/^^ DISCOURSES. Digitized by tine Internet Arcliive in 2010 witli funding from CARLI: Consortium of Academic and Researcli Libraries in Illinois http://www.archive.org/details/discoursesonnatuOOstar "SrayediyJ.CEraOre 0rdc9h^ LateTaBtar ^ flie iirst CQUgreganaual dinick. EJgmT.Tnmois DISCOURSES ON THE NATURE OE EAITH, AND KINDRED SUBJECTS, BY THE LATE WILLIAM H. STAER WITH A MEMOIR. E>. B. COOK & CO 1857. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, By JOSEPH JOHNSTON, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for Illinois. PREFACE. A FEW months before his decease, the ^uthor of the Discourses on the Nature of Faith expressed a hope that he might at some time be able to revise them for publication. Upon consultation with per- sonal and literary friends, it is thought that, without the finish which his own hand would have given them, they will nevertheless be a worthy memorial, and contribute to the knowledge of Christian truth. The other Discourses are added, partly as com- pleting the previous discussions, and partly as a por- traiture of evils which he felt more keenly than most persons, and which for Christ's sake he most deeply deplored. To those who may suffer as he did from these evils, or who may doubt respecting his views of Christian Faith, the Notes which have been appended may be not without value. CONTENTS. Psgd Memoir 9 The Fugitive : A Poem — Passages from 51 Discourse I. — Faith — Its Nature — Importance of the Sub- ject 59 DiscouRse II. — Faith — Definitions Examined 72 Discourse III. — Faith — True Definition 81 Discourse IV. — Faith — Its Moral Quality 96 Discourse V. — Faith — Its General Application 108 Discourse VI.— Faith— In the Affairs of this World 120 Discourse VII. — Religious Faith 130 •Discourse VIIL — Faith in God — Its Nature and Influ- ence 141 Discourse IX. — Faith in Christ — Regenerating 153 Discourse X. — Faith in Christ — Justifying 162 Discourse XI. — Faith in Christ — Sanctifying 174 Discourse XII. — The Repose of Faith 183 Discourse XIII. — Repentance 193 viii CONTENTS. Paste. Discourse XIV. — Evils of Sectarianism 211 Discourse XV. — Evils of Sectarianism 222 Discourse XVI. — Evils of Sectarianism 232 Discourse XVII. — Evils of Sectarianism 246 Appendix. — Analysis of Faith 260 Note A. — That Faith is Rational 262 Note B.— That Faith is Voluntary . 269 Note C— That Faith is Moral 270 Note D. — Statements combining the above Views 274 Note E. — Authorities touching Sectarianism. 277 DISCOURSES ON THE NATURE OF FAITH, AND KINDRED SUBJECTS. MEMOIR. William Henry Staer was born in Middletown, Conn., on Sunday, April 27th, 1817. His father, Mr. James Starr, was an ingenious and enterprising man, engaged at one time in the stereotype business, in New-York. His mechanical skill, or constructive talent, was inherited by the son, and displayed in a ready use of tools, as well as, per- haps, in his facility of systematic thinking. His mother was the daughter of the Kev. Henry Ely, who preached in Killingworth, Conn., for a period of twenty years. It was a happy family incident, which seemed to be a little prophetic in its character, that William was called " the Parson," in allusion to the day of his birth. When he was about seven years of age, the family re- moved to Boston, and four years after, to Baltimore. In 1832, they settled in Alton, Illinois. During the follow- ing summer, which was a season of prevailing sickness, they suffered, in a large measure, the hardships of pioneer life. All were prostrate with 'bilious fever ; help was 2 10 MEMOIR. scarcely to be obtained ; all, by turns, suffered relapses, from undue exertion in caring for the rest. On the 6th of August the father died. In their desolate home the wife o and children still endured the lingering reaction of the fever, until the autumn of the following year. William's opportunities for acquiring an education were limited. For several years, beginning with Christmas of 1832, he was mostly employed as a merchant's clerk. A few months of the year 1834 were spent in the High School of Upper Alton, now Shirtliff College, in the study of alsebra and some common Endish branches, but with much interruption by ague. His next school privilege, be- fore he entered college, was a period of about six months spent at Jacksonville, in the year 1839. He made his first public profession of religion by unit- ing with the Presbyterian Church of Carlinville, in 1835. His religious impressions and hopes, however, began in earlier life, of which we have an account in his own words : " Among my earliest recollections," says he, " reaching back to the age of two or three years, is that of the pleasure 1 took in saying my prayers very devoutly on going to bed. It seemed to me then that I enjoyed the love of God. For years afterward, though I became care- less and as full of selfish desires as other children, yet on the occasion of any sickness in my father's family, I would fall to praying and confessing, and making ever so many fair promises to God, if the evil might be averted. And while living in Baltimore, in 1830 or 1831, I had lively religious exercises ; and I remember now distinctly the scene where I thought I gave my heart to God, while reading a hymn on the back of a tract. For some time after, I was very conscientious and prayerful. Gnidually MEMOIR. 11 I became as before. But for some time previous to the pe- riod of mj- uniting with the Cliurch, having boarded in Mr. Bela VVhite's family, and his wife being a Hving Chris- tian, I made up my mind to be a Christian on the first oppor- tunity (as I then thought). On occasion, therefore, of a series of meetings, held by Mr. Lippincott and Mr. Black- burn, I came forward. My religious exercises at this time were powerful and distinct. After laboring under convic- tion for several days, at last, when engaged in prayer which I had begun with the supplicating cry of an awakened sinner, 1 began to call God, Father. My feelings expe- rienced a great change. I was full of joy and love."* Even after this Mr. S. finds himself laboring under false impressions of the nature of religion, as though it lay mostly in certain feelings, rather than the faithful and cheer- ful discharge of Christian duty. His early experience is apparent, we think, in the interest which he felt in chil- dren ; and it may explain certain views of Christian nur- ture which he presented to his people a few months before his death, in which he v/as supposed to deny the need of regeneration as a condition of early piety. If we under- stood his own statements, it was the burden of his arofu- ment on this occasion, to show that children should not be discouraged by theories of conversion which they cannot understand ; that the faults of children need no more prove them unconverted than the faults of adult backsliders should prove them unconverted ; and above all, that pa- « * This account is taken from a journal kept by Mr. S-, of wliica we shall make frequent use. That it was written with no view to a memoir, is clear from his retiring disposition, from the business nature of much of its contents, and from the following note : " I begin this day (Nov, 27. 1850) a journal or memorandum of such things as for any reason I may wish to refer to in my daily history." 12 MEMOIR. rents might and should bring up their children to be Chris- tians from their eafliest youth. Along with his early religious convictions should be named his ardent love of liberty, and his intense hatred of oppression. He was but a youth, w^hen the martyrdom of Lovejoy occurred ; yet he was one of those who assisted in receiving the printing-press, and in guarding the person of Lovejoy, when he fell. This youthful courage might have been a mere boyish enthusiasm, if it were his only adventure for freedom. But, viewed as part of a life of struggle for freedom, it assumes the dignity of a higher principle of action. For two years Mr. S. was engaged as a clerk in Alton, until the summer of 1838, when he fell out of business by the embarrassments of that period. He was absent from Alton for a time, at Bellevue, Iowa, but returned in the winter. From this time he appears to have directed his mind to preparation for college, with a view to the preach- ing of the Gospel. His application was intense, and his progress uncommonly rapid. In May, 1839, 4ie went to Jacksonville, to continue his studies, where he was admitted to college in October of the same year. Partly from the necessity of a rigid economy, and partly from the peculiarities of a dyspeptic appetite, he boarded himself during the greater part of his collegiate course. He also suffered much from sickness. Once in particular, in his Junior year, he w^as confined for about six weeks, by a swelling or dropsy of the knee-joint, from which he felt frequent inconvenience in his after life, being some- times unable to leave his bed, and frequently preaching when he could not walk to his church. His privations from these causes were ever borne without complaint. MEMOIR. 