight. On the other fide, you be-
+ Pfal. lxiv. 21.
* John xix. 28, 29, 30.
hold
On the Death of Chriſt.
129
V.
hold the Goſpel, with its fimple and ve- SERM.
nerable inſtitutions, coming forward into
view. Significantly was the veil of the
temple rent in this hour; for the glory then
departed from between the cherubims.
The legal High Prieſt delivered up his
Urim and Thummim, his breaft-plate,
his robes, and his incenfe: And CHRIST
ſtood forth as the Great High Prieſt of all
fucceeding generations. By that one fa-
crifice which he now offered, he aboliſhed
facrifices for ever. Altars on which the
fire had blazed for ages, were now to ſmoke
no more. Victims were no more to bleed.
Not with the blood of bulls and goats, but
with his own blood, he now entered into the
Holy Place, there to appear in the prefence
of God for us.
This was the hour of affociation and
union to all the worshippers of God.
When Chrift faid, It is fiinfhed, he threw
down the wall of partition which had fo
long divided the Gentile from the Jew.
He gathered into one, all the faithful, out
of every kindred and people. He pro-
VOL. I.
claimed
K
130
On the Death of Christ.
SER M.
V.
claimed the hour to be come, when the
knowledge of the true God fhould be no
longer confined to one nation, nor his wor-
ſhip to one temple; but over all the earth,
the worshippers of the Father ſhould ferve
him in Spirit and in truth. From that
hour they who dwelt in the uttermoft ends
of the earth, ftrangers to the covenant of
promife, began to be brought nigh. In that
hour, the light of the Gofpel dawned
from afar on the British iflands.
During a long courfe of ages, Provi-
dence feemed to be occupied in preparing
the world for this revolution. The whole
Jewish œconomy was intended to uſher it
in. The knowledge of God was preferved
unextinguiſhed in one corner of the world,
that thence, in due time, might iffue forth
the light which was to overfpread the
earth. Succeffive revelations gradually
enlarged the views of men beyond the nar-
row bounds of Judæa, to a more extenſive
kingdom of God. Signs and miracles
awakened their expectation, and directed
their eyes towards this great event. Whe-
ther
On the Death of Chriſt.
131
ther God defcended on the flaming moun-
tain, or ſpoke by the Prophet's voice; whe-
ther he ſcattered his chofen people into
captivity, or re-affembled them in their
own land; he was ftill carrying on a pro-
greffive plan; which was accompliſhed at
the death of Chrift.
Not only in the territories of Iſrael, but
over all the earth, the great difpenfations
of Providence refpected the approach of
this important hour. If empires roſe or
fell, if war divided, or peace united the
nations; if learning civilized their man-
ners, or philoſophy enlarged their views;
all was, by the ſecret decree of Heaven,
made to ripen the world for that ful-
nefs of time, when Chrift was to publiſh the
whole counfel of God. The Perfian, the
Macedonian, the Roman Conqueror, en-
tered upon
the ſtage, each at his predicted
period; and, though he meant not ſo, nei-
ther did his heart think fo, miniftered to
this hour. The revolutions of power,
and
the fucceffion of monarchies, were ſo ar-
ranged by Providence, as to facilitate the
progrefs
K 2
SER M.
V.
132
On the Death of Chrift.
:
V.
:
SERM. progrefs of the Gofpel through the habit-
able world, after the day had arrived,
when the stone which was cut out of the
mountain without hands, fhould become a
great mountain and fill the earth*. This
was the day which Abraham ſaw afar off,
and was glad. This was the day, which
many Prophets and Kings, and righteous
men, defired to fee, but could not, the day
for which the earnest expectation of the crea-
ture, long oppreffed with ignorance, and
bewildered in fuperftition, might be juftly
faid to wait.
7
V. THIS was the hour of Chrift's tri-
umph over all the powers of darkneſs;
the hour in which he overthrew dominions.
and thrones, led captivity captive, and
gave gifts unto men. The conteft which
the kingdom of darkneſs had long main-
tained againſt the kingdom of light, was
now brought to its crifis. The period was
come, when the feed of the woman should
bruiſe the head of the ferpent. For many
ages,
* Dan. ii. 34, 35.
On the Death of Chrift.
133
V.
ages, the moſt grofs fuperftition had filled SER M.
the earth. The glory of the uncorruptible
God was, every where except in the land
of Judæa, changed into images made like
to corruptible man, and to birds, and beaſts,
and creeping things. The world, which
the Almighty created for himſelf, ſeemed
to have become a temple of idols. Even
to vices and paffions, altars were raiſed;
and what was intitled Religion, was in
effect a difcipline of impurity. In the
midft of this univerfal darkneſs, Satan had
erected his throne; and the learned and
poliſhed, as well as the favage nations,
bowed down before him. But at the hour
when Chriſt appeared on the crofs, the
fignal of his defeat was given. His king-
dom fuddenly departed from him; the
reign of Idolatry paffed away: He was be-
held to fall like lightning from heaven. In
that hour, the foundation of every Pagan
temple ſhook. The ſtatue of every falſe
God tottered on its baſe: The Prieft fled
from his falling fhrine; and the Heathen
oracles became dumb for ever.
As
134
On the Death of Christ.
SERM.
V.
As on the croſs Chrift triumphed over
Satan, fo he overcame his auxiliary, the
world. Long had it affailed him with its
temptations and difcouragements. In this
hour of fevere trial, he furmounted them
all. Formerly he had defpifed the plea-
fures of the world. He now baffled its
terrors. Hence he is juſtly ſaid to have
crucified the world. By his fufferings,
he ennobled diftrefs; and he darkened
the luftre of the pomp and vanities of
life. He difcovered to his followers the
path which leads, through affliction, to
glory and to victory; and he imparted to
them the ſame ſpirit which enabled him
to overcome. My kingdom is not of this
world. In this world ye shall have tribu-
lation: but be of good cheer; I have over-
come the world*.
Death alfo the laft foe of man, was
the victim of this hour. The formidable
appearance of the fpectre remained; but
his dart was taken away. For, in the
hour when Chrift expiated guilt, he dif-
armed
* John xvi. 33-
On the Death of Christ.
135
V.
armed death, by fecuring the refurrection SER M.
of the juft. When he faid to his peni-
tent fellow-fufferer, To-day thou shalt be
with me in Paradife, he announced to all
his followers the certainty of heavenly
blifs. He declared the cherubims to be
difmiffed, and the flaming fword to be
ſheathed, which had been appointed at
the fall, to keep from man the way of the
Tree of life. Faint, before this period,
had been the hope, indiftin&t the proſpect
which even good men enjoyed of the
heavenly kingdom. Life and immortality
were now brought to light. From the hill
of Calvary, the firft clear and certain
view was given to the world of the ever-
lafting manfions. Since that hour, they
have been the perpetual confolation of
believers in Chrift. Under trouble, they
footh their minds; amidft temptation,
they ſupport their virtue; and, in their
dying moments, enable them to fay, O
Death! where is thy fting? O Grave! where
is thy victory?
*Gen. iii. 24.
VI.
1-36
On the Death of Chriſt.
SERM.
V.
VI. THIS was the hour when our Lord
ere&ed that ſpiritual kingdom which is
never to end. How vain are the counfels
and defigns of men! How fhallow is the
policy of the wicked! How ſhort their
triumphing! The enemy's of Chriſt ima-
gined, that in this hour they had fuccefs-
fully accompliſhed their plan for his de-
ftruction. They believed, that they had
entirely fcattered the fmall party of his
followers, and had extinguiſhed his name
and his honour for ever. In derifion
they addreffed him as a King. They
clothed him with purple robes; they
crowned him with a crown of thorns;
they put a reed into his hand, and, with
infulting mockery, bowed the knee before
him. Blind and impious men! How
little did they know, that the Almighty
was at that moment fetting him as a King
on the hill of Sion; giving him the Heathen
for his inheritance, and the utte: most parts
of the earth for bis poffeffion! How little
did they know, that their badges of
mock royalty were at that moment con-
verted
On the Death of Christ.
137
V.
verted into the fignals of abfolute domi- SERM.
nion, and the inftruments of irreſiſtible
power! The reed which they put into
his hands, became a rod of iron, with
which he was to break in pieces his ene-
mies; a fceptre, with which he was to
rule the univerfe in righteouſneſs. The
crofs, which they thought was to ſtigma-
tize him with infamy, became the enfign
of his renown. Inſtead of being the re-
proach of his followers, it was to be their
boaft and their glory. The croſs was to
ſhine on palaces and churches through-
out the earth. It was to be affumed as
the diſtinction of the moſt powerful mo-
narchs, and to wave in the banner of
victorious armies, when the memory of
Herod and Pilate fhould be accurfed;
when Jerufalem fhould be reduced to aſh-
es, and the Jews be vagabonds over all
the world.
Theſe were the triumphs which com-
menced at this hour. Our Lord faw
them already in their birth; he ſaw of
the travail of his foul, and was fatisfied.
He
I 38
On the Death of Chrift.
V.
SERM. He beheld the word of God going forth,
conquering, and to conquer; fubduing to
the obedience of his laws, the fubduers
of the world; carrying light into the re-
gions of darkneſs, and mildneſs into the
habitations of cruelty. He beheld the
Gentiles waiting below the cross, to re-
ceive the Goſpel. He beheld Ethiopia
and the Ifles ftretching out their hands to
God; the defert beginning to rejoice, and to
bloffom as the rofe; and the knowledge of the
Lord filling the earth, as the waters cover
the fea. Well pleafed, he faid, It is finish-
ed. As a conqueror, he retired from the
field, reviewing his triumphs: He bowed
his head, and gave up the ghost.- From
that hour, Chrift was no longer a mor-
tal man, but Head over all things to the
Church; the glorious King of men and
Angels, of whofe dominion there ſhall be
no end. His triumphs fhall perpetually
increaſe. His name ſhall endure for ever;
it fhall last as long as the fun; men ſhall be
bleffed in him, and all nations ſhall call him
blefed.
SUCH
On the Death of Christ.
139
**
V.
SUCH were the tranfactions, fuch the ef- SER M.
fects of this ever-memorable hour. With
all thofe great events was the mind of our
Lord filled, when he lifted up his eyes to
heaven, and faid, Father! the hour is come.
From this view which we have taken
of this fubject, permit me to fuggeft, what
ground it affords to confide in the mercy
of God, for the pardon of fin; to truſt
to his faithfulneſs, for the accompliſhment
of all his promiſes; and to approach to
him, with gratitude and devotion, in acts
of worſhip.
In the first place, The death of Chrift
affords us ground to confide in the Divine
mercy, for the pardon of fin. All the fteps
of that high difpenfation of Providence
which we have confidered, lead directly
to this conclufion. He that Jpared not his
own Son, but delivered him up for us all,
how shall be not with him alfo freely give
us all things*? This is the final refult
of the diſcoveries of the Gofpel. On this
refs
* Rom. viii. 32.
140
On the Death of Chrift.
SERM. refts that great fyftem of confolation,
which it hath reared up for men.
V.
We
are not left to dubious and intricate rea-
fonings, concerning the conduct which
God may be expected to hold towards
his offending creatures. But we are led
to the view of important and illuftrious.
facts, which ftrike the mind with evidence.
irreſiſtible. For, is it poffible to believe,
that fuch great operations as I have en-
deavoured to defcribe, were carried on by
the Almighty in vain? Did he excite, in
the hearts of his creatures, fuch encou-
raging hopes, without any intention to
fulfil them? After fo long a preparation
of goodneſs, could he mean to deny for-
giveneſs to the penitent and the humble?
When, overcome by the fenſe of guilt,
man looks up with an aftoniſhed eye to
the Juftice of his Creator, let him recollect
that hour of which the Text ſpeaks, and
be comforted. The fignals of Divine mer-
cy, erected in his view, are too confpicu-
ous to be either diftrufted or miſtaken.
IN
On the Death of Chriſt.
141
V.
IN the next place, The diſcoveries of SERM.
this hour afford the higheſt reaſon to truft
in the Divine faithfulneſs, for the accom-
pliſhment of every promife which remains
yet unfulfilled.
unfulfilled. For this was the hour of
the completion of God's ancient covenant.
It was the performance of the mercy pro-
miſed to the fathers. We behold the con-
fummation of a great plan, which through-
out a courfe of ages, had been uniformly
purſued; and which, againſt every hu-
man appearance, was at the appointed.
moment, exactly fulfilled. No word that
is gone out of the mouth of the Lord, fhall
fail. No length of time alters his pur-
poſe. No obftacles can retard it. To-
wards the ends accompliſhed in this hour,
the moſt repugnant inftruments were
made to operate. We difcern God bend-
ing to his purpoſe, the jarring paffions,
the oppoſite interefts, and even the vices
of men; uniting feeming contrarieties in
his ſcheme; making the wrath of man to
praiſe him; obliging the ambition of
Princes, the prejudices of the Jews, the
malice
142
On the Death of Chriſt.
1.
V.
SERM. malice of Satan, all to concur, either in
bringing forward this hour, or in com-
pleting its deftined effects. With what
entire confidence ought we to wait for the
fulfilment of all his other promiſes in their
due time; even when events are moſt
embroiled, and the profpect is moſt diſcou-
raging? Although thou fayeft, Thou canst
not fee him; yet judgment is before him;
therefore trust thou in him. Be attentive on-
ly to perform thy duty; leave the event to
God; and be affured, that under the di-
rection of his Providence, all things ſhall
work together for a happy iffue.
LASTLY, The confideration of this
whole fubject tends to excite gratitude and
devotion, when we approach to God in
acts of worſhip. The hour of which I
have difcourfed, prefents him to us in the
amiable light of the Deliverer of mankind,
the Reftorer of our forfeited hopes. We
behold the greatnefs of the Almighty,
foftened by the mild radiance of conde-
ſcenſion and mercy. We behold him di-
miniſhing
On the Death of Christ.
143
miniſhing the awful diſtance at which we
ftand from his prefence, by appointing for
us a Mediator and Interceffor, through
whom the humble may, without diſmay,
approach to Him who made them. By
fuch views of the Divine nature, Chriftian
faith lays the foundation for a worſhip
which ſhall be at once rational and affec-
tionate; a worſhip, in which the light of
the underſtanding fhall concur with the
devotion of the heart, and the moſt pro-
found reverence be united with the moſt
cordial love. Chriftian faith is not a ſyſ-
tem of ſpeculative truths. It is not a lef-
ſon of moral inſtruction only. By a train
of high difcoveries which it reveals, by a
fucceffion of interefting objects which it
places in our view, it is calculated to ele-
vate the mind, to purify the affections,
and, by the affiftance of devotion, to con-
firm and encourage virtue. Such, in par-
ticular, is the ſcope of that divine infti-
tution, the Sacrament of our Lord's Sup-
per. To this happy purpoſe let it con-
duce, by concentring, in one Ariking
point
SER M.
V.
144
On the Death of Chrift.
V.
SERM. point of light, all that the Goſpel has dif-
played of what is moſt important to man.
Touched with just contrition for paſt of-
fences, and filled with a grateful ſenſe of
Divine goodneſs, let us come to the altar
of God; and, with a humble faith in his
infinite mercies, devote ourfelves to his
fervice for ever.
SERMON
[ 45 ]
SERMON VI.
On GENTLENESS.
JAMES . 17.
iii.
The wisdom that is from above, is-gentle-
To be wife in our own eyes, to be SERM.
wife in the opinion of the world,
and to be wife in the fight of God, are
three things ſo very different, as rarely to
coincide. One may often be wife in his
own eyes, who is far from being fo in
the judgment of the world; and to be re-
puted a prudent man by the world, is no
fecurity for being accounted wife by God.
As there is a worldly happineſs, which
God perceives to be no other than dif
guiſed mifery; as there are worldly ho-
nours, which in his eftimation are re-
proach;
VOL. I.
L
VI.
146
On Gentleness.
SERM. proach; fo there is a worldly wisdom,
VI.
which, in his fight, is fooliſhneſs. Of this
worldly wiſdom the characters are given
in the context, and placed in contraft with
thoſe of the wisdom which is from above.
The one is the wifdom of the crafty;
the other, that of the upright. The one
terminates in ſelfiſhneſs; the other, in
charity. The one is full of ftrife and bit-
ter envyings; the other, of mercy and of
good fruits. One of the chief characters
by which the wiſdom from above is diſ-
tinguifhed, is gentleness, of which I am
now to difcourfe. Of this there is the
greater occafion to difcourfe, becauſe it is
too feldom viewed in a religious light;
and is more readily confidered by the
bulk of men, as a mere felicity of nature,
or an exterior accompliſhment of man-
ners, than as a Chriftian virtue which
they are bound to cultivate. I fhall firſt
explain the nature of this virtue; and
fhall then offer fome arguments to recom-
mend, and fome directions to facilitate,
the practice of it.
I REGIN
On Gentleness.
147
I BEGIN with diſtinguiſhing true gen-
tleneſs from paffive tameneſs of fpirit,
and from unlimited compliance with the
manners of others. That paffive tame-
neſs which ſubmits, without ftruggle, to
every incroachment of the violent and af-
fuming, forms no part of Chriſtian duty;
but, on the contrary, is deftructive of
general happineſs and order. That unli-
mited complaifance, which on every oc-
cafion, falls in with the opinions and
manners of others, is ſo far from being a
virtue, that it is itſelf a vice, and the pa-
rent of many vices. It overthrows all
fteadineſs of principle: and produces that
finful conformity with the world, which
taints the whole character. In the pre-
fent corrupted ſtate of human manners,
always to affent and to comply, is the
very worſt maxim we can adopt. It is
impoffible to ſupport the purity and dig-
nity of Chriftian morals, without oppof-
ing the world on various occafions, even
though we ſhould ftand alone. That
gentleneſs therefore which belongs to vir-
L 2
tue.
SERM.
VI.
148
On Gentlenejs.
S
VI.
SERM. tue, is to be carefully diſtinguiſhed from
the mean ſpirit of cowards, and the fawn-
ing affent of fycophants. It renounces no
juſt right from fear. It gives up no im-
portant truth from flattery. It is indeed
not only confiftent with a firm mind, but
it neceffarily requires a manly fpirit, and
a fixed principle, in order to give it any
real value. Upon this folid ground only,
the poliſh of gentlenefs can with advan-
tage be fuperinduced.
It ftands oppofed, not to the moſt de-
termined regard for virtue and truth, but
to harſhneſs and ſeverity, to pride and
arrogance, to violence and oppreffion.
It is properly, that part of the great
virtue of charity, which makes us un-
willing to give pain to any of our bre-
thren. Compaffion prompts us to relieve
their wants. Forbearance prevents us
from retaliating their injuries. Meekneſs
reftrains our angry paffions; candour, our
fevere judgments. Gentlenefs corrects
whatever is offenfive in our manners;
and by a conftant train of humane at-
tentions,
On Gentleness.
149
I:
VI.
tentions, ſtudies to alleviate the burden of SERM.
common mifery. Its office, therefore, is
extenſive. It is not, like fome other vir-
tues, called forth only on peculiar emer-
gencies; but it is continually in action,
when we are engaged in intercourſe with
men. It ought to form our addreſs, to re-
gulate our ſpeech, and to diffuſe itſelf
over our whole behaviour.
I must warn
warn you however not to
confound this gentle wisdom which is from
above, with that artificial courteſy, that
ſtudied ſmoothnefs of manners, which is
learned in the ſchool of the world. Such
accompliſhments, the moſt frivolous and
empty may poffefs. Too often they are
employed by the artful, as a fnare; too
often affected by the hard and unfeel-
ing, as a cover to the baſeneſs of their
minds. We cannot, at the fame time,
avoid obferving the homage, which, even
in fuch inftances, the world is conſtrain-
ed to pay to virtue. In order to ren-
der fociety agreeable, it is found necef-
fary to affume fomewhat, that may at
leaft
150
On Gentleness.
SERM. leaft carry its appearance.
VI.
appearance. Virtue is the
univerfal charm. Even its fhadow is
courted when the fubftance is wanting.
The imitation of its form has been re-
duced into an art; and in the commerce
of life, the firft ftudy of all who would
either gain the eſteem, or win the hearts
of others, is to learn the ſpeech, and to
adopt the manners, of candour, gentle-
nefs and humanity. But that gentleneſs
which is the characteristic of a good
man, has, like every other virtue, its
feat in the heart. And let me add, no-
thing except what flows from the heart,
can render even external manners truly
pleafing. For no affumed behaviour can
at all times hide the real character.
that unaffected civility which fprings
from a gentle mind, there is a charm
infinitely more powerful, than in all the
ftudied manners of the moft finifhed
courtier.
In
True gentleness is founded on a ſenſe
of what we owe to him who made us,
and to the common nature of which we
all
On Gentleness.
151
all share. It arifes from reflection on our
It is
own failings and wants; and from juft
views of the condition, and the duty of
man. It is native feeling, heightened and
improved by principle. It is the heart
which eaſily relents; which feels for every
thing that is human; and is backward
and flow to inflict the leaft wound.
affable in its addrefs, and mild in its de-
meanour; ever ready to oblige, and will-
ing to be obliged by others; breathing
habitual kindnefs towards friends, cour-
teſy to ſtrangers, long-fuffering to ene-
mies. It exercifes authority with mode-
ration; adminiſters reproof with tender-
nefs; confers favours with eaſe and mo-
defty. It is unaffuming in opinion, and
temperate in zeal. It contends not ea-
gerly about trifles; flow to contradict, and
ftill flower to blame; but prompt to
allay diffention, and to reſtore peace. It
neither intermeddles unneceffarily with
the affairs, nor pries inquifitively into the
fecrets of others. It delights above all
things to alleviate diftrefs, and if it can-
not
SERM.
VI.
152
On Gentleness.
SERM. not dry up the falling tear, to footh at
VI.
leaſt the grieving heart. Where it has
not the power of being uſeful, it is never
burdenfome. It feeks to pleafe, rather
than to fhine and dazzle; and conceals
with care, that fuperiority, either of ta-
lents or of rank, which is oppreffive to
thoſe who are beneath it. In a word, it
is that fpirit, and that tenor of manners,
which the gospel of Chrift enjoins, when
it commands us to bear one another's bur-
dens; to rejoice with thofe who rejoice, and to
weep with those who weep; to pleaſe every
one his neighbour for his good; to be kind and
tender-hearted; to be pitiful and courteous ;
to Support the weak, and to be patient
towards all men.
Having now fufficiently explained the
nature of this amiable virtue, I proceed to
recommend it to your practice. Let me, for
this end, defire you to confider the duty
which you owe to God; to confider the
relation which you bear to one another;
to confider your own intereſt.
I. CONSIDER
On Gentleness.
153
He
He
VI.
I. CONSIDER the Duty which you owe SERM.
to God. When you furvey his works, no-
thing is fo confpicuous, as his greatneſs and
majeſty. When you confult his word, no-
thing is more remarkable, than his attention
to foften that greatneſs, and to place it in
the mildeſt and leaſt oppreffive light. He
not only characterizes himſelf as the God of
confolation, but,with condefcending gentle-
neſs he particularly accommodates himſelf
to the ſituation of the unfortunate.
dwelleth with the humble and contrite.
bideth not his face when the afflicted cry. He
healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up
their wounds-When his Son came to be
the Saviour of the world, he was eminent
for the fame attribute of mild and gentle
goodness. Long before his birth, it was
prophefied of him, that he ſhould not
frive, nor cry, nor caufe his voice to be
heard in the ſtreets; that the bruiſed reed
he fhould not break, nor quench the fmok-
ing flax*: And after his death, this
* Matth. xii. 19, 20.
diſtinguiſhing
154
On Gentleness.
VI.
SERM. diftinguiſhing feature in his character was
founiverfally remembered,that the Apoftle
Paul, on occafion of a requeſt which he
makes to the Corinthians, uſes thofe re-
markable expreffions *, I beseech you by the
meekness and gentleness of Chrift. During
all his intercourfe with men, no harfhneſs,
or pride, or ſtately diftance, appeared in
his demeanour. In his accefs,he was eaſy;
in his manners, fimple; in his anſwers,
mild; in his whole behaviour, humble and
obliging. Learn of me, faid he, for I am
meek and lowly in heart.-As the Son of
God is the pattern, fo the holy Ghoſt is
the infpirer of gentlenefs. His name is
the Comforter, the Spirit of grace and peace.
His fruits or operations on the human
mind,are love, meekness,gentleness, and long-
Juffering. Thus, by every diſcovery of
the Godhead, honour is conferred upon
gentleness. It is held up to our view, as
peculiarly connected with Celeſtial Nature.
And ſuitable to fuch diſcoveries, is the whole
ftrain of the Gofpel. It were unneceffary to
2 Cor. x. 1.
† Gal. v. 22.
appeal
On Gentleness.
155
VI.
appeal to any fingle precept. You need SERM,
only open the New Teftament to find
this virtue perpetually inculcated. Cha-
rity, or love, is the capital figure ever
prefented to our view; and gentleneſs,
forbearance, and forgiveneſs, are the
founds ever recurring on our ear.
So predominant, indeed, is this fpirit
throughout the Chriftian difpenfation,
that even the vices and corruptions of
men have not been able altogether to
defeat its tendency. Though that dif
penfation is far from having hitherto pro-
duced its full effect upon the world,
yet we can clearly trace its influence, in
humanizing the manners of men. Re-
markable in this refpect, is the victory
which it has gained over thoſe powers of
violence and cruelty, which belong to the
infernal kingdom. Wherever Chriftiani-
ty prevails, it has difcouraged, and, in
fome degree, aboliſhed ſlavery. It has
reſcued human nature from that ignomi-
nious yoke, under which, in former ages,
the one half of mankind groaned. It has
introduced
156
On Gentleness.
SERM. introduced more equality between the two
VI. fexes, and rendered the conjugal union
more rational and happy. It has abated
the ferociouſneſs of war. It has miti-
gated the rigour of defpotifm, mitigated
the cruelty of puniſhments; in a word,
has reduced mankind, from their ancient
barbarity, into a more humane and gentle
ftate.-Do we pretend refpect and zeal
for this religion, and at the ſame time
allow ourfelves in that harfhnefs and fe-
verity, which are fo contradictory to its ge-
nius? Too plainly we fhow, that it has no
power over our hearts.
We may retain
the Chriſtian name; but we have aban-
doned the Chriftian ſpirit.
We
II. CONSIDER the relation which you
bear to one another. Man, as a folitary
individual, is a very wretched being.
As long as he ftands detached from his
kind, he is poffeffed, neither of happineſs,
nor of ftrength. We are formed by na-
ture to unite; we are impelled towards
each other, by the compaffionate inſtincts
in
On Gentleness.
157
in our frame; we are linked by a thou- SER M.
fand connections, founded on common
wants. Gentlenefs therefore, or, as it is
very properly termed, humanity, is what
man, as ſuch, in every ſtation, owes to
man. To be inacceffible, contemptuous,
and hard of heart, is to revolt againſt
our own nature; is, in the language of
ſcripture, to hide ourselves from our own
flesh. Accordingly, as all feel the claim
which they have to mildneſs and huma-
nity, fo all are fenfibly hurt by the want
of it in others. On no fide are we more
vulnerable. No complaint is more feel-
ingly made, than that of the harsh and
rugged manners of perfons with whom
we have intercourſe. But how feldom do
we transfer the caufe to ourſelves, or exa-
mine how far we are guilty of inflicting on
others, whofe fenfibility is the fame with
ours, thofe very wounds of which we fo
loudly complain?
But, perhaps, it will be pleaded by
fome, that this gentleneſs, on which we
now infift, regards only thofe ſmaller
offices
VI.
158
On Gentleness.
VI.
SERM. offices of life, which in their eye are not
effential to religion and goodneſs. Ne-
gligent, they confefs, on flight occafions,
of the government of their temper, or
the regulation of their behaviour, they
are attentive, as they pretend, to the
great duties of beneficence; and ready,
whenever the opportunity prefents, to
perform important fervices to their fel-
low-creatures. But let ſuch perſons re-
flect that the occafions of performing
thofe important good deeds, very rarely
occur. Perhaps their fituation in life, or
the nature of their connections, may in
a great meaſure exclude them from fuch
opportunities. Great events give ſcope
for great virtues; but the mean tenor of
human life, is compofed of fmall occur-
rences. Within the round of theſe, lie
the materials of the happinefs of moft
men; the fubjects of their duty, and
the trials of their virtue. Virtue muſt
be formed and fupported, not by unfre-
quent a&s, but by daily and repeated ex-
ertions. In order to its becoming either
vigorous
On Gentleness.
159
VI.
vigorous or uſeful, it muſt be habitually SER M.
active; not breaking forth occafionally
with a tranfient luftre, like the blaze of the
comet; but regular in its returns, like the
light of day: Not like the aromatic gale,
which fometimes feafts the ſenſe; but like
the ordinary breeze which purifies the air,
and renders it healthful.
Years may pafs over our heads, without
affording any opportunity for acts of
high beneficence, or extenfive utility.
Whereas not a day paffes, but in the
common tranfactions of life, and efpeci-
ally in the intercourſe of domeſtic focie-
ty, gentleneſs finds place for promot-
ing the happineſs of others, and for
ftrengthening in ourſelves the habit of
virtue. Nay, by feaſonable diſcoveries.
of a human ſpirit, we fometimes contri-
bute more materially to the advancement
of happineſs, than by actions which are
ſeemingly more important. There are
fituations, not a few, in human life,
where the encouraging reception, the
condefcending behaviour, and the look
of
160
On Gentleness.
VI.
SERM. of fympathy, bring greater relief to the
heart, than the moſt bountiful gift. While,
on the other fide, when the hand of libe-
rality is extended to beſtow, the want of
gentleness is fufficient to fruftrate the in-
tention of the benefit. We four thoſe
whom we mean to oblige; and, by con-
ferring favours with oftentation and harth-
nefs, we convert them into injuries. Can
any difpofition then be held to poffefs a
low place in the ſcale of virtue, whoſe in-
fluence is fo confiderable on the happineſs
of the world?
Gentleneſs is, in truth, the great ave-
nue to mutual enjoyment. Amidſt the
ftrife of interfering interefts, it tempers
the violence of contention, and keeps a-
live the feeds of harmony. It foftens ani-
mofities; renews endearments; and ren-
ders the countenance of man, a refreſh-
ment to man. Baniſh gentleneſs from
the earth; fuppofe the world to be fill-
ed with none but harsh and contentious
fpirits; and what fort of fociety would
remain? The folitude of the defart were
preferable
On Gentleness.
161
preferable to it.
VI.
The conflict of jarring SERM.
elements in chaos; the cave, where fub-
terraneous winds contend and roar; the
den where ſerpents hifs, and beaſts of the
foreſt howl; would be the only proper
repreſentations of fuch affemblies of men.
-O that I had wings like a dove! for then
I would fly away, and be at reft. Lo! then
I would wander far off, and remain in the
wilderness; I would baften my escape from
the windy ftorm and tempeft: For I have
Seen violence and ftrife in the city. Mif-
chief and jorrow are in the midst of it: De-
ceit and guile depart not from the Street *.
-Strange! that where men have all one
common intereft, they fhould fo often,
abfurdly concur in defeating it! Has not
Nature already provided a fufficient quan-
tity of unavoidable evils for the ſtate of
man? As if we did not fuffer enough from
the ftorm which beats upon us without,
muſt we confpire alſo, in thoſe ſocieties
where we affemble, in order to find a re-
treat from that ſtorm, to haraſs one ano-
ther?
VOL. I.
M
* Pfal. Iv. 6, 7, 8.
162
On Gentleness.
SERM. ther?-But if the fenfe of duty, and of
VI.
common happineſs, be infufficient to re-
commend the virtue of which we treat,
then let me deſire you,
III. To confider your own intereft.
Whatever ends a good man can be fup-
poſed to purſue, gentlenefs will be found
to favour them. It prepoffeffes and wins
every heart. It perfuades, when every
other argument fails; often difarms the
fierce, and melts the ſtubborn. Whereas
harfhneſs confirms the oppofition it would
fubdue; and, of an indifferent perfon,
creates an enemy. He who could over-
look an injury committed in the colliſion
of interefts, will long and ſeverely reſent
the flights of a contemptuous behaviour.—
To the man of gentleness, the world is ge-
nerally diſpoſed to aſcribe every other good
quality. The higher endowments of the
mind we admire at a diſtance, and when
any impropriety of behaviour accompanies
them, we admire without love. They are
like fome of the diftant ftars, whofe bene-
ficial
On Gentleness.
163
!
VI.
ficial influence reaches not to us. Where- SERM.
as, of the influence of gentleneſs, all in
fome degree partake, and therefore all love
it. The man of this character rifes in the
world without ftruggle, and flouriſhes
without envy. His misfortunes are uni-
verfally lamented, and his failings are ea-
fily forgiven.
But whatever may be the effect of this
virtue on our external condition, its influ-
ence on our internal enjoyment is cer-
tain and powerful. That inward tran-
quillity which it promotes, is the firft
requifite to every pleaſurable feeling. It
is the calm and clear atmoſphere, the fe-
renity and funſhine of the mind. When
benignity and gentleneſs reign within, we
are always leaft in hazard of being ruf-
fled from without; every perfon, and
every occurrence, are beheld in the' moft
favourable light. But let fome clouds of
difguft and ill-humour gather on the mind
and immediately the ſcene changes: Na-
turé feems transformed; and the ap-
pearance of all things is blackened to our
M 2
view.
164
On Gentleness.
VI.
SERM. view. The gentle mind is like the fmooth
ſtream, which reflects every object in its
juſt proportion, and in its faireft colours.
The violent fpirit, like troubled waters,
renders back the images of things diftort-
ed and broken; and communicates to
them all, that diſordered motion which a-
rifes folely from its own agitation.
Offences must come. As foon may the
waves of the ſea ceaſe to roll, as provo-
cations to arife from human corruption
and frailty. Attacked by great injuries,
the man of mild and gentle ſpirit will
feel what human nature feels; and will
defend and reſent, as his duty allows him.
But to thoſe flight provocations, and fri-
volous offences, which are the moſt fre-
quent cauſes of difquiet, he is happily
fuperior. Hence his days flow in a far
more placid tenour than thoſe of others;
exempted from the numberlefs difcom-
pofures which agitate vulgar minds. In-
fpired with higher fentiments, taught to
regard, with indulgent eye, the frailties
of men, the omiffions of the carelefs, the
follies
On Gentleness.
165
follies of the imprudent, and the levity of
the fickle, he retreats into the calmness of
his fpirit, as into an undiſturbed fanctuary,
and quietly allows the ufual current of life
to hold its courfe.
This virtue has another, and ftill more
important connection with our intereft, by
means of that relation which our prefent
behaviour bears to our eternal ſtate.
Heaven is the region of gentleness and
friendſhip; Hell, of fiercenefs and animo-
fity. If then, as the fcripture inftructs us,
according to what we now fow we must
hereafter reap; it follows, that the culti-
vation of a gentle temper is neceſſary to
prepare us for heavenly felicity; and that
the indulgence of harsh difpofitions, is the
introduction to future mifery. Men, I
am afraid, too often ſeparate thoſe arti-
cles of their belief which relate to eternity,
from the ordinary affairs of the world.
They connect them with the ſeaſons of
feriouſneſs and gravity. They leave them
with much reſpect, as in a high region,
to which, only on great occafions, they
refort:
SER M.
VI.
166
On Gentleness.
VI.
1
SERM. refort; and when they defcend into com-
mon life, confider themfelves as at li-
berty to give free fcope to their humours
and paffions. Whereas, in fact, it is their
behaviour in the daily train of focial in-
tercourſe, which, more than any other
caufe, fixes and determines their fpiritual
character, gradually inftilling thofe dif
pofitions, and forming thoſe habits, which
affect their everlasting condition. With
regard to trifles, perhaps their malig-
nant difpofitions may chiefly be indulged.
But let them remember well, that thoſe
trifles, by increafing the growth of pee-
viſhneſs and paffion, become pregnant
with the moſt ſerious mifchiefs; and may
fit them, before they are aware, for be-
ing the future companions of none but
infernal ſpirits.
I mean not to fay, that in order to our
preparation for Heaven, it is enough to
be mild and gentle; or that this virtue
alone, will cover all our fins. Through
the felicity of natural conſtitution, a cer-
tain degree of this benignity may be pof-
feffed
On Gentleness.
167
VI.
feffed by fome, whoſe hearts are in other SERM
reſpects corrupt, and their lives irregular.
But what I mean to affert, is, that where
no attention is given to the government
of temper, meetnefs for Heaven is not
yet acquired, and the regenerating power
of religion is as yet unknown. One of
the firſt works of the ſpirit of God, is,
to infuſe into every heart which it inha-
bits, that gentle wisdom which is from
above. They who are Chrift's have cruci-
fied the flesh, with its affections and lufts;
but let it not be forgotten, that among
the works of the flesh, hatred, variance,
emulations, wrath, ftrife, and envyings, are
as exprefsly enumerated, as uncleanness,
murders, drunkenness, and revelling*. They
who continue either in the one or the
other, fhall not inherit, indeed cannot in-
herit the Kingdom of God.
Having thus fhown the importance of
gentleneſs, both as a moral virtue, and as
a Chriſtian grace, I fhall conclude the
fubject, with briefly fuggefting fome con-
* Gal. v. 19, 20, 21.
fiderations
168
On Gentleness.
SERM. fiderations which may be of ufe to facili-
VI.
tate the practice of it.
FOR this end, let me adviſe
you to
view your character with an impartial eye;
and to learn from your own failings, to
give that indulgence which in your turn
you claim. It is pride which fills the
world with fo much harſhneſs and ſeve-
rity. In the fulneſs of felf-eftimation, we
forget what we are. We claim attenti-
ons, to which we are not entitled. We are
rigorous, to offences, as if we had never
offended; unfeeling to diſtreſs, as if we
knew not what it was to fuffer. From
thoſe airy regions of pride and folly, let
us deſcend to our proper level. Let us
furvey the natural equality on which Pro-
vidence has placed man with man, and
reflect on the infirmities common to all.
If the reflection on natural equality and
mutual offences be infufficient to prompt
humanity, let us at leaft remember what
we are in the fight of God. Have we
none of that forbearance to give to one
another,
On Gentleness.
169
VI.
another, which we all fo earneftly intreat SER M.
from Heaven? Can we look for clemency
or gentleneſs from our Judge, when we
are fo backward to fhow it to our own
brethren ?
Accuftom yourſelves, alſo, to reflect on
the ſmall moment of thoſe things which
are the ufual incentives to violence and
contention. In the ruffled and angry
hour, we view every appearance through
a falfe medium. The moſt inconfiderable
point of intereft or honour, fwells into a
momentous object, and the flighteſt at-
tack ſeems to threaten immediate ruin.
But after paffion or pride has fubfided, we
look round in vain for the mighty mif-
chiefs we dreaded. The fabric, which
our diſturbed imagination had reared,
totally diſappears. But though the cauſe
of contention has dwindled away, its
conſequences remain. We have alienated
a friend; we have embittered an enemy;
we have fown the feeds of future fufpi-
cion, malevolence or difguft.-Suſpend
your violence, I befeech you, for a mo-
ment
170
On Gentleness.
SERM. ment when caufes of difcord occur. An-
VI.
ticipate that period of coolness, which, of
itſelf, will foon arrive. Allow yourſelves
to think, how little you have any profpect
of gaining by fierce contention; but how
much of the true happineſs of life you
are certain of throwing away. Eafily,
and from the fmalleft chink, the bitter
waters of ftrife are let forth; but their
courſe cannot be forefeen; and he ſeldom
fails of fuffering moft from their poiſonous
effects, who firft allowed them to flow.
But gentleness will, moſt of all be pro-
moted by frequent views of thofe great
objects which our holy religion preſents.
Let the proſpects of immortality fill your
minds. Look upon this world as a ſtate
of paffage. Confider yourſelves as en-
gaged in the purſuit of higher interefts;
as acting now, under the eye of God, an
introductory part to a more important
fcene. Elevated by fuch fentiments, your
minds will become calm and fedate. You
will look down, as from a fuperior ſta-
tion, on the petty diſturbances of the
world.
