ºrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrri.
Tappaſ Presbutórian Association
Ly HE RAF Y. -
f
º:
- º --- -
by HON. D. BETHUNE DUFFIELD.
From Library of Rev. Geo. Duffield, D.D.
- -e- ---
In taili nunquam lass at venatio sylva.
A. D. 1884.







-º-º-º-º-º-º-º-º:
the christiAN
º OH
THE MAN OF THE WORLD F
OR,
THE ADVANTAGES
º ---
A Life of Real Piety
COMPARED WITH
A Life of Fashionable Dissipation.
By COLONEL BURN,
Of the Royal Marines,
Author of “The Christian gºer'. Complete Armour,”
º,
***
First American from the Third London Edition.
BOSTON:
PUBLISHED BY BRADForps. READ,
No. 58, Cornhill, *
1816,






















h
;
º
*
WHEN the Author began to write the fol-
lowing pages, his principal object was to detect
and expose the malicious intention of the grand
deceiver of mankind, in one of his infernal sche-
mes, by which he hoodwinks and ruins his
thousands ; artfully iusinuating, through
the mouth of his numerous agents, that truly
religious people are a set of the most des-
picable, ignorant, melancholy, wretched be-
ings that ever existed on the face of the earth;
wholly incapable of enjoying the rational
pleasures of life; or of filling up their places
as members of society, with any credit to
themselves, or honour to their country. Where-
as he well knows the very reverse is the case;
that they really are the most rational among
men, whose religious joys, and solid, though in-
terrupted, happiness in time, as well as the glo-
ry that awaits them in eternity, he daily envies;


A 2
PREF ACE,
and dreads nothing so much as letting his own
subjects perceive it, lest they should thereby be
induced to leave his service. Would to God this
feeble attempt, as an instrument in his hands,
might be made useful in opening some of their
eyes | º






HORATIO, EUGENIO.
for WHAT, always the same thing
over again? Morning, noon, and night,
whining and praying over some old Puri-
tanic book or other? Surely you must
lead a most unhappy, melancholy life,
Eugenio !
Eug. That's as you think, Horatio;
but long experience has sufficiently con-
vinced us both, I hope, that neither your
judgment nor mine has any pretensions
to infallibility. I fancy, were our sepa-
rate enjoyments, hopes, fears, and future
º





A 3
expectations, put into an even scale, a
this question impartially answered, Who
fares best, You or I ? the balance would
be greatly in my favour.
Hor. You'll find it a very hard matter,
indeed, to make me believe that; for
really I have no possible conception that
a life like yours can ever be a happy
Oil C. |
Eug. Suppose we compare notes thi
| ||
Hor. With all my heart, provided you
don’t puzzle me with too much of your
enthsiastic stuff, which you know I nev-
er could rightly comprehend. Let us
have to do with plain matters of fact, and
I’ll see you out; like a man honour,
the matter.
plant the palm of victory on Eugenio's
S.
afternoon, and try if we cannot decide
brow, if I cannot first secure it for my
QWn.
Eug. That's just like my worthy
º













7
friend, and what I fully expected from
him; or, believe me, I would not so
readily have entered the barren field of
controversy, where so seldom any real
good is to be found. Would disputants
always act thus, how much more profita-
ble would it be for themselves, as well
as for those who read or hear their dis-
putes | Let who will gain the day, I'm -
well persuaded, we shall part as good
friends as when we began.
Hor. Well, and where shall we be-
gin 2. At the pleasures of a life of melan-
choly contemplation ? I presume this is
your forte.
Eug. No : I’d rather attack you on
your own ground, and try first, which of
us enjoys the rational gratification of our
differentsenses most: because I know’t is
a very false, but too prevailing opinion,
that we Christians do not, and must not,
enjoy the common blessings of life, which






A 4
8
our senses are capable of affording us;
whereas, in reality we are the only per-
sons in the world, who have the true rel-
ish of these blessings.
Hor. Pray, how do you make that
out? I’m sure I rose this fine morning
without one distressing thought, had a
delightful ride over the heath, enjoyed
the fresh air, returned with a keen appe-
tite to breakfast, and relished a dish of
fine-flavoured tea with as high a goût as
you or any man ever did; and can you
say more? | ||
Eug. My dear sir, the cows in that
meadow enjoyed as much as you did;
and Ifancy a little more: they never in
all their lives had a distressing thought
to disturb them, and that’s more than you
can say; they had the first taste of the
pure air, that exhilarated your broken
constitution this morning, and perhaps a
much higher relish for the food they en-
joyed.



Hor. Thank you, kind sir, for your
easy introduction to this polite assembly;
I hope you will make one of the number,
or inform us of the very superior advan-
tage you have over every body else.
Pray throw it into the scale, and let us
see if there's any weight in it.
Eug. In the first place, I enjoyed
every thing you mention, with all the
keen sensations of genuine delight that
health, peace of mind, and a good appe-
tite, could inspire; but what certainly
added a double relish to these enjoyments,
and decidedly gave me the advantage
over you, and the animal creation, was
the sweet and transporting sensations of
love and gratitude which I felt glowing
in my breast to the gracious Author of
these unmerited mercies ; from whose
hands I received them, not only as kind
tokens of his sent paternal affection
for me, but assure pledges of his future






A 5
40
and eternal regard. This transporting
thought roused every faculty of my soul
to sing aloud in his praise; and while the
divine principle of love was in exercise,
I partook of his temporal blessings, with
a kind of heavenly relish, far beyond any
thing you ever did, or possibly could en-
joy without it; for let the censualist rave
and riot as he pleases, it will ever remain
an undeniable fact, universally assert-
ed by reason, revelation, and long ex-
ience, that none can view the de-
lightful scenes of nature with divine ap-
propriating ecstacy, or enjoy with true
filial gratitude the returning blessings of
Providence,
** But who, with filial confidence inspir’d,
“Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye,
“And smiling say, My Father made them all.”
Hor. How do you know I never en-
joyed this as well as you?!" º
Eug. I am pretty sure you never did;
and you will acknowledge it too, when



Eug. Then I am sure it is not cus.
leaving it wholly to your judgment, I
you have answered me this question,
Pray, did you ever ask a blessing from
God, or give him thanks for any one ---
breakfast you ever had 2 * º
Hor. Really I cannot remember I -
ever did. You know it is not customary
to do it at breakfast.
tomary with you to enjoy what I did; for
how is it possible you could feel any
grateful sensations towards God, who
never once entered into your thoughts all
the while you were feeding on his boun.
ty? And what a mean opinion must
you have of that man who regulates his
religion by the inconsistent notions of an
idle and absurd custom ? Is this agreea.
ble to that reason you so much boast of 2
We religious folks are frequently accused
of acting contrary to its dictates; but
would ask, who acts most rationally here?
º º



42
--
Eug. Then pray let us have no more
of your foolish customs (of however long
He who thanks God for every meal he re-
ceives, or he who only thanks Him for
one 2
Hor. The question answers itself.
For if it be necessary to ask God for his
blessing on one meal, it certainly must on
- º
every one we enjoy.
a standing) brought in to exculpate the
omission of an indispensable duty.—But
to return from this short digression. I
hope you will now give me leave to claim
the advantage, I have already clearly
proved I have over you; and therefore,
without further ceremony, I shall mark
it down No. I. º
Hor. Stop, stop, my good friend;
not quite so fast, if you please. Pray be
so good as to explain first what you mean
by this divine principle, as you call it, by
some fact, figure, or example ; or some








43
how or other; so that I may understand
you a little better, before you begin to
make your notches.
Eug. Supposeyour valuable and much-
loved friend in the country (you know
who I mean) was to send you a delicious
pine from his hot-house, as a mark of his
disinterested friendship, and as a pledge
of his benevolent intentions to provide
for you; would you not enjoy it with
a much higher relish, than one you might
buy at a fruit-shop?
Hor. I think I must, if not destitute
of all gratitude.
Eug. Then so much, and much
more, did my pleasure exceed yours
this morning. Therefore now please to
remember, that by your own deter-
mination I have at least gained this one
| point. - -
Hor. Well, I think you will not gain
the next ; for 'tis a pleasure you never