13 Notwithstanding these hindrances, he ever maintained a high rank in his class. " He was," says Professor Adams, " highly distinguished in college as a scholar. He com- bined, in an eminent degree, the powers oT rapid acquisi- tion and thorough and accurate comprehension. I do not know that he possessed a peculiar taste or capacity for one study more than for another, but he excelled alike in all." Professor Post says of him : "As his teacher in classical literature, I can testify to his brilliant success and rare attainment in that department. I have never taught one who exhibited in classic scholarship such superior excel- lency and promise during his academic course. In this department his mind showed itself patient, severe in its analysis, quick and delicate in apprehension, and rapid and felicitous in combination. Nor is it my impression that there was a disproportionate development of mind in this direction. His mind, I think, was a very symmetrical one, both in the original adjustment of faculties, and in their culture. It could have been, and I think it was, applied with much success to metaphysical truth." And Dr. Edward Beecher writes : "I can truly say that, so far as I knew him, I was very much prepossessed in his favor. His intellectual powers were uncommon, and were in harmony with the other parts of a well-proportioned character." His retiring disposition, unfortunately, caused him to be misunderstood by his classmates. '• A sensitiveness almost morbid," says Professor A., " made him often shrink from those intimacies which cement strong friendships between congenial minds. Some thought him unsocial, and even re- pulsive. But such had not learned to know his heart. He was not popular among his fellow-students in college ; but it was rather from the want of those attractive social 14 MEMOIR. qualities which are prized by the young, than from any thing which any one could say against him. The worst crime that I ever heard charged against him was want of amiability," He r.dds: "Most, if not all, of those who were alienated from him while in college, became after- wards his warmest friends. Through written correspond- ence and occasional personal intercourse, all unpleasant feelings seem to have been obliterated, and to have given place to cordial friendships. This change was partly at- tributable to a better understanding of his cLaraeter on the part of others, and partly to an actual improvement of character, by the growth of the Christian life within him." Mr. S. has said, to those with whom he was most in- timate, that a temper naturally quick and impetuous, added to a nervous sensitiveness, was the great trial of his early life ; that few could understand what labor it had cost him to discipline and restrain his feelings ; and that if he had acquired any habitual self-control, it was due, not to him- self, but to the special grace of God. In his journal, recounting his experience after making a profession of re- ligion, he speaks of a late maturity of Christian character. He says : " Not knowing the necessity of a system of pri- vate devotion, I gradually fell away for several years. I became more and more involved in sin, though never for- saking wholly prayer and the reading of the Bible. After graduating at Illinois College, and while teaching there, the death of a young man alarmed me, and roused me to new effort. My ' assurance ' was gone, and I had now to pray long before I could obtain it again. From that time I trust that, by the Divine Grace, I have been making some progress in the Christian life." The following expressions, however, written in the MEMOIR 15 Junior year of his collegiate course, containing, perhaps, a presentiment of the shortness of his own life, show a very active religious feeling. The poetry with which it con- cludes is hardly equal to his subsequent efforts, yet we think it a note-worthy psalm of his life. • " This day am I twenty-five years — one quarter of a century — old. Another quarter of a century I do not expect to see. I may consider my life as more than half gone. Were it but half, how vain a thing is life ! What have I done yet ? What have I attained ? How am I pleased with the joys of life, and man's earthly portion ? Is it sat- isfying ? JSTay, emptiness and shadow, if I may judge by the past ; but if by the future, how different ! Oh, God ! have mercy on me for Jesus' sake, and forgive my sins and heal all my backslidings. Give me true wisdom^a heavenly mind ; help me to improve my time as it flies, and to live to Thy glory ; — then, whether long or short, life will not be vain, nor shall I mourn its swift departure. " How swiftly fly My passing years ; And time gone by. How short 't appears. The moments roll, The hours speed on Without control ; My years are gone ! " Those dreams of youth That shone so bright, The Hand of Truth Has quenched in night. Yet others shine As fair as they ; Nay, more divine — Of lovelier ray. " Oh, God of Light, My footsteps guide ; And in Thy sight Let me abide. Let all my powers And life be Thine, Till blissful bowers Of Heaven are mine." Other effusions of his muse show that in a life of ease Mr. S. might have made poetry for poetry's sake. But in a world of suffering humanity this talent was specially de- voted to the cause of the oppressed. Called to deliver an address before the Society of Alumni, in 1845, he gave a Poem relating to the history of one of those heroes whose 16 MEMOIR. exploit is to convert themselves from things into men. A few extracts, with an Epilogue written apparently at a later date, are offered to the reader. After his graduation Mr. S. spent a year in teaching in Burlington, Iowa. He was then appointed to a Tutorship in his Alma Mater, which he held for two years. His leisure was devoted to preparation for preaching the Gos- pel. During the greater part of this time he enjoyed the intimate friendship of Professor Adams and his family, who recognized in him " a pure and trusting heart, a kind and genial temper, a spirit of rare delicacy and fidelity in all the duties of friendship." They speak particularly of his love for children ; such a love as indicates the finest and noblest traits of character. A daughter, then seven or eight years of age, writes as follows : " I remember hearing him frequently spoken of, at the time he "was in college, and also seeing him walk "with crutches. Perhaps I should not remember him in college days at all, but that my sympa- thies were excited by his lameness. " I never had a kinder or warmer friend than Mr. Starr, in all my childish years. But he was like no other friend; and even then I saw the dfference as plainly as I do now. He never took it for granted that a child understood onh^ nonsense, or baby-talk, but seemed rather to feel that the soul, unskilled in worldly wisdom, was the more capable of receiving that ' wisdom which cometh from above.' Not that he talked much, or often, to me, of my special obligations to God, taken singly and individually ; but often, very often, when talking to me on various themes, he would lead me to the love of God, His goodness, and our consequent obligation to return so much love, with love. When speaking of the wrongs and suffering which are the lot of many of earth's children, he would gently remind me of all the love and kindness which made my life a blessing and a joy, instead of the burden of woe which it was to others. And when my heart glowed with gratitude to the Giver of all good, he would try to inspire me with the wish and earnest purpose, to live to MEMOIR. 17 bless my fello"w men ; to do something towards alleviating human misery. '• He was in the habit of frequently walking with me in the college grove, especially in early spring, when the first flowers of the year arose from their snow-covered tombs, and breathed in new life from the cool air; and when the birds were caroling forth their joy to the genial sunbeams, from the half-clad trees. I had always dearly loved birds and flowers, and tinted clouds ; and he sympathized so warmly in all my enthusiasm, that these walks were a peculiar pleasure to me. " While he encouraged and stimulated my love of Nature, and her forms of varied loveliness, he ever sought to bring home to my very soul the truth, that all the glorious and beautiful forms of earth were but the visible embodiment of Divine Infinite Love. " My eyes fill with tears, when I recall his constant and earnest endeavors to improve, as well as to interest and amuse me. He used to read with me, and to me, generally poetry, thus cultivating and developing a taste for pure and beautiful sentiment, and its fitting expression in language. " But with all his earnestness, and this constant recognition of higher and nobler things, Mr. S. was never stern. It was a matter of wonder to me that any should call him cold, reserved and repellent. For he was, as / knew him, in his daily intercourse in our home- circle, ever kind, affectionate, and warmly sympathizing. Although always ready, if there seemed a way, or ra,ther, always yznrfmg- away, to instruct as well as amuse, yet no one could frolic with us as he could. My brother, two years old, always overflowing with life and mischief, was exceedingly attached to ' Mit Tar,' as he called him ,• and