On Gentleness.
171
VI.
world. They are the felfifh, the fenfual, SERM.
and the vain, who are moft fubject to the
impotence of paffion. They are linked
fo cloſely to the world; by fo many fides
they touch every object, and every per-
fon around them, that they are perpetu-
ally hurt and perpetually hurting others.
But the ſpirit of true religion removes
us to a proper diftance from the grating
objects of worldly contention. It leaves
us fufficiently connected with the world,
for acting our part in it with propriety;
but difengages us from it fo far, as
to weaken its power of diſturbing our
tranquillity. It infpires magnanimity; and
magnanimity always breathes gentleneſs.
It leads us to view the follies of men with
pity, not with rancour; and to treat, with
the mildness of a fuperior nature, what
in little minds would call forth all the bit-
terness of paffion.
Aided by fuch confiderations, let us
cultivate that gentle wiſdom which is, in
fo many refpects, important both to our
duty and our happineſs. Let us affume
it
172
On Gentleness.
SERM. it as the ornament of every age, and of
VI.
every ſtation. Let it temper the petu-
lance of youth, and foften the moroſe-
nefs of old age. Let it mitigate authority
in thoſe who rule, and promote deference
among thoſe who obey. I conclude with
repeating the caution, not to miſtake for
true gentleneſs, that flimfy imitation of
it, called poliſhed manners, which often,
among men of the world, under a
ſmooth appearance conceals much afpe-
rity. Let yours be native gentleneſs of
heart, flowing from the love of God, and
the love of man. Unite this amiable ſpi-
rit with a proper zeal for all that is right,
and juft, and true. Let piety be combin-
ed in your character with humanity. Let
determined integrity dwell in a mild and
gentle breaſt. A character thus fupport-
ed will command more real reſpect, than
can be procured by the most fhining ac-
compliſhments, when feparated from vir-
tue.
SERMON
[ 173 ]
SERMON VII.
On the DISORDERS of the PASSIONS.
ESTHER Vv. 13.
Yet all this availeth me nothing, ſo long
as I fee Mordecai the Jew fitting at the
King's gate.
THESE
VII.
HESE are the words of one, who, SERM.
though high in ftation and power, con-
feffed himſelf to be miferable. They re-
late to a memorable occurrence in the
Perſian hiſtory, under the reign of Aha-
fuerus, who is ſuppoſed to be the Prince
known among the Greek hiftorians by the
name of Artaxerxes. Ahaſuerus had ad-
vanced to the chief dignity in his king-
dom Haman an Amalekite, who inherit-
ed all the ancient enmity of his race to
the
174
On the Diſorders
VII.
SERM. the Jewish nation. He appears, from
what is recorded of him, to have been a
very wicked minifter. Raiſed to greatnefs
without merit, he employed his power
folely for the gratification of his paffions.
As the honours which he poffeffed were
next to royal, his pride was every day fed
with that fervile homage which is pecu-
liar to Afiatic courts; and all the fervants
of the King proftrated themſelves be-
fore him. In the midst of this general
adulation, one perfon only ſtooped not to
Haman. This was Mordecai the Jew;
who, knowing this Amalekite to be an
enemy to the people of God, and, with
virtuous indignation, defpifing that info-
lence of profperity with which he faw
him lifted up, bowed not, nor did him re-
verence. On this appearance of difre-
ſpect from Mordecai, Haman was full of
wrath: But he thought fcorn to lay hands
on Mordecai alone. Perfonal revenge was
not ſufficient to fatisfy him. So violent
and black were his paffions, that he re-
folved to exterminate the whole nation to
which
of the Paffions.
175
Vir.
which Mordecai belonged. Abufing, for SERM
this cruel purpoſe, the favour of his cre-
dulous fovereign, he obtained a decree to
be fent forth, that againſt a certain day;
all the Jews throughout the Perſian do-
minions fhould be put to the fword.
Mean while, confident of fuccefs, and
blind to approaching ruin, he continued
exulting in his profperity. Invited by
Ahafuerus to a royal banquet, which
Efther the Queen had prepared, he went
forth that day joyful, and with a glad heart.
But behold how flight an incident was
fufficient to poiſon his joy! As he went
forth, he faw Mordecai in the King's
gate; and obferved, that ftill he refuſed
to do him homage: He food not up, nor
was moved for him; although he well
knew the formidable defigns which Ha-
man was preparing to execute.
One pri-
vate man, who defpifed his greatnefs,
and diſdained fubmiffion, while a whole
kingdom trembled before him: one fpirit,
which the utmoſt ſtretch of his power
could neither fubdue nor humble, blafted
his
176
On the Diſorders
SERM. his triumphs. His whole foul was
VII.
ſhaken with a ſtorm of paffion. Wrath,
pride, and defire of revenge, rofe into
fury. With difficulty he reftrained him-
felf in public; but as foon as he came
to his own houfe, he was forced to dif
cloſe the agony of his mind. He gather-
ed together his friends and family, with
Zerifh his wife. He told them of the glory
of his riches, and the multitude of his chil-
dren, and all the things wherein the King
had promoted him, and how he had advanc-
ed him above the princes and fervants of
the King. He ſaid, moreover, Yea, Eſther
the Queen did let no man come in with the
King, unto the banquet, that ſhe had pre-
pared, but myſelf, and to-morrow alſo am I
invited unto her with the King. After all
this preamble, what is the conclufion ?-
Yet all this availeth me nothing, fo long as
I fee Mordecai the Jew fitting at the
King's gate.
The fequel of Haman's hiſtory I ſhall
not now purſue. It might afford matter
for much inftruction, by the confpicu-
ous
of the Paffions.
177
VII.
ous juſtice of God in his fall and punish- SERM.
ment. But contemplating only the fin-
gular ſituation in which the Text preſents
him, and the violent agitation of his
mind which it difplays, the following
reflections naturally arife, which, toge-
ther with fome practical improvements,
ſhall make the fubject of this diſcourſe.
I. How miferable is vice, when one guilty
paffion creates fo much torment! II. How
unavailing is profperity, when, in the
height of it, a fingle difappointment can
deſtroy the reliſh of all its pleaſures! III.
How weak is human nature, which, in
the abfence of real, is thus prone to form
to itſelf imaginary woes!
I. How miferable is vice, when one
guilty paffion is capable of creating fo
much torment! When we difcourſe to
you of the internal mifery of finners;
when we repreſent the pangs which they
fuffer, from violent paffions, and a cor-
rupted heart; we are fometimes fufpected
of chufing a theme for declamation, and
VOL I.
N
of
•
178
On the Disorders
SERM. of heightening the picture which we
VII.
draw, by colours borrowed from fancy.
They whofe minds are, by nature, hap-
pily tranquil, or whofe fituation in life
removes them from the difturbance and
tumult of paffion, can hardly conceive,
that as long as the body is at eaſe, and
the external condition profperous, any
thing which paffes within the mind
fhould cauſe fuch exquifite woe. But,
for the truth of our affertions, we appeal
to the hiftory of mankind. We might
reafon from the conftitution of the ra-
tional frame; where the underſtanding is
appointed to be fupreme, and the paffions
to be ſubordinate; and where, if this due
arrangement of its parts be overthrown,
mifery as neceffarily enfues, as pain is
confequent in the animal frame, upon
the diſtortion of its members. But lay-
ing fpeculations of this kind afide, it is
fufficient to lead you to the view of facts,
the import of which can neither be con-
troverted, nor miftaken. This is, indeed,
the great advantage of hiftory, that it is,
a mir-
of the Paffions.
179
VII.
a mirror which holds up mankind to their SERM.
own view. For, in all ages, human na-
ture has been the fame. In the circle of
worldly affairs, the fame characters and
fituations are perpetually returning; and in
the follies and paffions, the vices and
crimes, of the generations that are paſt,
we read thoſe of the prefent.
Attend then to the inftance now be-
fore us; and conceive, if you can, a per-
fon more thoroughly wretched, than one
reduced to make this humiliating confeffi-
on, that though ſurrounded with power,
opulence and pleaſure, he was loſt to all
happineſs, through the fierceneſs of his
refentment; and was at that moment
ftung by diſappointment, and torn by
rage, beyond what he could bear. All
this availeth me nothing, so long as I fee
Mordecai the few fitting at the King's gate.
Had this been a foliloquy of Haman's
within himſelf, it would have been a fuffi-
cient diſcovery of his mifery. But when
we confider it as a confeffion which he
makes to others, it is a proof that his
mifery
N 2
180
On the Diſorders
VII.
SERM. mifery was become infupportable. For
fuch agitations of the mind every man
ftrives to conceal, becauſe he knows they
diſhonour him. Other griefs and for-
rows, he can with freedom, pour out to
a confident. What he ſuffers from the
injuſtice or malice of the world, he is not
afhamed to acknowledge. But when his
fuffering arifes from the bad difpofitions
of his own heart; when, in the height
of profperity, he is rendered miferable,
folely by diſappointed pride, every ordi-
nary motive for communication ceaſes.
Nothing but the violence of anguish, can
drive him to confefs a paffion which ren-
ders him odious, and a weakneſs which
renders him defpicable. To what ex-
tremity, in particular, muft he be re-
duced, before he can diſcloſe to his own
family the infamous fecret of his miſery ?
In the eye of his family every man withes
to appear refpectable, and to cover from
their knowledge whatever may vilify or
degrade him. Attacked or reproached
abroad, he confoles himſelf with his im-
portance
of the Paffions.
181
portance at home; and in domeftic at- SERM.
VII.
tachment and reſpect, ſeeks for ſome com-
penfation for the injuftice of the world.
Judge then, of the degree of torment
which Haman endured, by its breaking
through all theſe reſtraints, and forcing
him to publiſh his fhame before thoſe,
from whom all men feek moft to hide it.
How fevere muſt have been the conflict
which he underwent within himſelf, be-
fore he called together his wife and all
his friends for this purpofe? How dread-
ful the agony he fuffered at the moment
of his confeffion, when, to the aſtoniſhed
company, he laid open the cauſe of his
diftrefs!
Affemble all the evils which poverty,
diſeaſe or violence can inflict, and their
ftings will be found by far leſs pungent,
than thoſe which fuch guilty paffions dart
into the heart. Amidft the ordinary cala-
mities of the world, the mind can exert
its powers, and fuggeft relief: And the
mind is properly the man; the fſufferer,
and his fufferings, can be diftinguiſhed.
But
182
On the Diſorders
VII.
SERM. But thofe diforders of paffion, by feiz-
ing directly on the mind, attack hu-
man nature in its ftrong hold, and cut
off its laſt reſource. They penetrate to
the very feat of fenfation; and convert all
the powers of thought into inſtruments of
torture.
Let us remark, in the event that is now
before us, the awful hand of God; and
admire his juftice, in thus making the
finner's own wickedness to reprove him, and
his backflidings to correct him. Sceptics
reaſon in vain againſt the reality of di-
vine government. It is not a fubject of
difpute. It is a fact which carries the
evidence of fenfe, and diſplays itſelf be-
fore our eyes. We fee the Almighty ma-
nifeftly purſuing the finner with evil. We
fee him connecting with every fingle de-
viation from duty, thoſe wounds of the
fpirit which occafion the moſt exquifite
torment. He hath not merely promul-
gated his laws now, and delayed the dif
tribution of rewards and puniſhments.
until a future period of being. But the
fanctions
of the Pafions.
183
fanctions of his laws already take place;
their effects appear; and with ſuch infi-
nite wiſdom are they contrived, as to
require no other executioners of juſtice
againſt the finner, than his own guilty
paffions. God needs not come forth from
his fecret place, in order to bring him to
puniſhment. He need not call thunder
down from the heavens, nor raiſe any
miniſter of wrath from the abyss below.
He needs only fay, Ephraim is joined to his
idols; let him alone: And, at that inftant,
the finner becomes his own tormentor.
The infernal fire begins, of itſelf, to kin-
dle within him. The worm that never
dies, feizes on his heart.
Let us remark alſo, from this example,
how imperfectly we can judge from ex-
ternal appearances, concerning real hap-
pineſs or mifery. All Perfia, it is pro-
bable, envied Haman as the happieſt per-
fon in the empire, while yet, at the mo-
ment of which we now treat, there
was not within its bounds, one more
thoroughly wretched. We are feduced,
and
SERM.
VII.
184
On the Diſorders
SERM. and deceived by that falſe glare which
VII.
profperity fometimes throws around bad
men. We are tempted to imitate their
crimes, in order to partake of their ima-
gined felicity. But remember Haman,
and beware of the fnare. Think not,
when you behold a pageant of grandeur
diſplayed to public view, that you dif
cern the enfign of certain happinefs. In
order to form any juft conclufion, you
muſt follow the great man into the re-
tired apartment, where he lays aſide his
diſguiſe. You must not only be able to
penetrate into the interior of families,
but you muſt have a faculty by which
you can look into the infide of hearts.
Were you endowed with fuch a power,
you would moft commonly behold good
men, in proportion to their goodneſs,
fatisfied and eaſy; you would behold
atrocious finners, always reftleſs and
unhappy.
Unjuft are our complaints, of the pro-
mifcuous diftribution made by Provi-
dence, of its favours among men.
From
fuperficial
of the Paffions.
185
VII.
fuperficial views fuch complaints arife. SERM.
The diftribution of the goods of fortune,
indeed, may often be promifcuous; that
is, difproportioned to the moral charac-
ters of men; but the allotment of real
happineſs is never fo. For to the wicked
there is no peace. They are like the troubled
Sea when it cannot reft.
pain all their days.
prevail against them.
afraid on every fide.
They travel with
Trouble and anguish
Terrors make them
A dreadful found is
in their ears; and they are in great fear
where no fear is.
-Hitherto we have
confidered Haman under the character of
a very wicked man, tormented by crimi-
nal paffions. Let us now confider him,
merely as a child of fortune, a profpe-
rous man of the world; and proceed to
obferve,
II. How unavailing worldly profperity
is, fince, in the midſt of it, a ſingle dif-
appointment is fufficient to embitter all
its pleaſures. We might at firſt imagine,
that the natural effect of profperity would
be,
186
On the Diſorders
SERM. be, to diffufe over the mind a prevailing
VII.
fatisfaction, which the leffer evils of life
could not ruffle or difturb. We might
expect, that as one in the full glow of
health, defpifes the inclemency of wea-
ther; fo one in poffeffion of all the ad-
vantages of high power and ftation,
ſhould difregard flight injuries; and, at
perfect cafe with himſelf, fhould view,
in the moſt favourable light, the behavi-
our of others around him. Such effects
would indeed follow, if worldly proſperity
contained in itſelf the true principles of
human felicity. But as it poffeffes them
not, the very reverſe of thoſe confequen-
ces generally obtains. Profperity debili-
tates, inſtead of ſtrengthening the mind.
Its most common effect is, to create an
extreme fenfibility to the flighteſt wound.
It foments impatient defires; and raiſes
expectations which no fuccefs can fatisfy.
It fofters a falfe delicacy, which fickens
in the midſt of indulgence. By repeat-
ed gratification, it blunts the feelings of
men to what is pleafing; and leaves them
unhappily
of the Paffions.
187
VII.
unhappily acute to whatever is uneafy. SERM
Hence, the gale which another would
fcarcely feel, is, to the profperous, a rude
tempeft. Hence, the rofe-leaf doubled
below them on the couch, as is told of the
effeminate Sybarite, breaks their reſt.
Hence, the diſreſpect ſhown by Mordecai,
preyed with fuch violence on the heart of
Haman. Upon no principle of reaſon can
we affign a fufficient cauſe for all the dif-
trefs which this incident occafioned to
him. The cauſe lay not in the external
incident. It lay within himſelf; it aroſe
from a mind diftempered by profperity.
Let this example correct that blind
eagerness, with which we rush to the
chace of worldly greatnefs and honours.
I fay not, that it ſhould altogether divert
us from purſuing them; fince, when en-
joyed with temperance and wifdom, they
may doubtless both enlarge our utility,
and contribute to our comfort. But let it
teach us not to over-rate them. Let it
convince us, that unleſs we add to them
the neceffary correctives of piety and vir-
tue,
188
On the Diſorders
SERM.
VII.
tue, they are, by themſelves, more likely
to render us wretched, than to make us
happy.
Let the memorable fate of Haman
fuggeft to us alſo, how often, beſides cor-
rupting the mind, and engendering inter-
nal mifery, they lead us among precipices,
and betray us into ruin. At the moment
when fortune ſeemed to fmile upon him.
with the moſt ferene and fettled afpect,
fhe was digging in fecret the pit for his
fall. Profperity was weaving around his
head the web of deſtruction. Succeſs in-
flamed his pride; pride increaſed his thirſt
of revenge; the revenge which, for the
fake of one man, he fought to execute on
a whole nation, incenfed the Queen; and
he is doomed to fuffer the fame death
which he had prepared for Mordecai.-
Had Haman remained in a private ſtati-
on, he might have arrived at a peaceable
old age. He might have been, I ſhall not
fay, a good or a happy man, yet pro-
bably far leſs guilty, and leſs wretched,
than when placed at the head of the
greateſt
of the Pafions.
189
greateſt empire in the Eaſt. Who knoweth
what is good for man in this life, all the
days of his vain life, which he spendeth as
a ſhadow?
An extenſive contemplation of human
affairs will lead us to this conclufion,
That among the different conditions and
ranks of men, the balance of happineſs
is preferved in a great meaſure equal;
and that the high and the low, the rich
and the poor, approach, in point of real
enjoyment, much nearer to each other,
than is commonly imagined. In the lot
of man, mutual compenfations, both of
pleaſure and of pain, univerfally take
place. Providence never intended, that
any ſtate here ſhould be either completely
happy, or entirely miferable. If the feel-
ings of pleaſure are more numerous, and
more lively, in the higher departments
of life, fuch alfo are thofe of pain. If
greatneſs flatters our vanity, it multiplies
our dangers. If opulence increaſes our
gratifications, it increaſes, in the fame
proportion, our defires and demands. If
the
SER M.
VII.
190
On the Diſorders
1
VII.
SERM. the poor are confined to a more narrow cir-
cle, yet within that circle lie moſt of thoſe
natural fatisfactions,which,after all the re-
finements of art, are found to be the moſt
genuine and true. In a ftate, therefore,
where there is neither fo much to be co-
veted on the one hand, nor to be dreaded
on the other, as at firft appears, how fub-
miffive ought we to be to the diſpoſal of
Providence! How temperate in our de-
fires and purfuits! How much more at-
tentive to preſerve our virtue, and to im-
prove our minds, than to gain the doubt-
ful and equivocal advantages of worldly
profperity! But now, laying afide the
confideration of Haman's great crimes;
laying afide his high profperity; viewing
him fimply as a man, let us obferve, from
his hiſtory,
III. How weak human nature is, which,
in the abſence of real, is thus prone to
create to itſelf imaginary woes. All this
availeth we nothing, fo long as I ſee Mor-
decai the Jew fitting at the King's gate.
-What
of the Paffions.
191
VII.
What was it, O Haman! to thee, SERM.
though Mordecai had continued to fit
there, and neglected to do thee homage?
Would the banquet have been on that
account the leſs magnificent, thy palace
lefs fplendid, or thy retinue lefs nume-
rous? Could the diſreſpect of an obfcure
ftranger diſhonour the favourite of a migh-
ty King? In the midst of a thoufand
fubmiffive courtiers, was one fullen coun-
tenance an object worthy of drawing
thy notice, or of troubling thy repoſe?—
Alas! in Haman we behold too juſt a
picture of what often paffes within our-
felves. We never know what it is to be
long at eaſe. Let the world ceaſe from
changing around us. Let external things
keep that fituation in which we moft
wish them to remain; yet fomewhat
from within fhall foon arife, to disturb our
happineſs. A Mordecai appears, or feems
to appear, fitting at the gate. Some
vexation, which our fancy has either
entirely created, or at leaſt has unreaſon-
ably. aggravated, corrodes us in fecret;
and
192
On the Diſorders
SERM. and until that be removed, all that we en-
VII.
joy availeth us nothing. Thus, while we
are inceffantly complaining of the vani-
ty and the evils of human life, we make
that vanity, and we increaſe thoſe evils.
Unſkilled in the art of extracting happi-
nefs from the objects around us, our inge-
nuity folely appears in converting them
into mifery.
Let it not be thought, that troubles of
this kind are incident only to the great
and the mighty. Though they, perhaps,
from the intemperance of their paffions,
are peculiarly expofed to them; yet the
diſeaſe itſelf belongs to human nature,
and ſpreads through all ranks. In the
humble and feemingly quiet fhade of
private life, difcontent broods over its
imaginary forrows; preys upon the citi-
zen, no less than upon the courtier; and
often nouriſhes paffions, equally malig-
nant in the cottage and in the palace.
Having once feized the mind, it ſpreads
its own gloom over every furrounding
object; it every where ſearches out ma-
terials
of the Paffions.
193
VII.
terials for itself; and in no direction more SERM
frequently employs its unhappy activi-
ty, than in creating divifions amongſt
mankind, and in magnifying flight pro-
vocations into mortal injuries. Thofe
felf-created miferies, imaginary in the
cauſe, but real in the fuffering, will be
found to form a proportion of human
evils, not inferior, either in ſeverity or
in number, to all that we endure from
the unavoidable calamities of life. In
fituations where much comfort might be
enjoyed, this man's fuperiority, and that
man's neglect, our jealouſy of a friend,
our hatred of a rival, an imagined af-
front, or a miſtaken point of honour,
allow us no repofe. Hence, difcords in
families, animofities among friends, and
wars among nations. Hence, Haman
miferable in the midft of all that great-
nefs could beftow. Hence, multitudes
in the moſt obfcure ftations, for whom
Providence feemed to have prepared a
quiet life, no lefs eager in their petty
broils, nor lefs tormented by their paſ
VOL. I.
fions
0
194
On the Diſorders
VII.
SERM. fions than if princely honours were the
prize for which they contended.
FROM this train of obfervation, which
the Text has fuggefted, can we avoid re-
flecting upon the diforder in which hu-
man nature plainly appears at preſent to
lie? We have beheld, in Haman, the
picture of that mifery which ariſes from
evil paffions; of that unhappineſs, which
is incident to the higheſt proſperity; of
that diſcontent, which is common to
every ftate. Whether we confider him
as a bad man, a profperous man, or fim-
ply as a man, in every light we behold
reaſon too weak for paffion.
fource of the reigning evil;
root of the univerfal difeafe.
of Haman only fhows us, what human
nature has too generally appeared to be
in every age. Hence, when we read
the hiſtory of nations, what do we read
but the hiſtory of the follies and crimes
of men? We may dignify thofe recorded
tranfactions, by calling them the intrigues
This is the
this is the
The ftory
of
of the Paffions.
195
VII.
of ftateſmen, and the exploits of conquer- $ERM.
ors; but they are, in truth, no other thạn
the efforts of diſcontent to eſcape from its
mifery, and the ftruggles of contending
paffions among unhappy men. The hifto-
ry
of mankind has been a continued tra-
gedy; the world, a great theatre exhibit-
ing the fame repeated fcene, of the follies
of men ſhooting forth into guilt, and of
their paffions fermenting, by a quick pro-
cefs, into mifery.
But can we believe, that the nature of
man came forth in this ftate from the hands
of its gracious Creator? Did he frame
this world, and ftore it with inhabi-
tants, folely that it might be repleniſhed
with crimes and misfortunes?-In the
moral, as well as in the natural world,
we may plainly difcern the figns of fome
violent convulfion, which has ſhattered
the original workmanſhip of the Almighty.
Amidft this wreck of human nature,
traces ftill remain which indicate its Au-
thor. Thoſe high powers of confcience
and reaſon, that capacity for happineſs,
that
O 2
196
On the Diſorders
VII.
SERM. that ardour of enterprize, that glow of
affection, which often break through the
gloom of human vanity and guilt, are
like the ſcattered columns, the broken
arches, and defaced fculptures of ſome
fallen temple, whofe ancient fplendor
appears amidſt its ruins. So confpicuous
in human nature are thofe characters,
both of a high origin, and of a degrad-
ed ſtate, that, by many religious fects
throughout the earth, they have been
feen and confeffed. A tradition feems to
have pervaded almoſt all nations, that
the human race had either through fome
offence forfeited, or through ſome mif-
fortune loft, that ftation of primæval
honour which they once poffeffed. But
while from this doctrine, ill understood,
and involved in many fabulous tales, the
nations wandering in Pagan darkneſs
could draw no confequences that were
juft; while totally ignorant of the na-
ture of the difeafe, they fought in vain
for the remedy; the fame divine revela-
tion which has informed us in what
manner
1
of the Paffions.
197
manner our apoftacy aroſe, from the abufe
of our rational powers, has inſtructed us
alſo how we may be reſtored to virtue
and to happineſs.
LET us, therefore, ftudy to improve
the affiftance which this revelation affords,
for the reſtoration of our nature, and the
recovery of our felicity. With humble
and grateful minds, let us apply to thoſe
medicinal fprings which it hath opened,
for curing the diſorders of our heart and
paffions. In this view, let us, with reve-
rence, look up to that Divine Perfonage,
who defcended into this world, on pur-
poſe to be the light and the life of men;
who came, in the fulneſs of grace and
truth, to repair the defolations of many
generations, to reftore order among the
works of God, and to raiſe up a new earth,
and new heavens, wherein righteouſneſs
Should dwell for ever. Under his tuition
let us put ourſelves; and, amidſt the
ftorms of paffion to which we are here
expofed, and the flippery paths which wc
are
SERM.
VII.
198
On the Diſorders
VII.
:
1
SERM, are left to tread, never truft prefumptu-
oufly to our own underſtanding. Thank-
ful that a Heavenly Conductor vouchſafes
his aid, let us earneftly pray, that from
him may deſcend divine light to guide
our ſteps, and divine ftrength to fortify
our minds. Let us pray, that his grace
may keep us from all intemperate paffi-
ons, and miſtaken purſuits of pleaſure;
that whether it ſhall be his will to give or
to deny us earthly profperity, he may bleſs
us with, a calm, a found, and well-regu-
lated mind; may give us moderation in
fuccefs, and fortitude under a difappoint-
ment; and may enable us fo to take
warning from the crimes and miferies of
others, as to efcape the fnares of guilt.
WHILE We thus maintain a due dé-
pendence on God, let us alfo exert our-
felves with care in acting our own part.
From the whole of what has been faid,
this important inftruction arifes, that the
happineſs of every man depends more
upon the ftate of his own mind, than
upon
of the Paffions.
199
nay,
VII.
upon any one external circumftance; SERM.
more than upon all external things put
together. We have feen, that inordinate
paffions are the great difturbers of life;
and that unleſs we poffefs a good confci-
ence, and a well-governed mind, difcon-
tent will blaſt every enjoyment; and the
higheſt proſperity will prove only diſguif-
ed mifery. Fix then this concluſion in
your minds, that the deftruction of your
virtue, is the deftruction of your peace.
Keep thy heart with all diligence; govern it
with the greateſt care; for out of it are the
ilues of life. In no ſtation, in no period,
think yourſelves fecure from the dangers
which ſpring from your paffions. Every
age, and every ſtation, they befet; from
youth to grey hairs, and from the peaſant
to the prince.
At your first fetting out in life, efpe-
cially when yet unacquainted with the
world and its fnares, when every plea-
fure enchants with its fmile, and every
object fhines with the glofs of novelty;
beware of the feducing appearances which
furround
200
On the Diſorders
VII.
SERM. furround you, and recollect what others
have fuffered from the power of head-
ftrong defire. If you allow any paffion,
even though it be eſteemed innocent,
to acquire an abfolute afcendant, your
inward peace will be impaired. But if
any, which has the taint of guilt, take
early poffeffion of your mind, you may
date from that moment the ruin of your
tranquillity. Nor with the ſeaſon of
youth does the peril end. To the im-
petuofity of youthful defire, fucceed
the more fober, but no lefs dangerous,
attachments of advancing years; when
the paffions which are connected with
intereft and ambition begin their reign,
and too frequently extend their malig-
nant influence, even over thoſe periods
of life which ought to be moft tranquil.
From the firſt to the laſt of man's abode
on earth, the diſcipline muſt never be
relaxed, of guarding the heart from the
dominion of paffion. Eager paffions, and
violent defires were not made for man.
They exceed his fphere.
They find no
adequate
of the Paffions.
201
VII.
adequate objects on earth; and of courſe SER M.
can be productive of nothing but miſery.
The certain confequence of indulging them
is, that there ſhall come an evil day, when
the anguiſh of diſappointment fhall drive
us to acknowledge, that all which we en-
joy availeth us nothing.
You are not to imagine, that the warn-
ings which I have given in this diſcourſe,
are applicable only to the cafe of fuch
fignal offenders as he was, of whom the
Text treats. Think not, as I am afraid
too many do, that becauſe your paffions
have not hurried you into atrocious deeds,
they have therefore wrought no miſchief,
and have left no fting behind them. By a
continued ſeries of loofe, though appa-
rently trivial, gratifications, the heart is
often as thoroughly corrupted, as by the
commiffion of any one of thoſe enormous
crimes which ſpring from great ambition,
or great revenge. Habit gives the paffions
ftrength, while the abfence of glaring
guilt feemingly juftifies them; and, un-
awakened by remorfe, the finner proceeds
in
302
On the Diſorders
VII.
SERM. in his courfe, till he wax bold in guilt, and
become ripe for ruin. For, by gradual
and latent ſteps, the deftruction of our
virtue advances. Did the evil unveil itſelf
at the beginning; did the ftorm which is
to overthrow our peace, difcover, as it
rofe, all its horrors, precautions would
more frequently be taken against it. But
we are imperceptibly betrayed, and from
one licentious attachment, one criminal
paffion, are, by a train of conſequences,
drawn on to another, till the government
of our minds is irrecoverably loft. The
enticing and the odious paffions are, in this
refpect, fimilar in their proceſs; and,
though by different roads, conduct at laſt
to the fame iffue. David, when he firft
beheld Bathsheba, did not plan the death
of Uriah. Haman was not delivered up
all at once to the madneſs of revenge. His
paffions roſe with the rifing tide of profpe-
rity; and pride completed what profpe-
rity began. What was originally no more
than difpleaſure at Mordecai's difrefpect,
increaſed with every invitation he received
to
of the Paffions.
203
VII.
to the banquet of the Queen; till it im- SERM.
pelled him to devife the flaughter of a
whole nation, and ended in a degree of
rage, which confounded his reaſon, and
hutried him to tuin. In this manner
every
criminal paffion in its progrefs fwells
and blackens; and what was at firft a
fmall cloud, fuch as the Prophet's fervant
faw no bigger than a man's hand, riſing
from the fea*, is foon found to carry the
tempeft in its womb.
* 1 Kings xvili. 44.
SERMÒN
[ 204 ]
SERMON VIII.
On our IGNORANCE of GOOD and EVIL
in this Life.
SERM.
VIII.
ECCLES. vi. 12.
Who knoweth what is good for man in this
life, all the days of his vain life, which
he spendeth as a ſhadow?
THE meaſure according to which
knowledge is difpenfed to man, af-
fords confpicuous proofs of divine wif
dom. In many inftances we clearly per-
ceive, that either more or leſs would have
proved detrimental to his ftate; that en-
tire ignorance would have deprived him
of proper motives to action; and that
complete diſcovery would have raiſed
him to a ſphere too high for his pre-
fent
On our Ignorance, &c.
205
VIII.
fent powers. He is therefore permitted SERM
to know only in part; and to fee through
a glafs, darkly. He is left in that ftate
of conjecture, and partial information,
which, though it may occafionally fub-
ject him to diftrefs, yet, on the whole,
conduces moft to his improvement; which
affords him knowledge fufficient for the
purpoſes of virtue and of active life, with-
out diſturbing the operations of his mind,
by a light too bright and dazzling. This
evidently holds, with refpect to that de-
gree of obfcurity, which now covers the
great laws of Nature, the decrees of the
Supreme Being, the ftate of the invifible
world, the future events of our own life,
and the thoughts and defigns which pafs
within the breafts of others *.
But there is an ignorance of another
kind, with reſpect to which the applica-
tion of this remark may appear more du-
bious; the ignorance under which men
labour concerning their happineſs in the
prefent life, and the means of attaining it.
* Vid. SERM. IV.
lf
i
206
On our Ignorance of
SERM. If there be foundation for Solomon's com-
VIII.
plaint in the Text, who knoweth what
is good for man in this life? this confe-
quence may be thought inevitably to fol-
low, That the days of his life muſt be vain
in every fenſe; not only becauſe they are
fleeting, but becauſe they are empty too,
like the badaw. For, to what purpoſe
are all his labours in the purfuit of an
object, which it is not in his power to
difcover or afcertain ?-Let us then feri-
oufly enquire, what account can be given
of our preſent ignorance, refpecting what
is good for us in this life; whether no-
thing be left, but only to wander in un-
certainty amidft this darkneſs, and to
lament it as the fad confequence of our
fallen ftate; or whether fuch inftruc-
tions may not be derived from it, as give
ground for acknowledging, that by this,
as by all its other appointments, the wif-
dom of Providence brings real good out
of feeming evil. I fhall, in order to de-
termine this point, firft, endeavour to il-
luftrate the doctrine of the Text, that we
know
Good and Evil in this Life.
207
VIII.
know not, or at moſt know imperfectly, SERM.
What is good for us in this life: I fhall
next explain the caufes to which this de-
fect in our knowledge is owing: And
then ſhall ſhow the purpoſes which it
was intended to ferve, and the effects
which it ought to produce on our con-
duct.
THE whole hiſtory of mankind ſeems
a comment on the doctrine of the Text.
When we review the courſe of human
affairs, one of the first objects which every
where attracts our notice, is, the mif
taken judgment of men concerning their
own intereft. That fore evil, which So-
lomon long ago remarked with refpect to
riches, of their being kept by the owners
thereof to their hurt, takes place equally
with refpect to dominion and power, and
all the ſplendid objects and high ſtations
of life. We every day behold men climb-
ing, by painful fteps, to that dangerous
height, which, in the end, renders their
fall more fevere, and their ruin more con-
fpicuous.
208
On our Ignorance of
i
VIII.
SERM. fpicuous. But it is not to high ftations
that the doctrine of the Text is limited.
In the crimes by which too often theſe are
gained, and in the misfortunes which they
afterwards bring forth, the greater part of
every audience may think themſelves lit-
tle concerned. Leaving fuch themes,
therefore, to the poet and the hiftorian,
let us come nearer to ourfelves, and
furvey the ordinary walk of life.
Around us, we every where behold a
buſy multitude. Reftlefs and uneaſy in
their preſent ſituation, they are inceffant-
ly employed in accompliſhing a change of
it; and, as foon as their wish is fulfill-
ed, we difcern by their behaviour, that
they are as diffatisfied as they were be-
fore. Where they expected to have found
a paradife, they find a defert. The man
of buſineſs pines for leifure. The leiſure
for which he had longed, proves an irk-
fome gloom; and, through want of em-
ployment, he languiſhes, fickens, and dies.
The man of retirement fancies no ftate to
be ſo happy as that of active life. But
he
Good and Evil in this Life.
209
VIII.
he has not engaged long in the tumults SERM.
and contefts of the world, until he finds
cauſe to look back with regret on the calm
hours of his former privacy and retreat.
Beauty, wit, eloquence and fame, are
eagerly defired by perſons in every rank
of life. They are the parent's fondeft
wifh for his child; the ambition of the
young, and the admiration of the old.
And yet, in what numberlefs inftances
have they proved, to thoſe who poffeffed
them, no other than fhining fnares; ſe-
ductions to vice, inftigations to folly, and
in the end, fources of mifery? Com-
fortably might their days have paffed,
had they been lefs confpicuous. But the
diſtinctions which brought them forth to
notice, conferred fplendor, and with-
drew happineſs. Long life is, of all
others, the moft general, and feemingly
the most innocent object of defire. With
reſpect to this too, we fo frequently err,
that it would have been a bleffing to
many to have had their wifh denied..
There was a period when they might
VOL. I.
have
P
210
On our Ignorance of
VIII.
SERM. have quitted the ftage with honour, and
in peace. But by living too long, they
outlived their reputation; outlived their
family, their friends and comforts; and
reaped nothing from the continuance of
days, except to feel the preffure of age, to
tafte the dregs of life, and to behold a
wider compaſs of human mifery.
Man walketh in a vain show. His fears
are often as vain as his wifhes. As what
flattered him in expectation, frequently
wounds him in poffeffion; fo the event
to which he looked forward with an
anxious and fearful eye, has often, when
it arrived, laid its terrors afide; nay, has
brought in its train unexpected bleff-
ings. Both good and evil are beheld at
a diſtance, through a perſpective which
deceives. The colours of objects when
nigh, are entirely different from what
they appeared, when they were viewed
in futurity.
THE fact then being undoubtedly cer-
tain, that it is common for men to be
deceived
}
Good and Evil in this Life.
201
VIII.
deceived in their profpects of happineſs, SERM.
let us next enquire into the cauſes of that
deception. Let us attend to thofe pecu-
liar circumſtances in our ftate which ren-
der us fuch incompetent judges of future
good or evil in this life.
Firſt, We are not fufficiently acquaint-
ed with ourſelves, to foreſee our future
feelings. We judge by the fenfations of
the prefent moment: and, in the fervour
of defire, pronounce confidently concern-
ing the defired object. But we reflect
not, that our minds, like our bodies, un-
dergo great alteration from the fituations
into which they are thrown, and the pro-
greffive ſtages of life through which they
paſs. Hence, concerning any condition
which is yet untried, we conjecture with
much uncertainty. In imagination, we
carry our preſent wants, inclinations, and
fentiments, into the ſtate of life to which
we afpire. But no fooner have we enter-
ed on it, than our fentiments and inclin-
ations change.
New wants and defires
arife; new objects are required to gratify
P 2
them;
i.
212
On our Ignorance of
VIII.
SERM. them; and by confequence our old diſſa-
tisfaction returns, and the void which was
to have been filled, remains as great as it
was before.
But next, fuppofing our knowledge of
ourſelves fufficient to direct us in the
choice of happineſs, yet ftill we are liable
to err, from our ignorance of the con-
nections which fubfift between our own
condition and that of others. No indivi-
dual can be happy, unleſs the circum-
ſtances of thofe around him be ſo adjuſt-
ed as to confpire with his intereft. For,
in human fociety, no happineſs or miſe-
ry
ftands unconnected and independent.
Our fortunes are interwoven by threads
innumerable. We touch one another on
all fides. One man's misfortune or fuc-
cefs, his wiſdom or his folly, often, by
its confequences, reaches through multi-
tudes. Such a fyftem is far too compli-
cated for our arrangement. It requires
adjuſtments beyond our ſkill and power.
It is a chaos of events, into which our
eye cannot pierce; and is capable of re-
gulation,
Good and Evil in this Life.
213
VIII.
gulation, only by him who perceives at one SERM.
glance the relation of each to all.
Farther, As we are ignorant of the
events which will arife from the combi-
nation of our circumftances with thofe of
others, fo we are equally ignorant of the
influence which the preſent tranfactions of
our life
may have upon thoſe which are
future. The important queſtion is not,
What is good for a man one day; but
what is good for him all the days of his
life? Not, what will yield him a few
ſcattered pleaſures; but what will render
his life happy on the whole amount?
And is he able to anſwer that queſtion,
who knoweth not what one day may bring
forth; who cannot tell, whether the
events of it may not branch out into con-
fequences, which will affume a direction
quite oppofite to that in which they ſet
forth, and ſpread themſelves over all his
life to come? There is not any preſent
moment that is unconnected with fome
future one. The life of every man is a
continued chain of incidents, each link
of
214
On our Ignorance of
VIII.
SERM. of which hangs upon the former. The
tranfition from caufe to effect, from event
to event, is often carried on by fecret
fteps, which our forefight cannot divine,
and our fagacity is unable to trace. Evil
may at ſome future period, bring forth
good; and good may bring forth evil,
both equally unexpected. Had the Pa-
triarch, Jofeph, continued to loiter under
his father's fond indulgence, he might
have lived an abfeure and infignificant
life. From the pit and the priſon, aroſe
the incidents which made him the ruler
of Egypt, and the faviour of his father's
houfe.