14
taste of ; at least I do not remember
ever having seen you amongst us. I
mean when two or three of us jovial
fellows get together over our bottle,
sing a merry song, and spend the even-
ing as happy as kings. This is an en-
joyment you have no idea of
Eug. That is a mistake, Horatio.
You must give me leave to inform you,
that I have greatly the "advantage of you
here; having a very just idea of all your
pleasures, and a thorough knowledge of
the nature of all your enjoyments, from
many years unhappy experience while
you are totally ignorant of mine, from
having never once tasted of their sweets,
or formed one just idea of their true
value; for if you had, you would have
instantly relinquished your own, and
adopted mine. But we will once more
some to the test, and contrast them to-
gether ; for, notwithstanding your very






15
sanguine expectations, I am pretty con-
fident of triumphing here also. In the
first place, when two or three of my
friends meet (you know the most of
them,) we enjoy every temporal bless-
ing, in moderation, as well, and better
than you do, having them mixed with
the additional pleasure already mentioned,
of which yours is destitute. We too
sometimes spend an hour in singing, but
it is to the glory of God; and I am sure
with much more melody and pleasure
than you do, if I may judge from what
I heard the other night, as I passed by
the club-room; the noise that came from
thence (harmony there was none) seem-
ed to me more like that of dogs in a
kennel, just going to be fed, than the
voice of rational beings: and when
curiosity prompted me to listen to what
was going forward, I found myself the
only person silent; and could not, with




46
- º
all my attention, from so many mouths
find out the subject of your conversation.
if you call this pleasure, Horatio, Ito-
tally misunderstand the meaning of the
word. Very different indeed is our
mode of entertainment: an anxious
desire to get hold of truth, excites us to
investigate, with the strictest care and
attention, every subject we undertake
to discuss, Sometimes the precious
truths of the Gospel ; at others, the
mysterious nature, attributes, and per-
fections of the Deity, with his glorious"
works of creation, providence, and grace;
or more frequently what relates to our
own conduct as men and Christians;
verifying the prediction of the royal
Prophet, “ Thy saints shall bless thee;
they shall speak of the glory of thy king-
dom, and talk of thy power:” in such de.
lightful employ as this, we constantly reap
both profit and pleasure; times flies on
--





silken wings; and sometimes, when we
\ feel the blessed effects of the divine pro-
mise, our happy souls' struggle, as it
were, to get beyond the limits of the cra-
zy tenements to which they are confined.
And I will be bold to say, from frequent
experience of both sides of the question,
that our enjoyments in these rapturous
moments as far surpass yours, as the
light of the sun does that of a feeble
taper.
Hor. My dear sir, you have taken a
deal of pains to depreciate my pleasures,
and to set off your own with all the flowery
language you are master of; but I must
not suffer fine words without proof to
have any weight in our impartial scale;
and must still insist upon the liberty of
thinking, that the pleasure I enjoy with
my friends is at least equal to the pleas-
ure you enjoy with yours, unless you
can bring me plain matters of fact to the
contrary,







48
Eug. That I can do; and some that
you will not dare to say were of a pleas-
ing nature. I love dearly to appeal to
matters of fact, when I can come at them."
They are the very best arguments in the lº
world. Do you remember the situation º
you were in last Wednesday morning,"
when Mac and I called on you? Wereº
we not alone, I should not think ºf ex- º
posing my friend’s weakness; but in the
present familiar téte-à-tête, I shall make
no scruple to attempt a description of the
curious scene, as it will exactly answer
every purpose I wish. Between ten and
eleven, I think it was, when we entered
your room; and from what had been told
us the evening before, we were not much
surprised at seeing the apothecary stand
on one side of your chair, shaking a phial
that contained an emetic, and your servant
on the other, with a glass of water, and a
basin of camomile-tea; while the great
-




º 4. º º
*
advocate of pleasure, wholly inattentive
to our approach, was every now and then
expressing the ravishing nature of his en-
joyments in such pleasing ejaculations as
these: “Oh my head, my head lºd Il
that wine, I will never taste another drop
of it ! I wish from my soul I had come
away sooner How could I be such a
fool!” And when we attempted to seize
the favourable opportunity to moralize a
little, you could hardly give a rational
answer; or even lift up your head to bid
us a good morning, when we left you to
settle your accounts in private, and enjoy
your evening's debauch; for no man in
his senses would presume to call it pleas-
ill'C. º
Hor. But that, my friend, was only
once in away; it does not always happen
so. You, who are a man of so much
candour, will not surely condemnathing
º g 1













20
for one flaw that may sometimes be found
In 16.
Eug. Ah, that is a poor come-off,
Horatio ! indeed it will not do. It is as
light as air. To use your own language,
I must not suffer fine words without
proof to have any weight in our impartial
scale.” I know, by fatal experience, what
these morning reckonings are ; and
though they may not always call for the
apothecary’s aid, yet I know, and you,
know too, that all these midnight revels
and carousings are invariably, more or
less, attended with very disagreeable
sensations in the morning; while the
pleasures I have described (if your
º
friend's veracity can be depended on)
have quite a contrary effect; and are never
brought to recollection without a fresh
addition of real satisfactory delight.
must therefore beg leave to make another
notch in favour of a religious life.






Hor. Well, since you will have the
laurel round your own brow, Eugenio,
may not your friend take one little
branch, and say some of his pleasures
at least are equal to yours ?
Eug. No, not the smallest sprig,
leaf, or bud, will I ever suffer to be
plucked from it, while this precious
truth stands upon sacred record: “God-
liness is profitable unto all things having
promise of the life that now is, and of
that which is to come.”
Hor. What, not grant me one ad-
vantage 2 Why, surely, Eugenio, you
are more obstinate than ever.
Eug. If I bring facts and sound ar-
gument, to prove what I assert, and
you refuse to assent to truth; I fancy
you will be found to be the obstimate
man, not I. º
Hor. Well then, obstinacy apart ;
pray, is there no pleasure to be found
--- B 2 º






22
sº
in the play-house 2 in the ball-room *
or at the billiard-table 2 You never go
to any of these.
Eug. I go as often as I please.
Hor. I never remember seeing you
at any of these since I have had the
pleasure of knowing you.
Eug. No, I believe not, and I hope
never will, while I can enjoy delights of
so superior a nature elsewhere.
Hor. Pray, what pleasure can sur-
pass that of seeing a good tragedy well
acted ? Does it not for a time melt the
soul, and enrich it with every noble and
generous sentiment; leaving a pleasing
sensation behind, which is better felt than
expressed ?
Eug. Are you sure this is always the
case? If I may judge from what I have
felt myself, the indecent gestures, amor-
ous looks, and double-entendres, of the
actresses during the farce, have totally
º
-




33
effaced all these fine sentiments you
describe, and produced others of a very
different tendency in their room. But,
supposing this was not the case, are you
sure you really felt these elevating and
generous sentiments you talk of 2
| || Hor. Doyouthen doubt my veracity,
Eugenio 2 Or do you think I am so far
ºgone in wickedness, as to be past all
sense of feeling; and totally incapable of
knowing when my soul receives any ten-
der impressions?
Eug. By no means, Horatio. I have
my reasons for asking this question: but
ºffirst I will tell you, why real Christians
never go to balls, plays, or assemblies (I
say real Christians, for I have nothing to
do with only professing ones.) It is be-
cause they cannot find one thing there
tº suited to their more refined taste; or
* that can afford them the smallest degree
of solid satisfaction. Having been ac.
º











R 3
24
customed to partake of joys, that spring
from a much purer source, they can
have no manner of relish for those you
so highly prize. Nay, if they are at any
time so foolish as to attempt even to taste
of them in the smallest degree, they find
it instant death to their spiritual enjoy-
ments. Just as if you were to take out
one of the fish sporting in the adjacent
river, and set it to feed among the cows
in the meadow below us ; it could not
partake of the food they do, not being
suited to its nature; but, after a few
gasps for its own element, would soon
expire.
Hor. By this comparison you seem
to insinuate, that you are altogether of a
different nature from the rest of the
world, and live in a different element?
Eug. If the word of God be true, and
if I have been savingly converted by
grace, I certainly differ in these respects