there was never a merrier pair than we were at times. ... I never knew a person that seemed to have such ready sympathy with, and could so warmly enter into, the feelings of a child. " And I never knew one that seemed to have a more delicate appre- ciation of the slightest kindness. I have often looked with wonder at his manifest emotion, at little kindnesses and attentions which were so trivial that I had never thought them such. . . , My mother knew the peculiarities of his taste, and that oftentimes he went without meals because there was nothing on the table that he could eat, and he would not complain or request a change. So I was 2* 18 MEMOIR. often the bearer of some little home charity -which mother knew ■would be pleasant to him. I have often seen his eyes fill with tears at some such little remembrance. These visits to his room were very pleasant to me ; it was always as nice and orderly as a lady's parlor, and its kind. occupant made it seem to me one of the pleasantest rooms in the world. " I saw and appreciated his intense sensitiveness, with a child's quick perception, when first I knew him. I saw that many things which were lightly passed' over by many, distressed him, and that he suffered far more than most persons. Not that he was often gloomy, or sad, or that he complained : but he suffered. I knew it then ; I know now, that with his sensitive and exquisitely delicate nature, his high appreciation and ardent love, of all that is noble and good, and his consequent scorn and loathmg of all that is low and mean, with his intense sympathy with suffering and wronged humanity, and his fearless, his dauntless spirit, which could not quail before the eye of man, — I know that he sufiered while he lived; that he could not cease to suffer while earth was his home ; and I feel that although earth may well mourn to lose such a spirit, yet for him we may not sorrow ; that the celestial gates have opened for him ; that he is where ' there is not any more pain.' " The warm emotions which appear in Mr. S.'s love for children, and for humanity, explain two quahties that mio'ht otherwise seem inconsistent — earnestness and charity. Both these he possessed in an eminent degree. " It was a necessity of his nature," says Prof. A., "tor be true to him- self, true to the solemn convictions of his own mind. There was in his nature not the slightest aptitude for any easy conformity to prevaihng fashions of thought or belief. Neither was he " influenced by pride of independence to dissent from prevailing opinions. His points of dissent from the usually received orthodox convictions were few, and in these he was fearless and independent, never cap- tious and quibbling. Plis manner of speaking of others was uniformly kind and charitable, even when he knew MEMOIR. 19 them to be inimical to himself. I never knew a person who seemed to take more charitable views of the charac- ter of others, than he did." He was licensed to preach in the spring of 1846, and preached his first sermon at Princeton, Illinois, from Luke, xviii. i. : " Men ought always to pray, and not to faint." He spent the next academical year in attending theolo- gical lectures at New-Haven. Returning to Illinois, and suffering a short time from sickness, he preached a first sermon in Peoria, October 10, and remained in this place for a year. While teaching in Burlington, he had read Punchard's History of Congregationalism, and " found that Congrecra- tional principles were in exact accordance with his own ideas of Chur^ch polity." The Church at Peoria became Congregational on his going there, though, he remarks, he had nothing to do with the change. To urge such changes would not in fact accord with his feelings, or with the primary importance which he attached to the distinctive truths of the gospel. In July, 1848, he went to Jacksonville to be examined for ordination. And now came his first sore trial, as a lover of Christ's gospel. Suspicions of heresy were enter- tained against him — suspicions most potent, because even Protestants so little understand what heresy is, and are so little agreed respecting what are the fundamentals of Christian truth. We will give the account of the examina tion in JVIr. S.'s own words. " Some of the brethren stumbled very hard at me, because I held that the Holy Spirit's influences are of the nature of moral suasion or motion (not directly on the will) : some thinking that I was 'wise above what is written,' and that my mind was of a dangerous tenden- cy ; because I did not believe Christ had a human soul ; because I 20 MEMOIR. believed in no supernatural call to the ministry ; and one good bro- ther, because I did not give a full account of religious experience in conversion, &c., but rather stated my ideas of what it is to be a Christian, and that I thus tried to live. " My examination on the nature of the Spirit's influence in regen- eration was brief, and was interrupted. I cannot give a fail" state- ment of either questions or answers. I stated in general that it was a moral influence, and endeavored to express this idea of it, that it is man who repents or converts to God, and the Spirit moves him to do it; 'just as you, Mr. , if you had prevailed on a drunkard to abandon his cups, would say that you had turned him from them — that you had saved him from intemperance. But in comparing the influence which the Spirit exerts, to that which a man may exert over another man, I did not say nor mean that they were in all respects alike, but simply, that they were alike in some important respects, viz : that they were both moraZ m^ZMmces. But being inter- rupted and confused by two or three questioning me before my replies were finished, I do not know whether I fairly completed my explana- tions or not. " Question. Can you tell us your experience ? the ground of your hope that you are a Christian 1 Answer. I found myself under God's government a transgressor of His law, and subject, therefore, to its penalty. God offered me mercy through Christ ; I felt that there was my only hope, and that God's words to me were worthy of confidence. I determined to trust myself to them, and to act upon His commands and promises. I did so ; and in doing so I found and do find the as- surance of hope. Question. What is it to be a Christian? Answer. It is to love God, and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. Question. What is it to love God ? Answer. To obey Him. " He that keepeth my commandments, he it is that loveth me." Ques- tion. What is your object in entering the ministry? Ansiver. To do good. Question. Do you think you can make as much money at it as at some other employment? Answer. I don't know but I can. I should never expect to make money at any thing. I do not by preaching. . . . Question. Do you think that Christians are called of God to t^.e work of the ministry ? That you have a call ? Answer. I do. Question. What is a call ? When is a man called to the ministry ? Answer. When he has reason to think he can do more good in that than in any other way. A call to the ministry is MEMOIR. 21 the opportunity and means to do most good in it. To do the most good he can is the duty of every Christian ; and when God shows a man that he can do the most good in the ministry, (or gives him the means to do so.) that is a call. Question. Can you express in the language of Paul what should be the Christian minister's animating principle ? Would you say : ' The love of Christ constraineth us ? Answer. I have long thought that that sentence expresses what was to a most remarkable degree the spirit that animated Paul, and that is the most powerful spring of action that can animate every Chris- tian in doing good. Question. If a Christian should be unwilling to deny himself for Christ, would it be his duty to preach the Gospel ? Answer. Yes ! and to deny himself also. Refusing to do one duty does not remove the other. This is not saying that it does not unfit hiiA for it. Question. But would a man who is thus unwilling be apt to do much good in the ministry ? Answer. No ; he might do more harm than good. But he ought to be willing to deny himself, and also to preach the Gospel." Here are views of the Gospel which vindicate Mr. Starr's right to preach it, whatever his errors may have been re- specting the philosophy of it. But, by the most strenuous eiForts of his friends who knew him best, he was barely- saved from rejection, and from all the calamities that might have resulted therefrom, either to himself or in his loss to the Gospel work. His own feelings, on this occasion, are told as follows : " I owe it mainly, under God, to Mr. Turner, my good and dear friend, that I was not cast off with a brand upon my name by that council, which, if it had been done, where would I now have been 1 It would have had, I believe, a very depressing influence upon me, if it had not utterly turned the current of my life into another channel. My health was poor, my condition necessitous, my sympathies alto- gether with the Orthodox (as they now are, so far as respects vital piety) , and I see not but that a rejection by them would have been very calamitous. But