Laftly, fuppofing every other incapa-
city to be removed, our ignorance of the
dangers to which our fpiritual ſtate is
expofed, would difqualify us for judging
foundly concerning our true happineſs.
Higher intereſts, than thoſe of the prefent
world are now depending. All that is
done or fuffered by us here, ultimately
refers to that immortal world, for which
good men are trained up, under the care
of
Good and Evil in this Life.
215
VIII.
of an Almighty Parent. We are as in- SERM.
competent judges of the meaſures necef-
fary to be purfued for this end, as children
are, of the proper conduct to be held in
their education. We forefee the dangers
of our fpiritual, ftill lefs than we do thoſe
of our natural ftate; becaufe we are lefs
attentive to trace them. We are ftill more
expoſed to vice than to mifery; becauſe
the confidence which we place in our vir-
tue, is yet worſe founded than that which
we place in our wiſdom. Can you eſteem
him profperous, who is raifed to a fitua-
tion which flatters his paffions, but which
corrupts his principles, diforders his tem-
per, and, finally overfets his virtue? In
the ardor of purfuit, how little are theſe
effects foreſeen? And yet, how often are
they accompliſhed, by a change of condi-
tion? Latent corruptions are called forth;
feeds of guilt are quickened into life: a
growth of crimes arifes, which, had it not
been for the fatal culture of profperity,
would never have feen the light. How
often is man, boaftful as he is of reafon,
merely
216
On our Ignorance of
VIII.
SERM. merely the creature of his fortune; form-
ed, and mouldered by the incidents of his
life!-Hazael, when yet a private man,
detefted the thoughts of cruelty. Thou
fhalt flay the young men with the fword,
ſaid the Prophet: Thou shalt dafh the chil-
dren, and rip up the women with child. Is
thy fervant a dog, replied Hazael, that he
fhould do these things? But no fooner was
he cloathed with the coveted purple, than
it feemed to taint his nature. He com-
mitted the crimes of which, at a diſtance,
he believed himſelf incapable; and became
the bloody tyrant, whofe character his
foul once abhorred *.
SUCH then at prefent is man; thus
incapable of pronouncing with certainty
concerning his own good or evil. Of
futurity he difcerns little; and even that
little he fees through a cloud. Ignorant
of the alteration which his fentiments and
defires will undergo from new fituati-
ons in life; ignorant of the confequen-
2 Kings viii. 12, 13,
ces
Good and Evil in this Life.
217
VIII.
ces which will follow from the combinati- SER M.
on of his circumſtances with thoſe of others
around him; ignorant of the influence
which the preſent may have on the future
events of his life; ignorant of the effect
which a change of condition may produce,
on his moral character, and his eternal in-
terefts; how can he know what is good
for him all the days of his vain life, which
he ſpendeth as a ſhadow?
Inſtead of only lamenting this ignorance,
let us, in the laft place, confider how it
ought to be improved; what duties it
ſuggeſts, and what wife ends it was intend-
ed by Providence to promote.
I. LET this doctrine teach us to pro-
ceed with caution and circumfpection,
through a world where evil fo frequently
lurks under the form of good. To be
humble and modeft in opinion, to be vigi-
lant and attentive in conduct, to distrust
fair appearances, and to reſtrain raſh de-
fires, are inftructions which the darkneſs
of our preſent ftate fhould ftrongly in-
culcate.
218
On our Ignorance of
VIII.
SERM. culcate. God hath appointed our fitu-
ation to be fo ambiguous, in order both
to call forth the exertion of thoſe intelli-
gent powers which he hath given us, and
to enforce our dependence on his gracious
aid. It is not in man that walketh, to direct
his steps. Surrounded with fo many be-
wildering paths, among which the wifeft
are ready to ftray, how earneſtly ſhould
we implore, and how thankfully fhould
wé receive, that divine illumination which
is promifed in fcripture to the pious and
the humble! The fecret of the Lord is with
them that fear him. He will guide them
with his counfel. He will teach them the
way that they should chufe. But what
must be the fate of him, who, amidſt
all the dangers attending human conduct,
neither looks up to Heaven for direction,
nor properly exerts that reafon which
God hath given him? If to the moft
diligent enquirer, it proves fo difficult a
faik to diſtinguiſh true good, from thoſe
fallacious appearances with which it is
ever blended, how fhould he difcover it,
who
Good and Evil in this Life.
219
4
VIII.
who brings neither patience nor attention SERM.
to the ſearch, who applies to no other
counſellor than prefent pleaſure, and, with
a rash and credulous mind, delivers him-
felf up to every fuggeftion of defire?
This admonition I particularly direct to
thofe, who are in a period of life too
often characterized by forward prefump-
tion and headlong purfuit. The ſelf-
conceit of the young, is the great ſource
of thoſe dangers to which they are ex-
pofed; and it is peculiarly unfortunate,
that the age which ftands moft in need of
the counſel of the wife, fhould be the
moft prone to contemn it. Confident in
the opinions which they adopt, and in
the meaſures which they purſue, they
feem as if they underftood Solomon to
fay, not, Who knoweth, but, Who is igno-
rant of what is good for man all the days
of his life? The blifs to be aimed at, is,
in their opinion, fully apparent. It is
not the danger of miſtake, but the failure
of fuccefs, which they dread. Activity
to feize, not fagacity to diſcern, is the
only
220
On our Ignorance of
SERM. only requifite which they value.
VIII.
How
long ſhall it be, ere the fate of your pre-
deceffors in the fame courfe, teach you
wiſdom? How long fhall the experience
of all ages, continue to lift its voice to
you in vain? Beholding the ocean on
which you are embarked, covered with
wrecks, are not thoſe fatal fignals fuffi-
cient to admonish you of the hidden
rock? If, in paradiſe itſelf, there was a
tree which bare fruit fair to the eye, but
mortal in its effects, how much more, in
this fallen ſtate, may fuch deceiving ap-
pearances be expected to abound! The
whole ſtate of Nature is now become a
fcene of delufion to the fenfual mind.
Hardly any thing is what it appears to
be: and what flatters moft, is always
fartheft from reality. There are voices
which fing around you; but whoſe ſtrains
allure to ruin. There is a banquet fpread,
where poifon is in every diſh. There is
a couch which invites you to repofe; but
to flumber upon it, is death. In fuch a
fituation, be not high-minded, but fear. Let
fobriety
Good and Evil in this Life.
221
VIII.
fobriety temper your unwary ardour. Let SERM.
modeſty check your rafh prefumption.
Let wiſdom be the offspring of reflection
now, rather than the fruit of bitter ex-
perience hereafter.
II. LET our ignorance of what is good
or evil, correct anxiety about worldly fuc-
cefs. As raſhneſs is the vice of youth, the
oppoſite extreme of immoderate care is the
vice of advancing years. The doctrine
which I have illuftrated, is equally adapt-
ed for checking both. Since we are fo of-
ten betrayed into evil, by the miſtaken
purſuit of good, care and attention are
requifite, both in forming our choice, and
in conducting our purſuit; but ſince our
attention and care are liable to be fo often
fruftrated, they ſhould never be allowed
to deprive us of tranquillity.
The ignorance in which we are left con-
cerning good and evil, is not fuch as to
fuperfede prudence in conduct: For wif
dom is ftill found to excel folly as far as
light excelleth darkness. But it is that de-
gree
222
On our Ignorance of
VIII.
SERM. gree of uncertainty which ought to ren
der us temperate in purfuit; which ought
to calm the perturbation of hope and
fear, and to cure the pain of anxiety.
Anxiety is the poiſon of human life. It
is the parent of many fins, and of more
miferies. In a world where every thing
is fo doubtful; where
you may fucceed
in your with, and be miferable; where
you may be diſappointed, and be bleft in
the diſappointment; what means this
reſtleſs ſtir and commotion of mind? Can
your folicitude alter the courſe, or un-
ravel the intricacy of human events? Can
your curiofity pierce through the cloud
which the Supreme Being hath made im-
penetrable to mortal eye?-To provide
againſt every apparent danger, by the em-
ployment of the most promifing means,
is the office of wiſdom. But at this point
wiſdom ftops. It commands you to re-
tire, after you have done all that was
incumbent on you, and to poffefs your
mind in peace. By going beyond this
point, by giving yourſelves up to immo-
derate
Good and Evil in this Life.
223
VIII.
derate concern about unknown events, SER M.
you can do nothing to advance your fuc-
1
cefs, and you do much to ruin your
peace. You plant within your breaſt the
thorn which is long to gall you. To the
vanity of life, you add a vexation of
fpirit, which is wholly of your own cre-
ation, not of Divine appointment. For
the dubious goods of this world were
never deſigned by God to raiſe ſuch eager
attachment. They were given to man for
his occafional refreſhment, not for his
chief felicity. By fetting an exceffive ya-
lue upon objects, which were intended
only for your fecondary regard, you change
their nature. Seeking more fatisfaction
from them than they are able to afford,
you receive less than they might give.
From a miſtaken care to ſecure your
happineſs, you bring upon yourſelves
certain mifery.
III. LET our ignorance of good and
evil, determine us to follow Providence,
and to refign ourſelves to God.
One of
the
224
On our Ignorance of
VIII.
SERM. the moſt important leffons which can be
given to man, is refignation to his Maker;
and nothing inculcates it more, than the
experience of his own inability to guide
himſelf. You know not what is good for
you, in the future periods of life. But
God perfectly knows it; and if you faith-
fully ferve him, you have reaſon to be-
lieve that he will always confult it. Be-
fore him lies the whole fucceffion of events,
which are to fill up your exiftence. It is
in his power to arrange and model them
at his pleaſure; and fo to adapt one thing
to another, as to fulfil his promiſe of mak-
ing them all work together for good to thoſe
who love him. Here then, amidft the agita-
tions of defire, and the perplexities of
doubt, is one fixed point of reft. By this
let us abide, and difmifs our anxiety about
things uncertain and unknown. Acquaint
yourfelves with God, and be at peace. Secure
the one thing needful. Study to acquire an
intereft in the Divine favour: and you
inay fafely furrender yourſelves to the
Divine adminiſtration.
When
Good and Evil in this Life.
225
When tempted to repine at your con-
dition, reflect how uncertain it is, whether
you ſhould have been happier in any
other. Remembering the vanity of many
of your former wifhes, and the fallacy
which you have fo often experienced in
your ſchemes of happineſs, be thankful
that you are placed under a wifer direc-
tion than your own. Be not too parti-
cular in your petitions to Heaven, con-
cerning your temporal intereſts. Suffer
God to govern the world according to
his own plan; and only pray, that he
would beſtow what his unerring wifdom
ſees to be beſt for you on the whole. In
a word, Commit your way unto the Lord.
Trust in him and do good. Follow where-
ever his Providence leads; comply with
whatever his will requires; and leave all
the reft to him.
IV. LET our ignorance of what is good
for us in this life, prevent our taking any
unlawful ſtep, in order to compaſs our
moft favourite deſigns. Were the finner
VOL. I.
2
bribed
SERM.
VIII.
226
On our Ignorance of
t
VIII.
SERM. bribed with any certain and unqueſtion-
able advantage; could the means which
he employs enfure his fuccefs, and could
that fuccefs enfure his comfort; he might
have fome apology to offer for deviating
from the path of virtue. But the doc-
trine which I have illuftrated, deprives
him of all excufe, and places his folly in
the moft ftriking light. He climbs the
fteep rock, and treads on the edge of a
precipice, in order to catch a fhadow.
He has cauſe to dread, not only the un-
certainty of the event which he wiſhes to
accompliſh, but the nature alſo of that
event when accompliſhed. He is not only
liable to that difappointment of fuccefs,
which fo often fruftrates all the defigns of
men; but liable to a difappointment ftill
more cruel, that of being ſucceſsful and
miferable at once. Riches and plea fures
are the chief temptations to criminal
deeds, yet thoſe riches, when obtained,
may very poffibly overwhelm him with
unforeſeen miferies. Thofe pleaſures may
cut ſhort his health and life.
And is it
for
Good and Evil in this Life.
227
1
VIII.
for fuch doubtful and fallacious rewards, SERM.
that the deceiver fills his mouth with lies,
the friend betrays his benefactor, the apof
tate renounces his faith, and the affaffin
covers himſelf with blood ?
Whoever commits a crime, incurs a
certain evil, for a moft uncertain good.
What will turn to his advantage in the
courſe of this life he cannot with any af-
furance know. But this he may know,
with full certainty, that by breaking the
Divine commandments he will draw up-
on his head that diſpleaſure of the Al-
mighty which ſhall cruſh him for ever.
The advantages of this world, even when
innocently gained, are uncertain blef
fings; when obtained by criminal means,
they carry a curfe in their bofom.
the virtuous, they are often no more than
chaff. To the guilty, they are always
poiſon.
To
V. LET our imperfect knowledge of
what is good or evil, attach us the more
to thoſe few things, concerning which
there
Q 2
228
On our Ignorance of
VIII.
SERM. there can be no doubt of their being
truly good. Of temporal things which
belong to this clafs, the catalogue, it muſt
be confeffed, is fmall. Perhaps the chief
worldly good we ſhould wish to enjoy is
a found mind in a found body. Health
and peace, a moderate fortune, and a few
friends, fum up all the undoubted articles
of temporal felicity. Wife was the man
who addreſſed this prayer to God; Re-
move far from me vanity and lies. Give me
neither poverty nor riches. Feed me with
food convenient for me. Left I be full and
deny thee, and fay who is the Lord? or left
I be poor and steal, and take the name of my
God in vain.* He whoſe wiſhes, refpect-
ing the poffeffions of this world, are the
moſt reaſonable and bounded, is likely
to lead the fafeft, and for that reaſon,
the moſt deſirable life. By afpiring too
high we frequently mifs the happineſs,
which by a lefs ambitious aim, we might
have gained. High happiness on earth is
rather a picture which the imagination
* Prov. xxx. 8, 9.
forms,
1
Good and Evil in this Life.
229
VALI.
forms, than a reality which man is allowed SERM.
to poffefs.
But with regard to ſpiritual felicity, we
are not confined to fuch humble views.
Clear and determinate objects are pro-
poſed to our purfuit; and full fcope is
given to the moſt ardent defire. The for-
giveneſs of our fins, and the affiſtance of
God's holy grace to guide our life; the
improvement of our minds, in knowledge
and wiſdom, in piety and virtue; the
protection and favour of the great Father
of all, of the bleffed Redeemer of man-
kind, and of the Spirit of fanctification
and comfort; theſe are objects in the
purſuit of which there is no room for
heſitation and diftruft, nor any ground for
the queſtion in my Text, Who knoweth
what is good for man? Had Providence
ſpread an equal obfcurity over happineſs
of every kind, we might have had fome
reaſon to complain of the vanity of our
condition. But we are not left to fo
hard a fate. The Son of God hath de-
fcended from heaven, to be the Light of
the
230
On our Ignorance of
SERM. the world.
VIII.
He hath removed that veil
which covered true blifs from the ſearch of
wandering mortals, and hath taught them
the way which leads to life. Worldly en-
joyments are fhewn to be hollow and de-
ceitful, with an expreſs intention to direct
their affections towards thofe which are
fpiritual. The fame difcoveries which
diminiſh the value of the one, ferve to in-
creaſe that of the other. Finally,
VI. LET our ignorance of what is good.
or evil here below, lead our thoughts and
defires to a better world. I have endea-
voured to vindicate the wifdom of Provi-
dence, by fhewing the many uſeful pur-
poſes which this ignorance at prefent pro-
motes. It ferves to check prefumption
and rafhneſs, and to enforce a diligent
exertion of our rational powers, joined
with an humble dependence on Divine aid.
It moderates eager paffions refpecting
worldly fuccefs. It inculcates refignati-
on to the diſpoſal of a Providence which
is much wifer than man. It reftrains us
from
t
Good and Evil in this Life.
231
VIII.
from employing unlawful means, in order SERM.
to compaſs our moſt favourite defigns. It
tends to attach us more clofely to thofe
things which are unquestionably good. It
is therefore fuch a degree of ignorance as
ſuits the preſent circumftances of man
better than more complete information
concerning good and evil.
At the fame time, the caufes which
render this obſcurity neceffary, too plainly
indicate a broken and corrupted ftate of
human nature. They fhew this life to be
a ftate of trial. They fuggeft the ideas of
a land of pilgrimage, not of the houſe of
reft. Low minded and bafe is he, who
afpires to no higher portion; who could
be fatisfied to ſpend his whole exiſtence,
in chafing thoſe treacherous appearances
of good which ſo often mock his purſuit.
What ſhadow can be more vain than the
life of the greateſt part of mankind? Of
all that eager and bustling crowd which
we behold on the earth, how few difcover
the path of true happiness? How few can
we find, whoſe activity has not been mif-
employed,
232
On our Ignorance of
$
!
VIII.
SERM. employed, and whofe courſe terminates
not in confeffions of difappointments? Is
this the ſtate, are thefe the habitations,
to which a rational fpirit with all its
high hopes, and great capacities, is to
be limited for ever?--Let us blefs that
God who hath fet nobler proſpects be-
fore us; who, by the death and refurrec-
tion of his fon Jefus Chrift, hath begotten
us to the lively hope of an inheritance in-
corruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not
away, referved in the heavens. Let us
ſhew ourſelves worthy of ſuch a hope, by
Setting our affections upon the things above,
not upon things on the earth. Let us walk
by faith and not by fight; and, amidſt
the obſcurity of this faint and dubious
twilight, confole ourſelves with the ex-
pectation of a brighter day which is foon
to open. This earth is the land of fha-
dows. But we hope to pafs into the
world of realities; where the proper ob-
jects of human defire fhall be difplayed;
where the fubftance of that blifs fhall be
found, whoſe image only we now purſue;
where
Good and Evil in this Life.
233
VIII.
where no fallacious hopes fhall any longer SERM.
allure, no ſmiling appearances fhall betray,
no infidious joys fhall fting; but where
truth ſhall be infeparably united with plea-
fure; and the miſts which hang over this
preliminary ſtate being diffipated, the per-
fect knowledge of good fhall lead to the
full enjoyment of it for ever.
SERMON
[234]
SERM ON IX.
MONIX.
On RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT.
PSALM iv. 4.
Commune with your own heart, upon your
bed, and be ftill.
SERM. MUCH communing with themſelves
IX.
there has always been among mankind;
though frequently, God knows, to no
purpoſe, or to a purpoſe worſe than
none. Could we diſcover the employ-
ments of men, in retirement, how often
fhould we find their thoughts occupied
with fubjects, which they would be
afhamed to own? What a large fhare
have ambition and avarice, at fome times.
the groffeft paffions, and at other times the
meaneft trifles, in their folitary mufings?
A
They
On Religious Retirement.
235
IX.
They carry the world, with all its vices, SERM,
into their retreat; and may be faid to dwell
in the midſt of the world, even when they
feem to be alone.
This furely is not that fort of com-
muning which the Pfalmift recommends.
For this is not properly communing with
our heart, but rather holding fecret in-
tercourſe with the world. What the
Pfalmift means to recommend, is religi-
ous recollection; that exerciſe of thought
which is connected with the precept given
in the preceding words, to ftand in awe,
and fin not. It is to commune with our-
felves under the character of fpiritual
and immortal beings; and to ponder thoſe
paths of our feet, which are leading us to
eternity. I fhall in the first place, fhow
the advantages of ſuch ſerious retirement
and meditation: and fhall, in the ſecond
place, point out fome of the principal
fubjects which ought to employ us in our
retreat.
The advantages of retiring from the
world, to commune with our heart, will be
found
236
On Religious Retirement.
IX.
SERM. found to be great, whether we regard our
happineſs in this world, or our prepara-
tion for the world to come.
LET us confider them, firft, with re-
ſpect to our happineſs in this world. It
will readily occur to you, that an entire
retreat from worldly affairs, is not what
religion requires; nor does it even enjoin
a great retreat from them. Some ftations
of life would not permit this; and there
are few ſtations which render it neceffary.
The chief field, both of the duty and of
the improvement of man, lies in active
life. By the graces and virtues which he
exerciſes amidft his fellow-creatures, he
is trained up for heaven.
A total retreat
from the world, is fo far from being, as
the Roman Catholic Church holds, the
perfection of religion, that fome particu-
lar cafes excepted, it is no other than the
abuſe of it.
But though entire retreat would lay
us afide from the part for which Provi-
dence chiefly intended us, it is certain,
that
On Religious Retirement.
237
IX.
that without occafional retreat, we muft SERM.
act that part very ill. There will be
neither conſiſtency in the conduct, nor
dignity in the character, of one who fets
apart no fhare of his time for meditation
and reflection. In the heat and buſtle of
life, while paffion is every moment throw-
ing falſe colours on the objects around us,
nothing can be viewed in a juft light. If
you wish that Reafon fhould exert her
native power, you muſt ſtep afide from
the crowd into the cool and filent fhade.
It is there that, with ſober and ſteady eye,
fhe examines what is good or ill, what is
wife or fooliſh, in human conduct; fhe
looks back on the paſt, ſhe looks forward
to the future; and forms plans, not for
the prefent moment only, but for the
whole of life. How fhould that man dif-
charge any part of his duty aright, who
never fuffers his paffions to cool? And
how fhould his paffions cool, who is
engaged without interruption, in the tu-
mult of the world? This inceffant ftir
may be called, the perpetual drunken-
nefs
238
On Religious Retirement.
SERM. nefs of life. It raiſes that
It raiſes that eager
eager fermen
IX.
tation of ſpirit, which will be ever ſend-
ing forth the dangerous fumes of rafhnefs
and folly. Whereas he who mingles reli-
gious retreat with worldly affairs, remains
calm and mafter of himſelf. He is not
whirled round, and rendered giddy, by
the agitation of the world, but, from that
facred retirement in which he has been
converfant among higher objects, comes
forth into the world with manly tranquil-
lity, fortified by principles which he has
formed, and prepared for whatever may
befall.
As he who is unacquainted with re-
treat, cannot fuftain any character with
propriety, fo neither can he enjoy the
world with any advantage. Of the two
claffes of men who are moft apt to be ne-
gligent of this duty, the men of pleaſure,
and the men of buſineſs, it is hard to fay
which fuffer moft, in point of enjoy-
ment from that neglect. To the former
every moment appears to be loft, which
partakes not of the vivacity of amufement.
To
On Religious Retirement.
239
IX.
To connect one plan of gaiety with ano- SERM.
ther, is their whole ftudy; till, in a very
thort time, nothing remains but to tread
the fame beaten round: to enjoy what
they have already enjoyed, and to fee
what they have often feen. Pleaſures
thus drawn to the dregs, become vapid
and taſtelefs. What might have pleafed
long, if enjoyed with temperance, and
mingled with retirement, being devoured
with fuch eager hafte, fpeedily furfeits
and difgufts. Hence, theſe are the per-
fons, who after having run through a
rapid courfe of pleaſure, after having
glittered for a few years in the foremoſt
line of public amufements, are the moſt
apt to fly at laſt to a melancholy retreat;
not led by religion or reafon, but driven
by diſappointed hopes, and exhauſted
fpirits, to the penfive conclufion, that
all is vanity.
If uninterrupted intercourfe with the
world wears out the man of pleaſure, it
no lefs oppreffes the man of bufinefs and
ambition. The ftrongeft fpirits muſt at
length
240
On Religious Retirement.
*
SERM. length fink under it. The happieſt tem-
IX.
per muſt be ſoured by inceffant returns
of the oppofition, the inconftancy, and
treachery of men. For he who lives al-
ways in the buſtle of the world, lives in
a perpetual warfare. Here an enemy en-
counters; there, a rival fupplants him.
The ingratitude of a friend ftings him
this hour; and the pride of a fuperior
wounds him the next. In vain he flies
for relief to trifling amuſements. Theſe
may afford a temporary opiate to care;
but they communicate no ftrength to the
mind. On the contrary, they leave it more
foft and defencelefs, when moleftations.
and injuries renew their attack.
Let him who wiſhes for an effectual cure
to all the wounds which the world can
inflict, retire from intercourfe with men,
to intercourfe with God. When he en-
ters into his cloſet, and fhuts the door,
let him fhut out, at the fame time, all
intruſion of worldly care; and dwell
among objects divine and immortal.-
Thoſe fair proſpects of order and peace,
fhall
On Religious Retirement.
241
IX.
ſhall there open to his view, which form SERM.
the moſt perfect contraft to the confufion
and mifery of this earth.
The celeftial
among them
inhabitants quarrel not;
there is neither ingratitude, nor envy,
nor tumult. Men may harafs one ano-
ther; but in the kingdom of God, con-
cord and tranquillity reign for ever.
y
From fuch objects, there beams upon the
mind of the pious man, a pure and en-
livening light; there is diffufed over his
heart a holy calm. His agitated fpirit
re-affumes its firmnefs, and regains its
peace. The world finks in its import-
ance; and the load of mortality and
mifery loſes almoſt all its weight. The
green pastures open, and the ſtill waters
flow around him, befides which the Shep-
berd of Ifrael guides his flock. The dif
turbances and alarms, fo formidable to
thoſe who are engaged in the tumults of
the world, ſeem to him only like thunder
rölling afar off; like the noife of diftant
waters, whofe found he hears, whofe
courſe he traces, but whofe waves touch
VOL. I.
R
him
}
242
On Religious Retirement.
IX.
SERM. him not.-As religious retirement is thus
evidently conducive to our happineſs in
this life, fo,
IN the fecond place, it is abfolutely
neceffary in order to prepare us for the
life to come. He who lives always in
public, cannot live to his own foul. The
world lieth in wickedness; and with good
reafon the Chriftian is exhorted, not to
be conformed to it, but transformed by the
renewing of his mind. Our converfation
and intercourfe with the world, is, in
feveral reſpects, an education for vice.
From our earliest youth, we are accuſtom-
ed to hear riches and honours extolled as
the chief poffeffions of man; and pro-
pofed to us as the principal aim of our
future purfuits. We are trained up, to
look with admiration on the flattering
marks of diſtinction which they beſtow.
In queft of thoſe fancied bleffings, we fee
the multitude around us eager and fer-
vent. Principles of duty we may, per-
haps, hear fometimes inculcated; but
we
On Religious Retirement.
243
:
IX.
we feldom behold them brought into SER M.
competition with worldly profit.
The
foft names, and plaufible colours, under
which deceit, fenfuality and revenge,
are prefented to us in common diſcourſe,
weaken, by degrees, our natural ſenſe of
the diſtinction between good and evil.
We often meet with crimes authoriſed
by high examples, and rewarded with
the careffes and fmiles of the world. We
diſcover, perhaps, at last, that thoſe
whom we are taught to reverence, and
to regard as our patterns of conduct,
act upon principles no purer than thoſe
of others. Thus breathing habitually a
contagious air, how certain is our ruin,
unleſs we fometimes retreat from this
peftilential region, and feek for proper
correctives of the diſorders which are
contracted there? Religious retirement
both abates the diſeaſe, and furniſhes the
remedy. It leffens the corrupting influ-
ence of the world; and it gives oppor-
tunity for better principles to exert their
power. He who is accuftomed to turn
afide,
R 2
244
On Religious Retirement.
SERM. afide, and commune with himſelf, will
IX.
fometimes at leaft, hear of truths which
the multitude do not tell him. A more
found inftructor will lift his voice, and
awaken within the heart thofe latent fug-
geftions, which the world had overpow-
ered and fuppreffed.
The acts of prayer and devotion, the
exerciſes of faith and repentance, all the
great and peculiar duties of the religion
of Chrift, neceffarily fuppofe retirement
from the world. This was one chief end
of their inftitution, that they might be
the means of occafionally fequeftering us
from that great ſcene of vice and folly,
the continued prefence of which is fo
hurtful. Solitude is the hallowed ground
which religion hath, in every age, chofen
for her own. There her inſpiration is
felt, and her fecret myfteries elevate the
foul. There, falls the tear of contrition;
there, rifes towards heaven the fight of the
heart; there, melts the foul with all the
tenderneſs of devotion, and pours itſelf
forth, before him who made, and him
whe
On Religious Retirement.
245
IX.
who redeemed it. How can any one, who SERM.
is unacquainted with fuch employments
of mind, be fit for heaven? If heaven be
the habitation of pure affections, and of
intellectual joy, can ſuch a ſtate be re-
liſhed by him who is always immerfed
among fenfible objects, and has never ac-
quired any taſte for the pleaſures of the
underſtanding, and the heart?
The great and the worthy, the pious and
the virtuous, have ever been addicted
to ferious retirement. It is the charac-
teriſtic of little and frivolous minds, to
be wholly occupied with the vulgar ob-
jects of life. Theſe fill up their de-
fires, and ſupply all the entertainment
which their coarſe apprehenfions can re-
liſh. But a more refined and enlarged
mind leaves the world behind it, feels a
call for higher pleaſures, and feeks them
in retreat. The man of public fpirit has
recourſe to it in order to form plans for
general good; the man of genius, in or-
der to dwell on his favourite themes;
the philofopher, to purſue his diſcoveries;
the
246
On Religious Retirement.
፡
IX.
SERM. the faint, to improve himſelf in grace,
Ifaac went out to meditate in the fields at
the evening tide. David, amidſt all the
fplendor of royalty, often bears witneſs
both to the pleaſure which he received,
and to the benefit which he reaped, from
devout meditation. I communed with my
own heart, and my ſpirit made diligent ſearch.
I thought on my ways, and turned
my feet
unto God's teftimonies. In the multitude of
thoughts within me, his comforts delight my
foul. Our bleffed Saviour himſelf, though
of all who ever lived on earth he needed
leaft the affiftance of religious retreat, yet,
by his frequent practice, has done it fig-
nal honour. Often were the garden, the
mountain, and the filence of the night,
fought by him, for intercourfe with hea-
ven. When be bad fent the multitude away,
he went up into a mountain, apart, to pray.
The advantages of religious retirement
will ſtill more clearly appear, by conſider-
ing, as was propofed, in the next place,
fome of thoſe great objects which fhould
there
On Religious Retirement.
247
there employ our thoughts. I fhall men-
tion only three, which are of the moſt
plain and acknowledged importance; God,
the world, and our own character.
I. WHEN you retire from the world,
commune with your hearts concerning God.
Impreffions of Deity, befides their being
the principle of what is ſtrictly termed
religion, are the great fupport of all moral
fentiment, and virtuous conduct, among
men. But with what difficulty are they
preferved in any due degree of force,
amidſt the affairs and avocations of the
world? While the crowd of furrounding
objects is ever rufhing on the imagina-
tion, and occupying the fenfes and the
heart, what is not only abſent from view,
but, by its nature, invifible, is apt to
vaniſh like a fhadow. Hence it is given
as the character of wicked men, in fcrip-
ture, that they are without God in the
world. They deny not, perhaps, that he
does exift; but it is the fame to them as
though he did not: For having loft him
from
SERM.
IX.
248
On Religious Retirement.
IX.
SERM. from their view, his exiftence has no ef-
fect on their conduct. If, at any time,
the idea of God rife in their mind, it
rifes like a terrifying phantom which they
haften to expel; and which they gladly
fancy to be unreal, becauſe they ſee it
make fo little impreffion on others around
them.
Let him who retires to ferious medita-
tion, begin with impreffing deeply on
his mind this important truth, that there
is undoubtedly a fupreme Governor, who
prefides over the univerfe. But let him
not imagine, that to commune with his
heart concerning God, is to fearch into
the myfteries of the Divine Nature, or to
attempt a diſcovery of the whole plan of
Providence. Long enough he may be-
wilder himſelf in this maze, without
making any proficiency in the practical
knowledge of God. Shall he who knows
fo little of his own nature, or of the na-
ture of the objects with which he is fur-
rounded, expect to comprehend the Be-
ing who made him? To commune with
ourfelves
On Religious Retirement.
249
J
ourſelves to any uſeful purpoſe on this fub-
ject, is to bring home to our fouls the in-
ternal authoritative fenfe of God, as of a
Sovereign and a Father. It is not to ſpecu-
late about what is myfterious in his effence,
but to contemplate what is difplayed of his
perfections. It is to realize the prefence
of the Supreme Being, fo as to produce
the moſt profound veneration; and to
awaken the earneft defire of as near an ap-
proach as our nature will permit, to that
great Fountain of happineſs and life.
After this manner was that holy man
affected, who uttered this ardent with*
O that I knew where I might find him, that
I might come even to his fear !-If with
fuch a frame of mind you feek after God,
be affured that he is not far from you;
and that, though you are not permitted
as yet to come to his feat, you may, at
leaft, reach the footstool of his throne, and
touch the robe that covers him. In the
midſt of your folitary mufings lift your
eyes, and behold all nature full of God.
*Job xxiii. 3.
Look
SERM.
IX.
250
On Religious Retirement.
IX.
SERM. Look up to the firmament, and admire
his glory. Look round on the earth, and
obſerve his preſence every where diſplay-
ed. If the gay landſcape or the fruitful
field, preſent themſelves to your eye, be-
hold him fmiling upon his works. If the
mountain raiſe its lofty head, or the ex-
panfe of waters roll its tide before you,
contemplate in thoſe great and folemn
objects, his power and majeſty.
and majefty. Nature,
in all its diverſities, is a varied manifefta-
tion of the Deity. If you were to take the
wings of the morning, and dwell in the ut-
termoft parts of the fea, even there you
would find him. For in him you live and
move. He fills and animates all ſpace. In
the barren wilderneſs, as in the peopled
region, you can trace his footſteps; and
in the deepeſt folitude, you may hear a
voice which teftifies of him.
Him, indeed, you are never to con-
found with the workmanship of his
hands. Nature, in its moft awful or moſt
pleafing ſcenes, exhibits no more than
different forms of inanimate matter. But
on
1
On Religious Retirement.
251
IX.
on theſe dead forms is impreffed the glory SERM
of a living Spirit. The beauty, or the
greatneſs, which appears in them, flows
from the fountain of all greatneſs and
beauty; in him it centers; of his perfec-
tion it reflects an image; and towards
him ſhould lead your view.-In converf-
ing with a fellow-creature on earth, it is
not with his body we converfe, though it
is his body only which we fee. From his
words and actions we conceive his mind
with his mind, though invifible, we hold
correfpondence, and direct towards this
Spiritual Effence, our affection and regard.
In like manner, though here we behold
no more of God than what his works dif-
play, yet in thoſe diſplays, we are capable
of perceiving the Univerſal Spirit, and of
holding correſpondence with this unfeen
Being, in veneration, gratitude, and love.
;
It is thus that a pious man, in his re-
tired meditations, viewing natural objects
with a ſpiritual eye, communes with his
heart concerning God. He walks among
the various ſcenes of Nature, as within
the
252
On Religious Retirement.
!
IX.
SERM. the precincts of a great temple, in the
habitual exercife of devotion. To thofe
diſcoveries of the Supreme Being in his
works, let him apply the comment of
his word. From the world of Nature, let
him follow God into the world of Grace.
When conducted from the outer courts,
into this inmoft fanctuary of the temple,
he fhall feel himſelf brought ftill more.
nigh to the Sacred Prefence. In the great
plan of Divine Wiſdom, for extirpating
the evils produced by fin, he ſhall receive
the interpretation of many of the hidden
myfteries of Nature. He fhall diſcover in
Chriſt, the Deity made, in fome degree,
viſible to fenfe. In the beneficent works
which he performed, and the gracious
undertaking which he accompliſhed, he
ſhall behold the brightness of the Father's
glory, and fhall difcern it to be full of
grace and truth.-From the facred retreat,
wherein his thoughts have been thus
employed, he returns to the world like a
fuperior being. He carries into active
life, thofe pure and elevating fentiments,
to
1
On Religious Retirement.
253
IX.
to which the giddy crowd are ftrangers. SERM.
A certain odour of fanctity remains upon
his mind, which for a while at leaſt, will
repel the contagion of the world.
II. COMMUNE with your heart, in the
ſeaſon of retirement, concerning the world.
The world is the great deceiver, whofe
fallacious arts it highly imports us to de-
tect. But in the midft of its pleaſures and
purſuits, the detection is impoffible. We
tread, as within an inchanted circle, where
nothing appears as it truly is. It is only
in retreat that the charm can be broken.
Did men employ that retreat, not in car-
rying on the delufion which the world has
begun, not in forming plans of imaginary
bliſs, but in fubjecting the happineſs which
the world affords to a ftrict difcuffion,
the fpell would diffolve; and in the room
of the unreal profpects, which had long
amufed them, the nakedneſs of the world
would appear.
Prepare yourſelves, then to encounter
the light of truth. Refolve rather to bear
the
254
On Religious Retirement.
IX.
SERM. the diſappointment of fome flattering
hopes, than to wander for ever in the
paradife of fools. While others meditate
in fecret on the means of attaining world-
ly fuccefs, let it be your employment to
fcrutinize that fuccefs itſelf. Calculate
fairly to what it amounts; and whether
you are not lofers on the whole, by your
apparent gain. Look back, for this pur-
pofe on your paft life. Trace it from
your earlieſt youth; and put the queſtion
to yourſelves, what have been its hap-
pieſt periods? were they thofe of quiet
and innocence, or thoſe of ambition and
intrigue? Has your real enjoyment uni-
formly kept pace with what the world
calls profperity? As you advanced in
wealth or ſtation, did you proportionably
advance in happineſs? Has fuccefs, al-
moft in any one inftance, fulfilled your
expectations? Where you reckoned upon
moſt enjoyment, have you not often found
leaft? Wherever guilt entered into your
pleaſures, did not its fting long remain,
after the gratification was paft?-Such
queftions
On Religious Retirement.
255
queftions as thefe, candidly anfwered,
would in a great meafure unmask the
world. They would expoſe the vanity of
its pretenfions; and convince you, that
there are other fprings than thoſe which
the world affords, to which you muſt
apply for happineſs.
While you commune with your heart
concerning what the world now is, con-
fider alſo what it will one day appear to
be. Anticipate the awful moment of your
bidding it an eternal farewell. Think,
what reflections fhall moft probably ariſe,
when you are quitting the field, and look-
ing back on the ſcene of action. In what
light will your clofing eyes contemplate
thoſe vanities which now fhine fo bright,
and thoſe intereſts which now fwell into
fuch high importance? What part will
you
then wiſh to have acted? What ſhall
then appear momentous, what trifling
in human conduct?-Let the fober fenti-
ments which fuch anticipations fuggeft,
temper now your mifplaced ardour. Let
the laſt concluſions which you ſhall form,
enter
SER M.
IX.
256
On Religious Retirement.
SERM. enter into the prefent eftimate, which you
make of the world and of life.
IX.
Moreover, in communing with your-
felves concerning the world, contemplate
it as fubject to the Divine dominion. The
greater part of men behold nothing more
than the rotation of human affairs. They
fee a great crowd ever in motion, the
fortunes of men alternately riſing and
falling; virtue often diftreffed, and pro-
fperity appearing to be the purchaſe of
worldly wisdom. But this is only the
outfide of things. Behind the curtain,
there is a far greater fcene, which is be-
held by none but the retired, religious
fpectator. Lift up that curtain, when
you are alone with God. View the world
with the eye of a Chriftian; and you
fhall fee, that while man's heart devifeth
his way it is the Lord who directeth his
Steps. You fhall fee, that however men
appear to move and act after their own
pleaſure, they are, nevertheless, retained
in fecret bonds by the Almighty, and all
their operations, rendered fubfervient to
the
On Religious Retirement.
257
IX.
the ends of his moral government. You SERM.
ſhall behold him obliging the wrath of
man to praiſe him; puniſhing the finner
by means of his own iniquities; from
the trials of the righteous, bringing forth
their reward; and to a ſtate of ſeeming
univerfal confufion, preparing the wiſeſt
and moſt equitable iſſue. While the
fashion of this world is paffing faft away,
you ſhall difcern the glory of another
rifing to fucceed it. You fhall behold
all human events, our griefs and our
joys, our love and our hatred, our charac-
ter and memory, abſorbed in the ocean
of eternity; and no trace of our preſent
exiſtence left, except its being for ever well
with the righteous, and ill with the wicked.