25
\ from thousands in the world, who, like
you, are slaves to sin: consequently my
pleasures being of aspiritual and heavenly
kind, flowing from the gracious opera-
tions of the Spirit of God, must far ex-
ceed yours, which are only of a sensual
nature; or, at best, the product of fancy,
or the offspring of a fruitful imagination,
warmed at the representation of a play,
mostly if not wholly built upon fable.
Hor. Really, Eugenio, you have al-
ready got so for above my reach, that
unless you come down a little, within the
compass of your friend's capacity, I shall
have but a very shallow notion of these
spiritual and heavenly joys you talk of.
Pray whereabout do you find them *
Eug. To tell you the plain truth,
Horatio, I am greatly at a loss how to
act with you here. I could wish from
my heart to be able to give you a just
idea of the Christian's religious joys; but

























26
the Scriptures of unerring truth inform
me ** . they are . y discerned,” -
hidden from the carnal mind; and cau-
tion me not to cast these precious pearls
before swine, lest, being ignorant of their
value, they should trample them under
their feet, and turn again and rend me:
and though I have no dread of such harsh
treatment from my friend, yet I know the
word of God is true, and that all my at-
tempts to make you rightly comprehend
the joys of the Gospel will certainly be in
vain, unless they are accompanied with a
divine power, far superior to any thing
that fallen nature is possessed of : but
notwithstanding this, if you can but
banish all prejudice from your mind, ex-
ercise your rational powers, and seriously
reflect on the divine origin of these joys,
their pure and holy nature, and happy
effects on the believer's conduct, joined to
the united testimony of a thousand credis
R 4.



27
ble and living witnesses; I'm well per-
suaded, though you may not comprehend
them, you cannot but see something of un-
known, unfelt preciousness in them, suf.
ficient to convince you they must far out-
weigh any thing you can put in the scale
against them, Christians who have some-
thing more than a name, who truly and
savingly believe the important truths of
the Gospel, find them productive of the
most substantial relatives; need no his.
toric proofs to convince them of their
divine authority, but from frequent and
happy experience can set to their seal that
God is true. With a holy confidence
they look up to him for an accomplish-
ment of the gracious promises he hath
| been pleased to make in his word, seek
for it in the ordinances of his own ap-
pointing, and are not disappointed ; for
in these means of grace, the usual chan-
nels through which he conveys his bless.



R 5
28
ing, they get such clear and comprehen-
sive views of the mystery of redeeming
love; of the glory, harmony, and stabili.
ty of the divine perfections, eternally
united to accomplish the glorious plan of
salvation; its freeness, fullness, perma-
nency, and suitableness to their own
wretched case, as sweetly and powerfully
constrain their willing hearts to embrace
it as completely finished for them. Faith
then in exercise, with penetrating eye,
explores the heights and depths, the
lengths and breadths of the love of God
in Christ Jesus; views with divine aston-
ishment the unsearchable riches of Christ,
and in holy triumph calls them all her
own ; while the enraptured soul, over-
whelmed with a feeling sense of her own
nothingness, as wholly unworthy of such
unmerited favour, labours under a pleas.
ing weight of gratitude, which she can
never fully express; and sometimes is






















29
so sweetly circumfused with the ecstatic
manifestations of divine love, as even to
forget for a time her dull companion
the body, to which she is so very closely
connected, anxiously longing and pant-
ing for the full expansion of all her pow-
ers; that she may enjoy, without inter-
ruption, the eternal fulness of that unut-
terable bliss, of which she has now such
ravishing foretaste
Hor. But pray, my good sir, does
not all this smell very strong indeed of
rank enthusiasm 2
Eug. Does Horatio then doubt his
friend's veracity ? Does he think him
so very far gone in religious melancholy,
as to be past all sense of feeling? totally
incapable of knowing when his soul is
happy or miserable? Or has he quite for-
got the answer given him to questions
of a similar nature, which he put to his
friend a few minutes ago? Pray, did I





30.
then deny you the faculty of perception?
or refuse you the power of knowing when
you enjoyed mental delight? a
Hor. No ;—but º
Eug. No-buts will not do, Hora-n
tio , I must have something more sub-
stantial; good sound argument to con-
vince me, that you are possessed of as
peculiar power of the mind, which I and
-
thousands besides are deprived of tº
Hor, I by no means refuse you this,
power, Eugenio; therefore, having non
room to call the truth of your testimony,
in question must necessarily believe you
really enjoy the pleasing sensations you
talk of with so much rapture: but still
I cannot help thinking they are of an en-
thusiastic kind, and that you rather mis-
take the sources they come from. ſº
Eug. Suppose I do make this mis-il.
take, and that by your superior wisdom
you really are a better judge of the na-.



si
ture of my joys than I am myself; which
by the by, is not very likely; still you
have granted enough to enable me to
shout victory, in allowing the reality of
the Christian's joys : for if they are
real, they must of necessity, from the na-
ture of the objects and things they have
to do with, in every respect far surpass
yours. But I should think myself want-
ing to the cause of truth and the Gospel,
if I did not attempt to convince my friend,
that the pious mind is not more certain
of the reality of his religious comforts,
than of the purity of the source from
whence they spring; for "t is this sweet
ingredient that swells the cup of joy,
and gives it a heavenly relish, every time
he is permitted to taste it. Of this he is
fully assured from the infallible testimony
of God himself, who has promised in his
sacred word, over and over again, to
communicate these spiritual blessings to



32
his redeemed peoplein every age through
the agency of his Holy Spirit. He is
there commanded to ask, and he shall
receive, that his joy may be full; that this
joy a strangerintermeddleth not with, and
no man taketh it from him. He knows,
from heart-felt experience, the truth of
what Peter said of the converted Gentiles
in Asia, “Believing ye rejoice, with
joy unspeakable and full of glory.” He
knows it also from the constant and unit.
ed testimony of all the Scripture wor:
thies, from the dying lips of saints and
martyrs, in all ages, and from the well.
attested experience of a thousand living
witnesses; who with one general voice
assert, that in these spiritual enjoyments,
there is a mescia quid divini, attended with
such unutterable sweetness, so far sur-
passing all that a blind deluded world
calls pleasure, as leaves them no manner
of room to doubt of the divine source



as
| - º
from whence they flow. If my friend be
bold enough to deny it, he must deny
the authenticity of the Scriptures ; he
must look upon the patriarchs, prophets,
apostles, saints, and martyrs of old, to be
a company of cheats and liars; and some
º thousands of gracious, wise and learned
men, now on this island, to be no better. º
Nº. in some measure, he must even de- |
Any the testimony of his own senses; for
the happy effects of these divine and
heavenly sensations in the real Christian,
who enjoys them, may be clearly seen by
all around him, and demonstrate as much
as any thing their divine original; for
they invariably lead the soul to the love
of God, his word, his ways, his people,
and his cause to the love and practice of
holiness; to a hatred and forsaking of
sin ; to a contempt of this world, humil-
ity of mind, victory over the fear of
death, and a daily longing to be with














34
º
Christ in glory. Hear the language of
one, lately gone there, who enjoyed many
precious foretastes of it on earth. “I
never so feelingly,” says he, “wonder
at my own depravity, nor so deeply ab-
hor myself, as when the fire of divine
love warms my heart. Surely the knowl-
edge of salvation is the most powerful
incentive to repentance; and not only
the most prevailing, but an absolutely ir-
resistible motive to universal holiness.
Surely, O God, I could not thus long
after thy presence, if I did not know the
sweetness of it ! And I could not know
that but by the revelation of thy Spirit
in my heart; nor love thee at all, if thou
hadst not first loved me.”
Hor. To hear you talk, Eugenio,
one might be led to think that Christians
are as happy as angels; but I’m sure
there is very little of it to be seen in their
Countenances, -




35
* *
£ug. You did not hear me say, they
were always in this rejºicing frame : if
they were, they would not be fit to have
any social intercourse with their fellow-
creatures; but it is their solid and con-
stant happiness to know that the founda-
tion of their joy cannot be shaken, nor
the source of it dried up ; and their rich
privilege, at times, to be highly fovoured
with gracious manifestations of divine
love, as much superior to all the empty,
frothy pleasures of the fashionable world-
ling, as the heavens are higher than the
earth. But to put you right with respect
to judging from appearances, you must
know, the real believer makes no parade
nor boasting of these favours; he is ab-
solutely forbid, as I told you, to cast them
| before swine; therefore he enjoys them in
secret, or communicates them only to
those, who from experience know their
worth as well as himself; and aften per-

















haps, you may think him melancholy"
when his mind is most delightfully en-
gaged in the sweetest contemplation of
divine things; but your erroneous judg-
ment can by no means lessen the reality
of his joy; indeed the effects of the peace
of God, which passeth all understanding,
may sometimes be seen in his counte-
nance, and read in his language; but it."
will lead him neither to extravagant mirth,
nor levity of spirit; for in him is truly
verified the poet's sentiment, “Too hap-
py to be sportive, he's serene.” Besides
Horatio, I’m greatly afraid you judge of
the state of real Christians by those who
are only nominally such ; who, perhaps,
make a blazing profession, but are as
totally ignorant of the nature, privileges,
and blessings of the gospel, as the savage
Indian in the wilds of America. Now,
what I am going to say of these, may
perhaps surprise you. From my heart I
-