I went to the examination with very little fear, and the only ground on which I thought there was cause of fear was not touched at all. I had doubts about the full inspiration of the Scriptures, or at least about what inspiration implies ; yet on 22 MEMOIR. this subject, — it seemed to me, afterward, by the directing Proyidence of God for me, — not one question was asked me." Whatever may have been Mr. Starr's view of inspira- tion, it never hindered his most devout and prayerful study of the Scriptures, nor his faith in them as containing the words of eternal life, and the only hope of a fallen race. And his diflS.culties on this subject were only temporary ; such, perhaps, as are felt by multitudes,, when they first discover points of resemblance between the ecstasy of the poet and that of the prophet, and that the various books of the Bible indicate the various mental characters of the inspired penmen. He afterwards expressed himself as sat- isfied with the common view, that the inspiration which gave the Bible to man is special and peculiar. His thorough integrity in the gratitude he expresses for the fact that his doubts were not discovered, will appear from subsequent passages of his journal. The dear friend to whom he alludes thus describes the scene : " His mother was a poor widow, who went without many necessa- ries of life, (as we deem them,) that she might present this son, an educated offering, to the cause of humanity. He was dutiful, prayer- ful, daily Christian and devout, as well as eminently gifted and tal- ented, almost above all others that ever graduated at his Alma Mater. As son, student, teacher, tutor, and member of the Church of Christ, no one ever knew him to neglect either a filial, or intellectual, or Christian duty, which it was in his power to perform. At all the meetings and prayers of the Church he was always present, inter- ested and active. His sole ambition was to live for knowledge, for truth, and for Christ ; though by these statements I do not, of course, intend to absolve him from those ordinary and universal infirmities of manner or of temperament common to humanity. In other words, I do not mean to say that Mr. S. was perfect as Christ was, but that he was a truly and eminently devoted and gifted Christian man. " Well, after this ten long years of prayer and struggle, day and night, of this widowed mother and lier devoted son, his education is MEMOIR. 23 completed, and, with a heart full of joy and high hope, this youth presents himself for license and approval — before whom or what ? a Caesar? a Pope? No, but before a so-called Protestant Christian power, that almost every Sabbath, and every prayer-meeting for the whole ten years, had been exhorting him and others to this special service of Christ, deploring the destitutions of the West and of the world, the great want of talented and pious men in the ministry, and urging such poor widows as Starr's mother to consecrate their sons to the work, to contribute their mites, earned by midnight toil, to Education and other Societies, to raise up and educate such men. " And now, when this work is done, and God knows as hardly done as it usually falls to the lot of mortals to do it, and this son of this widowed mother was before them, what did this professedly Prctest- and Christian power do ? Why, of course, you will say, it thanked God, praised Christ, blessed the mother and the son, and sent him forth with joy to his field of labor, praying the Father to strengthen all in him that was right, and pure, and good, and His Holy Spirit to purge and dispel whatever there still might be of error or evil, — that great good and manifold glory and blessing might through him come to God and man. Sure, this was all that, as Christian men, they could do in such a case. " No such thing. On the contrary, finding his modes of thought and speech differed a little from their own, they endeavored to en- snare him on the dogmas of their creed, about 'substances,' and ' essences,' and ' Trinities,' and ' derivations,' and ' equalities,' and ' substitutions,' and ' decrees,' and ' elections,' and ' perseverances,' and ' outward faiths,' and ' intellectual faiths,' and ' saving faiths,' and no one can tell how many other faiths and follies not found in the Sermon on the Mount, or any other saying of Jesus or His Apostles. And because he proved more than a match for them all on these subtleties, they attempted to send him forth to the world, after his ten years of toil, black-balled and disgraced ; not even in pretence because he was deficient either in learning, talent or piety ,"5^ but, for- sooth, because in these inane dogmas he could not say ' Shibboleth ' exactly with them. They, practically, cared not at all for the ad- mitted fact that Christ had received him, inasmuch as in these dogmas he ' followed not with them.' And in despite of the wants of the Church, and all this outlay foi an education that totally unfitted him for any other business, (even if he could have brought his heart * For this question did not remain long unsettled. ^4 MEMOIR. into it,) this power Tvould then have turned him out upon the world, virtually blackened, silenced, disgraced and beggared, had it not been for the strenuous exertions of a few personal friends. Yet enough was said and done to make Brother Starr a marked and suspected man. And this same Protestant power did not fail to molest him with its invisible arts, wherever he went, whether far or near. I saw, with great grief, that this practical persecution was acting, and must continue to act, disastrously, if not fatally, upon a nature so frail and sensitive as his, the last time I was at his house, a short time before his death." Mr. Starr was ordained on Sunday, July 16th, the right hand of fellowship given by the friend who sympathi2red so deeply with him in his peculiar trials. On his return to Peoria he suffered an attack of his old complaint, and, taking cold in bathing his limb in warm water, he was very ill for several weeks. He mentions, with gratitude, the gratuitous services and kindness of Dr. Dickinson and his wife, to himself, and to his mother during a period of sickness. Leaving Peoria at the close of the year for which he had engaged, he preached at Griggsville, October 15th, and engaged here for a year. In the middle of January he took cold while visiting his people, and was brought down with typhoid fever. His sickness continued nearly three months, and his hopes of a revival, which seemed to have really begun, were frustrated. It was in this place that Mr. S began and completed his series of discourses on " Faith,'" which are here offered to the public. The first was preached September 16, 1849, and the last, August 25, 1850. Here also he car- ried out his views of Congr'egational polity, by uniting with the church to which he ministered, November 4, 1849. On Tuesday, March 26, 1850, Mr. S. was united in MEMOIR. 25 marriage to Miss Lucy Elizabeth Collins, daughter of Captain James A. Collins, of Griggsville. Captain C. had been at this time about six years absent at sea, return- ing in December following. The account already given of Mr. S.'s social character, shows that nothing was wanting on his part to make this union a happy one ; and he found in the wife of his choice all that he could desire, to complete the varied joys and to assuage the many sorrows of his life. She sympathized with all his free and independent views, and with all his most rehgious and most delicate feelings. She was the usual companion of his pastoral labors, and was ardently devoted to his personal comfort and welfare. She cheered him by her own courage^ and her unwavering faith in that power which can overrule all events for good to those who trust in Him. - L^^mJu^ For reasons which, in their beginnings, would have fe»nd another familiar cliapter of Shady Side literature, but which grew into the dangerous rumor of heresy, Mr. S., after being detained a few months by the entreaties of friends, at length, in April 1851, left Griggsville. The unpleasant feeling that led to this result did not, however, long survive his departure ; and his subsequent visits to the place were occasions of delight. In August of the same year, he preached in Elgin, and was engaged for six months. He had been there but a few weeks when rumors of heresy began to be heard ; first by letter to the former pastor of the church, from a mem- ber of the council by which he was ordained, and after- wards by report from a person who assisted him on a Com- munion occasion, to a prominent minister. He was now charged unawares with " Bushnellism," and with "Uni- 26 MEMOIR. tarianism." He was apprised of these charges by the former pastor, who became satisfied that they were un- founded. Upon the charge of Bushnellism, Mr. S. remarks, it "is totally false. When I was examined for ordination I had not read a word of Dr. Bushnell's theological views; and now having read them, I do not agree with them." The charge of Unitarianism perhaps arose from two facts. First; he supposed that a Unitarian might truly believe in and preach Christ, as the only Saviour of