-Such a view of the world, frequent-
ly prefented to our minds, could not fail to
enforce thofe folemn conclufions; There is
no wiſdom, nor counsel, against the Lord.
Fear God, and keep his commandments; for
this is the whole of man. What is a man pro-
fited, if he shall gain the whole world, and
loſe his own foul?
VOL. I.
S
III. COM-
258
On Religious Retirement.
SERM.
IX.
"
III. COMMUNE with your heart, con-
cerning yourſelves, and your real charac-
ter. To acquire a thorough knowledge of
ourfelves, is an attainment no lefs difficult
than important. For men are generally
unwilling to fee their own imperfections;
and when they are willing to enquire into
them, their ſelf-love impofes on their
judgment. Their intercourfe with one
another affifts the delufion to which, of
themſelves, they are prone. For the or-
dinary commerce of the world is a com-
merce of flattery and falfehood; where
reciprocally they deceive, and are deceiv-
ed; where every one appears under an af-
fumed form, profeffes efteem which he
does not feel, and beftows praife in order
to receive it. It is only in retreat, where
thofe falfe femblances difappear, and
thoſe flattering voices are filent, that a
man can learn to think foberly of himſelf,
and as he ought to think.
It has been faid, that there are three
characters which every man füſtains;
and theſe often extremely different from
one
On Religious Retirement.
259
!
one another: One, which he poffeffes in
his own opinion; another, which he car-
ries in the eſtimation of the world; and
a third, which he bears in the judgment
of God. It is only the laft which afcer-
tains what he really is.--Whether the cha-
racter which the world forms of you, be
above or below the truth, it imports you
not much to know. But it is of eternal
confequence, that the character which you
poffefs in your own eyes, be formed up-
on that which you bear in the fight of
God. In order to try it by this great ſtand-
ard, you muſt lay afide, as much as poffi-
ble, all partiality to yourſelves; and in
the ſeaſon of retirement, explore your
heart with fuch accurate ſcrutiny, as may
bring your hidden defects to light.
Enquire for this purpofe, whether you
be not confcious, that the fair opinion
which the world entertains of you, is
founded on their partial knowledge, both
of your abilities and your virtues? Would
you be willing that all your actions ſhould
be publicly canvaffed? Could you bear
S 2
to
SER M.
IX.
%
260
On Religious Retirement.
SERM. to have your thoughts laid open?
IX.
Are
there no parts of your life which you
would be uneafy if an enemy could dif-
cover? In what light, then, muſt theſe
appear to God? When you have kept
free of vice, has your innocence proceed-
ed from purity of principle, or from
worldly motives? Rife there no envy or
malignity within you, when you compare
your own condition with that of others?
Have you been as folicitous to regulate
your heart, as to preſerve your manners
from reproach? Profeffing yourſelves to
be Chriftians, has the Spirit of Chriſt ap-
peared in your conduct? Declaring that
you hope for immortality, has that hope
furmounted undue attachments to the
preſent life?
Such inveſtigation as this, feriouſly pur-
fued, might produce to every man many
diſcoveries of himſelf; diſcoveries not
pleafing, perhaps, to vanity, but falutary
and uſeful. For he can be only a flat-
terer, but no true friend to himfelf, who
aims not at knowing his own defects, as
well
1
On Religious Retirement.
261
well as virtues. By impoſing on the world,
he may carry on fome plan of fancied pro-
fit; but by impofing on his heart, what
can he propoſe to gain? He feedeth of
afbes: A deceived heart hath turned him
afide, that he cannot deliver his foul, nor
Joy, is there not a lie in my right hand *?
THUS I have fet before you, ſome of
thoſe great objects, which ought to em-
ploy your meditation in religious retire-
ment. I have endeavoured to introduce
you into a proper intercourfe with your
heart, concerning God, the world, and
your own character. Let this intercourfe
terminate in fixing the principles of your
future conduct. Let it ferve to introduce
conſiſtency into your life. Nothing can
be more wavering and disjointed, than
the behaviour of thoſe who are wholly
men of the world, and have never been
inured to commune with themſelves.
Diffipation is a more frequent caufe of
their ruin, than determined impiety.
*Ifa. xliv. 20.
It
SERM.
IX.
is
262
On Religious Retirement.
IX.
SERM. is not fo much becauſe they have adopted
bad principles, as becauſe they have never
attended to principles of any kind, that
their lives are ſo full of incoherence and
diforder. You hover on the borders of fin
and duty. One day you read the fcrip-
tures, you hear religious difcourfes, and
form good refolutions. Next day, you
plunge into the world, and forget the fe-
rious impreffion, as if it had been never
made. The impreffion is again renewed,
and again effaced; and in this circle your
life revolves. Is fuch conduct worthy of
creatures endowed with intelligent powers?
Shall the cloſe of life overtake you, before
you have determined how to live? Shall
the day never come, that is to find you
ſteady in your views, decided in your
plans, and engaged in a courſe of action
which your mind approves?—If you wiſh
that day ever to arrive, retirement and
meditation muft firft bring you home to
yourſelves, from the diffipation in which
you are now ſcattered; muſt teach you
to fix ſuch aims, and to lay down fuch
rules
On Religious Retirement.
263
IX.
rules of conduct, as are fuitable to ra- SERM.
tional and immortal beings. Then will
your character become uniform and
reſpectable. Then you may hope, that
your life will proceed in fuch a train as
ſhall prepare you, when it is finiſhed,
for joining the fociety of more exalted
ſpirits.
...
SERMON
}
[ 264 ]
SERM.
X.
SERMON X.
On DEVOTION.
ACTS X. 2.
Cornelius-A devout man-
THAT
HAT religion is effential to the wel-
fare of man, can be proved by the moſt
convincing arguments. But theſe how
demonſtrative foever, are infufficient to
ſupport its authority over human con-
duct. For arguments may convince the
underſtanding, when they cannot con-
quer the paffions. Irrefiftible they ſeem
in the calm hours of retreat; but, in
the feafon of action they often vaniſh
into ſmoke. There are other and more
powerful fprings, which influence the great
movements
On Devotion.
265
In or- SERM.
movements of the human frame.
der to operate with fuccefs on the active
powers, the heart muſt be gained. Sen-
timent and affection muſt be brought to
the aid of reafon. It is not enough that
men believe religion to be a wife and ra-
tional rule of conduct, unleſs they reliſh
it as agreeable, and find it to carry its
own reward. Happy is the man, who
in the conflict of defire between God and
the world, can oppofe not only argu-
ment to argument, but pleaſure to plea-
fure; who, to the external allurements
of ſenſe, can oppoſe the internal joys of
devotion; and to the uncertain promiſes
of a flattering world, the certain experience
of that peace of God which paffeth under-
Standing, keeping his mind and heart-Such
is the temper and ſpirit of a devout man.
Such was the character of Cornelius, that
good centurion, whofe prayers and alms
are ſaid to have come up in memorial be-
fore God. Of this character I intend,
through Divine affiftance, to difcourfe; and
ſhall endeavour, I. To explain the nature
of
X.
266
On Devotion.
SERM. of devotion; II. To juftify, and recom-
X.
mend it; and, III. To rectify fome mif-
takes concerning it.
I. DEVOTION is the lively exerciſe of
thoſe affections, which we owe to the
Supreme Being. It comprehends ſeveral
emotions of the heart, which all termi-
nate on the fame great object. The chief
of them are, veneration, gratitude, defire,
and refignation.
It implies, firſt, profound veneration
of God. By veneration, I underſtand an
affection compounded of awe and love;
the affection which, of all others, it beſt
becomes creatures to bear towards their
Awe is the
infinitely perfect Creator.
firft fentiment that rifes in the foul, at
the view of his greatnefs. But, in the
heart of a devout man, it is a folemn and
elevating, not a dejecting emotion; for
he glows rather than trembles, in the
Divine preſence. It is not the ſuperſti-
tious dread of unknown power, but the
homage yielded by the heart to him who
is,
On Devotion.
267
is, at once, the greateſt and the beſt of Be-
ings. Omnipotence, viewed alone, would
be a formidable object. But confidered
in conjunction with the moral perfections
of the Divine Nature, it ferves to heighten
devotion. Goodneſs affects the heart with
double energy, when refiding in One fo
exalted. The goodneſs which we adore
in him, is not like that which is common
among men, a weak, mutable, undiſcern-
ing fondneſs, ill qualified to be the ground
of affured truſt. It is the goodneſs of a
perfect Governor, acting upon a regu-
lar extenſive plan; a fteady principle
of benevolence, conducted by wiſdom;
which, fubject to no variableness or fha-
dow of turning, free from all partiality
and caprice, incapable of being either
foothed by flattery, or ruffled by reſent-
ment, reſembles, in its calm and equal
luftre, the eternal ferenity of the higheſt
heavens. Thy mercy, O Lord! is in the hea-
vens, and thy faithfulness reacheth unto the
clouds. Thy righteousness is like the great
mountains, and thy judgments are a great depth.
Such
SER M.
X.
268
On Devotion.
SERM.
X.
Such are the conceptions of the great
God, which fill with veneration the heart
of a devout man. His veneration is not
confined to acts of immediate worship.
It is the habitual temper of his foul. Not
only when engaged in prayer or praiſe,
but in the filence of retirement, and even
amidst the occupations of the world, the
Divine Being dwells upon his thoughts.
No place, and no object, appear to him
void of God. On the works of Nature,
he views the impreffion of his hand;
and in the actions of men, he traces
the operation of his Providence. What-
ever he beholds on earth, that is beau-
tiful or fair, that is great or good, he
refers to God, as to the fupreme origin
of all the excellence which is fcattered
throughout his works. From thofe effects
he rifes to the firft caufe. From thoſe
ftreams, he afcends to the fountain whence
they flow. By thofe rays, he is led to
that eternal fource of light in which they
centre.
DEVOTION
On Devotion.
269
X.
DEVOTION implies, fecondly, fincere SERM.
devotion to God, for all his benefits.
This is a warmer emotion than ſimple ve-
neration. Veneration looks up to the
Deity, as he is in himſelf; gratitude re-
gards what he is towards us. When a
devout man furveys this vaft univerſe,
where beauty and goodneſs are every
where predominant; when he reflects on
thofe numberlefs multitudes of creatures,
who in their different ſtations, enjoy the
bleffings of exiſtence; and when at the
fame time he looks up to an Univerſal
Father, who hath thus filled creation with
life and happinefs, his heart glows within
him. He adores that difintereſted good-
nefs, which prompted the Almighty to
raiſe up ſo many orders of intelligent be-
ings, not that he might receive, but that
he might give and impart; that he might
pour forth himſelf, and communicate to
the fpirits which he formed, fome ema-
nations of his felicity.
The goodneſs of this Supreme Benefac-
tor he gratefully contemplates, as difplay-
ed
270
On Devotion.
SERM. ed in his own ftate. He reviews the
X.
events of his life; and in every com-
fort which has fweetened it, he difcerns.
the Divine hand. Does he remember
with affection the parents under whofe
care he grew up, and the companions
with whom he paffed his youthful life?
Is he now happy, in his family rifing
around him; in the fpoufe who loves
him, or in the children who give him
comfort and joy? Into every tender re-
membrance of the past, and every pleaf-
ing enjoyment of the prefent, devotion
enters; for in all thoſe beloved objects,
it recognizes God. The communication
of love from heart to heart, is an effuſion,
of his goodneſs.
defcends all the
From his inſpiration,
friendſhip which ever
glowed on earth; and therefore to him it
juftly returns in gratitude and terminates
on him.
A
But this life, with all its interefts, is
but a ſmall part of human exiftence.
devout man looks forward to immortali-
ty, and diſcovers ftill higher fubje&s of
gratitude.
On Devotion.
271
open-
X.
gratitude. He views himſelf as a guilty SERM.
creature, whom Divine benignity has re-
ceived into grace; whoſe forfeited hopes
it has reſtored, and to whom it has
ed the moft glorious profpects of future
felicity. Such generoſity ſhown to the
fallen and miferable, is yet more affect-
ing to the heart, than favours conferred
on the innocent. He contemplates, with
aftoniſhment, the labours of the Son of
God, in accompliſhing redemption for men;
and his foul overflows with thankfulneſs
to him, who loved us, and wasbeth us from
our fins in his own blogd.-What fball Iren-
der to the Lord for all bis benefits? Bless
the Lord, O my joul! and all that is within
me, bleſs his holy name; who forgiveth all
thine iniquities, and healeth all thy feafes;
who redeemeth thy life from deftruction, and
crowneth thee with loving kindness and with
tender mercies.
DEVOTION implies, thirdly, the defire
of the foul after the favour of the Su-
preme Being, as its chief good, and final
reft.
272
On Devotion.
X.
SERM. reft. To inferior enjoyments, the devout
man allots inferior and fecondary attach-
ment. He diſclaims not every earthly af-
fection. He pretends not to renounce all
pleaſure in the comforts of his preſent
ftate. Such an unnatural renunciation
humanity forbids, and religion cannot re-
quire. But from theſe he expects not
his fupreme bliſs. He difcerns the vanity
which belongs to them all; and beyond
the circle of mutable objects which fur-
round him, he aſpires after fome prin-
ciples of more perfect felicity, which ſhall
not be fubject to change or decay. But
where is this complete and permanent
good to be found? Ambition purſues
it in courts and palaces; and returns
from the purfuit, loaded with forrows.
Pleaſure ſeeks it among fenfual joys;
and retires with the confeffion of difap-
pointment. The deep faith, it is not in me;
and the fea faith, it is not with me. It
cannot be gotten for gold; neither ſhall filver
be weighed for the price thereof. Its place is
not in the land of the living.
.
True hap-
pineſs
On Devotion.
273
X
pinefs dwells with God; and from the SERM,
light of his countenance, it beams upon the
devout man. His voice is, Whom have I
in heaven but thee? and there is none upon
earth that I defire befide thee. After cx-
ploring heaven and earth for happineſs,
they ſeem to him a mighty void, a wil-
derneſs of ſhadows, where all would be
empty and unfubftantial without God.
But in his favour and love, he finds what
ſupplies every defect of temporal objects;
and affures tranquillity to his heart, amidſt
all the changes of his exiſtence. Thou shalt
guide me with thy counsel; and thou ſhalt re-
ceive me to thy glory. My flesh and my
heart faileth; but God is the ftrength of my
heart, and my portion for ever.
FROM theſe ſentiments and affections,
Devotion advances, fourthly, to an entire
reſignation of the foul to God. It is the
confummation of truft and hope. It ba-
niſhes anxious cares, and murmuring
thoughts. It reconciles us to every ap-
pointment of Divine Providence; and re-
folves
VOL. I.
T
274
On Devotion.
SERM. folves every wish into the defire of pleaf-
X.
ing him whom our hearts adore. Its ge-
nuine breathings are to this effect: "Con- .
“duct me, O God! in what path fo-
ever ſeemeth good to thee. In nothing
"fhall I ever arraign thy facred will.
"Doft thou require me to part with
any worldly advantages, for the fake
"of virtue and a good confcience? I
..
give them up. Doft thou command
"me to relinquifh my friends, or my
"country? At thy call I cheerfully leave
"them. Doft thou fummon me away
"from this world? Lo! I am ready to
tr
depart. Thou haft made, thou haft
"redeemed me, and I am thine. My-
felf, and all that belongs to me, I fur-
"render to thy difpofal. Let the men of
"the world have their portion in this life.
"Be it mine, to behold thy face in righ-
teousness; and when I awake, to be fatis-
fied with thy likeness."
((
66
This, furely, is one of the noblest acts
of which the human mind is capable,
when thus, if we may be allowed the ex-
preffion,
On Devotion.
275
preffion, it unites itſelf with God. Nor
can any devotion be genuine, which in-
fpires not fentiments of this nature. For
devotion is not to be confidered as a tran-
fient glow of affection, occafioned by fome
cafual impreffions of Divine goodneſs,
which are fuffered to remain unconnected
with the conduct of life. It is a power-
ful principle, which penetrates the foul;
which purifies the affections from debaf-
ing attachments; and by a fixed and
ſteady regard to God, fubdues every fin-
ful paffion, and forms the inclinations to
piety and virtue.
SUCH in general are the difpofitions
that conftitute devotion. It is the union
of veneration, gratitude, defire, and re-
fignation. It expreffes not fo much the
performance of any particular duty, as
the ſpirit which muft animate all religi-
ous duties. It ftands oppoſed, not mere-
ly to downright vice; but to a heart
which is cold, and infenfible to facred
things; which, from compulfion perhaps,
T 2
and
SER M.
X.
276
On Devotion.
SERM. and a fenfe of intereft, preferves fome
X.
regard
regard to the divine commands, but
obeys them without ardour, love, or joy.
I proceed,
II. To recommend this devout ſpirit
to your imitation. I begin with obſerv-
ing, that it is of the utmoſt confequence
to guard againſt extremes of every kind
in religion. We must beware, left, by
feeking to avoid one rock, we iplit upon
another. It has been long the fubject of
remark, that fuperftition and enthufiafm
are two capital fources of delufion; fu-
perftition on the one hand, attaching
men, with immoderate zeal, to the ritual
and external part of religion; and enthu-
fiafm on the other, directing their whole
attention to internal emotions, and myſti-
cal communications with the ſpiritual
world; while neither the one, nor the
other, has paid fufficient regard to the
great moral duties of the Chriftian life.
But running with intemperate eagerneſs
from thefe two great abufes of religion,
men
"
!
1
On Devation.
277
X.
men have neglected to obferve, that there SERM.
are extremes oppofite to each of them, in-
to which they are in hazard of precipi-
tating themſelves. Thus the horror of
fuperftition has fometimes reached ſo far,
as to produce contempt for all external
infitutions, as if it were poffible for re-
ligion to ſubſiſt in the world, without
forms of worship, or public acknow-
ledgment of God. It has alſo happened,
that fome who in the main are well af-
fected to the cauſe of goodneſs, obſerv-
ing that perfons of a devout turn have
at times been carried, by warm affections,
into unjustifiable exceffes, have thence
haftily concluded, that all devotion was
akin to enthufiafm; and, feparating reli-
gion totally from the heart and affections,
have reduced it to a frigid obfervance of
what they call the rules of virtue. This
is the extreme which I purpoſe at preſent
to combat, by ſhowing you, firſt, that
true devotion is rational, and well found-
ed; next, that it is of the higheſt im-
portance to every other part of religion
and
278
On Devotion.
SERM. and virtue; and, laftly, that it is moſt
X. conducive to our happineſs.
In the first place, True devotion is ra-
tional and well founded. It takes its rife
from affections which are effential to the
human frame. We are formed by Nature,
to admire what is great, and to love
what is amiable. Even inanimate objects
have power to excite thoſe emotions.
The magnificent profpects of the natural
world, fill the mind with reverential awe.
Its beautiful fcenes create delight. When
we furvey the actions and behaviour of
our fellow-creatures, the affections glow
with greater ardour; and, if to be un-
moved, in the former cafe, argues a defect
of ſenſibility in our powers, it diſcovers,
in the latter an odious hardneſs and de-
pravity in the heart. The tenderneſs of
an affectionate parent, the generofity of a
forgiving enemy, the public fpirit of a
patriot or a hero, often fill the eyes with
tears, and fwell the breaft with emotions
too big for utterance. The object of thoſe
affections
On Devotion.
279
X.
affections is frequently raiſed above us, in SERM.
condition and rank. Let us fuppofe him
raiſed alſo above us, in nature. Let us
imagine, that an Angel, or any being of
fuperior order, had condeſcended to be
our friend, our guide and patron; no
perfon, fure would hold the exaltation of
his benefactor's character, to be an argu-
ment why he ſhould love and revere him
lefs.-Strange that the attachment and
veneration, the warmth and overflowing
of heart, which excellence and goodneſs
on every other occafion command, ſhould
begin to be accounted irrational, as foon
as the Supreme Being becomes their object.
For what reafon muſt human ſenſibility be
extinct towards him alone? Are all bene-
fits entitled to gratitude, except the higheſt
and the beſt? Shall goodneſs ceaſe to be
amiable, only becauſe it is perfect?
It will perhaps be faid, that an un-
known and invifible being, is not quali-
fied to raiſe affection in the human heart.
Wrapt up in the myfterious obfcurity of
his nature, he eſcapes our fearch, and af-
fords
280
On Devotion.
}
X.
SERM. fords no determinate object to our love of
defire. We go forward, but he is not there;
and backward, but we cannot perceive
him on the left hand where he work-
eth, but we cannot behold him: He bid-
eth himſelf on the right hand, that we
cannot fee bim*.
Notwithſtanding this
obfcurity, is there any being in the uni-
verfe more real and certain, than the Cre-
ator of the world, and the Supporter of
all exiſtence? Is he, in whom we live and
move, too diftant from us to excite devo-
tion ? His form and effence, indeed,
we cannot fee; but to be unſeen, and
imperfectly known, in many other in-
ftances, precludes neither gratitude nor
love. It is not the fight, ſo much as the
ftrong conception, or deep impreffion, of
an object, which affects the paffions. We
glow with admiration of perſonages, who
have lived in a diftant age. Whole na-
tions have been tranſported with zeal and
affection, for the generous hero, or pub-
lic deliverer, whom they knew only by
* Job xxxiii. 8, 9,
fame.
On Devotion.
281
X.
fame. Nay, properly ſpeaking, the direct SERM
object of our love, is in every cafe, in-
viſible. For that on which affection is
placed, is the mind, the foul, the internal
character of our fellow-creatures; which
furely is no lefs concealed, than the Di-
vine Nature itſelf is, from the view of
ſenſe. From actions we can only infer
the diſpoſitions of men; from what we
ſee of their behaviour, we collect what
is invifible; but the conjecture which we
form, is, at beſt, imperfect; and when
their actions excite our love, much of
their heart remains ftill unknown. I aſk
then, in what refpect God is lefs qualified
than any other being, to be an object of
affection? Convinced that he exifts; be-
holding his goodnefs fpread abroad in his
works, exerted in the government of the
world, diſplayed in fome meaſure to ſenſe,
in the actions of his Son Jefus Chrift; are
we not furniſhed with every effential re-
quifite which the heart demands, in order
to indulge the moſt warm, and at the
fame time the moſt rational emotions?
If
282
On Devotion.
SERM.
X.
If theſe confiderations juftify the rea..
fonableneſs of devotion, as expreffed in
veneration, love, and gratitude, the fame
train of thought will equally juſtify it
when appearing in the forms of defire,
delight, or refignation. The latter are
indeed the confequence of the former.
For we cannot but defire fome communi-
cation with what we love; and will na-
turally refign ourſelves to one, on whom
we have placed the full confidence of
affection, The aſpirations of a devout
man after the favour of God, are the
effects of that earneſt wifh for happineſs,
which glows in every breaſt. All men
have fomewhat that may be called the
object of their devotion; reputation,
pleaſure, learning, riches, or whatever
apparent good has ftrongly attached their
heart. This becomes the centre of at-
traction, which draws them towards it;
which quickens and regulates all their
motions. While the men of the world
are thus influenced by the objects which
they ſeverally worship, fhall he only
•
who
:
On Devotion.
283
X.
who directs all his devotion towards the SERM.
Supreme Being, be excluded from a place
in the ſyſtem of rational conduct? or be
cenfured for having paffions, whoſe ſen-
fibility correfponds to the great caufe
which moves them ?-Having vindicated
the reaſonableneſs of devotion, I come,
;
IN the fecond place, to fhow its im-
portance, and the high place which it
poffeffes in the ſyſtem of religion. I ad-
dreſs myſelf now to thoſe, who, though
they reject not devotion as irrational, yet
confider it as an unneceffary refinement
an attainment which may be ſafely left to
reclufe and fequeftered perfons, who aim
at uncommon fanctity. The ſolid and
material duties of a good life, they hold
to be in a great meaſure independent of
devout affection; and think them fuffi-
ciently ſupported, by their neceffary con-
nection with their intereft, both in this
and in a future world. They infift much
upon religion being a calm, a ſober, and
rational principle of conduct.--I admit
that
284
On Devotion.
X.
SERM. that it is very laudable to have a rational
religion. But I must admonish you, that
it is both reproachful and criminal, to
have an infenfible heart. If we reduce re-
ligion into fo cool a ſtate, as not to admit
love, affection, and defire, we shall leave
it in poffeffion of fmall influence over
human life. Look abroad into the world,
and obſerve how few act upon deliberate
and rational views of their true intereft.
The bulk of mankind are impelled by
their feelings. They are attracted by ap-
pearances of good. Tafte and inclination
rule their conduct. To direct their inclin-
ation and taſte towards the higheſt ob-
jects, to form a relifh within them, for
virtuous and fpiritual enjoyment; to in-
troduce religion into the heart, is the pro-
vince of devotion, and hence arifes its
importance to the interefts of goodneſs.
Agreeably to this doctrine, the great
Author of our religion, who well knew
what was in man, laid the foundation of
his whole fyſtem in the regeneration of
the heart. The change which was to be
accompliſhed
On Devotion.
285
$
X.
}
accomplished on his followers, he did not SERM.
purpoſe to effect, merely by regulating
thetr external conduct; but by forming
within them a new nature; by taking
away the heart of flone, and giving them
a beart of flesh, that is, a heart relenting
and tender, yielding to the Divine im-
pulfe, and readily ſuſceptible of devout
impreffions. Thou shalt love the Lord thy
God, with all thy heart, and mind, and foul,
and ftrength: This is the firft and great
commandment. My fon give me thy heart,
is the call of God to each of us: And,
indeed, if the heart be withheld, it is
not eaſy to conceive what other offering
we can prefent, that will be acceptable
to him.
Of what nature muft that man's religi
on be, who profeffes to worſhip God,
and to believe in Chrift; and yet raifes
his thoughts towards God, and his Savi-
our without any warmth of gratitude or
love; I ſpeak not of thoſe occafional de-
cays of pious affection, to which the beſt
are fubject, but of a total infenfibility to
this
286
On Devotion.
X.
SERM. this part of religions Surely, let the out-
ward behaviour be ever fo irreproachable,
there muſt be fome effential defect in a
heart which remains always unmoved at
the view of infinite goodneſs. The af-
fections cannot, in this cafe, be deemed
to flow in their natural channel. Some
concealed malignity muft have tainted
the inward frame. This is not the man
whom you would chufe for
would chufe for your boſom
friend; or whofe heart you could expect
to anſwer, with reciprocal warmth, to
yours. His virtue, if it deferves that
name, is not of the moſt amiable fort
and may, with reaſon, receive the appel-
lation (often injudiciouſly beſtowed) of
cold and dry morality. Such a perſon
muft, as yet, be far from the kingdom of
Heaven.
As devotion is thus effential to religion
in its principle, fo it enters into the pro-
per diſcharge of all its duties. It diffuſes
an aufpicious influence over the whole
of virtue. The prevailing temper of the
mind is formed by its most frequent em-
ployments.
}
On Devotion.
287
ployments. Intercourſe with ſupreme per-
fection cannot, therefore, but ennoble
and improve it. The pure love of God,
naturally connects itſelf with the love of
man. Hence, devotion has been often
found a powerful inftrument, in huma-
nizing the manners of men, and taming
their unruly paffions. It fmooths what
is rough, and foftens what is fierce, in
our nature. It is the great purifier of
the affections. It infpires contempt of the
low gratifications belonging to animal
life. It promotes an humble and cheerful
contentment with our lot; and fubdues
that eager defire of riches and of power,
which has filled this unhappy world with
crimes and mifery. Finally, it beſtows
that enlargement of heart in the ſervice
of God, which is the great principle,
both of perfeverance, and of progreſs in
virtue. He who, unacquainted with de-
vout affections, fets himſelf to keep the
Divine commandments, will advance in
obedience with a flow and languid peace;
like one who, carrying a heavy burden,
toils
SERM.
X.
288
On Devotion.
SERM. toils to mount the hill. But he whoſe
X.
heart devotion has warmed, will proceed
on his way, cheerful and rejoicing. The
one performs his duty, only becauſe it is
commanded; the other, becauſe he loves
it. The one is inclined to do no more
than neceffity requires; the other feeks
to excel. The one looks for his reward
in ſomewhat befides religion; the other,
finds it in religion itfelf: It is his meat and
drink to do the will of that heavenly Father,
whom he loves and adores. Which of
thefe two are likely to make the greateſt
improvement in goodneſs, is eaſily dif
cerned. Let us now confider,
I
In the third place, the influence of de-
votion on the happineſs of life. Whatever
promotes and ftrengthens virtue, what-
ever calms and regulates the temper, is a
ſource of happinefs. Devotion, as I have
juſt now ſhown, produces thofe effects in
a remarkable degree. It infpires compo-
fure of fpirit, mildneſs, and benignity;
weakens the painful, and cheriſhes the
pleaſing
On Devotion.
289
X.
pleafing emotions; and by theſe
and by theſe means, SERM.
carries on the life of a pious man in a
fmooth and placid tenor.
Befides exerting this habitual influence
on the mind, devotion opens a field of
enjoyments, to which the vicious are en-
tire ſtrangers; enjoyments the more valu-
able, as they peculiarly belong to retire-
ment when the world leaves us, and to
adverfity when it becomes our foe. Theſe
are the two feafons, for which every wife
man would moft wish to provide fome
hidden ſtore of comfort. For let him be
placed in the moſt favourable ſituation
which the human ftate admits, the world
can neither always amufe him, nor al-
ways fhield him from diftrefs. There
will be many hours of vacuity, and
many of dejection in his life. If he be
a ftranger to God, and to devotion, how
dreary will the gloom of folitude often
prove? With what oppreffive weight will
fickneſs, diſappointment, or old
age, fall
upon his fpirits? But for thofe penſive
periods, the pious man has a relief pre-
VOL. I.
U
pared.
200
On Devotion.
X.
SERM. pared. From the tireſome repetition of
the common vanities of life, or from the
painful corrofion of its cares and forrows,
devotion tranfports him into a new re-
gion; and furrounds him there with fuch
objects, as are the moſt fitted to cheer the
dejection, to calm the tumults, and to
heal the wounds of his heart. If the
world has been empty and delufive, it
gladdens him with the profpect of a
higher and better order of things, about
to arife. If men have been ungrateful
and baſe, it diſplays before him the
faithfulneſs of that Supreme Being, who,
though every other friend fail, will never
forfake him. Confult your experience,
and you will find, that the two greateſt
fources of inward joy, are the exerciſe of
love directed towards a deferving object,
and the exerciſe of hope terminating on
fome high and affured happineſs. Both
theſe are ſupplied by devotion; and
therefore we have no reaſon to be fur-
prifed, if on fome occafions, it fill the
hearts of good men with a fatisfaction
not to be expreffed.
The
On Devotion.
291
To
X.
The refined pleaſures of a pious mind, SERM.
are in many refpects fuperior to the
coarſe gratifications of fenfe. They are
pleaſures which belong to the higheſt
powers, and beſt affections of the foul;
whereas the gratifications of fenſe reſide
in the loweſt region of our nature.
the one the foul ftoops below its native
dignity. The other, raife it above itſelf.
The one, leave always a comfortleſs, often
a mortifying, remembrance behind them.
The other, are reviewed with applaufe
and delight. The pleaſures of ſenſe re-
femble a foaming torrent, which, after a
diſorderly courfe, fpeedily runs out and
leaves an empty and offenfive channel.
But the pleaſures of devotion reſemble
the equable current of a pure river,
which enlivens the fields through which
it paffes, and diffufes verdure and ferti-
lity along its banks. To thee, O Devo-
tion! we owe the higheſt improvement of
our nature, and much of the enjoyment
of our life. Thou art the ſupport of our
virtue, and the reſt of our fouls, in this
turbulent
U 2
292
On Devotion.
L
SERM. turbulent world. Thou compofeft the
X.
thoughts. Thou calmeft the paffions.
Thou exalteft the heart. Thy commu-
nications, and thine only, are imparted
to the low no leſs than to the high; to
the poor as well as to the rich. In thy
prefence, worldly diftinctions ceafe; and
under thy influence, worldly forrows are
forgotten. Thou art the balm of the
wounded mind. Thy fanctuary is ever
open to the miſerable; inacceffible only
to the unrighteous and impure. Thou
beginneft on earth, the temper of heaven.
In thee the hofts of angels and bleſſed
fpirits eternally rejoice. It now remains,
that,
III. I ENDEAVOUR to correct fome
errors, into which men are apt to fall
concerning devotion. For it is but too
obvious that errors are often committed
in this part of religion. Theſe frequently
disfigure its appearance before the world,
and ſubject it to unjust reproach. Let us
therefore attend deliberately to its nature,
fo
On Devotion.
293
fo as to diſtinguiſh pure and rational de-
votion, of which I have hitherto treated,
from that which is, in any degree, ſpuri-
ous and adulterated.
In the firſt place, It is an error to
place devotion in the mere performance
of any external act of worship. Prayer
and praife, together with the ordinances
peculiar to the Chriftian religion, are the
appointed means of raifing the heart to-
wards the Supreme Being. They are the
inſtituted ſigns of devotion; the language
in which it naturally expreffes itſelf. But
let us remember, that they are figns and
expreffions only; and we all know, that,
in various caſes, theſe may not correfpond
to the thing fignified. It is in the diſpo-
fition of the heart, not in the motion of
the lips, or in the pofture of the body,
that devotion confifts. The heart may
pray or praiſe, when no words are utter-
ed. But if the heart be unconcerned or
ill affected, all the words we can utter,
how properly framed ſoever, are no other
than empty and unacceptable founds in
the ear of the Almighty.
IN
SER M.
X.
294
On Devotion.
SERM.
X.
In the fecond place, It is an error to
conceive the pleaſures and advantages of
devotion to be indifcriminately open to
all. Devotion, like many parts of religi-
on, may in fome lights be confidered as
a privilege, and in others as a duty. It
is the duty of all, to love God,, and to re-
fign themſelves to his will. But it is the
privilege of good men only, to rejoice in
God, and to confide in his friendship.
Hence a certain preparation is requifite,
for the enjoyment of devotion in its whole
extent. Not only muft the life be re-
formed from grofs enormities, but the
heart muſt have undergone that change
which the Gofpel demands. A competent
knowledge of God muſt be acquired. A
proper foundation must be laid in faith
and repentance, for intercourfe with
Heaven.
They who would rufh all at once from
the arms of the world, into the facred
retreat of devotion; they who imagine.
that retreat to ftand always ready for the
reception of fuch as betake themſelves to
it.
On Devotion.
295
:
X.
it, for no reaſon, but becauſe every other SERM.
refuge excludes them, betray grofs igno-
rance of this part of religion. They bring
to it faculties unqualified to taſte its plea-
fures; and they graſp at hopes, to which
they are not entitled. By incorporating
with devotion the unnatural mixture of
their unfanctified paffions, they defile and
corrupt it. Hence that gloom which has
often ſpread over it. Hence, thoſe ſuper-
ftitious mortifications and aufterities, by
which the falfely devout hope to purchaſe
favour from God; haunted by the ter-
rors of a guilty confcience, and vainly
ftruggling to fubftitute a fervile and
cringing homage, in the room of the
pure
affections of a renewed heart. On fuch
altars the hallowed fire of true devotion
cannot burn; nor can any incenſe aſcend
from them, that ſhall be grateful to Hea-
ven. Bring no more vain oblations. Wash
ye, make you clean, put away the evil of
your doings from before mine eyes, faith the
Lord. Ceafe to do evil,
Then draw nigh to God,
learn to do well.
and he will draw
nigh
296
On Devotion.
{
X.
SERM. nigh to you.- -But though devotion re-
quires a pure heart, and a virtuous life,
and neceffarily fuppofes the exerciſe of
frequent retirement, I muſt obſerve,
In the third place, That it is an error
to conceive it as requiring an entire re-
treat from the world. Devotion, like
every other branch of religion, was in-
tended to fit us for diſcharging the duties
of life. We ſerve God, by being uſeful
to one another. It is evident from the
frame of our nature, and from our com-
mon neceffities and wants, that we were
defigned by Providence for an active part
on this earth. The Gofpel of Chriſt, ac-
cordingly confiders us as engaged in the
concerns of the world; and directs its
exhortations to men, in all the various re-
lations, characters, and employments of
civil life. Abſtraction from fociety, there-
fore, and total dedication of our time to
devout exerciſes, cannot be the moſt pro-
per method of acquiring the favour of
God.
J
I mean
On Devotion.
297
any
But
I mean not, however, to throw
blame on thoſe, who having loft all reliſh
for the ordinary purfuits of life, in con-
ſequence of ſevere wounds which they
have received from affliction; who, be-
ing left to ftand alone, and difcerning
their connections with the world to be
in fome meaſure broken off, chooſe to
feek tranquillity in a religious retirement,
and to confecrate their days entirely to
God. Situations fometimes occur, which
both juſtify a great degree of retreat from
the world, and entitle it to refpect.
with regard to the bulk of mankind,
Chriſtian devotion neither requires nor
implies any fuch fequeftration from the
affairs of men. Nay, for the moſt part,
it will be cultivated with greater fuccefs
by thoſe who mingle it with the active
employments of life. For the mind,
when entirely occupied by any one ob-
ject, is in hazard of viewing it at laſt
through a falſe medium. Objects, eſpe-
cially, fo great and fublime as thoſe of
devotion, when we attempt to fix upon
them
SERM.
X.
}
298
On Devotion.
SERM. them unremitting attention, overſtretch
X. and diſorder our feeble powers. The
mind, by being relaxed, returns to them
with more advantage. As none of our
organs can bear intenfe fenfations without
injury; as the eye when dazzled with
overpowering light, beholds imaginary co-
lours, and lofes the real diftinction of ob-
jeas, fo the mind when overheated by
perpetual contemplation of celeftial things,
has been fometimes found to miſtake the
ftrong impreffions of fancy, for fuperna-
tural communications from above. To the
employments of devotion, as to all other
things, there are due limits. There is a
certain temperate ſphere, within which it
preferves longeft its proper exertion, and
moſt ſucceſsfully promotes the purpoſes
for which it was defigned.
IN the fourth place, It is an error to
imagine, that devotion enjoins a total
contempt of all the pleaſures and amuſe-
ments of human fociety. It checks, in-
deed, that fpirit of diffipation which is
too
On Devotion.
299
i
too prevalent. It not only prohibits plea- SERM.
fures which are unlawful, but likewife
that unlawful degree of attachment to
pleaſures in themſelves innocent, which
withdraws the attention of man from
what is ferious and important. But it
brings amuſement under due limitation,
without extirpating it. It forbids it as
the buſineſs; but permits it as the re-
laxation, of life. For there is nothing in
the ſpirit of true religion, which is hoftile
to a cheerful enjoyment of our fituation
in the world.
They who look with a fevere and in-
dignant eye, upon all the recreations by
which the cares of men are relieved, and
the union of fociety is cemented, are, in
two refpects, injurious to religion. Firſt,
they exhibit it to others under a forbid-
ding form, by clothing it with the garb
of ſo much unneceſſary aufterity. And
next, they deprive the world of the be-
nefit which their example might afford,
in drawing the line between innocent and
dangerous pleaſures. By a temperate par-
ticipation
X.
300
On Devotion.
X.
SERM. ticipation of thoſe which are innocent,
they might ſucceſsfully exert that autho-
rity, which a virtuous and refpectable cha-
racter always poffeffes, in reftraining un-
due excefs. They would fhow the young
and unwary, at what point they ought
to ftop. They would have it in their
power to regulate, in fome degree, the
public manners; to check extravagance,
to humble prefumption, and put vice to
the bluſh. But, through injudicious ſe-
verity, they fall fhort of the good they
might perform. By an indifcriminate cen-
fure of all amufement, they detract from
the weight of their reproof, when a-
muſement becomes undoubtedly finful.
By totally withdrawing themſelves from
the circle of cheerful life, they deliver up
the entertainments of fociety, into the
hands of the loofe, and the corrupted;
and permit the blind power of faſhion,
uncontrolled, to eſtabliſh its own ftand-
ards, and to exercife its dangerous fway
over the world.