37
believe they are by no means so happy
as you are, and cannot, from the state
they are in, enjoy half so much pleasure
as you do.
Hor. Well ! this is an unexpected
concession indeed. A little while ago you
seemed resolutely determined, at all
events, to prevent your friend's plucking
a single leaf or bud from your laurelled
brow; but now, of your own accord,
you present him with a large branch.
| Eug. Not I indeed ; and, glory to
lsovereign grace, never can I be persuad-
ed, contrary to the clearest evidence, that
ever there existed a carnal man on earth,
who enjoyed (while such) one single, real
advantage above a child of God. But
you run into the grossest mistakes, Hora-
tio, for want of making proper distine-
tions, I never once attempted to under-
take the defence of the numerous tribes of
almost Christians, who, like mushrooms,


c 1
º
38
spring up in every church, sect, and
party, in this highly favoured island. All
these striving to get to heaven in a way
of their own making, are too proud to
submit to God's way of free and distin-
guishing grace. Some think to arrive
there by virtue of their own merit; some |
join to this, what Christ has done for
them; others rest only on a bare super-
ficial knowledge of Scripture truths,
without a divine and experimental ap-
plication of them to the heart; all striving
in vain to serve both God and Mammon;
which never being able to effect, they
continue, as I hinted before, to be of all
men the most miserable : for what with
the gnawings of a clamorous conscience,
which they can never pacify; the perplex-
ing cares and troubles of life, which they
have no true patience to bear with ; the
tormenting fear of death, which, like an
evil spirit, haunts them continually ; they





39
*
neither enjoy the substantial delights of
true religion, nor, without remorse, par.
take of the silly amusements of a giddy,
unthinking world. But it is not so with
the happy saint, the peculiar favourite of
Heaven; who has but one objectin view,
to which he is wholly devoted, and from
which he draws a constant supply of pure
heart-felt delight: he is quite of a differ-
ent mould, and no more resembles the
motley group of “almost Christians”
(some of whom you may be acquainted
with,) than light resembles darkness.
* Hor. I must give you credit, Eugenio,
for your warm zeal in defence of a peo-
|ple, whose cause you seem pretty well
versed in ; but I think, by this time,
you must have nearly exhausted your
º
º
º
subject. ---
Bug." I rather fancy my friend wishes
to make good the old proverb, “Measure
my corn by his own bushel;” for I have



C 2
46)
f
not heard you advance a single argument
in favour of your own cause for some
time. But if this be really the case with
you, it is by no means so with me: so
far from having exhausted the copious
subject (as you think,) I have but just
entered upon it by way of introduction,
and am only afraid the present occasion
will not afford me sufficient time to com.
municate half of what I have got to say
in its favour. I must therefore be oblig.
ed to confine myself to a few only of the
privileges, blessings, and advantages the
true believer enjoys over the man of the
world; to some of which, Ilam very
confident, you never paid any attention,
have no just conception of them, and
will not be a little surprised when you
hear something more about them.
Hor. I hate to conceal the truth,
even when it goes against me: I must
therefore frankly acknowledge, like a wise





* 41
general, who perceives he is likely to lose
the day, I was going to propose a ces-
sation of hostilities; but this last chal-
lenge has so far excited my curiosity, as
to determine me to keep my ground ; to
stand upon the defensive a little longer,
and hear what you have more to say.
Perhaps I may find a favourable opening,
to make an advantageous sally on some
of your outworks; and if I do, depend
upon it, I'll have no manner of pity, for
you have had none for me; therefore take
care of yourself, and mind what you ad-
Vance.
Eug. Truth is never afraid, let who
will threaten. My intrenchments are
immoveably fixed on this impregnable
rock; and for these eighteen years past,
that I have been called by grace to de-
fend them, all the malice, policy, power,
and rage of earth and hell, have not yet




42
been able to make the smallest breach in
them. º
Hor. That's bad encouragement for
me; however, let's hear something more
about these peculiar blessings and ad-
vantages, which it seems you strange
kind of people enjoy above all others.
Eug. I’ll begin with one that will
probably make you stare, and very like-
ly may meet with a flat denial; but our
mercy is, that bold denials and contradic-
tory assertions, from those who never
felt the power of saving grace in their
hearts, can in no respect whatever lessen
the truth of plain matters of fact; and
this is one, attested from the happy ex-
perience of a thousand living witnesses,
“That the true believer, when in his right
mind, living only by faith, as he always
should do, has everything his own way.”
Hor. I'm sure that’s more than I can
say : for matters go frequently the very



43
| contrary way with me from what I could
wish, and very often give me no small
CO11CCTThe
Eug. But it is not so with the real
Christian. I affirm again, when in his
right mind, he has every thing he wishes
| for others; every thing he likes for him-
self; and everything his own way.
| Hor. Pray how do you make that
| out? Is he not subject to all the cares,
troubles, and disappointments of life, as
well as others?
Eug. But he knows who sends them,
whence they first sprung; what valuable
ends, by the converting power of Infinite
Wisdom, they are made to answer. To
him they are changed from curses to
blessings; all invariably work together
for his good, and can never give him
pain, as they do the wicked: but the be-
liever's peculiar mercy lies in this, that
having his will effectually subdued by



44
º
the irresistible power of sovereign grace,
it is, from that happy period, sweetly
mingled with the will of God; and they
become one. Agreeably to this precious
Scripture truth, they dwell in God, and
God in them. They are one with him,
and he with them. Whatever God wills,
they will. And if God must necessarily
have every thing his own way, so has the
Christian. Whatever befalls him, wheth-
er of a prosperous or an adverse kind, of
a painful or pleasing nature, his constant
language is, “”T is the Lord, let him do
what seemeth him good ;” knowing it is
the wise and gracious allotment of his
heavenly Father, which he not only hopes
may, but is confidently assured shall,
most certainly terminate in his present
and eternal welfare. Therefore he never
dares to call in question any of his law.
ful and sovereign decrees; nor presumes
to cavil at any of his mysterious revealed



45
| truths; nor wishes to alter one single
dispensation of his providence towards
* but sweetly sings with the poet,
My will conform'd to thy celestial voice,
Knows no restraint; for duty is her choice.
What ills thou send'st, I thankfully approve,
As kind corrections, pledges of thy love; -
In every change, whatever stage I run,
My daily wish succeeds; Thy will be done.
Did you never hear the old story of
the pious countryman? When the 'squire
asked him what weather it would be to-
morrow? “Just what I please,” replied
he. “Whatyou please!” said the 'squire,
“what do you mean by that?”—“Yes,
sir, just what I please; for l’m very sure,
it will be just what pleases God; and
I’m as sure that will please me.” Just
so is it with the real experienced Chris-
tian, who lives near his God, and enjoys
much communion with him: whatever
paths through life he is called to tread in,
ſº C 5


















46
he is always sure to have his own will, X.
because it is wholly submitted to, and
sweetly coincides with the eternal mind
of God, who worketh and ordereth all
things according to the counsel of his
own will. If the turning of a straw
would totally reverse the most disastrous
event that ever befell him, he would not
do it; because it would imply a distrust
of that infinite wisdom, power, and good-
ness, in which he has the most unbound.
ed confidence. To this happy state of
resignation, an illustrious character in
France, viz. Archbishop Fenelon, arriv.
ed, when he saw his favourite prince a
breathless corpse before him."
Hor. All this is very fine, Eugenio;
and if there really do exist such accom-
plished Christians, they certainly are a.
bove the common level, and must neces.
sarily be more happy than others; but I
rather fancy my friend, in the warmth of