man- kind. In this view he invited the Rev. Ephraim Nute, of Scituate, Massachusetts, to his pulpit in Griggsville, and remarks in his journal that he visited him at his friend's ; "was much pleased ; appears evangelical and truly pious." Again, in preaching on the Atonement, Mr. S. dwelt more than many others on the sutFerings of Christ, as a means of producing repentance. But so far was he from deny- ing the word of Christ to be a ground of Salvation, that on one occasion, the writer recollects his comparing the Atonement, as a ground of pardon, to the light of the sun, without which, repentance could no more avail than the moon can shine by its own light. But his notes on the subject of the Atonement, in which he has expressed his views most fully and freely, will vindi- cate the integrity of his faith in Christ beyond question. Remarking that his views on this subject had become some- what modified, or at least more complete," he says : " Now it seems to me possible for a Governor (in any and all good governments, divine or human) to grant to one high in dignity and having sufficient claims upon the government, the pardon of a repent- ant subject who has sinned, without at all relaxing the sacredness, the imperativeness of the law as the rule of the government. But Christ, who is sufl&ciently high in dignity, being the eternal and ' only begotten' Son of God, by what he has accomplisJied for the government MEMOIR. 27 of God in bringing men to repentance, in making them obedient in- stead of rebellious subjects, and by ivhat he has suffered in so doing, has such a claim upon the government of God, and can plead his own sufferings to take the place of those due to the sinner.'' And again : '• The sufferings "which Christ's work for the government of God involved, entitle Him to the privilege of intercession for such as repent ; and it must have been, in part, because it would do so (it would seem) , that He undertook that work. Perhaps if He had not suffered. His work alone would not so have entitled Him. But having suffered. He is entitled to say : Let my suffering go for the suffering due by the law to the sinner. The sinner now can plead what Christ has done and suffered for the government of God in his behalf. By what Christ has suffered, He has, as it were, paid the penalty of the law, and by what He has done He has gotten the right to plead it in the sinner's behalf. It thus becomes safe for God to pardon for Christ's sake, and in His name, while otherwise it would not have been safe ; the sacredness, the imperativeness of the law as God's rule for His creatures would not have been maintained. Considered in this light, Christ's sufferings constitute His earthly life and death a sacrifice for our sins. God [knew] that they would have this efficacy of aton- ing for sin, and therefore designed that they should so atone. And His death, as the crowning act of all, may be taken to express the w^hole (even as His resurrection is sometimes taken to embrace His whole doctrine, because it sealed it all.) His death, moreover, was designed as being a peculiar appropriate form of his suffering, to stand for the sinner's doom. Thus was His ' blood shed for the remis- sion of sins,' as one and a most important end, though not the whole." Of the necessity of Christ's suffering, Mr. S. speaks more fully in the Tenth of the following Discourses, which might alone decide the present question. That he discarded all mercantile views of the Atone- ment, by which the very idea of forgiveness is annulled, will hardly be urged as an error. And respecting the opinion once before charged against him, that Christ had not a distinct human soul, it should not be inferred that he denied either Christ's divinity or his humanity. God 28 MEMOIR. became Immanuel in Christ, he might say, strictly, in an Incarnation, (John i. 14; Rom. i. 3, 4. 1 Tim. iii. 16.) With one of the persons concerned in these rumors, he afterwards had an interview^ in which, sajs Mr. S., "he acknowledged his fault, and I endeavored to remove his prejudices, whereupon our diiFerences were settled, I trust to most hearty good will. " From another person he sought explanation by letter, but received no reply. In January, 1852, he applied for admission to the Fox River Conofresfational Union. Here he encountered the rumors we have named, with success ; in that one vote alone was given against him. In his journal he says : — " I have reason to acknowledge the goodness of God, who turned aside the minds of my examiners from those points wherein their prejudices or views would have disallowed me; or enabled me, wherein they did touch any of them, to show my essential agreement, without their perceiving the disagreement; and who also, by His grace in me and in them, turned back the prejudices with which they apparently began their examination, and awakened favorable feelings. " I was much gratified to learn, on my return, and before the vota of the Union was known, that though there had been some apprehen- sions in the minds of many of the Church, as to how the Union would receive me, there was much disposition to independence of judgment, and to confidence in me in any event." On the 14th of April following, he was installed as pastor of the Congregational Church in Elgin, where he remained until his death. The sermon was preached by the former pastor. Rev. N. C. Clark. " The exercises," he says, " interested my feelings deeply, and my heart was much drawn out in love to my brethren in the ministry." We have indicated some of the points in which Mr. S. dissented from the prevalent opinions, perhaps all of them. MEMOIR. 29 Whatever they were, we know that he regarded himself as dissenting only in speculative matters — forms of divine na- ture, and modes of divine economy and influence, which like the hidden causes of the mind, are no part of man's necessary faith — while his entire theology brought him to the same practical results in which all Christians are agreed. As a thinker, he simply craved the liberty of coming to Christ by the laws of his own mind, compelling no other one to follow the same path, but glad to worship and to learn of Christ, with all his disciples, by whatsoever way they had come to bow before Him. Giving to Christ in all things the preeminence, he hoped that jninor differences, inseparable from the lot of humanity, might be allowed. But he was gi-ieved to find that prevalent theologic methods were deen.ed essential to the integrity of the Gospel, and that the differences which he held subordinate, were con- sidered by others serious, if not fatal. Hence the conflict, of which, under the date of his ordination, he speaks as follows : '' My mind has been considerably agitated, for some time past, on the subject of my theological position. When I began my course I had no thoughts of concealment of any of my views, and my frank- ness soon brought me into trouble. By the advice of friends and my own reflections, I became convinced that it was best I should keep to myself, for the present, the views I entertain, which are different from those of my brethren generally, and labor on with those vital truths in which we are agreed, and which are indeed the chief things. These are, the depravity of man, his exposure to everlasting punish- ment, the necessity of a radical change of character to salvation, the Deity and atonement of Christ, and the necessary work of the Holy Spirit. But the fact that my brethren make speculative points on which we differ, of so much importance in their ecclesiastical rela- tions, obliges me to use a sort of craft m the statement of my views, which is not congenial to my heart. I can so present the essential 30 MEMOIR. practical elements of my views as to cover the grouni which they think necessary, while yet I do not imply certain other sj^eculative ideas whicL they think I do. The fault of this, or this misconception of my views, is not to te charged to me ; but to them, as having im- properly mingled such speculative elements with the practical, as equally necessary. Still, though I need not blame myself for this matter, the thought that they are mistaken, deceived, as to my agree- ment with them on certain points which they consider essential, (though I feel assured they are not.) troubles me. It pains me to think I am not just what they think I am, and that perhaps they will one day be grieved by discovering it. And there is another source of trouble which has in it some irritating quality. It is the fact that I cannot speak out my thoughts like a man ; that a necessity is cloaked about me, under which it is diflBcult to maintain a true and manly independence of character. It renders more powerful the natu- ral propensity of my emotive character, to lean upon and follow others, and makes much more difficult that which I feel to be duty, and to be demanded by a proper regard for the gifts of mind God has given me ; namely, to be a bold and candid advocate of whatsoever truth I learn. '* I know not what to do ; but I trust God will teach me in His Providence. " I feel attached to this Church and people, and have great reason for thankfulness concerning the pleasantness of my situation. I have some love, also, for my work here — to labor in the same spirit and with the same great truths with which my brethren labor, for the sal- vation of souls and the honor of Christ. But it is hard to bear the yoke of bondage to ecclesiastical tyranny and to the inventions of men. " I record it here, if I should never live to make a louder and more powerful protest to the world, that while desiring to preach the great truth, with all the powers I have, that ' Christ came into the world to save sinners,' I am bound in cruel chains by the intolerance of the Protestant Evangelical Church, which proclaims the right of private judgment as its fundamental principle, but which utterly denies the right to me, and to every one of its members. I can only preach the truth, by submitting to its judgment in other matters; if I do not submit I shall be disallowed in its ranks, and persecuted with all the MEMOIR. 