!
IN
On Devotion.
301
X.
In the fifth place, It is an error to be- SERM
lieve that devotion nouriſhes a ſpirit of
ſeverity, in judging of the manners and
characters of others. Under this re-
proach, indeed, it has fo long fuffered
in the world; that, with too many, the
appellation of devout, fuggefts no other
character, but that of a four and reclufe
bigot, who delights in cenfure. But the
reproach is unjuft; for ſuch a ſpirit is
entirely oppoſite to the nature of true de-
votion. The very firft traces which it
imprints on the mind, are candour and
humility. Its principles are liberal. Its
genius is unaffuming and mild. Severe
only to itſelf, it makes every allowance
for others which humanity can ſuggeſt.
It claims no privilege of looking into
their hearts, or of deciding with refpect
to their eternal ftate.-If your fuppofed
devotion produce contrary effects; if it
infuſe harſhneſs into your fentiments, and
acrimony into your fpeech; you may
conclude, that under a ferious appear-
ance, carnal paffions lurk. And, if ever
it
!
302
On Devotion.
SERM. it ſhall ſo far lift you up with felf-con-
X.
ceit, as to make you eſtabliſh your own
opinions as an infallible ftandard for the
whole chriſtian world, and lead you to
confign to perdition, all who differ from
you', either in fome doctrinal tenets, or in
the mode of expreffing them; you may
reſt affured, that to much pride you
joined much ignorance, both of the na-
ture of devotion, and of the Goſpel of
Chriſt. Finally,
have
IN the fixth place, It is an error to
think, that perpetual rapture and ſpiri-
tual joy belong to devotion. Devout
feelings admit very different degrees of
warmth and exaltation. Some perfons,
by the frame of their minds, are much
more ſuſceptible than others, of the ten-
der emotions. They more readily relent
at the view of Divine goodneſs, glow with
a warmer ardour of love, and, by con-
fequence, rife to a higher elevation of
joy and hope. But, in the midft of ftill
and calm affections, devotion often dwells;
and,
On Devotion.
303
and, though it produce no tranfports in
the mind, diffufes over it a fteady fe-
renity. Devout fenfations not only vary
in their degree according to the frame of
different tempers; but even among the
beft difpofed, fuffer much interruption
and decay. It were too much to expect,
that in the prefent ftate of human frailty,
thofe happy feelings fhould be uniform
and conftant. Oppreffion of worldly
cares, languor of fpirits, and infirmities
of health frequently indifpofe us for the
enjoyment of devout affections. Pious
men, on thefe occafions, are in hazard of
paffing judgment on their own ſtate with
too much ſeverity; as if, for fome great
iniquity, they were condemned by God
to final hardneſs of heart. Hence arifes
that melancholy, which has been ſeen to
overcloud them; and which has given
occaſion to many contemptuous ſcoffs of
ungodly men. But it is a melancholy
which deferves to be treated with tender-
nefs, not with contempt. It is the exceſs
of virtuous and pious fenfibility. It is
SER M.
X.
the
504
On Devotion.
X.
SERM. the overflowing of a heart affected, in an
extreme degree, with the humble fenfe
of its own failings, and with ardent con-
cern to attain the favour of God. A weak-
nefs, however, we admit it to be, though
not a crime; and hold it to be perfectly
feparable from the effence of devotion.
For contrition, though it may melt, ought
not to fink or overpower the heart of a
Chriſtian. The tear of repentance brings
its own relief. Religion is a fpring of
confolation, not of terror, to every well-
informed mind, which, in a proper man-
ner, refts its hope on the infinite good-
nefs of God, and the all-fufficient merit of
Chrift.
1
To conclude, Let us remove from de-
votion, all thofe miſtakes, to which the
corruptions of men, or their ignorance
and prejudices, have given rife. With us
let it be the worship of God, in fpirit
and in truth; the elevation of the foul
towards him, in fimplicity and love. Let
us purfue it as the principle of virtuous
conduct,
On Devotion.
305
conduct, and of inward peace. By fre-
quent and ferious meditation on the great
objects of religion, let us lay ourſelves
open to its influence. By means of the
inftitutions of the Gofpel, let us cheriſh
its impreffions. And above all, let us
pray to God, that he may eſtabliſh its pow-
er in our heart. For here, if any where,
his affiftance is requifite. The ſpirit of
devotion is his gift. From his inſpiration
it proceeds. Towards him it tends; and
in his prefence hereafter, it ſhall attain its
full perfection.
SER M.
X.
VOL. I.
SERMON
[ 306 ]
SERMON XI.
On the DUTIES of the YOUNG.
SERM.
XI.
TITUS, ii. 6.
Young men likewife exhort to be fober-minded.
SOBRIETY of mind, is one of thoſe
virtues which the prefent condition of
human life ftrongly inculcates. The un-
certainty of its enjoyments, checks pre-
ſumption; the multiplicity of its dan-
gers, demands perpetual caution. Mo-
deration, vigilance, and felf-government,
are duties incumbent on all; but efpeci-
ally on fuch as are beginning the journey
of life. To them, therefore, the admo-
nition in the Text is, with great propriety,
directed, though there is reafon to fear,
that by them it is in hazard of being
leaft
On the Duties of the Young.
307
XI.
leaft regarded. Experience enforces the SERM.
admonition on the moft giddy, after they
have advanced in years. But the whole
ſtate of youthful views and paffions, is
adverſe to ſobriety of mind. The ſcenes
which prefent themſelves, at our entering
upon the world, are commonly flattering.
Whatever they be in themſelves, the lively
fpirits of the young gild every opening
profpect. The field of hope appears to
ftretch wide before them. Pleaſure feems
to put forth its bloffoms on every ſide.
Impelled by defire, forward they rufh
with inconfiderate ardour: prompt to
decide and to chooſe; averſe to heſitate,
or to enquire; credulous, becaufe un-
taught by experience; rafh, becauſe un-
acquainted with danger; head-ſtrong,
becauſe unfubdued by difappointment.
Hence ariſe the perils, of which it is my
defign at preſent to warn them. I fhall
take fobriety of mind, in its moft compre-
henſive ſenſe, as including the whole of
that diſcipline which religion and virtue
preſcribe to youth. Though the words
X 2
of
308
On the Duties
XI.
SERM. of the Text are directly addreffed to young
men, yet as the fame admonition is given
in a preceding verfe to the other fex, the
inftructions which arife from the Text are
to be confidered as common to both. I
intend firſt, to ſhow them the importance
of beginning early to give ferious atten-
tion to their conduct; and next, to point
out thoſe virtues which they ought chiefly
to cultivate.
As foon as you are capable of reflec-
tion, you muſt perceive that there is a
right and a wrong, in human actions.
You fee, that thofe who are born with
the fame advantages of fortune, are not
all equally profperous in the courſe of life.
While fome of them, by wife and ſteady
conduct, attain diftinction in the world,
and paſs their days with comfort and ho-
nour; others of the fame rank, by mean
and vicious behaviour, forfeit the advan-
tages of their birth, involve themſelves in
much mifery, and end in being a dif
grace to their friends, and a burden on
fociety.
of the Young.
309
XI.
fociety. Early, then, you may learn, that SERM.
it is not on the external condition in
which you find yourſelves placed, but on
the part which you are to act, that your
welfare or unhappinefs, your honour or
infamy, depend. Now, when beginning
to act that part, what can be of greater
moment, than to regulate your plan of
conduct with the moft ferious attention,
before you have yet committed any fátal
or irretrievable errors? If, inftead of
exerting reflection for this valuable pur-
pöfe, you deliver yourſelves up, at ſo cri-
tical a time, to floth and pleafure; if you
refuſe to liſten to any counſellor but hu-
mour, or to attend to any purfuit except
that of amufement; if you allow your-
felves to float looſe and careleſs on the
tide of life, ready to receive any direc-
tion which the current of fashion may
chance to give you; what can you expect
to follow from fuch beginnings? While
fo many around you are undergoing the
fad confequences of a like indiſcretion,
for what reafon fhall not thofe confe-
quences
310
On the Duties
SERM.
XI.
quences extend to you? Shall you only
attain fuccefs without that preparation,
and efcape dangers without that precau-
tion, which is required of others? Shall
happineſs grow up to you, of its own ac-
cord, and folicit your acceptance, when,
to the rest of mankind, it is the fruit of
long cultivation, and the acquifition of
labour and care?-Deceive not your-
felves with fuch arrogant hopes. What-
ever be your rank, Providence will not
for your fake, reverſe its eſtabliſhed or-
der. The author of your being hath en-
joined you to take heed to your ways; to
ponder the paths of your feet; to remember
your Creator in the days of your youth. He
hath decreed, that they only who ſeek af-
ter wisdom fhall find it, that fools fhall
be afflicted, because of their tranfgreffions;
and that whofe refufeth inftruction, ſhall
defroy his own foul. By liftening to theſe
admonitions, and tempering the vivacity
of youth with a proper mixture of ſerious
thought, you may enfure cheerfulneſs for
the reft of life; but by delivering your-
felves
of the Young.
311
elves up at preſent to giddineſs and levi-
ty, you lay the foundation of laſting hea-
vinefs of heart.
When you look forward to thofe plans
of life, which either your circumſtances
have fuggefted or your friends have pro-
pofed, you will not heſitate to acknow-
ledge, that in order to purſue them with
advantage, ſome previous difcipline is re-
quifite. Be affured, that whatever is to
be your profeffion, no education is more
neceffary to your fuccefs, than the ac-
quirement of virtuous difpofitions and
habits. This is the univerfal preparation
for every character, and every ſtation in
life. Bad as the world is, refpect is al-
ways paid to virtue. In the ufual courfe
of human affairs, it will be found, that
a plain underſtanding joined with ac-
knowledged worth, contributes more to
proſperity, than the brighteſt parts with-
out probity or honour. Whether ſcience,
or buſineſs, or public life, be your aim,
virtue ftill enters, for a principal fhare,
into all thoſe great departments of fociety.
SER M.
XI.
It
312
On the Duties
SERM. It is connected with eminence, in every li-
XIS
та
1.
beral arts with reputation, in every branch
of fair and uſeful bufinefs, with diftinc-
tion, in every public ftation. The vigour
which it gives the mind, and the weight
which it adds to character; the generous
fentiments which it breathes, the un-
daunted fpirit which it infpires, the ar-
dour of diligence which it quickens, the
freedom which it procures from perni-
cious and difhonourable avocations, are
the foundations of all that is high in fame,
or great in fuccefs, among men.
* ì
T
}
F
Whatever ornamental or engaging en-
dowments you now poffefs, virtue is a
neceffary requifite, in order to their ſhin-
ing with proper luftre. Feeble are the
attractions of the fairest form, if it be
fufpected that nothing within, corref
ponds to the pleaſing appearance without..
Short are the triumphs of wit, when it is
fuppofed to be the vehicle of malice. By
whatever arts you may at first attract the
attention, you can hold the efteem, and
Secure the hearts of others, only by ami-
,
able
$
of the Young
313
XI.
able difpofitions, and the accomplishments SER M.
of the mind. Theſe are the qualities
whofe influence will laft, when the luftre
of all that once ſparkled and dazzlęd has
paffed away.
}
Let not then the feafon of youth be
barren of improvements fo effential to
your future felicity and honour. Now is
the feed-time of life; and according to
what you sow, you ſhall reap. Your cha-
racter is now, under Divine affiftance, of
your own forming; your fate is, in fome
meaſure, put into your own hands. Your
nature is as yet pliant and foft. Habits
have not eſtabliſhed their dominion, Pre-
judices have not pre-occupied your un-
derſtanding. The world has not had time
to contract and debafe your affections.
All your powers are more vigorous, dif-
embarraffed, and free, than they will be
at any future period. Whatever impulfe
you now give to your defires and paffions,
the direction is likely to continue.
will form the channel in which your life
is to run; nay, it may determine its ever-
lafting
It
314
On the Duties
!
XI.
SERM. lafting iffue. Confider then the employ-
ment of this important period, as the
higheſt truſt which ſhall ever be com-
mitted to you; as, in a great meaſure,
decifive of your happineſs, in time, and
in eternity. As in the fucceffion of the
feafons, each, by the invariable laws of
Nature, affects the productions of what is
next in courſe; fo, in human life, every
period of our age, according as it is well
or ill fpent, influences the happineſs of
that which is to follow. Virtuous youth
gradually brings forward accompliſhed and
flourishing manhood; and fuch man-
hood paffes of itſelf, without unea finefs,
into refpectable and tranquil old age.
But when Nature is turned out of its
regular courſe, diſorder takes place in the
moral, juſt as in the vegetable world. If
the Spring put forth no bloffoms, in
Summer there will be no beauty,
and in Autumn no fruit. So, if youth
be trifled away without improvement,
manhood will be contemptible, and old age
miferable. If the beginnings of life have
been
of the Young.
315
been vanity, its latter end can be no other SER M.
than vexation of Spirit.
Having thus fhown the importance of
beginning early to give ſerious attention to
conduct, I come, next, to point out the
virtues which are moft neceffary to be cul-
tivated in youth. What I fhall,
I. RECOMMEND, is piety to God. With
this I begin, both as the foundation of
good morals, and as a difpofition parti-
cularly graceful and becoming in youth.
To be void of it, argues a cold heart, defti-
tute of fome of the beſt affections which
belong to that age. Youth is the feaſon
of warm and generous emotions. The
heart ſhould then fpontaneouſly, riſe
into the admiration of what is great,
glow with the love of what is fair and
excellent, and melt at the diſcovery of
tenderneſs and goodneſs. Where can any
object be found, fo proper to kindle thoſe
affections, as the Father of the univerfe,
and the Author of all felicity? Un-
moved by veneration, can you contem-
plate
XI.
316
On the Duties
SERM plate that grandeur and majefty, which
XI.
}
his works every where difplay? Untouch-
ed by gratitude, can you view that
profufion of good, which, in this pleaf
ing feafon of life, his beneficent hand
pours around you? Happy in the love
and affection of thofe with whom you
are connected, look up to the Supreme
Being, as the infpirer of all the friend-
ſhip which has ever been shown you by
others; himſelf, your beſt and your firſt
friend; formerly, the fupporter of your
infancy, and the guide of your child-
hood; now, the guardian of your youth,
and the hope of your coming years.
View religious homage, as a natural ex-
preffion of gratitude to him for all hist
goodneſs. Confider it as the fervice of
the God of your fathers; of him, to whom
your parents devoted you; of him whom
in former ages your anceſtors honoured';
and by whom they are now rewarded, and
bleffed in heaven. Connected with fo
many tender fenfibilities of foul, let re-
ligion be with you, not the cold and
1
barren
}
1
*
J
of the Young.
317
barren offspring of fpeculation, but the SERM.
warm and vigorous dictate of the heart.
But though piety chiefly belong to the
heart, yet the aid of the underſtanding is
requifite, to give a proper direction to the
devout affections. You must endeavour,
therefore, to acquire juft views both of
the great principles of natural religion,
and of the peculiar doctrines of the gof-
pel. For this end, ftudy the facred fcrip-
tures. Confult the word of God, more
than the ſyſtems of men, if you would
know the truth in its native purity.
When, upon rational and fober enquiry,
you have eſtabliſhed your principles, fuf-
fer them not to be fhaken, by the fcoffs
of the licentious, or the cavils of the ſcep-
tical. Remember, that in the examination
of every great and comprehenfive plan,
fuch as that of Chriftianity, difficulties
may be expected to occur; and that
reaſonable evidence is not to be rejected,
becauſe the nature of our prefent ftate al-
lows us only to know in part, and to fee
through a glass darkly.
Imprefs
XI.
318
On the Duties
SERM.
XI.
Imprefs your minds with reverence for
all that is facred. Let no wantonnefs of
youthful fpirits, no compliance with the
intemperate mirth of others, ever betray
you into profane fallies. Befides the guilt
which is thereby incurred, nothing gives
a more odious appearance of petulance
and preſumption to youth, than the
affectation of treating religion with levi-
ty. Inftead of being an evidence of fupe-
rior underſtanding, it difcovers a pert
and fhallow mind; which vain of the
firft fmatterings of knowledge, prefumes
to make light of what the reſt of man-
kind revere.
At the fame time you are not to ima-
gine, that when exhorted to be religious,
you are called upon, to become more for-
mal and folemn in your manners than
others of the fame years, or to erect your-
felves into fupercilious reprovers of thoſe
around you. The ſpirit of true religion
breathes gentlenefs and affability. It
gives a native, unaffected eafe to the be-
haviour. It is focial, kind, and cheer-
ful:
of the Young.
319
XI.
ful: far removed from that gloomy and SERM.
illiberal fuperftition which clouds the
brow, ſharpens the
temper,
temper, dejects
the ſpirit, and teaches men to fit them-
felves for another world, by neglecting the
concerns of this. Let your religion, on
the contrary, connect preparation for hea-
ven, with an honourable diſcharge of the
duties of active life. Let it be affociat-
ed in your imagination, with all that is
manly and uſeful; with whatsoever things
are true, are just, are pure, are lovely, are
of good report, wherever there is any vir-
tue, and wherever there is any praife. Of
fuch religion difcover, on every proper
occafion, that you are not aſhamed; but
avoid making any unneceffary oftentation
of it before the world.
II. To piety, join modefty and docili-
ty, reverence of your parents, and ſub-
miffion to thoſe who are your fuperiors
in knowledge, in ftation, and in years.
Dependence and obedience belong to
youth. Modefty is one of its chief orna-
ments;
320
On the Duties
XI.
SERM. ments; and has ever been efteemed a pre-
fage of rifing merit. When entering on
the career of life, it is your part not to
affume the reins as yet into your hands;
but to commit yourfelves to the guidance
of the more experienced, and to become
wife by the wifdom of thofe who have
gone before you.
Of all the follies incident to youth,
there are none which either deform its
prefent appearance, or blaft the proſpect
of its future profperity, more than felf-
conceit, prefumption, and obftinacy. By
checking its natural progrefs in improve-
ment, they fix it in long immaturity;
and frequently produce mifchiefs, which
can never be repaired. Yet thefe are
vices too commonly found among the
young. Big with enterpriſe, and elated by
hope, they refolve to truft for fuccefs to
none but themfelves. Full of their own
abilities, they deride the admonitions which
are given them by their friends, as the
timorous fuggeſtions of age. Too wife
to learn, too impatient to deliberate, too
forward
of the Young.
321
forward to be reftrained, they plunge,
with precipitant indifcretion, into the
midſt of all the dangers with which life
abounds. Seeft thou a young man wiſe in
his own conceit? There is more hope of a
fool than of him.Pofitive as you now are
in your opinions, and confident in your
affertions, be affured, that the time ap-
proaches, when both men and things will
appear to you in a different light. Many
characters which you now admire, will,
by and by, fink in your eſteem; and
many opinions, of which you are at pre-
fent moft tenacious, will alter as you ad-
vance in years. Diftruft, therefore, that
glare of youthful prefumption, which
dazzles your eyes. Abound not in your
own fenſe. Put not yourſelves forward
with too much eagernefs; nor imagine
that by the impetuofity of juvenile ar-
dour, you can overturn fyftems which
have been long eſtabliſhed, and change.
the face of the world. Learn not to think
more highly of yourſelves than you ought to
think, but to think foberly. By patient and
gradual
VOL. I...
Y
SERM.
XI.
322
On the Duties
XI.
SERM. gradual progreffion in improvement, you
may, in due time, command lafting eſteem.
But by affuming, at preſent, a tone of
fuperiority, to which you have no title,
you will diſguſt thoſe whofe approbation
it is moſt important to gain. Forward vi-
vacity may fit you to be the companions of
an idle hour. More folid qualities muſt re-
commend you to the wife, and mark you
out for importance and confideration in
fubfequent life.
III. IT is neceffary to recommend to you
fincerity and truth. This is the baſis of
every virtue. That darkneſs of charac-
ter, where we can fee no heart; thoſe
foldings of art, through which no native
affection is allowed to penetrate, preſent an
object, unamiable in every ſeaſon of life,
but particularly odious in youth. If, at
an age when the heart is warm, when the
emotions are ftrong, and when nature
is expected to ſhow itfelf free and open,
you can already fiile and deceive, what
are we to look for when you fhall be lon-
ger
of the Young.
323
XI.
ger hackneyed in the ways of men; when SERM.
intereſt ſhall have completed the obdura-
tion of your heart, and experience ſhall
have improved you in all the arts of guile?
Diffimulation in youth, is the fore-runner
of perfidy in old age. Its firſt
appearance,
is the fatal omen of growing.depravity, and
future ſhame. It degrades parts and learn-
ing; obſcures the luftre of every accom-
pliſhment; and finks you into contempt
with God, and man.
As you value, therefore, the appro-
bation of Heaven, or the eſteem of the
world, cultivate the love of truth. In all
your proceedings, be direct and conſiſtent.
Ingenuity and candour poffefs the moſt
powerful charm; they beſpeak univerſal
favour, and carry an apology for almoſt
every failing. The lip of truth, ſhall be
eſtabliſhed for ever; but a lying tongue, is
but for a moment*. The path of truth, is a
plain and a ſafe path; that of falsehood,
is a perplexing maze, After the firft de-
parture from fincerity, it is not in your
* Prov. xii. 19.
Y 2
power
3:24
On the Duties
SERM.
XI.
power to ftop. One artifice unavoidably
leads on to another; till as the intricacy
of the labyrinth increaſes, you are left
entangled in your own fnare. Deceit dif-
covers a little mind, which ftops at tem-
porary expedients, without rifing to com-
prehenfive views of conduct. It betrays
at the fame time a daftardly fpirit. It is
the refource of one, who wants courage
to avow his deſigns, or to reft
upon him-
felf. Whereas opennefs of character dif-
plays that generous boldnefs, which ought
to diftinguish youth. To fet out in the
world with no other principle than a
crafty attention to intereft, betokens one
who is deftined for creeping through the
inferior walks of life. But to give an
early preference to honour above gain,
when they ſtand in competition; to deſpiſe
every advantage, which cannot be attained
without difhoneft arts; to brook no mean-
nefs, and to floop to no diffimulation; are
the indications of a great mind, the pre-
fages of future eminence and diſtinction in
life.
At
of the Young.
325
XI.
At the ſame time, this virtuous fincerity SERM
is perfectly conſiſtent with the moſt pru-
dent vigilance and caution. It is oppofed
to cunning, not to true wifdom. It is not
the fimplicity of a weak and improvident,
but the candour of an enlarged and noble
mind; of one who ſcorns deceit, becauſe
he accounts it both baſe and unprofitable;
and who ſeeks no diſguiſe,becauſe he needs
none to hide him. Lord! who fhall abide
in thy tabernacle? Who fhall afcend into thy
holy bill? He that walketh uprightly, and
worketh righteousness, and speaketh the
truth in his heart.
IV. YOUTH is the proper ſeaſon of
cultivating the benevolent and humane.
affections. As a great part of your hap-
pineſs is to depend on the connections
which you form with others, it is of high
importance that
you acquire, betimes, the
temper and the manners which will ren-
der fuch connections comfortable. Let a
fenſe of juftice be the foundation of all
your focial qualities. In your moſt early
intercourfe
326
On the Duties
SERM. intercourfe with the world, and even in
XI.
your youthful amufements, let no unfair-
nefs be found. Engrave on your mind
that facred rule, of doing in all things to
others according as you wish that they ſhould
do unto you. For this end,imprefs yourſelves
with a deep fenfe of the original, and
natural, equality of men. Whatever ad-
vantages of birth and fortune you poffefs,
never difplay them with an oftentatious
fuperiority. Leave the fubordinations of
rank, to regulate the intercourſe of more
advanced years. At prefent, it becomes
you to act among your companions, as
man with man. Remember how unknown
to you are the viciffitudes of the world
and how often they, on whom ignorant
and contemptuous young men once look-
ed down with fcorn, have rifen to be their
fuperiors in future years.
Compaffion is an emotion, of which
you ought never to be aſhamed. Grace-
ful in youth is the tear of ſympathy, and
the heart that melts at the tale of woe.
Let not eaſe and indulgence contract your
affections,
;
of the Young.
327
XI.
affections, and wrap you up in ſelfiſh en- SERM.
joyment. But go fometimes to the houſe
of mourning, as well as to the house of feast-
ing. Accuftom yourſelves to think of the
diftreffes of human life; of the folitary
cottage, the dying parent, and the weep-
ing orphan. Thou shalt not harden thy
heart, nor but thy hand from thy poor bro-
ther; but thou shalt ſurely give unto him in
the day of his need: and thine heart fhall
not be grieved when thou giveft unto him;
becauſe that for this thing, the Lord thy God
fhall bless thee in all thy works.* Never
ſport with pain and diſtreſs, in any of
your amuſements; nor treat even the
meaneſt inſect, with wanton cruelty.
In young minds, there is commonly a
ftrong propenſity to particular intimacies
and friendſhips. Youth, indeed, is the
ſeaſon when friendſhips are fometimes
formed, which not only continue through
fucceeding life, but which glow to the
laft, with a tenderneſs unknown to the
connections begun in cooler years. The
propenſity therefore is not to be difcou-
* Deut. xv. 7. 10.
raged
328
On the Duties
XI.
Be-
SERM. raged; though at the fame time it muſt
be regulated with much circumfpection
and care. Too many of the pretended
friendſhips of youth, are mere combina-
tions in pleaſure. They are often found-
ed on capricious likings, fuddenly con-
tracted and as fuddenly diffolved. Some-
times they are the effect of intereſted com-
plaiſance and flattery on the one ſide, and
of credulous fondnefs on the other.
ware of fuch rath and dangerous connec-
tions, which may afterwards load you
with diſhonour. Remember that by the
character of thoſe whom you chooſe for
your friends, your own is likely to be
formed, and will certainly be judged of
by the world. Be flow, therefore, and
cautious in contracting intimacy; but
when a virtuous friendſhip is once eſta-
bliſhed confider it as a facred engagement.
Expoſe not yourſelves to the reproach of
lightness and inconftancy, which always
beſpeak, either a trifling or a baſe mind.
Reveal none of the fecrets of your friend.
Be faithful to his interefts. Forfake him
not
of the Young.
329
XI.
not in danger. Abhor the thought of ac- SERM.
quiring any advantage by his prejudice or
hurt. There is a friend that loveth at all
times, and a brother that is born for adver-
fity. Thine own friend, and thy father's
friend, forfake not.*
our.
Finally, on this head; in order to ren-
der yourſelves amiable in ſociety, correct
every appearance of harſhneſs in behavi-
Let that courteſy diſtinguiſh your
demeanour, which ſprings, not ſo much
from ſtudied politeneſs, as from a mild and
gentle heart. Follow the cuſtoms of the
world in matters indifferent; but ſtop
when they become finful. Let your man-
ners be fimple and natural; and of courſe
they will be engaging. Affectation is cer-
tain deformity. By forming themſelves
on fantaſtic models, and vying with one
another in every reigning folly, the young
begin with being ridiculous, and end in
being vicious and immoral.
V. LET me particularly exhort youth
to temperance in pleaſure: Let me admo-
* Prov. xvii. 17.
-xxvii. 10.
nifh
330
On the Duties
SERM. nifh them to beware of that rock on
XI.
which thouſands, from race to race, conti-
nue to ſplit. The love of pleaſure, na-
tural to man in every period of his life,
glows at this age with exceffive ardour.
Novelty adds freſh charms, as yet, to eve-
ry gratification. The world appears to
ſpread a continual feaft; and health, vi-
gour, and high fpirits, invite them to
partake of it without reftraint. In vain
we warn them of latent dangers. Religi-
on is accuſed of infufferable feverity, in
prohibiting enjoyment; and the old, when
they offer their admonitions, are up-
braided with having forgot that they
once were young.-And yet, my friends,
to what do the reftraints of religion, and
the counfels of age, with refpect to plea-
fure, amount? They may all be com-
prifed in few words, not to hurt your-
felves, and not to hurt others, by your
purſuit of pleaſure. Within theſe bounds,
pleaſure is lawful, beyond them it be-
comes criminal, becauſe it is ruinous.
Are theſe reſtraints any other, than what
a wife
of the Young.
331
XI.
a wife man would chooſe to impofe on SERM.
himſelf? We call you not to renounce
pleaſure but to enjoy it in ſafety. Inſtead
of abridging it, we exhort you to purſue
it on an extenfive plan. We propoſe
meaſures for ſecuring its poffeffion, and
for prolonging its duration.
Confider
Confult your whole nature.
yourſelves not only as fenfitive, but as ra-
tional beings; not only as rational, but
focial; not only as focial, but immortal.
Whatever violates your nature in any of
theſe reſpects, cannot afford true pleaſure;
any more than that which undermines an
effential part of the vital ſyſtem, can pro-
mote health. For the truth of this conclu-
fion, we appeal not merely to the authori-
ty of religion, not to the teftimony of the
aged, but to yourſelves and your own ex-
perience. We afk, Whether you have not
found, that in a courfe of criminal ex-
cefs, your pleaſure was more than com-
penfated by fucceeding pain? Whe-
ther, if not from every particular in-
ftance,
332
On the Duties
SERM. ftance, yet from every habit, at leaft,
XI.
of unlawful gratification, there did not
fpring fome thorn to wound you, there
did not ariſe fome confequence to make
you repent of it in the iffue? How long
then ye fimple ones! will ye love fimplicity?
How long repeat the ſame round of perni-
cious folly, and tamely expofe yourſelves
to be caught in the fame fnare? If you
have any confideration, or any firmneſs
left,avoid temptations, for which you have
found yourſelves unequal, with as much
care, as you would fhun peftilential infec-
tion. Break off all connections with the
loofe and profligate. When finners entice
thee, confent thou not. Look not on the wine
when it is red, when it giveth its colour in
the cup; for at the laſt it biteth like a fer-
pent, and fingeth like an adder. Remove
thy way from the frange woman, and come
not near the door of her boufe. Let not thine
heart decline to her ways; for her houfe is
the way to hell. Thou goeft after her as a
bird hafteth to the fnare, and knoweth not
that it is for his life.
!
By
of the Young.
333
XI.
By thefe unhappy exceffes of irregular SERM.
pleafure in youth, how many amiable dif-
poſitions are corrupted or deſtroyed! How
many rifing capacities and powers are fup-
preffed! How many flattering hopes of
parents and friends, are totally extinguifh-
ed! Who but muft drop a tear over hu-
man nature, when he beholds that morn-
ing which arofe ſo bright, overcaſt with
fuch untimely darkness; that good hu-
mour which once captivated all hearts, that
vivacity which ſparkled in every com-
pany, thofe abilities which were fitted for
adorning the higheſt ftation, all facrificed
at the ſhrine of low fenfuality; and one
who was formed for running the fair ca-
reer of life in the midft of public eſteem,
cut off by his vices at the beginning of his
courſe, or funk, for the whole of it, into
infignificancy and contempt!-Theſe, O
finful pleaſure! are thy trophies. It is
thus that, co-operating with the foe of
God and man, thou degradeft human ho-
nour, and blaſteft the opening profpects of
human felicity.
VI.
334
On the Duties
}
SERM.
XI.
VI. DILIGENCE, induftry, and proper
improvement of time, are material duties
of the young. To no purpoſe are they
endowed with the beſt abilities, if they
want activity for exerting them. Unavail-
ing, in this caſe, will be every direction
that can be given them, either for their
temporal or ſpiritual welfare. In youth
the habits of induſtry are moſt eaſily
acquired. In youth the incentives to it
are ſtrongeſt, from ambition and from
duty, from emulation and hope, from all
the profpects which the beginning of
life affords. If, dead to thefe calls, you
already languiſh in ſlothful inaction, what
will be able to quicken the more fluggish
current of advancing years?
Induſtry is not only the inftrument
of improvement, but the foundation of
pleaſure. Nothing is fo oppofite to the
true enjoyment of life, as the relaxed
and feeble ftate of an indolent mind.
He who is a ftranger to induftry, may
poffefs, but he cannot enjoy. For it is
labour
of the Young.
335
XI.
labour only which gives the reliſh to plea- SERM.
fure. It is the appointed vehicle of eve-
ry good to man. It is the indiſpenſa-
ble condition of our poffeffing a found
mind in a found body. Sloth is fo in-
confiftent with both, that it is hard to
determine whether it be a greater foe to
virtue, or to health and happineſs. In-
active as it is in itſelf, its effects are
fatally powerful. Though it appear a
flowly flowing ſtream, yet it undermines
all that is ftable and flouriſhing. It not
only faps the foundation of every virtue,
but pours upon you a deluge of crimes
and evils. It is like water which firft
putrifies by ſtagnation; and then fends up
noxious vapours, and fills the atmo-
ſphere with death.
Fly, therefore, from idlenefs as the
certain parent both of guilt and of ruin.
And under idlenefs I include, not mere
inaction only, but all that circle of tri-
fling occupations in which too many
faunter away their youth; perpetually
engaged in frivolous fociety, or public
amufe-
336
On the Duties
SERM. amuſements, in the labour of drefs, or
XI.
}
the oftentation of their perfons.-Is this
the foundation which you lay for future,
uſefulneſs and eſteem? By fuch accom-
pliſhments, do you hope to recommend
yourſelves to the thinking part of the
world, and to anſwer the expectations
of your friends, and your country?
Amuſements, youth requires. It were
vain, it were cruel to prohibit them.
But though allowable as the relaxation,
they are moſt culpable as the buſineſs of
the young. For they then become the
gulph of time, and the poifon of the
mind. They foment bad paffions. They
weaken the manly powers. They fink
the native vigour of youth, into con-
temptible effeminacy.
Redeeming your time from fuch dan-
gerous waſte, ſeek to fill it with employ-
ments which you may review with fatis-
faction. The acquifition of knowledge
is one of the moſt honourable occupa-
tions of youth. The defire of it diſeo-
vers a liberal mind, and is connected with
many
:
of the Young.
337
XI.
many accompliſhments, and many virtues. SERM.
But though your train of life ſhould not
lead you to ſtudy, the courſe of educa-
tion always furnishes proper employments
to a well diſpoſed mind. Whatever you
purfue, be emulous to excel. Generous
ambition, and fenfibility to praife, are, ef-
pecially at your age, among the marks of
virtue. Think not that any affluence of
fortune, or any elevation of rank, exempts
you from the duties of application and
induſtry. Induftry is the law of our be-
ing; it is the demand of Nature, of
Reaſon, and of God. Remember always
that the years which now pafs over your
heads, leave permanent memorials behind
them. From your thoughtleſs minds they
may eſcape; but they remain in the re-
membrance of God. They form an im-
portant part of the regiſter of
your life.
They will hereafter bear teftimony either
for or againſt you, at that day, when, for
all your actions, but particularly for the
employments of youth, you muſt give an
account to God.
VOL. I.
Z
THUS
338
On the Duties
SERM.
XI.
THUS I have fet before you, fome of
the chief qualifications which belong to
that fober mind, that virtuous and religi-
ous character, which the apoftle in my
Text recommends to youth; piety, mo-
defty, truth, benevolence, temperance,
and induſtry. Whether your future
courſe is deſtined to be long or ſhort, after
this manner it ſhould commence; and, if
it continue to be thus conducted, its con-
clufion, at what time foever it arrives, will
not be inglorious or unhappy. For, bo-
nourable age is not that which ftandeth in
length of time, or that which is measured
by number of years. But wiſdom is the
gray hair to man, and an unspotted life is
old age.
LET me finiſh the ſubject, with recall-
ing your attention to that dependence on
the bleffing of Heaven, which, amidſt all
your endeavours after improvement, you
ought continually to preferve. It is too
common with the young, even when they
refolve to tread the path of virtue and
honour,
of the Young.
339
honour, to fet out with prefumptuous con-
fidence in themſelves. Trufting to their
own abilities for carrying them fucceſsful-
ly through life, they are careleſs of ap-
plying to God, or of deriving any affift-
ance from what they are apt to reckon
the gloomy difcipline of religion. Alas!
how little do they know the dangers which
await them? Neither human wifdom, nor
human virtue, unfupported by religion,
are equal for the trying fituations which
often occur in life. By the fhock of tempt-
ation, how frequently have the moſt vir-
tuous intentions been overthrown? Un-
der the preffure of difafter, how often has
the greateſt conſtancy funk? Every good
and every perfect gift is from above. Wif
dom and virtue, as well as riches, and ho-
nour, come from God. Deftitute of his fa-
vour, you are in no better fituation, with
all your boaſted abilities, than orphans
left to wander in a tracklefs defert, with-
out any guide to conduct them, or any
ſhelter to cover them from the gathering
ftorm. Correct, then, this ill-founded ar-
rogance.
Z2
SER M.
XI.
340
On the Duties of the Young.
XL
SERM. rogance. Expect not, that your happineſs
can be independent of him who made
youth. By faith and repentance, apply to
the Redeemer of the world. By piety
and prayer, feek the protection of the God
of heaven. I conclude with the folemn
words, in which a great Prince delivered
his dying charge to his fon; words, which
every young perfon ought to confider as
addreſſed to himſelf, and to engrave deep-
ly on his heart. Thou, Solomon, my fon, know
thou the God of thy fathers; and ferve him
with a perfect heart, and with a willing
mind. For the Lord fearcheth all hearts,
and underftandeth all the imaginations of the
thoughts. If thou feek him, he will be found
of thee; but if thou forfake him, he will
caft thee off for ever
***
1 Chron. xxviii. 9.
i
SERMON
{ 341 ]
ļ
SERMON XII.
On the DUTIES and CONSOLATIONS
of the AGED.
PROV. xvi. 31.
The boary head is a crown of glory, if it be
found in the way of righteouſneſs.
To fear God and to keep his command- SERM.
ments, is the rule of our duty, in eve-
ry period of life. But as the light which
guides our ſteps, varies with the progreſs
of the day, fo the rule of religious con-
duct is diverſified in its application, by the
different ſtages of our prefent exiſtence.
To every age, there belongs a diftinct pro-
priety of behaviour. There arifes from it,
a feries of duties peculiar to itſelf.
Of
XII.
342
On the Duties and
SERM.
XII.
Of thoſe which are incumbent on youth,
I have treated in the preceding difcourfe.
As we advance from youth to middle
age, a new field of action opens, and a
different character is required. The flow
of gay and impetuous fpirits begins to
fubfide. Life gradually affumes a graver
caft; the mind a more fedate and thought-
ful turn. The attention is now trans-
ferred from pleaſure to intereft; that is,
to pleaſure diffufed over a wider extent,
and meaſured by a larger fcale. Former-
ly the enjoyment of the prefent moment
occupied the whole attention. Now, no
action terminates ultimately in itſelf, but,
refers to fome more diftant aim. Wealth
and power, the inftruments of laſting
gratification, are now coveted more than
any fingle pleaſure. Prudence and fore-
fight lay their plans.
Induſtry carries on
its patient efforts. Activity puſhes for-
ward; addrefs winds around. Here, an
enemy is to be overcome; there, a rival
to be diſplaced. Competitions warm; and
the ftrife of the world thickens on every
fide,
Confolations of the Aged.
343
fide, to guide men through this buſy pe-
riod, without lofs of integrity; to guard
them againſt the temptations which ariſe
from miſtaken, or interfering, intereſts;
to call them from worldly purſuits, to fe-
rious thoughts of their ſpiritual concerns,
is the great office of religion.
But as this includes, in a great meaſure,
the whole compaſs of moral duty; as the
general ftrain of religious exhortation is
addreffed to thoſe who are in this feafon
of life; a delineation of the virtues, pro-
perly belonging to middle age, may ap-
pear unneceffary, and would lead us in-
to too wide a field. Let us therefore turn
our view to a bounded profpect; and con-
template a period of life, the duties of
which are circumfcribed within narrow-
er limits. Old age is a ftage of the hu-
man courſe, which every one hopes to
reach; and therefore the confideration of
it interefts us all. It is a period juftly
entitled to general reſpect. Even its fail-
ings ought to be touched with a gentle
hand; and though the petulant, and the
vain,
SERM.
XII.
344
Cn the Duties and
XII.