47
his religious zeal, has over-shot the mark;
and drawn a picture of what the believer
should be, and not of what he really is.
Eug. You cannot say, I have made
the smallest attempt to represent the
Christian as a perfect being. He is too
well acquainted with his own heart to
harbour the thought for a moment. Nei-
ther do I say he is thus completely, con-
stantly, and invariably resigned to the
will of God, in all things. But thus much
I will boldly affirm, and from happy ex-
perience know it to be a truth, that all
Christians, more or less, have given up
their wills to God, and in proportion as
they are enabled by grace to do this, the
more or less happy they are: and that
there are now existing many thousands . -
of gracious men and women, who, from
\long experience of their own folly and
weakness, dread nothing so much as be-
ing left to themselves, or having their





48
venly composure of soul, which all the
these things; and is one of the most un-
take the first opportunity you can of retir-
spirit, to convince you of your depraved
wills separated from the will of God;
and, therefore, most gladly acquiesce in
every dispensatian of his providence to--
wards them : enjoying from this divine
resignation (peculiar only to themselves)
a sweet contentment of mind, which aſ
carnal world has no conception of; a hea-
philosophy of Greece and Rome could
never have afforded them. nº lº
Hor. If these things are really so, I
must be forced to say with Agrippa to
Paul, “Almost thou persuadest me toº
be a Christian.” ºn a
Eug. Almost will not do; better re-
main as you are. An almost Christian, I
told you before, knows nothing at all of
comfortable beings that breathes. Rather
ing in secret, to implore of God his holy





















49
- -
and miserable state as a fallen creature;
and to give you the knowledge of those
things that will make for your eternal
peace. They are promised and freely
given to beggars, but never procured by
human merit. ºn
Hor. Some day or other I may per-
haps do this; in the mean time you may
produce something more out of your
| Christian repository, which you just now
represented as being so full.
| Eug. Do you think, Horatio, it is
possible for any material good, however
great or excellent, to satisfy an immate-
|rial mind 2 º
| Hor. Not completely so; there be-
ling no analogy between them.
Eug. Then I fairly conclude, the
real Christian has not only the advantage
over the unconverted man in all his en-
joyments, but is, in fact, the only satisfi-
ed person upon the earth. For he alone
-





50
has God for his portion; and nothing
short of this can ever fully satisfy the un-
bounded desires of an immortal being
You gentlemen of pleasure, as you false-
ly callyourselves, with all the imaginary
delights and vain amusements you can
possibly invent, can never bring your ca-
pacious minds to be Permanently satisfi.
cd. with such empty baubles as these.
You know as well as I, there is always a
craving void left, an expected something
wanting that causes pain, which you can-
not rightly: int for. But it is not SO
with the happy believer, who enjoys
much secret communion with his God ;
who finds in the immense ocean of his
infinite fulness all that his enlarged mind
can possibly wish or conceive. He feels
no aching void, no painful disappoint.
t of expected good, while walking in
ght of a Saviour's reconciled coun-
the li
tenance; but sometimes gets so near that
- * -





51
*
blessed presence, in which saints and an-
gels find a heaven, as to be constrained,
from the overflowings of a happy heart,
to cry out, “”T is enough.”
Bor. Having granted the principle on
which you build this advantage, I can-
not with propriety make any objection to
it; therefore you may, if you please, pro-
ceed to another: only be so kind as to
keep a little lower, and leave saints and
angles to their own joys.
Eug. You remember, when we first
| began, I attempted to prove that the real
Christian not only enjoyed the common
blessings of life in a higher degree than
the man of the world; but that, in fact,
he was the only person who had a proper
relish for them: but I did not mention all
the arguments I had to prove this advan-
tage. Will you now give me leave tº
bring some of them for




Hor. By all means, Eugenic ; for
then I shall, perhaps, understand you a
little better, and be better able to defend
myself; for of late you have taken such
high flights in spiritual things, and trav-
elled in such an intricate path of religious
mysteries, as (to speak freely) I have not
been rightly able always to comprehend
Eug. I verily believe it, Horatio; itis
natural to suppose we can understand but
little of that, concerning which we have
butlittle knowledge, and of which wehave
had no experience; especially inspiritual
things. But we will now descend to
plain matters of fact, with which you are
more familiarly acquainted; and you, if
you please, shall sit in the judgment-seat
and decide for the Christian. *
About two years ago, when that fine
estate in Devonshire unexpectedly fell to
your lot, by the death of a distant relation,
C








-- 5*
can you recollect the temper and disposi-
tion of mind with which you travelled two
hundred miles to take possession of it?
and how you relished the entertainmenton.
the road?
Hor, Extremely well. I was two
happy to be displeased with any body;
and too intent upon what I had in view,
to find fault with any thing: on the con-
trary, nature seemed to wear a more
beautiful hue than ever; every thing was
pleasing ; and every thing I enjoyed,
seemed more palatable than ever I had
experienced before. I well remember a
circumstance of drinking some claret at
an inn in Salisbury, which I then thought
the best I had ever drunk in my life: but
last summer, having occasion to stop
there, I called for another bottle at the
same inn, and had a warm dispute with
the landlord about it; for he would insist
upon its being the same wine, and I as
-
º º - º




54
positively insisted it was not; or else it
was greatly altered for the worse. But
he had the impudence to tell me my taste
was altered, and not the flavour of his
claret.
Eug. I dare say, the landlord judged
right. You were not then going to in:
heritan estate; two years possession had
spoiled your palate, and deprived the
wine of its flavour. º ...
Now, Horatio, just as you felt on that
three days journey to Devonshire, so
does the real experienced Christian, while
travelling through the dreary path of life.
He has got an estate of immense value
left him by the death of an elder brother,
and he is hastening upwards, as fast as
the wings of time can carry him, to take
possession of it. His chief attention is
engrossed by it; his best affections plac-
ced upon it ; and sometimes, by the eye
of faith, he gets such a near and ravishing





view of its inconceivable beauty, incor-
ruptible nature, and eternal duration, as
makes his heart leap for joy; and sweet-
ly leads it to such a happy and resigned
state, as makes him content with every
thing he meets with here below. He is
displeased with nobody ; nothing comes
amiss; all is pleasing and delightful
around him. If disasters happen, he
knows in what light to view them : they
sit easy. He can even take the spoiling
of his earthly goods joyfully: being only
a traveller, such little temporary incon-
veniences as these on the road no way
affect his real inheritance; and that's all
he principally cares for. As the near
and certain hope of possession, in your
case, gave an additional flavour to the
claret you drank at Salisbury; so, with
him, it gives a double relish to every
earthly comfort he enjoys. But here,
Horatio, lies his very great advantage;



D 4
56
your happy disposition of mind lasted
but three days; his commences from the
moment he becomes a converted man,
and continues, more or less, to his latest
breath. He likewise may enjoy, incom-
mon with you and others, the pleasures
arising from the near prospect of possess-
ing any earthly good: but neither you,
nor any man, in a carnal state, loving and
living in sin, can ever have a taste of the
more exalted and refined pleasures, flow-
ing from the Christian's well-grounded
hope, of shortly coming to the possess on
of an eternal state of uninterrupted joy
and felicity.
Hor. Bu
of mind can flow only from the degree of
certainty we have of coming to the pos-
session of an expected good. Now I was
sure of enjoying my estate ; but canyou
say, the Christian is as sure of enjoying
his 2 -
º
º
º ºf tº | º
t this happy, resigned State





57
Eug. Yes; ten times more so. A
number of unforeseen fatal events, inci-
dent to human life, might have for ever
prevented your taking ossession, of an
earthly estate : besides, a flaw in the
will, a defect in the title-deeds, with
many other things I could mention, may
yet deprive you of it : and at farthest,
there can be nothing more certain, than
that, in a very little time, a much-dread-
ed messenger, from a supreme court, will
be commissioned to take these deeds of
settlement out of your hands, however re-
luctant to part with them,and consign them
to another ; who, perhaps, may not hold
them half the time you have. But who
dares say, or where is the man that can
prove, that any of these things, in the
smallest degree, can ever affect the
Christian’s permanent inheritance 2. It
is eternal, incorruptible, and undefiled ;
founded upon, kept and secured for him