31 power it has to exert, — with excommunication, and reproach, as an outcast from the Church of Christ, and an enemy of God. " May God help me to be patient, till He shall work deliverance." Such feelings, in a heart so buoyant as Mr. S.'s, could not always be expressed in Jeremiads. He afterwards ad- dressed letters to a person of whose sympathy he felt sure, in which he unburdens his heart. This friend writes: " "Wiey^eel at liberty to publish them. No biography of a religious man ought to be written which is not thoroughly out-spoken. It is these concealed, half biographies of good men, which have made the world believe the whole matter of religious biography such a sham. No one wants to know Mr. S.. or any other man, as he may be when beatified ; but as he was here^ with his struggles, and doubts, and fears, and all. His letters showed this nobly. As I understood, his doubts were not as to particular doctrines, but as to the general tone of liberality in our Church, he not believing in such close creeds, &c.j as others do." Of one of these letters Mr. S. retained the following o copy: " Dear Sir : The reading of your late article in the Independent^ entitled ' Modern Scepticism,' impels me, though a total stranger, to this liberty of addressing you. This is a liberty which, in such cir- cumstances, I never used before with any one, and certainly an act in which I am, constitutionally, indisposed to engage ; but you attract me too strongly for my retiracy of disposition to resist. There is, certainly, some sympathy between us. I was never so drawn before. I feel as if I must have the pleasure of some acquaintance with you, and thus make my suit. " From the very first of your communications to the Independent, of which I have any knowledge, I have i'elt this impulse. When I perceived in your ' Pedestrian ^ letters, especially when writing on Germany, the astonishing iact that you believed there could be some- thing good, some piety even (!) outside of Puritan ideas, some religion without Ka&teni orthodoxy, ' my heart leaped up,' as though I did behold • a rainbow in the sky.' ' "Who is this,' you ask, ' that talks 32 MEMOIR. thus ? Some Unitarian infidel, or what not V Sir, I am a Congrega- tional minister, believed to be ' sound in the faith ' by the pious people to whom I preach, (who look more at practical Scriptural truth than at the human philosophy of it.) and loved by them, but looked at with suspicion by some of the Reverendi, especially Pres- byterians. Let me go on. '•' Well, from time to time, as your breadth of view and the sim- plicity of your Christian idea exhibited themselves to me, my heart was drawn toward you, and my hopes raised. . . . " I desire, if possible, some interchange of thought, some consulta- tion. Men who answer to my sentiments as you do, are rare to meet, at least in the ministry. Sectarianism, bigotry, and formalism have their forces combined and organized, and no man single-handed can make head against them. We shall be crushed and trampled under foot in the charge, and the cry of heretic^ infidel^ will be our requiem. If we desire to accomplish any thing for a freer and purer Christi- anity, we must reach out our hands to one another. So at least I begin to feel. I cannot altogether claim likeness to yourself Your peculiar talent for mixing with men, and seeing them and working amongst them, I have not. I am, rather, a student, diffident and re- tired. But my soul beams with a hatred of tyranny, with a love of liberty and man. Liberty for myself I must have, or die self-consumed; and I desire for others no less. My ideas are not cast in the same mould with all the Fathers. I do believe that theology is a legitimate ground for free inquiry. I scorn the assumption that those who came first, in darkness too, had the right to prescribe what is Scripture and truth to all time to come. When inspired by great truths, my soul is bold as a lion, and diffidence is forgot. I long to do battle for freedom, truth, progress — for a pure Gospel ; and this I will do if the Lord point out the way and give needed strength. If it were not for the ardor of my feelings, I should faint sometimes when I see how bigotry is fortified and its bands trained. My hope is sustained only by the belief that Providence is working with a power which cannot be resisted. Our equal institutions, and the ideas of the age, are stronger to educate than human creeds. The hootings of theological owls will not always strike terror to men's hearts. Surely ' the Lord reigns ; let the earth rejoice.' " Yet there is reason enough, when looking at the condition of the Church, to groan and weep. But this I must do all alone, for I sel- MEMOIR. 33 dom find oue to lament with me. May I not ask sympathy from you, my brother ? And if there are more who feel as I do, can we not by some means know each other, and prepare ourselves to act together and sustain each other? " With these sentiments in your last communication — with the great truths here pointed at — I deeply sympathize : ' The curse of the Ameri- can mind, as we believe, has been the aspect presented in a portion of our Theology of Deity.' ' The grand peculiarity of Christ's in- structions, and of Paul's — the elevation of character ... is mostly lost sight of.' ' It is not life, spirit, which tests the Christian, but/orms, days^ ordinances^ creeds.' ' The entangling scientific state- ments — not the expression of the Bible (nor its teachings either, always) — the fabric of the schools, are presented as Christianity, to be sworn to ere one can join those loho love Christy &fc. ; and most of all, before oue can be allowed to preach in His name.' '' With views such as these, I find myself painfully situated. Bigotry is all around me. It is thought there is more liberty at the West than at the East. With the people perhaps it is so. Yet with the ministry I should think it the reverse, though I cannot speak from much acquaintance with the East. But the handle of our pap-spoon is at the East, and so we have to turn our faces that way to get the bowl into our mouths. This makes us wonderfully orthodox. We must stand so straight as to lean back. Add to this the cry of loose- ness, from the Presbyterians, and we drive things tight enough. "Witness . . . the Albany Convention. " Would I had been there. I would have stood up and told cer- tain of them there was one Congregationalist at the West who would not ask their right hand of fellowship if they did not want to give it — but they might glove it from base common air and keep it to them- selves. " But how in the world do you expect, my brother, to get license to preach in this free country 1 You are preparing to preach, are you not ? I hope you will not scorn the pulpit, for it needs such as you. How much sympathy do you find East ? Is H. W. B. a man after your heart ? Are there more ? But I must close. I have writ- ten you in confidence, and will so treat any thing you may favor me me with. And do grant me the favor of a reply, if possible. " Yours, in the love of Christ, and of the world He has redeemed, W. H. S." 3 34 MEMOIR. The above letter indicates a wish that the creed of the Church should be more brief, and should be expressed in the very words of Scripture. Though he did not join in the cry against all creeds, he did regard the present creed system as pernicious in many ways. His Discourses on Sectarianism were not intended as a warfare against a formal Confession of Faith ; they bear simply against the present system of Confessions, by which the attention of Christians is diverted from the Word of God, and the Lord's Body is rent asunder In the discipline of the Church, Mr. S. did regard the creed as of no practical use. It was no test of piety, and hence no just rule for the admission of members to com- munion. And he remarked that it was rarely, if ever, the basis of accusation against disorderly members of the Church ; unchristian conduct, and not doctrinal error, he found to be the actual occasion of the Church discipline. Why, then, should the creed be ostensibly a rule of judg- ment, which in fact it is not ? His idea of Christian union is given in his own words. It is not " a mechanical and forced union of those who are determined not to tolerate the free exercise of conscience in each other. By no means. The union for which I look, and long, is to be brought about by a certain change of views among Christians ; not by their coming to a com- mon doctrinal basis, as these words are generally under- stood, but by their coming to see that it is every man's duty to be governed by his own conscience in the fear of God, and therefore, that it is the duty of his brother to allow him to do thus. Sectarianism seems to me to be based on the notion that Christians must insist on other men's adopting their judgments. Do you ask, * Have you no ^ • MEMOIR. 