SERM. vain, may defpife the boary head, yet the
wiſeſt of men has afferted in the Text, that
when found in the way of righteousness, it
is a crown of glory. I fhall, firft, offer ſome
counfels, concerning the errors which are
moſt incident to the aged. Secondly, I
ſhall ſuggeſt the peculiar duties they ought
to practiſe; and, thirdly, point out the
confolations they may enjoy.
I. As the follies and vices of youth, are
chiefly derived from inexperience and
preſumption fo, almoft all the errors of
age, may be traced up to the feebleneſs
and diftreffes peculiar to that time of life.
Though in every part of life, vexati-
ons occur, yet, in former years, either
buſineſs or pleaſure ferved to obliterate
their impreffion, by fupplying occupati-
on to the mind. Old age begins its advan-
ces, with difqualifying men for reliſhing
the one, and for taking an active part in
the other. While it withdraws their accuf
tomed fupports, it impofes, at the fame
time, the additional burden of growing
infirmities.
Confolations of the Aged.
345
XII.
infirmities. In the former ftages of their SERM.
journey, hope continued to flatter them
with many a fair and enticing profpect.
But in proportion as old age increaſes,
thoſe pleaſing illufions vaniſh. Life is
contracted within a narrow and barren
circle. Year after year, fteals fomewhat
away from their ſtore of comfort, deprives
them of fome of their ancient friends,
blunts ſome of their powers of ſenſation,
or incapacitates them for fome func-
tion of life.
Though in the plan of Providence, it
is wifely ordered, that before we are call-
ed away from the world, our attach-
ment to it ſhould be gradually loofened;
though it be fit in itſelf, that as in the
day of human life, there is a morning and
a noon, fo there fhould be an evening
alſo when the lengthening fhadows ſhall
admonish us of approaching night; yet
we have no reaſon to be ſurpriſed, if
they who are arrived at this dejecting
ſeaſon, feel and lament the change which
they fuffer. The complaints, therefore,
of
346
On the Duties and
SERM. of the aged, fhould meet with tenderneſs,
XII.
rather than cenfure. The burden under
which they labour, ought to be viewed
with fympathy, by thoſe who muſt bear
it in their turn, and who perhaps, here-
after
may complain of it as bitterly. At
the fame time, the old fhould confider,
that all the feafons of life have their fe-
veral trials allotted to them; and that to
bear the infirmities of age with becoming
patience is as much their duty, as it is
that of the young to refift the temptations
of youthful pleaſure. By calmly endur-
ing, for the ſhort time that remains, what
Providence is pleaſed to inflict, they both
exprefs a refignation moſt acceptable to
God, and recommend themſelves to the
efteem and affiftance of all who are
around them.
But though the querulous temper im-
puted to old age, is to be confidered as a
natural infirmity, rather than as a vice;
the fanie apology cannot be made for that
peevish diſguſt at the manners, and that
malignant cenfure of the enjoyments, of
the
Confolations of the Aged.
347
XII.
the young which is ſometimes found to SERM.
accompany declining years. Nothing can
be more unjust, than to take offence at
others, on account of their partaking of
pleaſures, which it is paſt your time to en-
joy. By indulging this fretful temper,
you both aggravate the uneaſineſs of age,
and you alienate thoſe on whofe affection
much of your comfort depends. In order
to make the two extremes of life unite in
amicable fociety, it is greatly to be wished,
that the young would look forward, and
confider that they fhall one day be old;
and that the old would look back, and re-
membering that they once were young,
make proper allowances for the temper
and the manners of youth.
But instead of this, it is too common
to find the aged at declared enmity with
the whole ſyſtem of prefent cuſtoms and
manners; perpetually complaining of the
growing depravity of the world, and of
the aſtoniſhing vices and follies of the
rifing generation. All things, according
to them, are rushing faft into ruin. De-
cency
348
On the Duties and
SERM.
XII.
cency and good order have become extinct,
ever fince that happy diſcipline, under
which they ſpent their youth, has paffed
away. Part, at leaſt, of this dif-
pleaſure, you may fairly impute to the
infirmity of age, which throws its own
gloom on every furrounding object. Si-
milar lamentations were, in the days of
your youth, poured forth by your fathers;
and they who are now young, fhall, when
it comes to their turn, inveigh, in the
like ftrain, againſt thoſe who fucceed
them. Great has been the corruption of
the world in every age. Sufficient ground
there is for the complaints made by ſeri-
ous obfervers, at all times, of abounding
iniquity and folly. But though particu-
lar modes of vice prevail in one age, more
than in others, it does not follow, that
on that age all iniquity is accumulated.
It is the form, perhaps, more than the
quantity of corruption, which makes the
diftinction. In the worst of times, God
has affured us, that there fhall be always
a feed who shall ferve him*. Say not thou,
* Pfal. xxii. 30.
What
Confolations of the Aged.
349
XII.
What is the cauſe that the former days were SERM.
better than theſe? for thou doft not enquire
wifely concerning this. Be not righteous over-
much; neither make thyself over-wife*. For-
mer follies pafs away, and are forgotten.
Thoſe which are prefent, ftrike obſerva-
tion, and ſharpen cenfure. Had the de-
pravation of the world continued to in-
creaſe in proportion to thofe gloomy cal-
culations, which, for fo many centuries
paft, have eſtimated each race as worſe
than the preceding; by this time, not one
ray of good fenfe, nor one fpark of piety
and virtue, muſt have remained unextin-
guiſhed among mankind.
One of the vices of old
age, which ap-
pears the moſt unaccountable, is that co-
vetous attachment to worldly intereſt, with
which it is often charged. But this too
can naturally be deduced from the ſenſe of
its feebleneſs and decay. In proportion as
the vigour both of body and mind declines,
timidity may be expected to increaſe. With
anxious and fearful eye, the aged look for-
* Ecclef. vii. 10, 16.
ward
350
On the Duties and
XII.
SERM. ward to the evils, which threaten them,
and to the changes which may befall.
Hence, they are fometimes apt to over-
value riches, as the inftrument of their
defence against thefe dangers, and as the
moſt certain means of fecuring them a-
gainſt folitude and difrefpect. But though
their apprehenfions may juftify a cautious
frugality, they can by no means excufe
a fordid avarice. It is no lefs abfurd,
than it is culpable, in the old, from the
dread of uncertain futurity, to deny them-
felves the enjoyment of the preſent;
and to increaſe in anxiety about their
journey, in proportion as it draws nearer
to its cloſe. There are more effectual
methods of commanding refpect from the
world, than the mere poffeffion of wealth.
Let them be charitable, and do good.
Let them mix beneficence to their friends,
with a cheerful enjoyment of the com-
forts which befit their ftate. They will
then receive the returns of real reſpect
and love. Whereas, by their riches,
they procure no more than preténded
demonftrations
Confolations of the Aged.
351
demonftrations of regard; while their ill-
judged parfimony occafions many fecret
wiſhes for their death.
As increaſing years debilitate the bo-
dy, fo they weaken the force, and dimi-
niſh the warmth of the affections. Chill-
ed by the hand of time, the heart loſes
that tender fenfibility, with which it once
entered into the concerns and forrows of
others. It is in truth, a merciful ap-
pointment of Providence, that as they
who ſee many days, muft behold many
a fad fcene, the impreffions of grief upon
their heart ſhould be blunted by being
often repeated; and that, in proportion
as their power of advancing the profpe-
rity of others decreaſes, their partici-
pation of the misfortunes of others
ſhould alſo leffen. However, as in eve-
ry period of life, humanity and friend-
ſhip contribute to happineſs, it is both
the duty and intereft of the aged, to
cheriſh the remains of the kind affec-
tions; and from the days of former
years, to recall fuch impreffions as may
tend ·
SER M.
XII.
352
On the Duties and
SERM. tend to foften their hearts. Let them
XII.
not, from having fuffered much in the
courfe of their long pilgrimage, become
callous to the ſufferings of others. But,
remembering that they ftill are men, let
them ftudy to keep their heart open to
the ſenſe of human woe. Practifed in
the ways of men, they are apt to be
fufpicious of defign and fraud; for the
knowledge, and the diftruft of mankind,
too often go together. Let not, how-
ever, that wary caution, which is the
fruit of their experience, degenerate into
craft. Experience ought alfo to have
taught them, that amidſt all the falsehood
of men, integrity is the beſt defence; and
that he who continueth to the end to walk
uprightly, fhall continue to walk furely.
Having thus offered fome admonitions
concerning the errors moft incident to
age. I proceed,
II. To point out the duties which pecu-
liarly belong to it.
The
Confolations of the Aged.
353
XII.
The firſt which I fhall mention, is, a SERM.
timely retreat from the world. In every
part of life, we are in hazard of being too
deeply immerſed in its cares. But, during
its vigorous periods, the impulſe of active
ſpirit, the neceffary buſineſs of our ſtation,
and the allowable endeavours to advance
our fortune by fair induſtry, render it dif-
ficult to obſerve due moderation. In old
age, all the motives of eager purfuit dimi-
niſh. The voice of nature then calls you
to leave to others the buftle and conteſt of
the world; and gradually to diſengage
yourſelves from a burden which begins to
exceed your ſtrength. Having borne your
ſhare of the heat and labour of the day, let
the evening of life be paffed in the cool
and quiet fhade. It is only in the fhade,
that the virtues of old age can flouriſh.
There its duties are difcharged with moft
fuccefs; and there, its comforts are en-
joyed with greateft fatisfaction.
By the retreat of old age, however, I
do not mean a total ceffation from every
VOL. I.
A a
worldly
354
On the Duties and
XII.
SERM. worldly employment. There is an error
in this, as well as in the oppofite extreme.
Perſons who have been long haraffed with
buſineſs and care, fometimes imagine, that
when life declines, they cannot make their
retirement from the world too complete.
But where they expected a delicious enjoy-
ment of leiſure and eaſe, they have often
found a melancholy folitude. Few are able,
in any period of their days, to bear a total
abſtraction from the world. There remains
a vacancy which they cannot fill up.
Incapable of being always employed in
the exerciſes of religion, and often little
qualified for the entertainments of the
underſtanding, they are in hazard of be-
coming a burden to themſelves, and to
all with whom they are connected. It
is, therefore, the duty of the aged, not fo
much to withdraw entirely from worldly
buſineſs, as to contract its circle; not fo
much to break off as to loofen their
communication with active life. Conti-
nuing that train of occupation to which
they
Confolations of the Aged.
355
XII.
they have been moft accuſtomed, let SERM.
them purſue it with lefs intenſeneſs; re-
laxing their efforts, as their powers de-
cline; retiring more and more, from
public obfervation, to domeſtic fcenes,
and ferious thoughts; till as the decays
of life advance, the world fhall of itfelf
withdraw to a greater diſtance from their
view; its objects fhall gradually yield
their place to others of more importance;
and its tumults fhall found in their ears,
only like a noife which is heard from
afar.
If it be the duty of the old, to retreat
betimes from the fatigue of worldly care,
it is ftill more incumbent on them, to
quit the purſuit of fuch pleaſures as are
unfuitable to their years. Cheerfulneſs,
in old age, is graceful. It is the natural
concomitant of virtue. But the cheer-
fulneſs of age is widely different from the
levity of youth. Many things are allow-
able in that early period, which in ma-
turer years, would deferve cenfure; but
which, in old age, become both ridiculous
A a 2
and
356
On the Duties and
XII.
SERM. and criminal. By awkwardly affecting
to imitate the manners, and to mingle in
the vanities of the young, as the aged
depart from the dignity, fo they forfeit
the privileges of gray hairs. But if, by
follies of this kind, they are degraded,
they are expofed to much deeper blame,
by defcending to vicious pleaſure, and
continuing to hover round thoſe ſinful
gratifications to which they were once
addicted. Amuſement and relaxation the
aged require and may enjoy. But let
them confider well, that by every intem-
perate indulgence they accelerate decay;
inſtead of enlivening, they opprefs, and
precipitate, their declining ſtate. Eaſe,
fafety, and reſpect, are the proper enjoy-
ments of age. Within theſe bounds let it
remain, and not vainly attempt to break
through that barrier, by which nature
has feparated the pleaſures of youth,
from the comforts left to the concluding
years of life.
A material part of the duty of the
aged confifts, in fludying to be ufeful
to
Confolations of the Aged.
357
XII.
to the race who are to fucceed them. SERM.
Here opens to them an extenfive field
in which they may fo employ themſelves,
as confiderably to advance the intereſt of
religion, and the happineſs of mankind.
To them it belongs, to impart to the
young the fruit of their long experience;
to inftruct them in the proper conduct,
and to warn them of the various dangers,
of life; by wife counſel to temper their
precipitate ardour; and both by precept
and example, to form them to piety and
virtue.
It is not by rigorous difcipline and
unrelaxing aufterity, that they can main-
tain an afcendant over youthful minds.
The conftraint which their prefence will
impofe, and the averfion which their
manners will create, if the one be con-
ftantly awful, and the other ſevere, tend
to fruftrate the effect of all their wifdom.
They muſt affume the fpirit of the com-
panion, and the friend; and mix with
the authority of age, a proper degree of
indulgence to the manners of the young.
Inftead
358
On the Duties and
ง
SERM. Inftead of leffening the refpect due to
XII. their years by ſuch condefcenfion, they
take the fureft method to increaſe it. Old
age never appears with greater dignity
than when tempered by mildnefs, and
enlivened with good humour, it acts as
the guide and the patron of youth. Reli-
gion diſplayed in fuch a character, ſtrikes
the beholders, as at once amiable and
venerable. They revere its power, when
they fee it adding fo much grace to the
decays of nature, and fhedding fo pleafing
a luftre over the evening of life. The
young wifh to tread in the ſame ſteps,
and to arrive at the clofe of their days
with equal honour. They liften with at-
tention to counfels, which are mingled
with tenderneſs, and rendered reſpectable
by gray hairs. For notwithſtanding all
its prefumption, youth naturally bends
before fuperior knowledge and years.
Aged wiſdom, when joined with acknow-
ledged virtue, exerts an authority over
the human mind, greater even than that
which arifes from power and ſtation. It
can
Confolations of the Aged.
359
XII.
can check the moſt forward, abafh the SERM.
moft profligate, and ftrike with awe the
moſt giddy and unthinking.
In the midſt of their endeavours to be
uſeful to others, let not the aged forget
thoſe religious employments, which their
own ftate particularly requires. The firſt
of theſe, is reflection on their paſt beha-
viour, with a view to diſcover the errors
which they have committed; and, as far
as remaining life allows, to apply them-
felves to repentance and amendment.
Long has the world bewildered
you in its
maze, and impofed upon you by its arts.
The time is now come, when this great.
feducer ſhould miſlead you no more.
From the calm ftation at which
arrived, fequéftered from the crowd of
the deceiving and the deceived, review
your conduct, with the eye of Chriftians
and immortal beings. After all the tu-
mult of life is over, what now remains to
afford you folid fatisfaction? Have you
ſerved God with fidelity, and diſcharged
your part to your fellow-creatures with
you are
integrity
360
On the Duties and
SERM. integrity and a good conſcience?
XII.
Can
you look forward, without terror, to
that day which is to diffolve
your con-
nection with this world, and to bring
you into the prefence of him who made
you, in order to give account of your
actions ?—The retrofpect of life is feldom
wholly unattended, by uneafinefs and
fhame. Though to the good and the
bad, it preſents a very different fcene;
yet, to all men, it recalls much guilt
incurred, and much time mifpent. It
too much reſembles the review which a
traveller takes from fome eminence, of a
barren country, through which he has
paffed, where the heath and the defart
form the chief profpect; diverfified only
by a few ſcattered fpots of imperfect cul-
tivation.
Turn then your thoughts to the proper
methods of making your peace with God
through Jefus Chrift; and implore, from
Divine grace, that new heart, and right
Spirit, which will fit you for a better
world. Let devotion fill up many of
thofe
Confolations of the Aged.
361
thoſe hours which are now vacant from
worldly buſineſs and care. Let your af-
fections dwell among divine and immor-
tal objects. In filent and thoughtful me-
ditation, walk as on the thore of that vaft
ocean, upon which you are foon to em-
bark. Summon up all the conſiderati-
ons, which ſhould reconcile you to your
departure from life; and which may pre-
pare you for going through its laſt ſcene,
with firmneſs and decency. Often let
your thankſgivings afcend to God, for
that watchful care with which he hath
hitherto conducted you, through the long
journey of life. Often let your pray-
ers be heard, that in what remains of
your pilgrimage, he may not forfake you;
and that, when you enter into the val-
ley of the shadow of death, he may there
ſupport you with his ftaff, and defend
you
with his rod.-Amidſt ſuch thoughts and
cares, let old age find
you employed; be-
taking yourſelves to a prudent and timely
retreat; difengaged both from the op-
preffive load of buſineſs, and from the
unfeafon-
SERM.
XII.
362
On the Duties and
}
XII.
SERM. unfeaſonable purfuit of pleaſure; applying
yourſelves to form the fucceeding race,
་
by your counfels to virtue and wiſdom;
reviewing ſeriouſly your paſt life; by re-
pentance and devotion, preparing your-
felves for a better; and, with humble
and manly compofure, expecting that
hour, which Nature cannot now long
delay. It remains,
III. To fuggeft the confolations which
belong to old age, when thus found in the
way of righteousness.
I muſt introduce them with obferving,
That nothing is more reaſonable in itſelf,
than to ſubmit patiently to thoſe infirmi-
ties of Nature, which are brought on by
the increaſe of years. You knew before-
hand what you had to expect, when
numbered the fucceffive Summers and
Winters which were paffing over your
heads. Old age did not attack you by
furpriſe, nor was it forced upon you
against your choice. Often and earneft-
ly, did you wiſh to fee long life, and many
days.
Confolations of the Aged.
363
XII.
#}
days. When arrived at the deſired period, SERM.
have you any juſt cauſe to complain, on
account of enduring what the conſtitution
of our being impofes on all? Did you ex-
pect, that for your fake, Providence was
to alter its eſtabliſhed order? Throughout
the whole vegetable, ſenſible and rational
world, whatever makes progrefs towards
maturity, as foon as it has paſſed that
point, begins to verge towards decay. It
is as natural for old age to be frail, as for
the corn to bend under the ripened ear,
or for the autumnal leaf to change its
hue. To this law, all who went before
you, have fubmitted, and all who fhall
come after you, muft yield.
muft yield. After they
have flouriſhed for a feafon, they fhall
fade, like you, when the period of decline
arrives, and bow under the preffure of
years.
During the whole progrefs of the hu-
man courſe, the principal materials of
our comfort and uneafinefs, lie within our-
felves. Every age will prove burdenſome,
to thoſe who have no fund of happineſs
in
364
On the Duties and
XII.
SERM. in their own breaft. Preferve them, if you
could, from all infirmity of frame; beſtow
upon them, if it were poffible, perpetual
youth; ftill they would be reftlefs and mi-
ferable, through the influence of ill-go-
verned paffions. It is not furpriſing, that
fuch perfons are peevish, and querulous,
when old. Unjustly they impute to their
time of life, that mifery with which their
vices and follies embitter every age.
Whereas, to good men, no period of life.
is unfupportable, becauſe they draw their
chief happineſs from fources which are in-
dependent of age or time. Wiſdom, pie-
ty, and virtue, grow not old with our bo-
dies. They fuffer no decay from length of
days. To them only belongs unalterable
and unfading youth.
ed in the boufe of the
the courts of our God.
forth fruit in old age;
flourishing
Thofe that be plant-
Lord, fhall flourish in
They fhall ftill bring
they shall be fat and
You can now, it is true, no longer re-
liſh many of thoſe pleaſures which once
*Pfal. xcii. 13, 14.
amufed
Confolations of the Aged.
365
XII.
amufed you.
Your fenfations are lefs SERM.
quick than formerly; your days more
languiſhing. But if you have quitted the
region of pleaſure, in return, you poffefs
that of tranquillity and repoſe. If you are
ftrangers to the vivacity of enjoyment,
you are free, at the fame time, from the
pain of violent and often difappointed
defire. Much fatigue, much vexation, as
well as vanity, attend that turbulence of
life, in which the younger part of man-
kind are engaged. Amidſt thofe keen pur-
fuits, and ſeeming pleaſures, for which
you envy them, often they feel their own
mifery, and look forward with a wiſhful
eye to the ſeaſon of calmneſs and retreat.
For on all fides of human life, the ba-
lance of happineſs is adjuſted with more
equality than at firſt appears; and if old
age throws fome new diftreffes into the
ſcale, it lightens alſo the weight of others.
Many paffions, which formerly diſturb-
ed your tranquillity, have now fubfided.
Many competitions, which long filled
your days with difquiet and ftrife, are now
at
366
On the Duties and
SERM. at an end.
XII.
Many afflictions, which once
rent your hearts with violent anguifh, are
now foftened into a tender emotion, on
the remembrance of paſt woe. In the be-
ginnings of life, there was room for much
apprehenfion concerning what might be-
fall in its progrefs. Your fecurity was
never untroubled. Your hopes were inter-
rupted by many anxieties and fears. Hav-
ing finiſhed the career of labour and dan-
ger, your anxiety ought of courſe to leffen.
Ready to enter into the harbour, you can
look back, as from a ſecure ſtation, upon
the perils you have eſcaped, upon the tem-
peft by which you was toffed, and upon
the multitudes who are ftill engaged in
conflicting with the ſtorm.
If you have acted your part with in-
tegrity and honour, you are juſtly entitled
to refpect, and you will generally receive
it. For rarely, or never, is old age con-
temned, unleſs when, by vice or folly,
it renders itſelf contemptible. Though
length of time may have worn off fuper-
ficial ornaments, yet, what old age lofes
in
Confolations of the Aged.
367
XII.
in grace, it often gains in dignity. The SERM.
veneration as was before obſerved, which
gray hairs command, puts it in the power
of the aged, to maintain a very important
place in human fociety. They are ſo far
from being infignificant in the world, that
families long held together by their authe-
rity, and focieties accuſtomed to be guided
by their counfels, have frequently had
cauſe to regret their loſs, more than that of
the moſt vigorous and young. To fuccefs
of every kind, the head which directs, is
no leſs effential than the hand which exe-
cutes. Vain, nay often dangerous, were
youthful enterprife, if not conducted by
aged prudence. I faid, days ſhould ſpeak,
and multitude of years should teach wiſdom *.
Therefore, thou shalt rife up before the hoary
head, and bonour the face of the old man,
and fear thy God +.
Though, in old age, the circle of your
pleaſures is more contracted than it has
formerly been; yet, within its limits,
many of thoſe enjoyments remain, which
* Job xxiii. 7.
† Lev. xix. 32.
are
368
On the Duties and
XII.
SERM. are moft grateful to human nature. Tem-
perate mirth is not extinguished by ad-
vanced years. The mild pleaſures of do-
meftic life, ftill cheer the heart. The
entertainments of converſation, and ſocial
intercourſe, continue unimpaired. The
defire of knowledge is not abated by
the frailty of the body; and the leiſure
of old age, affords many opportunities
for gratifying that defire. The fphere of
your obſervation and reflection, is fo
much enlarged by long acquaintance with
the world, as to fupply within itſelf, a
wide range of improving thought. To
recall the various revolutions which have
occurred fince you began to act your part
in life; to compare the characters of paſt
and preſent times; to trace the hand of Pro-
vidence, in all the incidents of your own
lot; to contemplate with thoughtful eye,
the fucceffive new appearances which the
world has affumed around you, in govern-
ment, education, opinions, cuftoms, and
modes of living; theſe are employments,
no leſs entertaining, than inftructive to
the mind.
While
Confolations of the Aged.
369
XII.
While you are engaged in fuch employ- SERM.
ments, you are perhaps furrounded with
your families, who treat you with atten-
tion and reſpect; you are honoured by
your friends; your character is eſtabliſh-
ed; you are placed beyond the reach of
clamour, and the ftrife of tongues; and,
free from diſtracting cares, you can at-
tend calmly to your eternal interefts. For
fuch comforts as thefe, have you not
cauſe moſt thankfully to acknowledge the
goodnefs of Heaven? Do they not af-
ford you ground to paſs the remainder
of your days in refignation and peace;
difpofing yourſelves to rife in due time,
like fatisfied guefts, from the banquet
that has been fet before you; and to
praiſe and bleſs, when you depart, the
great Maſter of the feaft? To a man that
is good in his fight, whether he be young
or old, God giveth wiſdom, and knowledge,
and joy. For every ſeaſon of life, the be-
nignity of his providence hath prepared
its own fatisfactions; while his wifdom.
hath appointed its peculiar trials. No
VOL. I.
B b
age
370
On the Duties and
XII.
SERM. age is doomed to total infelicity; provid-
ed that we attempt not to do violence to
Nature, by ſeeking to extort from one age,
the pleaſures of another; and to gather,
in the Winter of life, thofe flowers which
were deſtined to bloffom, only in its Sum-
mer, or its Spring.
BUT perhaps it will be faid, That I
have confidered old age, only in its firſt
ftages, and in its moft favourable point
of light; before the faculties are as yet
much impaired, and when diſeaſe or af-
fliction has laid no additional load on the
burden of years. Let us then view it,
with all its aggravations of diftrefs. Let
us fuppofe it arrived at its utmoſt verge,
worn out with infirmities, and bow-
ed down by ſickneſs and forrow. Still
there remains this confolation, that it
is not long ere the weary fhall be at reft.
Having paffed through fo many of the
toils of life, you may now, furely,
when your pilgrimage touches on its
cloſe, bear, without extreme impatience,
the
Confolations of the Aged.
371
XII.
the hardships of its concluding ftage. SERM.
From the ineftimable promiſes of the
Goſpel, and from the gracious preſence
of God, the afflictions of old age cannot
feclude you. Though your heart ſhould
begin to faint, and your fleſh to fail, there
is One, who can be the ſtrength of your
beart, and your portion for ever. Even to
your old age, faith the Lord, I am He; and
even to boary hairs, will I carry you. I
have made, and I will bear; even I will car-
ry,
and will deliver you*. Leave thy father-
lefs children; I will preſerve them alive;
and let thy widows truft in me †.
There is undoubtedly a period when
there ought to be a fatiety of life, as
there is of all other things; and when
death fhould be viewed, as your merci
ful difmiffion from a long warfare. To
come to the grave in a full age, like as a
fhock of corn cometh in, in its feaſon ‡, is
the natural termination of the human
courſe. Amidſt multiplying infirmities,
to prolong life beyond its ufual bounds,
‡ Job v. 26.
* Ifa. xlvi. 4. + Jer. xlix. 11.
Bb 2
and
372
On the Duties and
¡
XII.
SERM. and to draw out your exiftence here to
the laſt and fouleft dregs, ought not to
be the wiſh of any wife man. Is it de-
firable, to continue lingering on the bor-
ders of the grave, after every tie which
connects you with life is broken; and to
be left a folitary individual, in the midft.
of a new generation, whoſe faces you
hardly know? The ſhades of your de-
parted friends rife
up before
you, and
warn you, that it is time to depart.
Nature and providence fummon you, to
be gathered to your fathers. Reaſon ad-
moniſhes you, that as your predeceffors
made way for you, it is juſt that you
fhould yield your place to thoſe, who
have ariſen to fucceed you on this bufy
ftage; who, for a while, fhall fill it
with their actions and their fufferings,
their virtues and their crimes; and then
fhall, in their turn, withdraw, and be
joined to the forgotten multitudes of for-
mer ages.
Could death indeed be confidered in
no other view, than as the clofe of life,
it
Confolations of the Aged.
373
XII.
it would afford only a melancholy re- SERM.
treat. The total extinction of being, is
a thought which human nature, in its
moft diftreffed circumftances, cannot bear
without dejection. But, bleffed be God!
far other profpects revive the fpirits of
the aged, who have ſpent their life in
piety and virtue. To them, death is
not the extinction, but the renovation of
the living principle: its removal from
the earthly boufe of this tabernacle, to the
houſe not made with hands, eternal in the
heavens. Having fought the good fight;
having finiſhed their courſe, and kept the
faith; there is laid up for them the crown
of righteousness. The Saviour of the
world hath not only brought immortality
to light, but placed it within the reach of
their hope and truft. By making atone-
ment for their guilt, he hath pre-
pared their way within the veil; and fe-
cured to them, the poffeffion of an in-
heritance, incorruptible and undefiled, re-
ferved in the heavens.Such are the
hopes and profpects, which cheer the
forrows
374
On the Duties, &c.
XII.
SERM. forrows of old age, and furmount the fear
of death. Faith and piety are the only ade-
quate fupports of human nature, in all its
great emergencies. After they have guided
us through the various trials of life, they
uphold us, at laſt amidſt the ruins of this
falling frame; and when the filver cord is
just ready to be loofed, and the golden bowl to
be broken; when the pitcher is broken at the
fountain, and the wheel broken at the ciftern;
they enable us to fay, O Death! where
is thy fting? O Grave! where is thy
victory.
SERMON
[ 375 ]
{
SERMON
XIII.
On the PoWER of CONSCIENCE.
GENESIS, xlii. 21, 22.
And they faid one to another, We are verily
guilty concerning our brother, in that we
Saw the anguish of his foul, when he be-
Jought us; and we would not hear : There-
fore is this diftrefs come upon us. And
Reuben anfwered them, faying, Spake I not
unto you, faying, Do not fin against the
child; and ye would not hear? Therefore,
behold alſo his blood is required.
THIS
HIS book of Genefis difplays a more SERM
fingular and interefting fcene, than was
ever preſented to the
other hiftorical record.
world, by any
It carries us back
to
XIII.
376
On the Power
XIII.
SERM. to the beginning of time; and exhibits
mankind in their infant and riſing ſtate.
It ſhows us human manners in their pri-
mitive fimplicity, before the arts of refine-
ment had poliſhed the behaviour, or dif
guiſed the characters of men; when they
gave vent to their paffions without diffi-
mulation, and fpoke their fentiments
without reſerve. Few great focieties were,
as yet, formed on the earth. Men lived
in ſcattered tribes. The tranfactions of
families made the chief materials of hif-
tory; and they are related in this book,
with that beautiful fimplicity, which in
the higheſt degree, both delights the ima-
gination, and affects the heart.
Of all the patriarchal hiftories, that of
Jofeph and his brethren is the moſt re-
markable, for the characters of the actors,
the inftructive nature of the events, and
the furpriſing revolutions of worldly for-
As far as relates to the Text, and
is neceffary for explaining it, the ſtory is
to the following purpoſe. Jofeph, the
youngeſt, except one of the fons of
tune.
Jacob,
~
of Confcience.
377
XIIL
Jacob, was diftinguished by his father SERM,
with ſuch marks of peculiar affection, as
excited the envy of his brethren. Having
related to them, in the openness of his
heart, certain dreams which portended his
future advancement above them, their
jealouſy roſe to fuch a height, that they
unnaturally confpired his deſtruction.
Seizing the opportunity of his being at
a diſtance from home, they firſt threw
him into a pit, and afterwards fold him
for a flave; impoſing on their father, by
a falfe relation of his death. When they
had thus gratified their refentment, they
loft all remembrance of their crime.
family of Jacob was rich and powerful;
and ſeveral years paffed away, during
which they lived in profperity without
being touched, as far as appears, with the
leaft remorfe for the cruel deed which
they had committed.
The
Mean while Jofeph was fafely con-
ducted, by the hand of Providence,
through a variety of dangers, until,
from the loweft condition, he rose at
laft
378
On the Power
$
XIII.
SERM. laft to be chief favourite of the King of
Egypt, the moft powerful monarch at
that time in the world. While he pof-
feffed this high dignity, a general famine
diſtreſſed all the neighbouring countries.
In Egypt alone, by means of his fore-
fight, and prudent adminiſtration, plenty
ftill reigned. Compelled to have recourſe
to that kingdom for fupply of food, the
brethren of Jofeph, upon this occafion,
appeared in his prefence, and made their
humble application to him, for liberty to
purchaſe corn; little fufpecting the Go-
vernor of the land, before whom they
bowed down their faces to the earth, to be
him, whom, long ago, they had fold as a
flave to the Ishmaelites. But Jofeph no
fooner faw, than he knew his brethren;
and, at this unexpected meeting, his
heart melted within him. Fraternal ten-
derneſs arofe, in all its warmth; and
totally effaced, from his generous breaſt,
the impreffion of their ancient cruelty.
Though, from that moment, he began to
prepare for them a ſurpriſe of joy; yet
he
of Confcience.
379
XIII.
he fo far conſtrained himſelf, as to affume SERM.
an appearance of great feverity. By this
he intended, both to oblige them to bring
into Egypt his youngeſt and moſt beloved
brother, whofe prefence he inftantly re-
quired; and alfo to awaken within them,
a due ſenſe of the crime which they had,
formerly perpetrated. Accordingly, his
behaviour produced the defigned effect.
For, while they were in this fituation,
ftrangers in a foreign land, where they
had fallen, as they conceived, into ex-
treme diftrefs; where they were thrown
into prifon by the Governor, and treated
with rigour, for which, they could affign
no caufe; the reflection mentioned in
the Text arofe in their minds. Con-
ſcience brought to remembrance, their
former fins. It recalled, in particular,
their long forgotten cruelty to Jofeph;
and without heſitation, they interpreted
their preſent diſtreſs, to be a judgment
for this crime, inflicted by Heaven. They
faid, one to another, We are verily guilty
concerning our brother, in that we faw the
anguifh
380
On the Power
XIII.
SERM. anguish of his foul when he befought us, and
we would not hear: Therefore is this diftrefs
come upon us. -Behold alfo his blood is re-
quired.
From this inftructive paffage of hiſto-
ry, the following obfervations naturally
arife. I. That a ſenſe of right and wrong
in conduct, or of moral good and evil,
belongs to human nature. II. That it pro-
duces an apprehenfion of merited punish-
ment, when we have committed evil.
III. That although this inward fentiment
be ftifled during the feafon of profperity,
yet, in adverfity, it will revive. And,
IV. That when it revives, it determines us
to confider every diſtreſs which we ſuffer,
from what caufe foever it has arifen, as an
actual infliction of punishment by Heaven.
The confideration of thefe particulars,
will lead us to a very ſerious view of the
nature of man, and of the government
of God.
I. THERE belongs to human nature, a
Tenfe of moral good and evil, or a fa-
culty
of Confcience.
381
culty which diſtinguiſhes right from wrong,
in action and conduct. They ſaid one to
another, We are verily guilty.—In an age
when the law was not yet given, when no
external revelation of the divine will, fub-
fifted, except what had been handed down
among the Patriarchs from one genera-
tion to another; the brethren of Jofeph
reaſoned concerning their conduct, upon
the fame moral principles, and were affect-
ed by the ſame feelings, of which we are
conſcious at this day. Such fentiments
are coeval with human nature; for they
are the remains of a law, which was origi-
nally written in our heart. In the darkeſt
regions of the earth, and among the rudeft
tribes of men, a diſtinction has ever been
made, between juft and unjuſt, between a
duty and a crime. Throughout all the in-
tercourſe of human beings, theſe diſtincti-
ons are fuppofed. They are the founda-
tion of the mutual trust, which the tranſac-
tions of life require; nay, the very enter-
tainments of fociety conftantly appeal to
them. The hiftorian, who ftudies to mag-
nify
SERM.
XIII.
382
On the Power
XIII.
SERM. nify his hero, by repreſenting him as juft
and generous; the Poet, who feeks to in-
tereft the world in his fictions, by engaging
the heart in behalf of diftreffed virtue;
are fufficient to confute the Sceptic, who
denies any natural
natural perception of a dif-
tinction in actions.
But though a ſenſe of moral good and
evil be deeply impreffed on the heart of
man, yet it is not of fufficient power to re-
gulate his life. In his preſent corrupted
ftate, it is both too general to afford him
full direction in conduct, and too feeble to
withſtand the oppofition of contrary prin-
ciples in his nature. It is often perverted,
by ignorance and fuperftition, it is too ea-
fily overcome by paffion and defire. Hence
the importance of that Divine revelation,
which communicates both light and
ftrength; which by the inftructive dif
coveries it makes, and by the powerful
affiftance it fupplies, raiſes man to a
ftation infinitely fuperior to that which he
poffeffes under the mere light of Nature.
It
of Confcience.
383
It is of confequence, however, to re-
mark, that this revelation neceffarily fup-
poſes an antecedent ſenſe of right and
wrong to take place in the human mind.
It addreffes itſelf to men, as poffeffed of
fuch a faculty; and when it commands
them in general terms, to purſue what-
foever things are true, whatsoever things
are honeſt, whatſoever things are juſt, pure,
lovely or of good report, if there be any vir-
tue, and if there be any praiſe, it plainly
appeals to the native dictates of their
heart. Nay, unleſs men were endowed
by Nature, with ſome ſenſe of duty, or
of moral obligation, they could reap no
benefit from revelation; they would re-
main incapable of all religion whatever.
For, in vain were a fyftem of duty pre-
ſcribed to them by the word of God;
allegiance were in vain required towards
their Creator, or love and gratitude en-
joined towards their Redeemer; if, pre-
viouſly, there was no principle in their
nature, which made them feel the obli-
gations of duty, of allegiance, and of
gratitude.
SER M.
XIII.
384
On the Power
*
XIII.
SERM. gratitude. They could have no ideas cor-
refponding to fuch terms; nor any con-
viction, that, independently of fear or in-
tereſt, they were bound to regard, either
him who made, or him who redeemed
them. This, therefore, is to be held as a
principle, fundamental to all religion, that
there is in human nature, an approving or
condemning ſenſe of conduct, by means
of which, they who have not the law, are a
law unto themselves. They who, from a
miſtaken zeal for the honour of Divine re-
velation, either deny the exiſtence, or vi-
lify the authority, of natural religion, are
not aware, that, by difallowing the fenfe
of obligation, they undermine the founda-
tion on which revelation builds its power
of commanding the heart.
The Text leads us to obſerve, That one
of the cafes in which the natural fenſe of
good and evil operates moft forcibly, is,
when men have been guilty of injuſtice
or inhumanity. We faw the anguish of
our brother's foul when he befought us, and
* Rom. ii. 14.
ave
of Confcience.
385
XIII.
we would not bear. An inward principle SERM.
prompts us to do good to others; but
with much greater authority, it checks,
and condemns us, when we have done
them injuries. This part of the human
conftitution deferves to be remarked, as a
fignal proof of the wiſdom of its Author,
and of the gracious provifion which he
has made for the welfare of mankind.
We are all committed, in fome meafure,
to the care and affiftance of one another.
But our mutual influence reaches much
farther with reſpect to the evils, than
with reſpect to the enjoyments, of thoſe
around us. To advance their proſperity,
is often beyond our ability; but to in-
flict injuries, is almoſt always within our
power: And, at the fame time, felf-in-
tereft very frequently tempts us to commit
them. With the utmoſt propriety, there-
fore we are fo framed, that the influence
of the moral principle fhould be moſt
authoritative, in cafes where its aid is
moſt needed; that to promote the hap-
pineſs of others, ſhould appear to us as
VOL. I.
praiſe-
C c
386
On the Power
1
¡
XIII.
SERM. praife-worthy, indeed, and generous; but
that, to abftain from injuring them, ſhould
be felt as matter of the ſtricteft duty.-
Amidst the diftrefs which the Patriarchs
ſuffered in Egypt, had only this ſuggeſtion
occurred, “We ſaw our brother begin-
"C
(c
ning to proſper, and we contributed not
to his advancement," their minds would
have been more eafily quieted. But, when
their reflection was, We faw his anguish
when he be fought us, and we would not hear,
then compunction turned upon them its
fharpeft edge. I proceed to obſerve,
II. THAT Our natural fenfe of right
and wrong, produces an apprehenſon of
merited puniſhment when we have com-
mitted a crime. When it is employed in
furveying the behaviour of others, it dif
tinguiſhes fome actions, as laudable and
excellent; and difapproves of others, as
evil and baſe. But when it is directed
upon our own conduct, it affumes a
higher office, and exerciſes the authority
of
of Confcience.
387
XIII.
of a judge. It is then properly termed, SERM.