D 2
by all the immutable perfections of Deity.
Neither time nor accident, nor life nor
death, nor angels, nor principalities, nor
powers, nor things present, nor things to
come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other
creature, can possibly injure or destroy
it. Be assured, Horatio, the unhappy
man, who dares attempt to shake the
foundation of the Christian's hope, aims
at what is shocking to suppose, the anni-
hilation of the divine attributes; conse- |
quently, the very being of God himself.
People who allow even the shadow of un-
certainty in any of God's works, partic-
ularly in that grand display of his love,
the eternal salvation of his elect, reduce
him to a state of littleness, which even
reason and common sense shudder at.
It is the most gross affront a poor, puny,
finite creature can put upon the wisdom,
power, and goodness of the divine Maj-






59
esty; and to assert and maintain it, the
very height of blasphemy.
Hor. Pray, shall I be mistaken in
saying, my friend has got too warm in
defending his cause? ".
. Eug. Ifancy, if anybody were to call
in question the security of your property,
you would be warm too.
Hor, Nay, I fancy my friend attempt.
ed something like it just now.
Eug. I only advanced (by way of
argument) universally allowed truths;
and stated some possible matters of fact,
which, Horatio himself will allow, might
have happened. But all the sophistry
of wicked men, or all the malice of hell,
can never advance one good argument
to prove, that an heir of God, and a joint
heir with Jesus Christ, shall ever be
deprived of his eternal inheritance. He
has already got the writing in his own
hands, and the earnest of it in his heart;








In 3
death, with all his power, shall rob him of
neither. But so sure as a God of faith-
fulness and truth has promised, so sure
shall he, at the appointed hour, come to
the actual possession of it. º
I will, indeed, very readily agree with
my friend, that the pleasure flowing from
the hope of expected good, must, in a
great measure, depend on the degree of
certainty we have of enjoying that good;
consequently, the Christian's happiness'
must necessarily depend upon his faith."
As the one increases, or decreases, so
must the other. There's no joy nor
peace but in believing. If that precious
grace, the sole gift of God, be at a low
ebb, something like a grain of mustard-
seed, his peace must be so too; but in
this case, he has a very strong anchor,
near akin to faith, which never fails him;
this he casts within the wail, and securely
rides out the most dreadful storms : till



6i
his faith, gathering strength, rises high,
feels the celestial gale, up anchor, and
away he goes through an immense ocean
of what may be truly called pleasure;
enjoying, in his course, the clear evidence
of things not yet seen, and the very sub-
stance of things he daily hopes for. Joy,
now rises, at times, even to ecstacy, and
enables him to sing with the royal proph-
et, “Whom have I in heaven, but thee,
O God 2 and there is none on earth I
desire besides thee.” And if he some-
times meets with bad weather on his pas-
sage, it does not make him change his
note; with a little variation only, he
strikes up with another saint, and says,
“Although the fig-tree shall not blossom,
neither shall fruit be in the vines; the
| labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields
shall yield no meat; the flock shall be
cut off from the fold, and there shall be
no head in the stalls; yet I will rejoice
D 4
- º
º
º
-
-
-








in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my
salvation.” Believe me, Horatio, how-
ever an ignorant and gainsaying world
may scoff, sneer, and ridicule at the .
Christian’s life of faith : one hour of his
enjoyment, in such a frame as this, far
outweighs, in real value, a whole life of
what you modern gentlemen falsely call
pleasant. ºº | ||
Hor. That may be so; but you’ll
find it a difficult matter to make us be-
lieve it: besides, you certainly carry
things too far, and are not satisfied with
obtaining, upon the whole, a bare advan-
tage; but must needs estimate your
enjoyments at a rate, far beyond what
other people have any conception of
Eug. If you and they had the same
spiritual perception of divine things that
the real Christian has, I’m sure you
would not say so; and if I did not my-
self know, from happy experience, the
º
- º



63
truth of what I have advanced, believe
me, Horatio, I should not have taken
half so much pains to convince you ofit.
Hor. I cannot but thank my friend
for his good intentions; how far they may
answer his expectations, is not for me to
determine; however, if you please, we'll
º
just have one or two more of the Chris-
| tian's peculiar advantages, and then close
the subject.
º Eug. I fancy the force of truth be.
gins to have some little effect on my
friend’s mind; therefore, not to tire his
patience, I'll readily comply with his re-
quest, and only mention three more, out
| of a multitude of these distinguished
| privileges, to which none but the true
believer has any right; and which, in
A fact, none but he can or does enjoy. I
A suppose you will have no objection to
º
º
adopt the sentiment of one of old, “That
man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly








D 5
64,
upward.” Good and bad have their por-
tion of this allotted them; no wisdom,
power, or policy, in human nature can
devise or effect means to avoid it: all
must suffer. The grand question, there-
fore, necessarily follows; Who is best
supported in the suffering state? who,
can wade through it with the least pain?,
or, to speak in very plain language, who
can make the most of this bad bargain ? -
Did you ever give afflictions a hearty
welcome? rejoice in them as special
blessings? or sincerely thank God for
them 2 Did you ever say with St. Paul, -
“I take pleasurein infirmities, in reproach-
es, in necessities, in persecutions, in dis-"
tress, for Christ's sake,”
Hor. No; I never pretended to such
a stoic-like disposition; nor can I be-
lieve there is a Christian in the kingdom
who ever did this; unless you will first
allow, they could divest themselves of all
sense and feeling.










65
Eug. Indeed, my friend, you are ve.
ry greatly mistaken; the word of God,
both by precept and example, positively
affirms what you seem so unwilling to
believe; and the happy experience of
thousands of pious Christians now living
corroborates this fact, that the true be-
liever, in the exercise of faith, having on-
ly an imperfect view of the path through
which the Lord is leading him, sees a
needs be for the trial of this faith; and
can, in such a state, rejoice in tribulation,
count it all joy when he is led though
divers trials; and say from the heart, it
was good for him to be afflicted. For
all this, he is no more of the stoic, than
you are; neither am I attempting to
amuse you with an ideal character, or
describing a saint, that has got above the
reach of sense and feelings; but the real
state of those who know, with other fall.
en creatures, that no affliction for the







66
present is joyous, but grievous; yet es-
sentially differ from thousands around
them, by a practical faith in the divine
record, that all these afflictions work for
them a far more exceeding, and an eter-
nal weight of glory. And this blessed
consideration not only makes their tron-
bles light, and easy to be orne; but
frequently enables them to rejoice in
them as a real good; the special gift of
their heavenly Father. Peter and John
did so, when they were counted worthy
to suffer shame for a Saviour's sake.
Lacerated backs and fettered feet did not.
hinder Paul and Silas from expressing
the joyful effusion of their hearts in songs."
of praise to God. The primitive Chris:
tians did not murmur, fret, and rºpine,
at human calamities, as the carnal mind
does; but even took the spoiling of their
goods joyfully. And thousands in this,
Gospel day (your friend, I trust through


67
grace, among the rest) can with pleasure
adopt the language of a favourite author º
of yours, and say,
“Amid my list of blessings infinite,
Stands this the foremost, That may heart has bled.”
Fire and fagots have often kindled such
a flame of holy rapture in the breast of
dying martyrs, as will continue to blaze,
with renewed fervency, thoughout the
countlessages of eternity. But this is
a peculiar blessing, which Iwell know the
men of the world are totally ignorant of.
The afflictive dispensations of Providence
will never be looked upon by them as a
real good : they cannot comprehend how *
such a thing can be. It is the distin-
guishing characteristic of the real Chris.
tian alone, to rejoice in the worst things
on earth, and the best in heaven. No
hypocrite, however refined, could ever,
arrive at this.