35 standard, then 1 Yes — implicit faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, (as the very idea of a Christian implies,) proven not by their agreeing to what dogmas you attribute to Christ, but ' by their fruits,' — penitence, love, prayer." These views were extended to the relations of the min- isters of the Gospel one to another. He was no Brownist. He did not affect an Independency for Avhich the warmest feeling of his heart, and his entire social being, unfitted him. But he did deprecate those rules of ecclesiastical judgment by which intelligent and devoted followers of Christ might be condemned as unworthy to preach His Gospel. These views appear in his earliest public relations to the ministry. Called in the year 1850 to give the charge to a candidate for ordination, he says : " I told him not to hold back his hand of greeting and brotherhood from any who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity ; for which he afterward thanked me." He tells us that at the same meeting in which he gave the above charge, another brother presented himself for ordination. " But he w^as laboring under some wrong im- pression, and, in his conversation with the Association, be- came embarrassed; while the Association, on the other hand, showed the jealousy of its prerogatives and its dig- nity which place always feels, and abused him. I felt grieved ; for what a discouragement to young men who may be looking forward to the ministry ! . . . Did not join the Association ; could not assent to the basis on which it is founded, viz. : harmony of intellectual views, and avouchment for each other's soundness — a basis which makes separation from many that love Christ necessary, and so makes the Association a cZwsociation ; a basis which 36 MEMOIR. fetters my mind by subjecting me to be tried for my views by an original body ; and a basis which requires me to do for other men and to ask from them what I will neither do nor ask, viz., vouch for the soundness in the faith of them or me. That is, I will not do this under the form of a standing organism. Individual vouchers I would not re- fuse to give or ask when it might seem necessary, except, indeed, that I do not wish to ask (if it can be avoided) any man to vouch for my orthodoxy, lest I should be less free to think for fear of injuring him by coming out unorthodox." This was written some time before he joined the local Association, as above stated. He afterwards, in April, 1852, joined the General Association of Illinois, assenting to the Articles of Faith. " Yet," says he, " my belief on the points touched therein, (or many of them,) is quite different from that of many or most of the Association. I could so interpret the form of words as to make it express my views ; and as this is the fashion, I consented, with reluctance." He subsequently, upon occasion, ceased to be a member of the local Association, for the reason that it was more properly a Consociation, and became united with the Association of Chicago, in which he hoped to find the prin- ciples of Congregational polity more strictly maintained. With the brethren of this Association, he held the prayer- ful counstls which his soul craved, as a preacher of Christ, until his death. And, in their estimate of his character, when they came to mourn his loss, they were "saddened with the conviction, that a good man, a true man, and a strong man, whom the churches and the great s'.ruggling "West could poorly afford to spare, had fallen in the midst of his days." • MEMOIR. 37 His views of the danger of ecclesiastical powei even in the hands of well-meaning men, are most forcibly stated in the following passage of liis journal. It will show, also, that he was no stranger to prudential views and consider- ations : ^-^ ^'-July 20th, 1851. Have to-day been reading the defence of Rev. Theodore Clapp, of New Orleans, delivered in 1832, before the Pres- bytery of ]\Iississippi. It evinces extraordinary and wonderful talent, dignity, self-command, and fearlessness, with, also, great seeming mildness, generosity, and forbearance ; a truly, and, in general, an eminently Christian spirit. I have received from it impressions more vivid than I ever before felt of the power of slander, and of wicked men by it to greatly injure a good man, and with him the cause of Christ. And in seeing how he was slandered and abused, and the grounds of it, I see, too, my danger. Oh, my God ! I see to what I am exposed — what I may be called to suffer. But if this be Thy will, Lord, let Thy will be done. I trust I shall be willing to bear it. And do Thou teach me how to bear it, and to do no ill. " Mr. Clapp's defence further shows me, whether true or false, how extremely dangerous it is. for a man of any independence of thought or action, in the ministry of the Gospel, to commit himself to the judicial authority of an ecclesiastical body, not personally cognizant of his daily life and words : but dependent, first, for their hasty opin- ions, and, secondly, for their deliberate judgment, upon the reports of other men, whose lives they cannot corjpare with his, and whose reasons for evil speaking they cannot know certainly ; and bound, also, by their every position to stereotyped creeds and philosophies. Mr. Clapp's defence also teaches me to be very cautious about con- fiding to any man my thoughts about any thing or any body, where there is a possibility of my words being misrepresented or made a bad use of. Yet this caution should not be observed selfishly, or in a cowardly manner. "Where truth needs to be spoken, let me speak boldly ; but let me beware of merely social outpourings in serious matters. " As to the merits of Mr. Clapp's case, I can only judge imper- fectly, from a brief glance at the reports of the proceedings of Pres- bytery, but have this opinion : That he was sincere, but in the wrong 38 MEMOIR. place ; that the Presbytery meant well, but misunderstood him in part, and, from the very necessities of their views, could not deal with him on what I think Christian principles." The invitation of a dlsfellowsliipped minister to preach from his pulpit, which ceased not after his death to be im- plied as a generous indiscretion, should here be noticed, because his own defence may- be permitted to die with him. The ret was censured as disorderly, or as injudicious ; hardly as in itself wrong. But it was not disorderly, un- less either the Association had control of the pulpits of its churches, or the advocacy of doctrine condemned as heret- ical was contemplated. But neither of these things was pretended. The person invited to preach had no desire, from the first, to urge any peculiar views ; and that he was not unfitted to exhort or to instruct in the Gospel, was con- fessed in his being invited, directly after the act of disfel- lowship, by a leading member of the Association, to conduct the prayer-meeting of Mr. S's church. But it is said this invitation then was injudicious. If the act of disfellowship was considered wrong, there should have been delay until it was reversed. The reply is, the recovery of an ecclesiastical sanction to preach might be late and uncertain. And it was not essential; the opinions of various ministers, reported to the Association before its action, but unheeded, were valid, both as an ex-par te coun- sel, arid as indicating the true import of the act with- drawing fellowship. For the real point at issue was this : Was the con- demned opinion heresy, or was it mere heterodoxy ? This distinction was made by the dissenter, in his confession of a changed opinion. For his new opinion he was ready to MEMOIR. 