Confcience; and the fentiments which
it awakens, upon the perpetration of a
crime, are ſtiled, Remorse. Therefore, faid
the brethren of Jofeph, is this diſtreſs
come upon us; behold alſo his blood is re-
quired. They acknowledged, not only that
they had committed a wrong, but a
wrong for which they were justly doom-
ed to fuffer.
Did not confcience ſuggeſt this natural
relation between guilt and puniſhment,
the mere principle of approbation, or diſ-
approbation, with refpect to moral con-
duct, would prove of fmall efficacy. For
diſapprobation attends, in fome degree,
every conviction of impropriety or folly.
When one has acted unfuitably to his in-
tereft, or has trefpaffed against the rules
of prudence or decorum, he reflects upon
his conduct with pain, and acknowledges
that he deferves blame. But the diffe-
rence between the fenfe of mifconduct,
and the fenfe of guilt, confifts in this,
That the latter penetrates much deeper
Cc 2
into
388
On the Power
XIII.
SERM. into the heart. It makes the criminal feel
that he is not only blameable, but juftly
puniſhable, for the part which he has act-
ed. With reference to this office of con-
fcience, the inſpired writers frequently
ſpeak of it, in terms borrowed from the
awful folemnities of judicial procedure;
as, bearing witness for and againft us; ac-
cufing or excuſing, judging and condemning.
It will be found, that in the language of
moſt nations, terms of the fame import
are applied to the operations of confcience;
expreffing the fenfe, which all mankind
have, of its paffing fentence upon them,
and pronouncing rewards or puniſhments
to be due to their actions.
The ſenſe of puniſhment merited, You
are further to obſerve, can never be fepa-
rated from the dread, that at fome time
or other, puniſhment ſhall be actually in-
flicted. This dread is not confined to the
vengeance of man. For let the finner's
evil deeds be ever ſo thoroughly conceal-
ed from the knowledge of the world, his
inward alarms are not quieted by that
confideration.
of Conſcience.
389
confideration. Now puniſhment is the SERM.
fanction of a law. Every law fuppofes
a rightful ſuperior: And therefore, when
confcience threatens punishment to fecret
crimes, it manifeftly recognizes a fupreme
Governor, from whom nothing is hidden.
The belief of our being accountable
to him, is what the moſt hardened
wickedneſs has never been able to era-
dicate. It is a belief which arifes, not
merely from reafoning, but from internal
fentiment. Confcience is felt to act as
the delegate of an invifible Ruler; both
anticipating his fentence, and foreboding
its execution.
Hence ariſe the terrors, which ſo of-
ten haunt guilt, and rife in proportion to
its atrocity. In the hiftory of all nati-
ons, the Tyrant and the Oppreffor, the
bloody and the flagitious, have been ever
pointed out, as fearful, unquiet, and reſt-
leſs, ſubject to alarms and apprehenfions
of an unaccountable kind. And furely,
to live under fuch difquietude, from the
dread of merited puniſhment, is already
to
XIII.
390
On the Power
XIII.
SERM. to undergo one of the moſt ſevere puniſh-
ments which human nature can fuffer.
When the world threatens us with any
of its evils, we know the extent, and dif-
cern the limits of the danger. We fee the
quarter, on which we are expoſed to its
attack. We meaſure our own ſtrength
with that of our adverfary; and can take
precautions, either for making reſiſtance,
or for contriving efcape. But when an
awakened confcience places before the fin-
ner, the juft vengeance of the Almighty,
the profpect is confounding, becauſe the
danger is boundlefs. It is a dark unknown
which threatens him. The arm that is
ftretched over him, he can neither fee nor
refift. On every fide, he dreads it; and
on every object which furrounds him, he
looks with terror, becauſe he is confci-
ous that every object can be employed
against him as an inftrument of wrath.
No wonder that the loneſome folitude,
or the midnight hour, fhould ftrike him
with horror. His troubled mind be-
holds forms, which other men fee not;
and
of Confcience.
391
XIII.
and hears voices, which found only in the SERM.
ear of guilt. A hand appears to come
forth, and to write upon the wall over
againſt him; as it did of old, in the fight
of an impious monarch. He shall find no
eaſe nor rest. For the Lord fhall give him
a trembling heart, and failing of eyes, and
forrow of mind: And his life ſhall hang in
doubt before him; and he ſhall fear day and
night, and have none affurance of his life.
In the morning be fhall fay, Would to God it
were even; and at even he shall fay, Would
to God it were morning, for the fear of his
heart wherewith he shall fear, and for the
fight which his eyes fhall fee. His life fhall
be grievous unto him*.-Adverſity! how
blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver, in
compariſon with thofe of guilt!-But if
fuch be the power of confcience, whence,
it may be aſked, comes it to pafs, that its
influence is not more general, either in re-
ftraining men from the commiffion of fin,
or in leading them to a timely repentance?
This brings me to obſerve,
*Deut. xxviii. 65, 66, 67. Ifa. xv. 4.
III. THAT,
392
On the Power
SERM.
XIII.
III. THAT, during a courfe of profpe-
rity the operations of confcience are of
ten fufpended; and that adverſity is the
feafon which reftores them to their pro-
per force. At the time when crimes are
committed the mind is too much heated
by paffion, and engroffed by the object of
its purfuit, to be capable of proper reflec-
ton. After this tumult of fpirits has
fubfided, if a train of new paffions be at
hand to employ its activity, or a fuccef-
fion of pleaſurable objects occur to en-
gage its attention, it may for a while re-
main, though not entirely free from in-
ward miſgivings, yet unconfcious of the
degree of its guilt. Diffipated among the
amufements of life, the finner efcapes, in
fome meaſure, from his own view. If he
reflects upon himſelf at all, the continu-
ance of proſperity ſeems to him a ſtrong
juftification of his conduct. For it will
be found, that in the hearts of all men,
there is a natural propenfity to judge of
the favour of the Supreme Being, from
the courſe of external events. When they
are
of Confcience.
393
XIII
are borne with a fmooth gale along the SERM
ftream of life, and behold every thing
proceeding according to their wish, hard-
ly can they be brought to believe, that
Providence is their enemy. Baſking in
the fun-fhine of profperity, they fuppofe
themſelves to enjoy the fimile of indulgent
Heaven; and fondly conclude, that they
are on terms of friendſhip with all above,
and with all below. Eafy they find it,
then, to ſpread over the groffeft crimes,
a covering, thin, indeed, and flight, yet
fufficient to conceal them from a ſuper-
ficial view.
Of this we have a very remarkable in-
ſtance in thoſe brethren of Jofeph, whoſe
hiſtory we now confider. Not only from
the filence of the infpired writer, we have
ground to believe that their remorfe was
ftifled, while their profperity remained;
but we are able to trace fome of the pre-
tences, by which, during that period, they
quieted their minds. For when they
were contriving the deftruction of Joſeph,
we find Judah faying to his brethren,
What
394
On the Power
XIII.
;
SERM. What profit is it, if we flay our brother, and
conceal his blood? Let us fell him to the Ifh-
maelites; and let not our band be upon him
for he is our brother, and our flefb: And his
brethren were content*. Here you behold
them juſtifying their crime, by a fort of
pretended humanity; and making light of
felling their brother for a flave, becauſe
they did not take away his life. How
ftrangely are the opinions of men altered,
by a change in their condition! How diffe-
rent is this fentiment of the Patriarchs,
from that which they afterwards enter-
tained of the fame action, when as you
fee in the Text, the Remembrance of it
wrung their hearts with anguiſh?
But men, in truth, differ as much from
themſelves, in proſperity, and in adver-
fity, as if they were different creatures.
In profperity, every thing tends to flatter
and deceive. In adverfity the illufions of
life vaniſh. Its avocations, and its plea-
fures, no longer afford the finner that
fhelter he was wont to find from confci-
* Gen. xxxvii, 25, 27.
ence.
:
of Confcience.
395
him out.
XIII.
ence. Formerly, he made a part of the sERM.
crowd. He now feels himſelf a folitary
individual, left alone with God, and with
his own mind. His fpirits are not fupport-
ed as before, by fallacious views of the
favour of Heaven. The candle of the Lord
fhines not on his head, his pride is hum-
bled; and his affections are foftened for
receiving every ſerious impreffion. In this
fituation, a man's iniquity is fure to find
Whatever has been notorioufly
criminal in his former conduct, rifes as a
fpectre, and places itfelf before him. The
increaſed fenfibility of his mind, renders
him alive to feelings which lately were
faint; and wounds which had been ill heal-
ed, bleed afresh. When men take the tim-
brel and the harp, and rejoice at the found
of the organ, they fay, What is the Almighty
that we should ferve him? But when they
are holden in the cords of affliction, then he
fheweth them their work, and their tranfgref-
fion, that they have exceeded. He openeth
alfo their ears to difcipline; and commandeth,
that they return from iniquity.
Hence,
396
On the Power
SERM.
XIII.
Hence, we may perceive the great ufe-
fulneſs, and propriety, of that inter-
change of conditions, which takes place
in human life. By profperity, God gives
ſcope to our paffions, and makes trial of
our difpofitions. By adverſity, he revives
the ſerious principle within. Neither the
one, nor the other, could be borne entire
and unmixed. Man, always profperous,
would be giddy and infolent, always af-
flicted, would be fullen and defpondent.
Hopes and fears, joy and forrow, are,
therefore fo blended in his life, as both
to give room for worldly purſuits, and to
recall, from time to time, the admoni-
tions of confcience. Of the proportion
in which they ſhould be mixed for this
purpoſe, we are very incompetent judges.
From our ignorance of the degree of dif
cipline, which the fpiritual ſtate of others
requires, we often cenfure Providence
unjustly for its feverity towards them:
And, from the vanity and raſhneſs of
our wishes, we complain, without rea-
fon, of its rigour, to ourfelves. While
We
of Confcience.
397
we confult nothing but our cafe, God
attends to our fpiritual improvement.
When we feek what is pleafing, he fends
what is uſeful. When, by drinking too
deep of worldly profperity, we draw in a
fecret poifon, he mercifully infuſes a me-
dicine, at the time that he troubles and
embitters the waters. It remains now to
obſerve,
IV. THAT when confcience is tho-
roughly awakened, it determines the
finner, to confider every calamity which
he fuffers, as a pofitive infliction of pu-
niſhment by Heaven. As it had before
alarmed him with threatenings of Di-
vine diſpleaſure, it tells him, when he
falls under diftrefs, that the threatened
day of account is come. Afflictions, on
fome occafions, rife directly out of our
fins. Thus, diſeaſes are brought on by
intemperance; poverty fprings from idle-
nefs; and diſgrace, from prefumption.
In fuch caſes, the punishment is fo
cloſely connected with the crime, that
it
SER M.
XIII.
398
On the Power
XIII.
SERM it is impoffible to avoid difcerning the rela-
tion which the one bears to the other. But
the appointment of Providence, which
we now confider, reaches farther than
this. God has framed us fo,
us fo, that
diftreffes, which have no perceivable
connection with our former crimes, are,
nevertheless, interpreted by confcience,
to be inflicted on their account. They
force themſelves upon our apprehenfion,
under this view. They are made to
carry, not only that degree of pain which
properly belongs to themfelves, but that
additional torment alfo, which arifes from
the belief of their being the vengeance of
the Almighty.
Let a man fall unexpectedly into ſome
deep calamity. Let that calamity be
brought upon him, either by means
which the world calls fortuitous; or by
a train of incidents, in which his own
miſconduct, or guilt, has apparently had
no part; yet one of the firft queſtions,
which, in fuch a fituation, he puts to
himſelf, is, What have I done to de-
ferve
of Confcience.
399
XIII
ferve this? His reflection is, almoft in- SERM.
ftinctively, drawn back upon his former
life; and if, in the courſe of that retro-
ſpect, any flagrant guilty deed occur to
fmite his confcience, on this he cannot
avoid refting with anxiety and terror,
and connecting it in his imagination
with what he now fuffers. He fees, or
thinks that he fees, a Divine arm lifted
up; and what, in other circumſtances,
he would have called a reverſe of for-
tune, he now views as a judgment of
Heaven.
When the brethren of Jofeph, confined
in the Egyptian prifon, were bewailing
the diſtreſs into which they had fallen,
there was no circumſtances which pointed
out any relation between their preſent
misfortune, and their former cruelty to
their brother. A long courſe of years had
intervened, during which they flouriſhed
in wealth and eafe. They were now far
from the ſcene of their crime; in a fo-
reign land, where they believed them-
felves utterly unknown, and where they
had
:
400
On the Power
XIII.
J
SERM. had done nothing to offend. But confci-
ence formed a connection between events,
which according to the ordinary appre-
henfion of men, were entirely indepen-
dent of each other. It made them recol-
lect, that they, who once had been deaf
to the fupplications of a brother, were
now left friendleſs and forlorn, imploring
pity in vain from an unrelenting Gover-
nor; and that they who had firft con-
ſpired to kill their brother, and afterwards
fold him for a flave, were themſelves de-
prived of liberty, and threatened with an
ignominious death. How undefervedly
foever theſe evils befell them on the part
of men, they confeffed them to be juſt on
the part of Providence. They concluded
the hour of retribution to be arrived; and
in the perfon of the Governor of Egypt,
they beheld the Ruler of the world calling
them to account for guilt.
this diſtreſs come upon us.
blood is required.
Therefore is
Behold alfo his
Similar
of Confcience.
401
XIII.
Similar fentiments, on like occafions, SERM.
will be found not uncommon among
mankind. Pious men, there is no doubt,
are at all times difpofed to look up to
God, and to acknowledge his hand in
every event of life. But what I now
obferve, is, That where no habitual ac-
knowledgment of God takes place; nay,
where a daring contempt of his autho-
rity has prevailed, confcience, neverthe-
leſs, conſtrains men, in the day of their
diſtreſs, to recognize God, under the moſt
awful of all characters, The avenger of
paft guilt.
Herein the wifdom of God appears
in fuch a light, as juftly to claim our
higheſt admiration. The ordinary courſe
of his Providence, is carried on by hu-
man means. He has fettled a train of
events, which proceed in a regular fuc-
ceffion of caufes and effects, without his
appearing to interpofe, or to act. But
thefe, on proper occafions, are made to
affect the human mind, in the fame
manner as if he were beheld defcend-
VOL. I.
D d
ing
402
On the Power
XIII.
SERM. ing from his throne, to puniſh the finner
with his own hand. Were God to fuf-
pend the laws of Nature, on occaſion of
every great crime that was committed on
earth, and to govern the world by fre-
quent interpofitions of a miraculous kind,
the whole order of human affairs would
be unhinged; no plans of action could
be formed; and no fcope would be gi-
ven for the probation and trial of men.
On the other hand, were the operation
of fecond caufes allowed to conceal a
Divine hand totally from view, all fenfe
of fuperior government would be loft;
the world would ſeem to be void of God;
the finner would perceive nothing but
chance and fortune, in the diftreffes
which he fuffered. Whereas by its be-
ing fo ordered, that feveral incidents.
of life, fhall carry the fame force, and
ftrike the mind with the fame impref-
fion, as if they were fupernatural
interpofitions, the fear of God is kept
alive among men, and the order of hu-
man affairs is, at the fame time, pre-
ferved
of Confcience.
403
XIII.
ferved unbroken. The finner fees his SERM,
diftrefs to be the immediate effect of
human violence or oppreffion; and
is obliged, at the fame moment, to con-
fider it as a Divine judgment. His con-
ſcience gives to an ordinary misfortune,
all the edge and the fting of a viſitation
from Heaven.
FROM the train of thought which the
Text has fuggeſted, ſeveral inferences na-
turally follow. But I fhall confine my-
felf to two, which claim your particular
attention.
The firft is, the clear evidence which
the preceding obfervations afford, of a
Divine government now exerciſed over
mankind. This most important and aw-
ful of all truths, cannot be too often
pre-
ſented to our view, or too ftrongly im-
preſſed on our mind. To the imperfect
conviction of it, which obtains in the
world, muſt be afcribed, in a great mea-
fure, the prevalence of fin. Did men
firmly believe, that the Almighty Being,
Ddz
who
404
On the Power
XIII.
SERM. who formed them, is carrying on a fyftem
of adminiftration which will not leave
guilt unpuniſhed, it is impoffible that
they could remain fo inattentive, as we
often behold them, to their moral con-
duct. But the bulk of mankind are gid-
dy and thoughtless. Struck by the fu-
perficial appearances of pleaſure, which
accompany licentiouſneſs, they enquire no
farther; and deliver themſelves up to
their ſenſes, and their paffions. Where-
as, were they to reflect, but for a mo-
ment, upon that view which has now
been given of human nature, they might
foon be fatisfied, that the moral govern-
ment of God, is no matter of doubtful
difcuffion. It is a fact, no lefs obvious
and inconteftable, than the government
exerciſed by thofe earthly rulers, whom
we behold with the enfigns of their office
before our eyes.
To govern, is to require a certain
courfe of action, or, to prefcribe a law;
and to enforce that law, by a ſuitable
diftribution of rewards and puniſhments.
Now,
A
of Conscience.
405
Now, God has not only inveſted confci-
ence, as we have feen with authority
to promulgate, but endowed it alſo with
power to enforce, his law. By placing in-
ward approbation and peace on the ſide
of virtue, he gave it the fanction of re-
ward. But this was not enough. Pain
is a more powerful principle, than plea-
fure. To efcape mifery, is a ſtronger
motive for action, than to obtain good.
God, therefore, fo framed human nature,.
that the painful fenfe of ill-defert fhould
attend the commiffion of crimes; that
this ſenſe of ill-defert fhould neceffarily
produce the dread of punishment; and
that this dread fhould fo operate on the
mind, in the time of diftrefs, as to make
the finner conceive Providence to be en-
gaged against him, and to be concerned
in inflicting the punishment which he
fuffers. All theſe impreffions he hath
ftamped upon the heart with his own
hand. He hath made them conftituent
parts of our frame; on purpoſe, that by
the union of fo many ftrong and pungent
fentiments,
SER M.
XIII.
406
On the Power
XIII.
SERM. fentiments, he might enforce repentance
and reformation, and publiſh to the hu-
man race his deteftation of fin. Were he
to ſpeak to us from the clouds, his voice
could not be more decifive. What we
difcern to be interwoven with the con-
texture of human nature, and to pervade
the whole courfe of human affairs, carries
an evidence not to be refifted. We might
with as much reafon, doubt whether the
fun was intended to enlighten the earth,
or the rain, to fertilize it; as whether he
who thus framed the human mind, intend-
ed to renounce righteouſneſs to mankind,
as his law.
THE fecond inference which I make
from the foregoing diſcourſe, reſpects the
intimate connection, which thoſe opera-
tions of conſcience have, with the pecu-
liar and diſtinguiſhing doctrines of the
Goſpel of Chriſt. They will be found to
accord with them fo remarkably, as to
furniſh an anſwer to fome of thoſe ob-
jections, which fuperficial reaſoners are
apt
of Confcience.
407
apt to raiſe againſt the Chriftian revela-
tion. In particular, they coincide with
that awful view which the Gofpel gives
us, of the future confequences of guilt.
If the finner is now conſtrained by con-
ſcience, to view the Almighty as purfu-
ing him with evil for long-forgotten crimes,
how naturally muft he conclude, that,
in a ſubſequent period of exiftence, the
Divine adminiſtration will proceed up-
on the fame plan, and complete what
has been left imperfect here? If, during
this life, which is only the time of trial,
the diſpleaſure of Providence at fin is
difplayed by tokens fo manifeft, what
may be apprehended to follow, when
juſtice, which at prefent only begins to
be executed, ſhall be carried to its con-
fummation? What confcience forbodes,
revelation verifies; affuring us, that a
day is appointed, when God will render
to every man according to his works; to
them, who by patient continuance in well-
doing, feek for glory, bonour, and immorta-
lity; eternal life: But unto them that are
contentious,
SERM.
XIII.
408
On the Power
1
XIII.
SERM. contentious, and obey not the truth, but obey
unrighteouſneſs; indignation and wrath, tri-
bulation and anguish, upon every foul of
man that doth evil, of the few first, and
alfo of the Gentile. For there is no respect
of perfons with God. For as many as have
finned without the law, shall also perish
without the law; and as many as have fin-
ned in the law, fhall be judged by the
law *.
While the threatenings of confcience
thus ftrengthen the evidence of the ſcrip-
ture doctrine concerning future puniſh-
ments, they likewiſe pave the way for the
belief of what is revealed concerning the
method of our deliverance by Chrift.
They fuggeft to the finner, fome deep
and dark malignity contained in guilt,
which has drawn upon his head fuch high
diſpleaſure from Heaven. They call forth
his moſt anxious efforts, to avert the ef-
fects of that diſpleaſure, and to propiti-
ate his offended judge. Some atonement,
he is conſcious, must be made; and the
*Rom. ii. 7-13.
voice
of Confcience.
402
XIII.
voice of Nature has, in every age, loudly SERM.
demanded fuffering, as the proper atone-
ment for guilt. Hence mankind have con-
ftantly fled for refuge to fuch fubftitutions,
as they could devife to place in the room
of the offender; and, as by general con-
fent, victims have every where been flain,
and expiatory facrifices have been offered
up on innumerable altars. Wherewith fhall
I come before the Lord, and bow myself before
the most high God? Shall I come before him
with burnt offerings, and calves of a year
old? Will the Lord be pleaſed with thouſands
of rams, or with ten thousand of rivers of
oil? Or, fhall I give my firft-born for my
tranfgreffion; the fruit of my body, for the
fin of my foul?* Theſe perplexities and
agitations of a guilty confcience, may be
termed preludes, in fome meaſure, to the
Goſpel of Chrift. They are the pointings
of unenlightened Nature, towards that
method of relief, which the grace of
God has provided. Nature felt its inabi-
*Micah vi. 6, 7.
lity
410
On the Power
XIII.
SERM. lity to extricate itſelf from the confequen-
ces of guilt: The Goſpel reveals the plan
of Divine interpofition and aid. Nature
confefſed ſome atonement to be neceſſary:
The Goſpel diſcovers, that the neceſſary
atonement is made. The remedy is no
fooner prefented, than its fuitableneſs to
the diſeaſe appears; and the great mystery
of redemption, though it reaches, in its
full extent, beyond our comprehenfion,
yet, as far as it is revealed, holds a vifible
congruity with the fentiments of Confci-
ence, and of Nature.
Natural and revealed religion proceed
from the fame Author; and, of courſe,
are analogous and confiftent. They are
parts of the fame plan of Providence.
They are connected meaſures of the fame
fyftem of government. The ſerious be-
lief of the one, is the beft preparation
for the reception of the other. Both con-
cur in impreffing our mind with a deep
fenſe of one moſt important truth which
is the refult of this whole difcourfe,
That
of Confcience.
411
XIII.
That as we fow now, we must reap; that SERM.
under the government of God, no one
ſhall be permitted, with impunity, to gra-
tify his criminal paffions, and to make
light of the great duties of life.
SERMON
[412]
SERMON
XIV.
On the Mixture of Joy and FEAR in
RELIGION.
PSALM ii. II.
Rejoice with trembling.
ERM. JOY and Fear, are two great ſprings of
XIV.
human action. The mixed condition of
this world, gives fcope for both; and,
according as the one or the other pre-
dominates, it influences the general te-
nour of our conduct. Each of them
poffeffes a proper place in religion. To
Serve the Lord with gladness, is the ex-
hortation of the Pfalmift David *. To
ferve him with reverence and godly fear,
is the admonition of the Apostle Paul †.
But, under the prefent imperfection of
* Pfal. c. 2. + Heb. xii. 28.
human
On the Mixture, &c.
413
XIV.
human nature, each of theſe principles SERM.
may be carried to a dangerous extreme.
When the whole of religion is placed in
joy, it is in hazard of riſing into unwar-
rantable rapture. When it refts altoge-
ther on fear, it degenerates into ſuperſti-
tious fervility. The Text enjoins a due
mixture of both; and inculcates this im-
portant maxim, That joy, tempered with
fear, is the proper difpofition of a good
man. In difcourfing of this fubject, I
ſhall endeavour to fhow, firft, That joy
is effential to religion; and next, That,
for various reaſons, this joy ought to be
mixed with fear; whence we ſhall be
able to aſcertain the nature of that ſteady
and compofed fpirit, which is moſt ſuit-
able to our prefent condition, and moft
acceptable to God.
I. Joy is effential to religion, in two
refpects; as religion infpires joy, and as
it requires it. In other words, To rejoice,
is both the privilege, and the duty, of
good men.
IN
414
On the Mixture of
SERM.
XIV.
In the first place, Religion infpires joy.
It affords juft ground of gladneſs, to all
who firmly believe its doctrines, and fin-
cerely ſtudy to obey its laws: For it con-
fers on them, the two moft material requi-
fites of joy; a favourable fituation of
things without, and a proper difpofition
of mind within, to reliſh that favourable
fituation.
When they examine their ſituation
without, they behold themſelves placed
in a world, which is full of the influ-
ence of a gracious Providence; where
beauty and good are every where predo-
minant; where various comforts are be-
ftowed; and where if any be withheld,
they have reafon to believe, that they are
withheld by parental wifdom. Among
the crowd that encompaſs them, they
may be at a lofs to difcern, who are their
friends, and who their enemies. But
it is fufficient to know that they are
under the protection of an inviſible Guar-
dian, whofe power can keep them from
every evil. All the fteps of his con-
duct,
Joy and Fear in Religion.
415
XIV.
duct, they may be unable to trace. Events SERM.
may
befall them, of which they can give
no account. But as long as they are fa-
tisfied, that the ſyſtem of Divine govern-
ment is founded on mercy, no preſent
occurrences are able to deſtroy their peace.
For he who fpared not his own Son, but de-
livered him up for them, how ſhall be not
with him freely give them all things? If
their nature is frail, Divine affiftance is
promiſed to ſtrengthen it. If their virtue
is imperfect, a difpenfation is opened,
which gives them the hope of pardon. If
their external circumftances be in any re-
ſpect unfavourable, it is becauſe a higher
intereſt is confulted. All things, they are
affured, ſhall work together for their good.
On their profperity refts, the bleffing; on
their adverſity, the fanctifying Spirit of
the Almighty. Old age may advance,
and life decay; but beyond thoſe bound-
aries of Nature, faith opens the pro-
ſpect of their lafting felicity. Without
anxiety, they paſs through the different
periods of their prefent exiſtence, becauſe
they
416
On the Mixture of
1
XIV.
SERM. they know it to be no more than an intro-
duction to immortality.
As fuch a fituation of things without,
lays a folid foundation for joy; fo the
difpofition which religion forms within,
promotes the relifh of it. It is indeed
from within, that the chief fources of en-
joyments or trouble rife. The minds of
bad men are always diforderly; and hence
their lives are fo generally uneaſy. In
vain they take the timbrel and the harp,
and endeavour to rejoice at the found of the
organ. Spleen and diſguſt purſue them,
through all the haunts of amuſement.
Pride and ill humour torment them.
Oppreffed with difcontent, their ſpirits
flag; and their worn-out pleaſures afford
them entertainment no more. But reli-
gion fubdues thoſe malignant paffions,
which are the troublers of human repofe;
which either overcaft the mind with the
gloom of peeviſhneſs, or difquiet it by
the violence of agitation. It infuſes, in
their room, thoſe mild and gentle diſpoſi-
tions, whofe natural effect is to fmooth
the
i
Joy and Fear in Religion.
417
the tenour of the foul.
Benevolence and SER M.
candour, moderation and temperance,
wherever they reign, produce cheerful-
neſs and ſerenity. The conſciouſneſs of
integrity, gives eafe and freedom to the
mind. It enables good men to extract
from every object, the whole fatisfaction
which it is capable of yielding; and adds
the flavour of innocence, to all their ex-
ternal pleaſures.
In the fecond place, As religion natu-
rally inſpires joy; fo what it inſpires, it
commands us to cheriſh. As a neceffary
proof of our fincerity, it requires cheer-
fulneſs in the performance of our duty;
becauſe, if this be wanting, our religion
difcovers itſelf not to be genuine in prin-
ciple, and in practice it cannot be ſtable.
Religious obedience, deftitute of joy, is
not genuine in its principle. For did ei-
ther faith or hope, the love of God, or
the love of goodneſs, rule the heart;
they could not fail to produce fatisfaction
in piety and virtue. All thoſe cauſes of
VOL. I.
Ee
joy
XIV.
418
On the Mixture of
}
XIV.
SERM. joy which I have mentioned, would then
operate; and their native effect on the
mind, would follow. The profpects which
religion opens, would gladden, and the af-
fections which it infpires, would footh the
heart. We ſerve, with pleaſure, the be-
nefactor whom we love. We rejoice in
every ſtudy and purfuit, to which we are
fincerely attached. If we ferve not God
with pleaſure, it is becauſe we know him
not, or love him not. If we rejoice not
in virtue, it is becaufe our affection is
alienated from it, and our inclinations are
depraved. We give too evident proof,
that either we believe not the principles of
religion, or that we feel not their power.
Exclude joy from religion; and you leave
no other motives to it, except compul-
fion and intereft. But are theſe ſuitable
grounds, on which to reft the whole of
our obedience to the Supreme Being?
My fon, give me thy heart, is the call of
God. Surely if there be no pleaſure in
fulfilling his commands, the heart is not
given
Joy and Fear in Religion.
419
XIV.
given him; and, in that cafe, the multitude SERM.
of facrifices, and burnt offerings, is brought
to his altar in vain.
He
As religion, deſtitute of joy, is imperfect
in its principle; fo in practice, it muſt be
unſtable. In vain you endeavour to fix
any man to the regular performance of
that, in which he finds no pleaſure. Bind
him ever fo faft by intereft or fear, he will
contrive fome method of eluding the obli-
gation. Ingenuity is never fo fertile of eva-
fions, as where pleaſure is all on the one
fide, and mere precept on the other.
may ſtudy to fave appearances. He may
diffemble and conftrain himſelf. But his
heart revolts in fecret; and the weight of
inclination will, in the end, draw the
practice after it. If perfeverance is not
to be expected, ftill lefs can zeal be looked
for, from him, who in his religious du-
ties, trembles without rejoicing. Every
attempt towards virtue which he forms,
will be feeble and awkward. He applies
to it as a taſk; he dreads the taſk-maſter;
but he will labour no more than neceſſity
Ee 2
enjoins.
420
On the Mixture of
XIV.
SERM. enjoins. To efcape from puniſhment, is
his fole aim. He bargains for immunity,
by every duty which he performs; and all
beyond, he eſteems fuperfluous toil.-
Such religion as this, can neither purify
the heart, nor prepare for heavenly bliſs.
It is the refuge of an abject mind.
It may form the ritual of the monk, or
preſcribe the penance of the idolater; but
has no concern with the homage of him,
who worships the Father in Spirit and in
truth. His character is, that the joy of the
Lord is his ftrength*. It attaches his heart
to religion. It infpires his zeal. It fup-
ports his conftancy; and accelerates his
progrefs.
There is no man, but has fome object
to which he cleaves for enjoyment; fome-
what that flatters him with diſtant hope,
or affords him prefent pleaſure. Joy is
the end towards which all rational beings
tends. For the ſake of it, they live; it
reſembles the air they breathe, which is
neceffary for the motion of the heart, and
all the vital functions. But as the breath-
*Neh. viii. 10.
ing
Joy and Fear in Religion.
421
XIV.
ing of infected air proves fatal to life; in SERM.
the fame manner, joy drawn from a cor-
rupted fource, is deftructive, both of virtue
and of true happineſs. When you have
no pleaſure in goodnefs, you may with
certainty conclude the reaſon to be, that
your pleaſure is all derived from an oppoſite
quarter. You have exhauſted your affec-
tion upon the world.
the world.
You have drunk
too much of its poifoned waters, to have
any reliſh for a pure ſpring.
Eftimate, therefore, the genuineneſs of
your religious principles; eſtimate the de-
gree of your ſtability in religious practice,
by the degree of your fatisfaction in piety
and virtue. Be affured, that where your
treaſure is, there will your delight be alfo.
The worldly man rejoices in his poffeffi-
the voluptuous, in his pleaſures;
the focial, in his friends and companions.
The truly good man rejoices in doing juſt-
ly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with
the Lord his God. He is happy, when em-
ployed in the regular diſcharge of the great
duties of life. Spontaneous they flow
ons;
from
:
422
On the Mixture of
heart. Not
SERM. from the affections of a pure heart.
XIV.
only from the keeping of the divine com-
mandments he expects, but in the keeping
of them, he enjoys a great reward:--Ac-
cordingly, in the fentiments of 'holy men
recorded in fcripture, we find this ſpirit
évery-where prevalent. Their language
was; Thy ftatutes have I taken as mine he-
ritage for ever; for they are the rejoicing of
my heart. They are my fongs in the house
of my pilgrimage. They are sweeter than
honey, and the honeycomb. Whom have I
in heaven but thee? And there is none
upon earth that I defire befides thee. They
did not receive the spirit of bondage, but
the Spirit of adoption. They were filled with
peace and joy in believing. They rejoiced in
hope of the glory of God. As foon as the
Æthiopian eunuch received from Philip
the light of the Goſpel, that light revived
and cheered his heart. A new fun ſeemed
to arife; a new glory to fhine around
him. Every object brightened; and he
went on his way rejoicing*. After the
fame manner fhould every good man
proceed
Acts, viii. 39.
Joy and Fear in Religion.
423
XIV.
proceed in his journey through life, SERM.
with a ferene and cheerful ſpirit. Con-
ſternation and dejection let him leave to
the flaves of guilt, who have every thing
to dread, both from this world and the
next. If he
If he appear before others with a
diſpirited aſpect, he diſhonours religion;
and affords ground for ſuſpicion, that he is
either ignorant of its nature, or a ſtranger
to its power.
But
Thus I have ſhown joy to be effential
to religion. It is the ſpirit which it infpires,
and which it requires, in good men.
in our preſent ſtate, the beſt principles may
be carried to a dangerous excefs; and joy,
like other things, has its due limits. To
ſerve God with unmixed delight, belongs
to more advanced fpirits in a happier
world. In this region of imperfection,
ſome infuſions from a different cup, muſt
of neceffity tincture our joy. Let us
then,
II. TURN to the other fide of the argu-
ment, and confider the reaſons which ren-
der
424
On the Mixture of
SERM. der it proper, that when we rejoice, we
ſhould rejoice with trembling.
XIV.
In the first place, becauſe all the objects
of religion, which afford ground for joy,
tend to inſpire, at the fame time, reve-
rence and fear. We ferve a Benefactor,
it is true, in whom we have reafon to de-
light; whoſe purpofes are gracious; whofe
law is the plan of our happineſs. But this
Benefactor, is the King, eternal, immortal,
and invifible; at whofe prefence, the
mountains ſhake, and Nature trembles.
Every good and every perfect gift, come down
from him. But the hand which confers
them we cannot fee. Myſterious obſcu-
rity refts upon his effence. He dwelleth
in the fecret place of thunder; and clouds
and darkneſs furround him. He is the
Hearer of prayer; but we lift our voice to
him from afar. Into his immediate pre-
fence no accefs is permitted. Our warmeſt
devotion admits no familiarity with him.
God is in heaven, and thou upon earth;
therefore, let thy words be few. If his omni-
fcience adminifters comfort in our ſecret
diſtreſs,
Joy and Fear in Religion.
425
XIV.
diftrefs, it likewife fills with awe the SERM,
heart that is conſcious of guilt. For, if he
knows our frame, and remembers we are duft;
our iniquities, alſo, are ever before him
our fecret fins, in the light of his countenance.
;
Throughout all his difpenfations, great-
neſs, in conjunction with goodneſs, ſtrikes
our view; and, wherever we behold the
Parent, we behold the Legiſlator alſo.
The death of Chrift, in behalf of a guilty
world, is the chief ground of religious.
hope and joy. But it is no leſs the ground
of reverence; when in this high tranfac-
tion, we contemplate God, as at once
ſtrict in juſtice, and great in mercy. I
the Lord keep mercy for thouſands of them
that fear me. I forgive their iniquity,
tranfgreffion, and fin; but I will by no means
clear the guilty. When we open the book
of the Law, we find promifes and threat-
enings mingled in the fame page. On the
one fide, we ſee Heaven diſplayed in all
its glory: On the other, Hell opening its
terrors. In ſhort, in whatever light we
view religion, it appears folemn and vc-
nerable.
426
On the Mixture of
XIV.
SERM. nerable. It is a temple full of majeſty,
to which the worshippers may approach
with comfort, in the hope of obtaining
grace, and finding mercy; but where they
cannot enter, without being impreffed
with awe.
If we may be permitted to
compare fpiritual with natural things, re-
ligion reſembles not thofe fcenes of na-
tural beauty, where every object ſmiles.
It cannot be likened to the gay landſcape,
or the flowery field. It refembles more
the auguft and fublime appearances of Na-
ture; the lofty mountain, the expanded
ocean, and the ftarry firmament; at the
fight of which, the mind is at once over-
awed and delighted; and from the union
of grandeur with beauty, derives a pleaſ
ing, but a ferious, emotion.
ì
In the fecond place, As joy, tempered
by fear, fuits the nature of religion, fo
it is requifite for the proper regulation of
the conduct of man. Let his joy flow
from the beſt and pureft fource; yet, if it
remain long unmixed, it is apt to become
dangerous
Joy and Fear in Religion.
427
XIV.
dangerous to virtue. As waters which are SERM.
never ſtirred, nor troubled, gather a fedi-
ment, which putrifies them; fo the undif
turbed continuance of placid fenfations
engenders diforders in the human foul.
It is wifely ordered in our prefent ſtate,
that joy and fear, hope and grief, fhould
act alternately, as checks and balances
upon each other, in order to prevent an
excefs in any of them, which our nature
could not bear. If we were fubject to
no alarms of danger, the wifeſt would
foon become improvident; and the moſt
humble, prefumptuous. Man is a pil-
grim on earth. Were his path to be al-
ways ſmooth and flowery, he would be
tempted to relinquifh his guide, and to
forget the purpofe of his journey. Cau-
tion and fear are the ſhields of happineſs.
Unguarded joy begets indolence; indo-
lence produces fecurity; fecurity leads to
rafhnefs; and rafhnefs ends in ruin.
order to rejoice long, it is neceffary that
we rejoice with trembling. Had our firft
parents obferved this rule, man might
In
have
428
On the Mixture of
XIV.
A
SERM. have been ftill in paradife. He who faith
in his heart, My mountain ftands ftrong; I
Shall never be moved; may be affured, that
his ſtate already begins to totter. Reli-
gion, therefore, performs a kind office, in
giving us the admonition of the Text.
It infpires cheerfulneſs in the ſervice of
God. It propoſes joy, as our chief
ſpring of action. But it fupports joy, by
guarding it with fear; not fuppreffing,
but regulating its indulgence; requiring
us to rejoice, like perfons who have
obtained a treaſure, which through want
of vigilance, they are expofed to lofe.
Dependent beings are formed for ſubmiſ-
fion; and to fubmit, is to ftand in awe.
Becauſe the Lord reigneth, let the earth
be glad. We are the ſubjects of God;
and therefore may juftly rejoice. But
ftill we are ſubjects; and, therefore, trem-
bling muſt mix itſelf with our joy.
In the third place, The unſtable condi-
tion of all human things, naturally infpires
fear in the midſt of joy. The ſpirit to
which
Joy and Fear in Religion.
429
XIV.
which religion forms us, muft undoubted- SER M.
ly correfpond to the ſtate in which we are
placed, and to the part which is affigned
us to act. Now the firft view under which
our preſent ſtate appears, is that of fallen
creatures, who are undergoing, in this
world probation and trial for their recove-
ry; and are commanded to work out their
falvation with fear and trembling. This
view of our condition infers not habitual
dejection of mind. It requires not melan-
choly abſtraction from the affairs, or total
contempt of the amuſements, of life. But
it infpires humility. It enforces depend-
ence on Divine aid; and calls forth the
voice of fupplication to Heaven. In a fi-
tuation fo critical, and where interefts fo
important are at a ſtake, every reaſonable
perſon muſt confeſs, that ſeriouſneſs ought
to temper rejoicing.