68
Hor. I have not, I frankly confess,
and never yet could look upon misfor-
tunes, troubles, and afflictions, in any
other light than as real evils, and marks
of the divine displeasure. If you super-
refined Christians have attained the heav.
enly art of changing them into blessings,
and can really receive them as marks of
God’s peculiar regard, you certainly have
a very great advantage over the bulk of
your fellow-creatures. But may not we
worldlings have our scruples about this
matter? Are you very sure these things
are really so *
Eug. Did you never read your Bi-
ble, Horatio 2 or have you forgot what
that says 2 “Whom the Lord loves, he
chastens, and scourgeth every son whom
he reeeives.” º
-
Hor. I must indeed allow this text,
with many others, is greatly in your
favour; and perhaps it will be best for
* -








69
me not to dispute the matter: therefore,
if you please, let's proceed to your next
subject.
Eug. That you will find a still greater
blessing than the former, peculiar only
to the heaven-born soul, and it consists
in this; that he knows he has a cove-
nant God and Father, to whom he may,
and constantly does, approach with holy
boldness in every time of need. To
this impregnable rock, David, in the
hour of his greatest danger and distress
fled for refuge, and was safe. Here
Luther could have whatever he asked, be:
cause he asked in faith, agreeable to the
will of God. Here, on his knees, an
honest countryman of mine was more
dreaded by a proud queen, than an army
º
of twenty thousand men. Here the
saints, in all ages, have performed won-
"ders; stopped the bottles of heaven, and
opened them again; subdued kingdoms;








70 |
conquered armies; overturned the coun-
sels of the wicked; averted national
judgments, and procured national bless-
ings : and here, in the present day, thou-
sands of happy souls find inexpressible
delight, in spreading all their various
complaints, cares, and concerns, before a
faithful, promise-fulfilling God; confi-
- dently assured, that what they commit to
his charge, will be wisely managed for
their best interest. What they cannot
disclose to their dearest friend on earth,
they can freely unbosom to their heavenly
Father. A pleasure this, of which you
men of the world are never permitted to
taste: neither did you ever find an earth-
ly benefactor, however generous, able,
and willing to help you, that could help
like the Christian's God. -
Hor. It is now some years, Eugeni
(I must acknowledge to my shame,)
since the Bible and I have dropped ac-
º







quaintance; therefore I may be mistaken
in what I am going to say: but I think,
I have read somewherein it that Paul once
asked the Lord, three times, for some-
thing or other he wanted ; and was re-
fused after all. Pray how does this agree
with what you advance?
* Eug. Perfectly well. And also af.
fords an additional advantage to the
Christian: in that, being an imperfect
creature, in a very imperfect state, he
may sometimes ask, and certainly does
ask what would prove very hurtful to
him; therefore, it is his unspeakable
mercy, that the Lord wisely and graci-
ously withholds everything of this kind,
land only confers what he knows will tend
to his real good. My little boy begged
very hard, the other day, for a rotten apple
I had filled with poison, and was going to
place in a hole, through which the rats
passed. Do you think I should have




been his friend, had I granted his request?
I believe not. No more would God be
a friend to his own children, where he
always, to give them what they asked.
He loves them too well for that ; but
never withholds any one good thing, that
in the smallest degree will contribute
either to their present or future welfare.
Having already bestowed on them the
greatest of all his favours, the unspeak-
able gift of his well-beloved Son; they
find in the sweet exercise of prayer, that
all other blessings are included in, con-
nected with, and flow wholly from it.
But you know as well as I, that this
friendly intercourse with Heaven, at a
throne of grace, and consequently the
pleasure and advantages arising from it,
is altogether an impenetrable secret to
those, who are daily pursuing a mere
phantom of happiness in the idle amuse-
ments of what is styled fashionable life.





73
Such persons can have no more idea of
what passes between the saint and his
| God here, than they can have of what
passes between them in heaven: conse.
quently they must be wholly unacquaint-
ed with the prime part of human felicity.
For God only is the source and fountain
of happiness; and the nearer a rational
being approaches to him in nature and
communion, the happier he must be.
| But your votaries to sensual pleasure run
directly from this blessed source, are
| ignorant of its value, never resort to it,
land, what is worse, have no desire to
know any thing at all about it. Is not
this a true picture of your own state,
Horatio? Do you rightly understand
what I am talking about 2. Do you ever
pray ? º
\ Hor. Ask no questions, and you’ll
not oblige your friend to expose his own
weakness. Be content with the many
º
























E 1
74.
advantages already granted you ; and
proceed to exhibit the third and last you
proposed to mention, in favour of the
Christian cause. That, I suppose, will
be the crowning one of all. -
Eug. Whatever you may think of it |
now, one thing I am sure of in a very
little time, you will find it one of the
most important and necessary blessings
that a fallen creature can enjoy ; and if
not possessed of it then, (which God for-
bid!) you will be glad to give your fine
Devonshire estate for it, and ten thou-
sand worlds besides, if you had them.
Hor. I suppose you allude to the
hour of death. But pray, don't you
Christians, of a superior kind, die as well
as other people? If you could but con-
vince me they do not, I’ll commence one
directly, tº ºf
Eug. I believe the love of life would
make you do a great manythings, Hora.
º




| tio. But Christians cannot make them.
selves, as many people pretend. If the
Bible be true, they are God's workman-
ship, created in Christ Jesus unto good
works which God hath before ordained
we should walkin. But with respect to
the power of Death over the human race,
we all know full well how far it extends;
good and bad, young and old, noble and
ignoble, must bow to his septre : he is
no respecter of persons. All have sinned
in their federal head, and all must suffer
the penalty incurred, by passing through
this dread vally to a future state. The
grand question, therefore, between you
and me must be this:—Who can en-
counter the King of Terrors, and not be
afraid 2 who can long for, rather than
dread, his approach 2 converse familiarly
with him as a friend ? give him a hearty
welcome as such P and never treat him
as an enemy? Say, is it the believer?




E 2
76
er is it the man of the world 2 Come,
Horatio, let us finally decide the matter.
Muster up all your forces, make a vigor.
ous stand, and try if you can answer this
question in your favour. I frankly de-
clare, and most solemnly protest, if you
can clearly prove, to your friend's satis-
faction, that the man who swims down
the stream of what you call fashionable
pleasure, fares best when he comes tograp-
ple with the grisly monarch on a death-
bed; then I'll freely give up the contest;
pluck the crown of victory from the
Christian's laurelled brow, where hitherto
it has justly been placed; and you and
your merry companions shall wear it.
The religion, that will not bear a man
out to the very last gasp, is not worth
keeping. º º
Hor, You must not expect, my good
sir, to receive any compliment from me
for this seemingly generous offer; being




77
well persuaded you are very confident of
the Christian's superiority in the matter,
or you would not have made it.
Eug. So far you have judged right.
For indeed, Horatio, there are so many
plain, undeniable facts, to prove the Chris-
| tian's claim to this privilege, that the man
must be impudence itself who would
A dare to deny it. tº
| º Hor. Then pray let us have a true
and accurate description of it; for I’m
now come to the resolution no longer to
contest the matter with you.
ºn Eug. A circumstance, to which you
and I were once witnesses, just now oc-
| curs to my mind, which may greatly help
| to illustrate the true believer's peculiar
and happy advantage over the man
of the world, in the hour of death.
\ You may remember in the beginning of
the year 1780, when we lodged together
at Madras; one day after dinner, a Gen-













too conjuror came in, and after amusing
us with a number of his curious tricks,
he carelessly opened around box he held
kept hissing and rattling in such a fright-
ful manner, as, you know, alarmed us
not a little : especially when its sparkling
eye was fixed our way, as if ready to
spring upon some of us.
Hor. I remember it very well, and
how the fellow smiled to see the confu-
sion and consternation we were all in ;
every one crying out, “Put it up, put it
up ! Seize it, seize it.”
Eug. Pray what do you think made
him smile, and act with so much self.
composure, while we were all so terribly
frightened?º
Hor. The reason is obvious:-be-
cause he was very confident there could
be no danger, having himself extracted
under his arm, and out darted a large
rattlesnake, twined about his neck, and






79
the venomous reptile's sting, and pulled
out all his teeth; a circumstance we were
totally ignorant of ; consequently could
not but dread the fatal effects of these º
poisonous weapons. tº º
| Eug. Now, Horatio, apply this factº
to the real Christian and the man of pleas."
ure, in their last moments, and you will
| clearly see who fares best then. Death
has got a sting, and a dreadful one it is; º
enough to make the stoutest heart trem-
ble, Millions of the human race will
feel the tremendous effects of its venon,”
in the excruciating agonies of despair to
all eternity. But the believer's unspeak-
able mercy and distinguishing privilege
consist in his having a well grounded
hope, and confident assurance, that this
sting is taken away. Consequently when
the monstercomestoaim his unerringshaft
at his heart, he dreads no more harm from
it, than the Gentoo did from the hissing
-