Were there in human life
any fixed
point of ſtability and reft, attainable by
man; could we at any one moment, affure
ourfelves, that there remained no latent
fource
430
On the Mixture of
SERM.
XIV.
fource of danger, either to our temporal,
or our fpiritual ftate; then I admit, we
might lay trembling aſide, and rejoice in
full fecurity. But, alas! no fuch fafe
ftation, no fuch moment of confidence,
is allowed to man during his warfare on
earth. Viciffitudes of good and evil, of
trials and confolations, fill up his life. The
beſt intentioned are fometimes betrayed
into crimes; the most prudent, over-
whelmed with misfortunes. The world is
like a wheel inceffantly revolving, on
which human things alternately riſe and
fall. What is paſt of our life, has been a
chequered ſcene. On its remaining peri-
ods, uncertainty and darkneſs reft. Fu-
turity is an unknown region, into which
no man can look forward without awe,
becauſe he cannot tell what forms of dan-
ger or trial may meet him there. This we
know well, that in every period of our life,
the path of happineſs fhall be found ſteep
and arduous; but ſwift and eaſy, the de-
fcent to ruin. What with much exertion
of care and vigilance, we had built up,
one
Joy and Fear in Religion.
431
one unwary action may, in an evil hour,
overthrow. The props of human confi-
dence are, in general, infecure. The
ſphere of human pleaſures is narrow.
While we form ſchemes for ftrengthening
the one, and for enlarging the other,
death, mean while, advances. Life, with
a ſwift, though infenfible courſe glides
away; and, like a river which undermines
its banks, gradually impairs our ſtate.
Year after year ſteals fomething from us;
till the decaying fabric totter of itſelf,
and crumble at length into duft. So that
whether we confider life or death, time or
eternity, all things appear to concur in
giving to man the admonition of the Text,
Rejoice with trembling.
I HAVE NOW fhown, in what reſpects
religion both promotes joy, and inſpires
feriouſneſs. It places us in the moſt fa-
vourable fituation, which human life af-
fords, for joy; and it gives us every affift-
ance, for reliſhing that joy. It renders
it our duty, to cultivate the fatisfaction
which
SERM.
XIV.
432
On the Mixture of
XIV.
SERM. which it yields. It demands a cheerful
ſpirit, in order to aſcertain the ſincerity
of our principles, and to confirm us in
good practice. At the ſame time, the joy
which it inſpires, is tempered with fear, by
the genius of religion itſelf, by the dan-
gers to which unguarded joy would expofe
us; and by the impropriety of indulging
it, in a ſituation fo mixed as the preſent.
The trembling which is here enjoined, is
not to be underſtood as fignifying a pufilla-
nimous dejection. It imports no more than
that caution and fobriety, which prudence
dictates, as belonging to our ſtate. By con-
necting ſuch trembling with our joy, re-
ligion means to recommend to us, a cheer-
ful, but a compoſed, ſpirit, equally remote
from the humiliating depreffion of fear, and
the exulting levity of joy. Always to re-
joice, is to be a fool. Always to tremble,
is to be a flave. It is a modeſt cheerful-
neſs, a chaftened joy, a manly ſeriouſneſs,
which becomes the fervant of God.
BUT
Foy and Fear in Religion.
433
XIV.
BUT is this, it may perhaps be faid, the SERM.
whole amount of that boaſted fatisfaction
which religion beftows? Is this all the
compenfation which it makes, for thoſe
facrifices it exacts? Are not the terms
which vice holds out, far more enticing,
when it permits us to gratify every defire;
and, in return for our furmounting the ti-
morous fcruples of confcience, promifes
us a life of gaiety, feftivity, and unre-
ftrained joy?-Such promifes, vice may
indeed make; but, how far it fulfils them,
we may fafely refer to the determination of
the greateſt fenfualift, when he has finiſh-
ed his career, and looks back on what he
has enjoyed. Afk him, Whether he would
recommend to his children, and his friends,
to hold the fame courfe; and whether,
with his dying breath, he dare affure them,
that the gratifications of licentioufnefs
afford the greateft enjoyment of life?
Whatever hopes vice may at the begin-
ning inſpire, yet, after the trial is made,
it has been always found, that criminal
pleaſures are the bane of happineſs; the
poifon,
VOL. I.
Ff
434
On the Mixture of
XIV.
SERM. poifon, not the cordial, of our prefent
fſtate. They are pleafures, compenſated
by an infinite over balance of pain; mo-
ments of delight, fucceeded by years of
regret; purchaſed at the expence of in-
jured reputation, broken health, and ruin-
ed peace. Even abſtracting from their
pernicious confequences, they are, for moſt
part, in themſelves treacherous pleaſures;
unfound and difturbed in the moments of
enjoyment. In the midst of fuch laughter,
the heart is forrowful. Often is the ſmile
of gaiety affumed, while the heart akes
within: And though folly may laugh,
guilt will fting. Correcting this pernici-
ous phrenzy of pleaſure, and reducing it to
a more fober and regulated ftate, religion is,
in truth, no other than wifdom, introduc-
ing peace and order into the life of man.
While religion condemns fuch pleaſures
as are immoral, it is chargeable with no
improper aufterity, in reſpect of thoſe
which are of an innocent kind. Think
not, that by the cautious difcipline which
it preſcribes, it excludes you from all gay
cnjoyment
Joy and Fear in Religion.
435
enjoyment of life. Within the compafs
of that fedate fpirit, to which it forms
you, all that is innocently pleafing will be
found to lie. It is a miftake to imagine,
that in conſtant effufions of giddy mirth,
or in that flutter of fpirits which is excit-
ed by a round of diverfions, the chief en-
joyment of our ſtate confifts. Were this
the cafe, the vain and the frivolous would
be on better terms for happineſs, than the
wife, the great, and the good. To ar-
range the plans of amuſement, or to pre-
fide in the haunts of jollity, would be
more defirable, than to exert the higheſt
effort of mental powers for the benefit of
nations. A confequence fo abfurd, is fuf-
ficient to explode the principle from which
it flows. To the amufements and leffer
joys of the world, religion affigns their
proper place. It admits of them, as relaxa-
tions from care, as inftruments of promot-
ing the union of men, and of enlivening
their focial intercourfe. But though, as,
long as they are kept within due bounds,
it does not cenfure nor condemn them;
Ff2
neither
SER M.
XIV.
436
On the Mixture of
XIV.
SERM. neither does it propofe them, as rewards
to the virtuous, or as the principal objects
of their purſuit. To fuch, it points out
nobler ends of action. Their felicity it
engages them to ſeek, in the diſcharge of
an uſeful, an upright, and honourable
part in life; and, as the habitual tenour
of their mind, it promotes cheerfulneſs,
and difcourages levity.
Between theſe two there is a wide dif-
tinction; and the mind which is moſt open
to levity, is frequently a ſtranger to cheer-
fulneſs. It has been remarked, that tran-
ſports of intemperate mirth, are often no
more than flaſhes from the dark cloud;
and that, in proportion to the violence of
the effulgence, is the fucceeding gloom.
Levity may be the forced production of
folly or vice; cheerfulneſs is the natural
offspring of wiſdom and virtue only. The
one is an occafional agitation; the other,
a permanent habit. The one degrades the
character; the other is perfectly confiftent
with the dignity of reafon, and the fteady
and manly fpirit of religion. To aim at a
conftant
Foy and Fear in Religion.
437
conftant fucceffion of high and vivid fen-
fations of pleaſure, is an idea of happineſs
altogether chimerical. Calm and tempe-
rate enjoyment, is the utmoft that is allot-
ted to man. Beyond this, we ftruggle in
vain to raiſe our ftate; and, in fact, de-
prefs our joys, by endeavouring to height-
en them. Inſtead of thofe fallacious hopes
of perpetual feftivity, with which the
world would allure us, religion confers
upon us a cheerful tranquillity. Inftead
of dazzling us with meteors of joy, which
ſparkle and expire, it fheds around us, a
calm and ſteady light. By mixing tremb-
ling with our joy, it renders that joy more
folid, more equal, and more lafting.
In this fpirit, then, let us ferve God,
and hold our courſe through life. Let us
approach to the Divine Being, as to a fo-
vereign of whom we ſtand in awe, and to
a father in whom we truft. In our con-
duct, let us be cautious and humble,
as thoſe who have ground to fear; well
pleaſed and cheerful, as thofe who have
caufe to rejoice. Let us fhow the world,
that
SER M.
XIV.
438
On the Mixture, &c.
XIV.
SERM. that a religious temper, is a temper, fe-
date, not fad; that a religious behaviour,
is a behaviour, regulated, not ftiff and
formal. Thus we fhall uſe the world, as
not abufing it; we fhall pass through its
various changes, with the leaft difcompo-
fure; and we ſhall vindicate religion, from
the reproaches of thoſe who would attri-
bute to it, either enthufiaftic joys, or flav-
iſh terrors. We ſhall ſhow, that it is a
rational rule of life, worthy of the per-
fection of God, and fuited to the nature
and ftate of man.
SERMON
[ 439 ]
SERMON XV.
On the Motives to CONSTANCr in
VIRTUE.
GALAT. VI. 9.
And let us not be weary in well-doing; for
in due feafon we shall reap, if we faint
not.
DISCONTENT is the moſt general of SERM.
all the evils which trouble the life of
man. It is a diſeaſe, which every where
finds materials to feed itſelf; for, if
real diftreffes be wanting, it ſubſtitutes
fuch as are imaginary in their place. It
converts even the good things of the
world, when they have been long enjoy-
ed, into occafions of diſguſt. In the
midft of profperity, it difpofes us to
complain;
XV.
+
440
On the Motives to
XV.
1
SERM. complain; and renders tranquillity tire-
fome, only becauſe it is uniform. There
is no wonder, that this fpirit of reſtleff
nefs and diffatisfaction, which corrupts
every terreſtrial enjoyment, fhould have
fometimes penetrated into the region of
virtue. Good men are not without their
frailties; and the perverfeneſs incident to
human nature, too readily leads us, who
become weary of all other things, to be
weary, alfo, in well-doing.
;
Let me put a cafe, which perhaps, will
be found not unfrequent in ordinary life.
Suppoſe a perfon, after much commerce
with the world, to be convinced of its
vanity. He has feen its moſt flattering
hopes to be fallacious. He has felt its
moſt boaſted pleafures to be unfatisfacto-
ry. He refolves, therefore, to place his
happineſs in virtue; and difregarding
all temptations from intereft, to adhere to
what is right and honourable in conduct.
He cultivates acquaintance with religion.
He performs, with ferioufnefs, the offices
of devotion. He lays down to himſelf, a
rationa!
Conftancy in Virtue.
441
rational and uſeful plan of life; and, with
fatisfaction, holds on for a while in this
reformed courfe. But, by degrees, dif-
couragements arife. The peace which he
hoped to enjoy, is interrupted, either by
his own frailties, or by the vices of others.
Paffions, which had not been thorough-
ly fubdued, ftruggle for their accuftom-
ed gratification. The pleafure which he
expected to find in devotion, fometimes
fails him; and the injuftice of the world
often fours and frets him. Friends prove
ungrateful; enemies mifreprefent, rivals
fupplant him: And part, at leaſt, of the
mortifications which he fuffers, he begins
to afcribe to virtue.Is this all the
reward of my ſerving God, and renounc-
ing the pleaſures of fin? Verily, in vain
I have cleanfed my heart, and washed my
hands in innocency. Behold, the ungodly
profper in the world, and have more than
heart can wiſh; while, all the day long, I
am plagued and chaftened every morning.-
To fuch perfons as thefe, and to all
who are in hazard of being infected with
their
$ER M.
XV.
442
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. their fpirit, I now addrefs myſelf. In re-
ply to their complaints, I purpoſe to ſhow,
That in no ſtate they can choofe on earth,
by no plan of conduct they can form, it
is poffible for them to eſcape uneaſineſs
and diſappointment; that in a life of vir-
tue, they will fuffer lefs uneafinefs, and
fewer diſappointments, than in a courſe
of vice; they will poffefs much higher
reſources and advantages; and they will
be affured of compleat reward at the end.
From theſe confiderations, I hope to make
it appear, that there is no fufficient rea-
fon for our being weary in well-doing;
and that taking human life upon the
whole, Virtue is far the moft eligible por-
tion of man.
I. UNEASINESS and difappointment are
infeparable, in fome degree, from every
ftate on earth. Were it in the power of
the world, to render thoſe who attach
themſelves to it, ſatisfied and happy, you
might then, I admit, have fome title to
complain, if you found yourſelves placed
upon
Conftancy in Virtue.
443
upon worſe terms in the fervice of God.
But this is ſo far from being the caſe, that
among the multitudes who devote them-
felves to earthly pleaſure, you will not
find a ſingle perſon who has completely
attained his aim. Enquire into the con-
dition of the high and the low, of the
gay and the ferious, of the men of bu-
fineſs and the men of pleaſure, and
you
fhall behold them all occupied, in fup-
plying ſome want, or in removing ſome
diſtreſs. No man is pleafed with being
preciſely what he is. Every where there
is a void; generally, even in the moſt
profperous life, there is fome corner pof-
feffed by forrow. He who is engaged in
buſineſs, pines for leifure. He who en-
joys leifure, languiſhes for want of em-
ployment. In a ſingle ftate, we envy the
comforts of a family. In conjugal life,
we are chagrined with domeftic cares.
In a ſafe ſtation, we regret the want
of objects for enterpriſe. In an enter-
priſing life, we lament the want of fafe-
ty. It is the doom of man, that his
ſky
SER M.
XV.
444
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. fky fhould never be free from all clouds.
He is, at preſent, in an exiled and fallen
ſtate. The objects which furround him,
are beneath his native dignity. God has
tinged them all with vanity, on purpoſe to
make him feel, that this is not his reft;
that here he is not in his proper place, nor
arrived at his true home.
If, therefore, you aim at a condition
which ſhall be exempted from every diſ-
quiet, you purſue a phantom; you in-
creaſe the vanity and vexation of life, by
engaging in a chace fo fruitless. If you
complain of virtue, becauſe there is inci-
dent to it a portion of that uneafineſs
which is found in every other ftate, your
complaint is moſt unreaſonable. You
claim an immunity from evil, which be-
longs not to the lot of man. Reconcile
yourſelves, then, to your condition; and,
inſtead of looking for perfect happineſs
any where on earth, gladly embrace
that ftate which contains the feweſt
forrows.
II. THOUGH
Conftancy in Virtue.
445
XV.
II. THOUGH no condition of human SERM:
life is free from uneafinefs, I contend,
That the uneafinefs belonging to a finful
courſe, is far greater, than what attends
a courfe of well-doing. If you be weary
of the labours of virtue, be affured, that
the world, whenever you try the ex-
change, will lay upon you a much heavier
load. It is the outfide, only, of a li-
centious life, which is gay and ſmiling.
Within, it conceals toil, and trouble, and
deadly forrow. For vice poifons human
happineſs in the fpring, by introducing
diforder into the heart. Thoſe paffions
which it ſeems to indulge, it only feeds
with imperfect gratifications; and thereby
ftrengthens them for preying, in the end,
on their unhappy victims.
It is a great miftake to imagine, that
the pain of felf-denial is confined to vir-
tue. He who follows the world, as much
as he who follows Chrift, must take up
his cross; and to him, affuredly, it will
prove a more oppreffive burden. Vice
allows all our paffions to range uncon-
trolled:
446
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. trolled; and where each claims to be
fuperior, it is impoffible to gratify all.
The predominant defire can only be in-
dulged at the expence of its rival. No
mortifications which virtue exacts, are
more fevere than thofe, which ambition
impoſes upon the love of eaſe, pride upon
intereft, and covetoufnefs upon vanity.
Self-denial therefore belongs, in com-
mon, to vice and virtue; but with this
remarkable difference, that the paffions
which virtue requires us to mortify, it
tends to weaken; whereas, thoſe which
vice obliges us to deny, it, at the fame
time, ftrengthens. The one diminishes
the pain of felf-denial, by moderating
the demand of paffion; the other in-
creaſes it, by rendering thoſe demands
imperious and violent. What diftreffes
that occur in the calm life of virtue, can
be compared to thofe tortures, which re-
morfe of confcience inflicts on the wicked;
to thoſe ſevere humiliations, arifing from
guilt combined with misfortunes, which
fink them to the duft; to thofe violent
agitations
Conftancy in Virtue.
447
XV.
agitations of ſhame and diſappointment, SERM.
which fometimes drive them to the moſt
fatal extremities, and make them abhor
their exiſtence? How often, in the midſt
of thoſe diftaftrous fituations, into which
their crimes have brought them, have
they curfed the feductions of vice; and,
with bitter regret, looked back to the
day on which they firſt forfook the path
of innocence!
But, perhaps, you imagine, that to
fuch miferies as thefe, great criminals.
only are expofed; and that, by a wary
and cautious management, it is poffible
to avoid them. Take vice and virtue,
then, in the moft general point of view.
Compare God and the world as two maf-
ters, the one or other of whom you
muft obey; and confider fairly, in whofe
fervice there will be reafon for your being
weary fooneft, and repenting moſt fre-
quently. The world is both a hard, and
a capricious maſter. To fubmit to a long
fervitude, in the view of a recompenfe
from which they are excluded in the end,
is
448
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. is known to be often the fate of thoſe,
who are devoted to the world. They fa-
crifice their prefent eafe, to their future
profpects. They court the great, and
flatter the multitude. They proſtitute
their confcience, and diſhonour their cha-
racter: And, after all their efforts, how
uncertain is their fuccefs! Competitors
juftle, and outſtrip them. The more art-
ful deceive, the more violent overthrow
them. Fair profpects once fmiled; but
clouds foon gather; the fky is darkened;
the ſcene changes; and that fickle world,
which, a moment before, had flattered,
the next moment, forgets them.
God is never miſtaken in the character
of his fervants; for he feeth their hearts,
and judgeth according to the truth. But
the world is often deceived in thoſe who
court its favour; and, of courſe, is un-
juft in the diftribution of its rewards.
Flattery gains the ear of power. Fraud
fupplants innocence; and the pretending,
and affuming, occupy the place of the
worthy and the modeft. In vain you
claim
Conftancy in Virtue.
449
It
XV.
claim any merit with the world, on ac- SERM.
count of your good intentions. The world
knows them not; regards them not.
judges of you folely by your actions;
and, what is worfe, by the fuccefs of your
actions, which often depends not on your-
felves. But, in the fight of the Supreme
Being, good intentions fupply the place
of good deeds, which you had not the
opportunity of performing. The well-
meant endeavours of the poor, find the
fame acceptance with him, as the gene-
rous actions of the rich. The widow's
mite, is, in his eye, a coftly offering;
and even he who giveth to a difciple a
cup of cold water, when he can give
him no more, goeth not without his re-
ward.
As the world is unjuſt in its judgments,
fo it is ungrateful in its requitals. Time
Ipeedily effaces the memory of the great-
eft fervices; and when we can repeat
them no more, we are neglected, and
thrown afide. It was the faying of a
noted great man of the world, on the
Gg
fall
450
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. fall of his fortunes, "Had I ferved God
"as faithfully as I have done my King,
"he would not have caft me off in my
"old age." Unfaithfulneſs, and ingrati-
tude, are unknown to God. With him
no new favourites arife, to ufurp the
place, or to bear off the rewards, of his
ancient fervants. Even to your old age, I
am He; and even to hoary hairs, I will
carry you. I have made, and I will bear;
even I will carry and will deliver you,
faith the Lord Almighty *-Since, then,
in our feveral departments, we muſt la-
bour, What compariſon is there, between
labouring for God and for the world?
How unjuſt are they, who become weary
fo much fooner in the fervice of God,
than they do in that of the moſt ſevere and
imperious of all masters!
III. THE refources of virtue are much
greater than thofe of the world; the com-
penfations which it makes for our diftreffes,
far more valuable. Perpetual fuccefs be-
longs neither to the one nor the other.
*Ifa. xlvi. 4.
But
7
Conftancy in Virtue.
451
But under difappointments, when they
occur, virtue bears us up; the world al-
lows us to fink. When the mind of a
good man is hurt by misfortunes, religion
adminifters the cordial, and infufes the
balm. Whereas the world inflicts wounds,
and then leaves them to fefter. It brings
forrows, but it provides no confolation.
Confolation is entirely the province of re-
ligion. Suppofing religion to be inferior
to vice in external advantages, it muſt be
allowed to poffefs internal peace, in a
much higher degree. This is fo certain,
that almoft all men, at fome period or
other of their life, look forward to it,
as to a defirable retreat. When the ends
of their prefent purfuit fhall be accom-
pliſhed, they propoſe to themſelves much
fatisfaction, in an honourable difcharge
of the duties of their ftation, amidſt
thofe moderate paffions, and temperate
pleaſures, which innocence allows. That
which all men agree in holding to be fe-
cond in importance to the purfuit which
they follow, may be fafely efteemed to be
Gg 2
the
SERM.
XV.
452
On the Motives to
SERM. the firft in real worth; and it
XV.
may be
concluded, that if they were not blinded
by fome prevailing paffion, they would
difcern and adopt it as fuch.
It is the peculiar effect of virtue, to
make a man's chief happineſs ariſe from
himſelf and his own conduct. A bad man
is wholly the creature of the world. He
hangs upon its favour, lives by its ſmiles,
and is happy or miſerable, in proportion
to his fuccefs. But to a virtuous man,
fuccefs, in worldly undertakings, is but a
fecondary object. To diſcharge his own
part with integrity and honour, is his
chief aim. If he has done properly what
was incumbent on him to do, his mind
is at reft; to Providence he leaves the
event. His witness is in heaven, and his
record is on high. Satisfied with the ap-
probation of God, and the teftimony of a
good conſcience, he enjoys himſelf, and
deſpiſes the triumphs of guilt. In pro-
portion as fuch manly principles rule your
heart, you will become independent of
the world; and will forbear complaining
of
Conftancy in Virtue.
453
XV.
of its difcouragements. It is the imper- SERM.
fection of your virtue, which occaſions
you to be weary in well-doing. It is be-
cauſe your hearts remain divided between
God and the world, that you are fo often
difcontented; partly wishing to diſcharge
your duty, and partly feeking your hap-
pineſs from fomewhat that is repugnant to
your duty. Study to be more confiftent
in principle, and more uniform in practice,
and your peace will be more unbroken.
Though virtue may appear at firſt fight
to contract the bounds of enjoyment, you
will find, upon reflection, that, in truth,
it enlarges them. If it reftrains the excefs
of fome pleaſures, it favours and increaſes
others. It precludes you from none, but
ſuch as are either fantaſtic and imagina-
ry, or pernicious and deftructive. What-
ever is truly valuable in human enjoy-
ment, it allows to a good man, no leſs
than to others. It not only allows him
fuch pleaſures, but heightens them, by
that grateful reliſh which a good confci-
ence gives to every pleaſure. It not only
heightens
*
454
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. heightens them, but adds to them, alfo,
the peculiar fatisfactions which flow from
virtuous fentiments, from devout affecti-
ons, and religious hopes. On how much
worfe terms is the finner placed, in the
midft of his boaſted gratifications? His
portion is confined to this world. His
good things are all of one fort only; he
has neither knowledge, nor relifh, of any
thing beyond them. His enjoyment, there-
fore, refts on a much narrower bafis, than
that of the fervants of God. Enlarge, as
much as you pleaſe, the circle of world-
ly gratifications; yet, if nothing of the
mind and the heart, nothing of a refined
and moral nature, enter into that circle,
and vary the enjoyment, languor and
wearinefs foon fucceed. Among whom
do you hear more peevish expreffions of
difcontent, or more frequent complaints of
low ſpirits, than among the profeffed vo-
taries of worldly pleafure?
Vice and virtue, in their progreſs, as
in every other refpect, hold an oppofite
courfe. The beginnings of vice are en-
ticing.
Conftancy in Virtue.
455
ん
​XV.
ticing. The firſt ſteps of worldly ad- SERM.
vancement, are flattering and pleaſing.
But the continuance of fuccefs blunts en-
joyment, and flattens defire. Whereas
the beginnings of virtue are laborious.
But by perfeverance, its labours dimi-
niſh, and its pleaſures increaſe. As it ri-
pens into confirmed habit, it becomes
both ſmoother in practice, and more com-
plete in its reward. In a worldly life, the
termination of our hopes always meets
our view. We ſee a boundary before us,
beyond which we cannot reach. But
the profpects of virtue are growing, and
endleſs. The righteous fhall hold on in his
way; and he that hath clean hands, fhall wax
Stronger and stronger. The path of the juft
is as the shining light, that fhineth more
and more unto the perfect day. This brings
me to confider,
IV. THE affured hope, which good
men enjoy, of a full reward at laft. I
have endeavoured, by feveral confidera-
tions, to correct your impatience under
the
456
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. the prefent difcouragements of virtue. I
have ſhown many high advantages, which
it already poffeffes. But now, laying all
theſe afide; fuppofing virtue to have
brought you no advantage, but to have
only engaged you in perpetual ſtruggles
with an evil world; the Text fuggefts
what is fufficient to anſwer every obje&i-
on, and to filence every complaint; In
due feafon you shall reap, if you faint not.
It is not a looſe encouragement, or a du-
bious hope, which is held forth to us. A
direct and explicit declaration is made by
the Spirit of God, that piety and virtue,
how difcouraged foever, or oppreffed, they
may be for a while, fhall not be fruſtrat-
ed of their reward; but that in due fea-
jon, when the period which is fixed by
the Divine decree fhall come, all who have
not been weary in well-doing, though they
may have fown in tears, fhall reap in joy.
As this great principle of faith is fo effen-
tial to our preſent argument, and is in-
deed the foundation of all religion, it
will be proper that we now take a view
of the grounds on which it refts. By fix-
ing
Conftancy in Virtue.
457
ing our attention, both on the proofs
which reafon fuggefts, and on the difco-
veries which revelation has made, of a
ftate of future retribution, we ſhall take
an effectual method of confirming our ad-
herence to religion, and of baffling thoſe
temptations which might lead us to be
weary in well-doing.
THE first, and moft obvious prefump-
tion, which reafon affords in behalf of
future rewards to the righteous, arifes
from the imperfect diftribution of good
and evil in our preſent ſtate. Notwith-
ſtanding what I have advanced concern-
ing the pleaſures and advantages of vir-
tue it cannot be denied, that the happi-
nefs of good men is often left incomplete.
The vicious poffefs advantages, to which
they have no right; while the confcien-
tious fuffer for the fake of virtue, and
groan under diftreffes which they have
not merited from the world. Indeed, were
the diſtribution of good and evil, in this
life, altogether promifcuous; could it be
faid,
SER M.
XV.
458
On the Motives to
SERM.
XV.
faid, with truth, that the moral condition
of men had no influence whatever upon
their happineſs or mifery; I admit, that
from ſuch a ſtate of things, no preſump-
tion would arife, of any future retribu-
tion being intended. They who delight
to aggravate the miſeries of life, and the
diftreffes of virtue, do no ſervice to the
argument in behalf of Providence. For,
if total diforder be found to prevail now,
fufpicions may, too juftly, ariſe, of its
prevailing for ever. If he who rules the
univerfe, entirely neglects virtue here, the
probability muſt be ſmall, of his reward-
ing it hereafter. But this is far from be-
ing the true ftate of the fact. What hu-
man life preſents to the view of an impar-
tial obferver, is by no means a ſcene of
entire confufion; but a ſtate of order, be-
gun, and carried on a certain length. Virtue
is fo far from being neglected by the Go-
vernor of the world, that from many evi-
dent marks, it appears to be a chief object
of his care. In the conftitution of human
nature, a foundation is laid, for comfort.
to
Conftancy in Virtue.
459
to the righteous, and for internal puniſh-
ment to the wicked. Throughout the
courſe of Divine government, tendencies
towards the happineſs of the one, and the
mifery of the other, conftantly appear.
They are fo confpicuous, as not to have
efcaped the notice of the rudeft nations.
Over the whole earth, they have diffuſed
the belief, that Providence is propitious
to virtue, and adverfe to guilt. Yet thefe
tendencies are, fometimes difappointed of
their effect; and that which Providence
vifibly favours, is left, at prefent, with-
out an adequate reward.
From fuch an imperfect diftribution of
happineſs, what are we to conclude, but,
that this fyftem is the beginning, not the
whole of things; the opening only of a
more extenfive plan, whofe confummation
reaches into a future world? If God has
already jet his throne for judgment; if he
has vifibly begun to reward and to pu-
niſh, in ſome degree, on earth, he can-
not mean to leave the exerciſe of
govern-
ment incomplete. Having laid the foun-
SER M.
XV.
dation
460
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. dation of a great and noble ftructure, he
will in due time rear it up to perfection.
The unfiniſhed parts of the fabric evi-
dently ſhow, that a future building is in-
tended. All his other works are conftruct-
ed according to the moſt full and exact
proportion. In the natural world, nothing
is deficient, nothing redundant. It is in
the moral world, only, that we diſcover
irregularity and defect. It falls ſhort of
that order and perfection, which appear
in the rest of the creation. It exhibits
not in its prefent ftate, the fame features
of complete wifdom, juftice or goodneſs.
But can we believe, that, under the go-
vernment of the Supreme Being, thoſe
apparent diforders fhall not be rectified
at the laft? Or, that from his conduct
towards his rational creatures, the chief
of his works, the fole objection againſt
his perfection fhall be allowed to rife, and
ſhall continue unremoved for ever.
On the fuppofition of future rewards
and puniſhments, a fatisfying account can
be given, of all the diforders which at
prefent
Conftancy in Virtue.
461
XV.
preſent take place on earth. Chriftianity SERM.
explains their origin, and traces them to
their iffue. Man, fallen from his primæ-
val felicity, is now undergoing probation
and diſcipline for his final ſtate. Divine
juſtice remains, for a ſeaſon, concealed;
and allows men to act their parts with
freedom on this theatre, that their cha-
racters may be formed and aſcertained.
Amidft difcouragements and afflictions,
the righteous give proof of their fidelity,
and acquire the habits of virtue. But if
you ſuppoſe the events of this life to have
no reference to another, the whole ftate
of man becomes, not only inexplicable,
but contradictory, and inconfiftent. The
powers of the inferior animals are per-
fectly fuited to their ſtation. They know
nothing higher than their prefent condi-
tion. In gratifying their appetites, they
fulfil their deſtiny, and paſs away. Man,
alone, comes forth to act a part, which
carries no meaning, and tends to no end.
Endowed with capacities, which extend
far beyond his prefent fphere; fitted by
his
462
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. his rational nature for running the race
of immortality, he is ſtopped fhort in the
very entrance of his courfe. He fquanders
his activity on purſuits, which he difcerns
to be vain. He languifhes for knowledge,
which is placed beyond his reach. He
thirſts after a happineſs, which he is
doomed never to enjoy. He fees, and
laments the difafters of his ftate; and
yet upon this fuppofition, can find no-
thing to remedy them.-Has the eternal
God any pleaſure in fporting himſelf with
ſuch a ſcene of mifery and folly, as this
life, if it had no connection with another,
muſt exhibit to his eye? Did he call into
exiſtence this magnificent univerſe, adorn
it with fo much beauty and fplendour,
and furround it with thoſe glorious lumi-
naries which we behold in the heavens,
only that fome generations of mortal men
might ariſe to behold theſe wonders, and
then diſappear for ever? How unfuitable,
in this cafe, were the habitation to the
wretched inhabitant! How inconfiftent
the commencement of his being, and the
mighty
Conftancy in Virtue.
463
XV.
mighty preparation of his powers and SERM.
faculties, with his deſpicable end! How
contradictory, in fine, were every thing
which concerns the ftate of man, to the
wiſdom and perfection of his Maker!
Throughout all ages, and among all na-
tions, the perfuafion of a future life has
prevailed. It ſprung not from the refine-
ments of ſcience, or the fpeculations of
philofophy; but from a deeper and ſtrong-
er root, the natural fentiments of the hu-
man heart. Hence it is common to the
philoſopher and the favage; and is found
in the moſt barbarous, as well as in the
moft civilized regions. Even the belief of
the being of a God, is not more general
on the earth, than the belief of immorta-
lity. Dark, indeed, and confuſed, were
the notions which men entertained con-
cerning a future ftate. Yet ftill, in that
ftate, they looked for retribution, both to
the good, and the bad; and in the per-
fection of fuch pleaſures, as they knew
beſt, and valued moft highly, they placed
the rewards of the virtuous. So univer-
fal
464
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. fal a confent feems plainly to indicate, an
original determination given to the foul by
its Creator. It shows this great truth, to
be native and congenial to man.
When we look into our own breafts,
we find various anticipations and prefages
of future exiftence. Moft of our great
and high paffions, extend beyond the li-
mits of this life. The ambitious and the
felf-denied, the great, the good, and the
wicked, all take intereft, in what is to
happen after they ſhall have left the earth.
That paffion for fame, which inſpires fo
much of the activity of mankind, plainly
is animated by the perfuafion, that con-
ſciouſneſs is to furvive the diffolution of
the body. The virtuous are ſupported by
the hope, the guilty tormented with the
dread, of what is to take place after
death. As death approaches, the hopes of
the one, and the fears of the other, are
found to redouble. The foul when iffuing
hence, ſeems more clearly to difcern its
future abode. All the operations of con-
fcience,
Conftancy in Virtue.
465
XV.
fcience, proceed upon the belief of im- SERM.
mortality. The whole moral conduct of
men refers to it. All legiflators have fup-
pofed it. All religions are built upon it.
It is fo effential to the order of fociety,
that were it erafed, human laws would
prove ineffectual reftraints from evil, and
a deluge of crimes and miferies would
overflow the earth. To fuppofe this uni-
verfal and powerful belief to be without
foundation in truth, is to ſuppoſe, that
a principle of delufion was interwoven
with the nature of man; is to ſuppoſe,
that his Creator was reduced to the necef-
fity of impreffing his heart with a falfe-
hood, in order to make him anſwer the
purpoſes of his being.
BUT though thefe arguments be firong,
yet all arguments are liable to objection.
Perhaps this general belief, of which I have
ſpoken, has been owing to inclination and
defire, more than to evidence. Perhaps,
in our reafonings on this fubject from the
Divine perfections, we flatter ourſelves
VOL. I.
H h
with
466
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. with being of more confequence, than we
truly are, in the fyftem of the univerſe.
Hence the great importance of a diſcove-
ry proceeding from God himſelf, which
gives full authority to all that reafon had
fuggefted, and places this capital truth be-
yond the reach of ſuſpicion or diſtruſt.
The method which Chriftianity has ta-
ken to convey to us the evidence of a fu-
ture ftate, highly deferves our attention.
Had the Goſpel been addreffed, like a
fyftem of philoſophy, folely to the under-
ſtanding of men; had it aimed only at
enlightening the ftudious and reflecting, it
would have confined itſelf to abſtract
truth; it would have fimply informed us,
that the righteous are hereafter to be re-
warded, and finners to be puniſhed. Such
a declaration as that contained in the Text,
would have been fufficient: Be not weary
in well-doing; for in due feafon you shall
reap, if you faint not. But the Goſpel
has not ſtopped, at barely announcing life
and immortality to mankind. It was cal-
culated for popular edification. It was
intended
Conftancy in Virtue.
467
intended to be the religion not merely of
the few, whofe underſtanding was to be
informed; but of the many, alſo, whoſe
imagination was to be impreffed, and
whoſe paffions were to be awakened, in
order to give the truth its due influence
over them. Upon this account it not only
reveals the certainty of a future ftate, but,
in the perſon of the great Founder of our
religion, exhibits a ſeries of facts relating
to it; by means of which, our fenfes, our
imagination, and paffions, all become in-
tereſted in this great object.
The refurrection of Chrift from the
grave, was defigned to be a fenfible evi-
dence, that death infers not a final ex-
tinction of the living principle. He rofe,
in order to fhow, that, in our name, he
had conquered death, and was become the
first fruits of them that fleep. Nor did he
only rife from the grave, but by afcend-
ing to heaven in a viſible form, before
many witneffes, gave an ocular fpecimen
of the tranfition from this world, into the
region of the bleffed. The employments
Hh2
which
SER M.
XV.
468
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. which now occupy him there, are fully
declared. As our fore-runner, he bath en-
tered within the veil.
He appears in the pre-
He maketh perpetual
I go, faith he,
fence of God for us.
interceffion for his people.
to niy
my Father and your Father,
your Father, to my God
and your God. In my Father's houſe are ma-
ny manfions. I go to prepare a place for you.
I will come again, and receive you to myself,
that where I am, there ye may be alfo. The
circumftances of his coming again, are
diftin&ly foretold. The founding of the
laft trumpet, the refurrection of the dead,
the appearance of the Judge, and the
folemnity with which he ſhall diſcriminate
the good from the bad, are all deſcribed.
The very words in which he ſhall pro-
nounce the final fentence, are recited in
our hearing: Come, ye bleffed of my Father!
inherit the kingdom prepared for you from
the foundation of the world. Then ſhall
the holy and the just be caught up in the
clouds, to meet the Lord in the air. They
ſhall enter with him into the city of the
living God. They fhall poffefs the new
earth
Conftancy in Virtue.
469
XV.
earth and new heavens, wherein dwelleth SERM.
righteousness. God fhall wipe away all tears
from their eyes. They shall behold his face
in righteousness, and be fatisfied with his like-
ness for ever. --By recording fuch a train
of ftriking circumſtances and facts, the
Goſpel familiarizes us in fome meaſure
with a future ftate. By accommodating
this great diſcovery, in fo uſeful a manner,
to the conceptions of men, it furniſhes a
ftrong intrinfic evidence of its divine
origin.
THUS, upon the whole, whether you
confult your reafon, or liften to the difco-
veries of revelation, you behold our argu-
ment confirmed; you behold a life of piety
and virtue, iffuing in immortal felicity.
Of what worldly purſuit can it be pro-
nounced, that its reward is certain? Look
every where around you, and you fhall
fee, that the race is far from being always
to the fwift, or the battle to the strong. The
moft diligent, the moſt wife, the moſt ac-
compliſhed, may, after all their labours,
be
470
On the Motives to
XV.
SERM. be diſappointed in the end; and be left to
fuffer the regret, of having spent their
Strength for nought. But, for the righteous,
is laid up the crown of life. Their final
happineſs is prepared in the eternal plan
of Providence, and fecured by the labours
and fufferings of the Saviour of the world.
Ceaſe, then, from your unjuft complaints.
againſt virtue and religion. Leave difcon-
tent and peeviſhneſs, to worldly men.
In
no period of diſtreſs, in no moment of dif
appointment, allow yourſelves to ſuſpect,
that piety and integrity are fruitless. In
every ſtate of being, they lead to happi-
nefs. If you enjoy not at preſent their
full rewards, it is becaufe the feafon of
recompence is not yet come. For, in due
Seaſon you ſhall reap. There is a time which
is proper for reward; and there is a period
which belongs to trial. How long the one
fhould laft, and when the other fhould ar-
rive belongs not to you to determine.
It is fixed by the wife, though unknown,
decree of the Almighty. But, be affured,
that He that cometh, fhall come, and will not
tarry:
Conftancy in Virtue.
471
tarry. He fhall come in due feafon, to re-
ſtore perfect order among his works; to
bring reft to the weary, comfort to the
afflicted, and juſt retribution to all men.
Behold, faith the faithful and true Witness,
I come quickly, and my reward is with me.
To him that overcometh, will I give to eat of
the tree of life, which is in the midst of the
paradife of God. I will give him the morn-
ing ftar. I will make him a pillar in my
temple. He fhall be cloathed in white rai-
ment; and ſhall fit down with me, on my
throne.*
* Rev. xxi. 12.-i. 7, 28.-iii. 12, 5, 21.
SER M.
XV.
END OF VOL. I.
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
}
3 9015 01079 6905
THE
ALPHEUS FELCH HISTORICAL LIBRARY
BEQUEATHED
ΤΟ ΤΙ Ε
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
BY THE
HON. ALPHEUS FELCH.
1896.