80
of the rattlesnake. He smiles at the foe,
from a divine and heart-felt knowledge
of what Christ hath done and suffered for
him, when he robbed death of all his
malignant power, and perfumed the
noisome grave with his presence. Frail
nature may indeed sometimes shudder at
the monarch's ghastly appearance: it nev.
er yet was rightly reconciled to its own
dissolution, by all the arguments that hu-
man reason could ever suggest. But true
saving faith, which none but a child of
God possesses, views Death in a very
different light; sees nothing ghastly in
him; waits with a kind of holy anxiety
for his nearer approach, as a kind deliver.
er come to set his soul at liberty; a faith-
ful messenger dispatched from his heaven.
ly Father's court, to throw open the
pates of eternal life, that he may trium-
ghantly enter in, and take possession of
the glorious inheritance. Then the





º
dying saint can address his happy spirit,
and Say, º
º
º
-
“My soul, the hour approaches fast,
| When, through a Saviour's grace,
Thou’lt safe arrive in heaven at last,
º And see him face to face.
| Grim death to thee now proves ne more,
With all his gloomy train, tºº º
*Than a rough gale to waft thee o'er, -
Where endless pleasures reign.
There on the iºn ºf thy God
In ecstacy recline,
And all that Jesus bought with blood,
Shall be for ever thine.”
º
| This is not fancy, Horatio; nor the
delusion of an enthusiastic mind, nor an
imaginary display merely of what the
Christian wishes to arrive at ; but a fair
and just state of facts, which thousands
have experienced the truth of Let the
unprejudiced man, who has frequently











E 5
-
-
82
º
seen the saint on his death-bed, deny it
if he can. I, for one, will ever stand
up, as an eye and ear witness to the truth
of this fact: having beheld, with inex.
pressible delight, the believer in his last
moments, triumphing over Death as a
conquered enemy; courting his approach,
and crying out, as thousands have done
* before him, “O Death, where is thy
sting º O Grave, where is thy vict 3ry 2
Thanks be to God, which giveth us the
victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
I have also seen with grief and horror of
mind, the hopeless sinner in the agonies
of death, blaspheming his God, cursing
his existence, and expiring with the en-
venomed sting in his heart, and all the
terrors of hell in his conscience. The
recollection of such a miserable exit is
dreadful God grant it never may be
your lot nor mine. But say, Horatio,
are not these ocular demonstrations fuſly



- º - - - -
sufficient to convince any reasonable
man of the truth of what the word of God
asserts: that the righteous have hope in
their death, but the wicked are driven
away in their wickedness? Perhaps you
have never seen with what joy and tri-
umph the former of these take their leave
of time. But I know you have frequent.
ly seen the wicked die. Do you'rem-
ember in what an awfnl manner our old
acquaintance, Capt. R. , left us?
Hor. Pray, don’t mention it. The
thought of that horridºscene always
makes me tremble. I have never been
able to think of death since, but with a
degree of horror. Poor unhappy man'ſ
how perfectly sensible to the very last !
yet how diabolical his conduct! what
unheard-of imprecations ! what excrucia-
ting agonies of mind! He seemed really
to feel (according to his own expression)
all the complicated miseries of the damn-



84 | ||
ed; and would not be persuaded but
that it was the sure presage of his enter-
nal condemnation. Sure, Engenio, all
worldy men do not die as he did 2
Eug. But a great many do. I myself,
have seen several launch into eternity, in
this awful manner. Some indeed, act
very differe y; take no small pains to
smother all thoughts of futurity; dare º º
every danger; and hurry into it at a ven-
ture. Others deceive: themselves with a
false hope; relying on the mere mercy of
God; when they have lived all their life-
time in sin, and still retain the love of it
in their hearts; never once forming an
idea that justice is as essentiala perfection
of the Diety as mercy. Others, like the
brute beast, die without any thought at
all; ignorant that they have a soul; to-
tally unconcerned about heaven or hell;o
neither wishing for the one, nor dreading a
the other. But you, nor anybody else,
º
º
º












85
º - º
-
ever saw the real Christian (having the
exercise of his reason) make such an aw.
ful exit as our late unhappy friend; nor
even as any of these I have mentioned.
|A full proof this, that there must at least
be something very valuable in true vital
godliness. I will indeed readily allow,
| that all believers do not die equally hap.
py, as to sensible enjoyment. Many are
not blest with that full assurance of faith
| which thousands have experienced. But
they all, more of less, have a well-groun.
| ded hope, which supports them in, and
| carries them safely through, the dreary
valley of death. Some are very sorely
thrust at by the enemy of souls, to the
very brink of eternity; and get to heav.
en, as it were, “with the skin of their
teeth;” disputing every inch of the way.
Others are naturally of such a timid, fear-
ful disposition, and have such humbling
views of their own utter depravity, that










- - 86 - |
they can just cast themselves into the
arms of their gracious Redeemer for shel-
ter in this dread moment, and cry, “Lord,
save me, or I perish:” and here they
are asperfectly secured as Paul was, when
he could exult, and say, “I have fought
a good fight, I have finished my course,
I have kept the faith, &c.” Indeed some
of the weaklings of the flock, of this lat-
ter description, just before they launch off,
frequently shout victory through the blood
of the Lamb; having the port of glory
full in view, I have seen and heard them
do it. And now, to draw the whole to
a conclusion, Idare venture to affirm, that
no man, who has been a witness to these
different deathbed scenes (and has the
use of his reason,) but must take up the
language of the covetous prophet, and
say, “Let medie the death of the righteous,
and let my latter end be like his.” And
what say you, Horatio?



87
| Hor. If wishing could effect this,
then, perhaps, I might say so too; but,
no doubt I shall be told, there is some-
thing preparatory to so desirable an end,
| which must be first accomplished ; and
that, it is very likely, may not be alto-
| gether so agreeable to one, like me, who
has so long walked in a contrary course.
However, I must do you justice, and
frankly acknowledge, the arguments you
have urged in favour of real piety have
greatly changed my sentiments of the
state of those who sincerely practise it;
and very much lessened too, the good
opinion I have hitherto entertained of
those men of fashion, and advocates for
pleasure, whose dissipated conduct I
have, perhaps, too eagerly followed.
Eug. Then it is to be hoped, you
will no longer act as most of them do;
in the character of the devil's errand-boy,
running from place to place, impudently















88
subject, when we
asserting in all companies, that truly
religious people are a set of poor, moping,
melancholy drones, who never enjoy the
rational pleasures of life, and are perfect
strangers to all ideas of happiness —one
of the moſt daring falſehoods that ever.
was forged in the bottomless pit; which
the grand deceiver of souls takes par.
ticular care to propagate, by his em.
issaries, among all ranks of people, as a
chief support to his infernal kingdom in
this world. But I would fain hope, he
is likely to lose one of his subjects to-day,
What do you think about it, Horatio 2
Are you not almost tired of his service?
I’m sure it is a very disagreeable one,
I found it so for many years; and am
confident I could recommend you to a
much better Master. Wººd. º
Hor. It is very probable I may exº,
change a few thoughts with you on this
ive a little more leis.







present I must wish you a good morning,
as I expect to find some company at
home waiting for me, whom I promised
of meet ; but if you are disengaged to-
morrow, I may, perhaps, give you a call.
Eug. I shall be glad to see you ;
but, just before we part, let me seriously
his mind the substance of our pre:
himself into the truth of this important
and long-established fact, “that the real
Christianiscertainly the happiest of men.”
The voluptuary may for a time boast of
his fleeting pleasures with an air of seem-
ing triumph; but, surely, you and I
both well know, from fatal experience,
that they constantly end in disappoint-
ment, remorse, or despair ; while the
of that precious jewel, the peace of God,
ure to discuss it thoroughly ; but at
beg of my dear Horatio to treasure up in
º
conversation, and examine closely for
happy favourite of Heaven, in po
















90
which passes all understanding, has the
exalted felicity of knowing, from heart-
felt experience, that his joys are of the
most pure and substantial nature. The
keen edge of affliction cannot impair, nor
the iron hand of persecution suppress
them ; death itself, disarmed of its sting,
has no power to destroy, nor the grave
to cover them ; ten thousand millions
of ages will only heighten and confirm
what the immutable promise and oath of
the unchangeable God has eternally
secured; therefore he must of necessity
even in this vale of tears, enjoy a strong
and everlasting consolation and good
hope through grace.
THE END,
********* *********
Thomas G. Bangs, printer.











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