39 give his reasons, and had urged his moral right to a full hearing. He did not, however, wish to be a burden to "Western Congregationalism, or to press a discussion which might only end in a divided opinion. In view of all the facts, he might well suppose the Association designed sim- ply to terminate its special responsibility, as he was willing it should do, without assuming the new responsibility of declaring him a heretic, and as nothing less than a heretic could, if at all, condemn him. Up6n a subsequent hearing of his views, with his rea- sons, by a vote indecisive because informal, they were pro- nounced not heretical. About a year before his death, on the occasion of tran- sient difficulties in his church, he expressed himself as follows : " I feel much exhausted and weighed down. Have never had such desponding thoughts and feelings. It seems as if there were no place of labor for me in the world, and no peace : strife and trouble follow upon my heels. The trouble here, combined with my usual grief and trial about the intolerance of Christians, added to my lethargic diffi- culty, make the burden more than I seem able to bear. I have been almost ready to renounce the ministry, at least in the regular way. " Have felt sometimes comfort in thinking that my Saviour was ' a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief,' and that I should not, therefore, expect a better lot." His Discourses on Sectarianism were delivered not long after this time ; and they will show how unselfish were his griefs. In addition to rumors of heresy, he suffered, per- haps, no more than the greater number of pastors, from the tale-bearing which is inseparable from the spirit of sect. Yet his sensitive nature and chafed feelings uttered no unchristian murmur. He alluded to his troubles rarely ; and never except for some purpose of duty — to correct an 4Q MEMOIR. error with kindness and truth. On one occasion he urged from the pulpit the "Duty of Not Believing," with refer- ence to the evils we have named, in an effective discourse, without harshness, and without gainsaying. And in pri- vate he never spoke bitterly of those who troubled him. " Many times," says an intimate friend, " I have felt really amazed, when I have been conversing with him in the retire- ment of his pleasant study, and have alluded to the diffi- culties that hedged his toilsome journey down the path of life — and never could induce him to manifest even some faint sign of proper resentment of unmerited con- tumely." We should not have told the story of his griefs so fully, if it had not a moral. But we should fail to set forth the lesson to be learned from his life, if we did not make the burden of his life apparent. We honor the prophets un- truly, if we remember not their lamentations ; and we do not hasten " the good time coming," if we seem to say that the present time is well nigh faultless, or that men of progress find these to be days of ease. And we have written the more freely of his sorrows, because he was so void of personal feeling to be gratified, or sinister purpose to be promoted, by such a record ; — and still less, because we would resent, in his b:)half, the injuries which he could only forgive. In so far as he suffered purely for the sake of Christ and the Gospel, a mitigation of the evils which he saw and felt is the only reparation which can be de- sired. But evils, like virtues, become perfect through suf- ferings, whose faithful story is also their dirge. And now, having been assured that his home and his study were the abode of peace, let us look in upon him there, and inquire what were his familiar thoughts and ways. MEMOIR. 41 His home was the picture of neatness and quiet, where friend and stranger were ever welcome. Time did not permit his hist earthly residence to become what he de- signed ; but its tidy comforts were due, in large measure, to his industrious skill. In person, he was slender, and below middle stature ; his aspect was youthful, often to his disadvantage, when manhood and age seemed alone want- ing to enforce his counsels. His bearing was ever digni- fied ; his look slightly forbidding, as that of one in earnest, or of abstracted thoughts — yet very affable, a pleasant talker, and often full of humor. He loved a hearty laugh. We recollect the delight with which he repeated the story of one of Isaac T. Hopper's boyish freaks, and the roguish sympathy he felt with old Isaac, telling the story himself. He could talk nonsense, but he never trifled. He seemed ever conscious of a Heaven above him and a world around him, between which his being was divided. He entered heartily into the wants and feelings of all ; none could be with him without a quickening of the finer feel- ings and nobler aspirations. With his dear companion, he visited freely and affec- tionately with his people. But his loved work was to think of Christ and His truth, in the retirement of his study. As life advanced, all minor pursuits gave way to the study of the Scriptures, which he daily perused, both in the translation and in the orio-inal, with great care and delio^ht. A most intimate friend testifies that " his hfe was a life of earnest, importunate prayer ; and that from this source he derived the suggestion of his best and most profitable pub- lic discourses." His special preparations for the pulpit were rapidly made, and they uniformly possessed unity and energy, showing a vigorous mind and a glowing heart. 3^ 42 MEMOIR. One of the friends who has spoken of his mental quali- ties, thinks his mind could have been, and was directed with much success to metaphysical truth. His Discourses on Faith, will, we trust, confirm this opinion, and none the less because they were designed for the general reader. But his most nice researches in this department of truth were left incomplete. On the subject of mental philosophy he had made voluminous notes, which he hoped at some day to digest into a work for publication. It is interest- ing to observe that in this region where religion so oftea appears lacking, or rathar where the lack of religion so often appears, the piety of Mr. S. seems most natural. '• I wrote this morning," says he, under date of November 1850, "my note on the source of the sentiment of right and wrong. Felt grateful to God that, as it seems to me, I have been able to understand and unfold this most im- portant subject, which has been involved in so much dark- ness and caused so much perplexity." The notes of Mr. S. on this central question of morals are interesting, not because they are new, though original with him, but as showing the teeming activity of his in- quiries on all connected points. His view on the point named, is, we think, substantially as Dr. Hutcheson's theo- ry of the moral sense. " The feeling of obligation is one of the natural susceptibilities of the mind, just as love or anger is." It is " a moral instinct, strictly emotive in its nature." " The sense of beauty in the mind is a natural sentiment, consisting both of a natural perception and a corresponding or answering feeling. Just so the sense of right and wrong consists of both the moral perception and the answering emotion." But these statements did not begin to exhaust the subject, in the mind of our young philosopher. What MEMOIR. 43 is to be said of an external standard of right ? What is the highest good ? If it be happiness, how is the duty of the creature related to the happiness of the Creator ? What is goodness, as distinct from simple justice^!? Is the dis- tinction between these the same in man as in God ? What is the nature and "bound of a creature's right to happiness? Where does benign justice end, and grace begin'? How does authority, or the power to enforce a law, affect its justice? What is the relation of hope and fear, to tlie mor- al character of an act ? It is strictly true that " con- science does make cowards of us all ;" or is that cowardice the better part of heroism ? How is moral action related to influence, either from a fellow-man, or from God ? A human soul, subjected to a certain measure of evil influ- ences, will certainly sin. Is it equally certain that, sub- jected to a given measure of good influences, it will do right ? By these and a thousand other like questionings, cher- ished in no idle curiosity, but in view of man's nature as basely fallen from an infinitely glorious destiny and redeem- ed again therefor, Mr. S., we think, fairly challenges the title of Thinker. The form of these notes indicates the habit of the author's mind— evidently penned under the impulse of rapid thought, without present care or method. Sybilline leaves they would be, if the thread of argument and a little after-thought had not connected them. The bent of his mind toward such inquiries was also in perfect keeping with a disrelish for what we may call ecclesiasti- cism. Much as he suffered from that power, and deeply as he deplored, for Christ's sake, the evils it wrought, it was never a favorite subject of his studies. Hence, while on rational grounds, and in the interpretation of the Scrip- 44 MEMOIR. tures, he was able to oppose all its claims, he was less pre- pared to answer it from the facts of history, and from its own documents. He knew it mainly as a congeries of mod- ern customs ; of its want of authoritative decisions and precedents he was, like many others, not always aware. He sought, not authorities, but truth ; and while he read much, he thought more. To all externalities, or questions of out- ward order, that can only breed disorder, he preferred no- bler themes of meditation and discourse. Well might he have answered in the words of Leighton, when his friends thought him indifferent to the secular interests of the Church, that " while so many were zealously preaching up the times, it might be permitted to one poor servant of Christ to preach up Heaven and eternity." He did not indeed preach up " the times ;" yet he was truly a man for the time in which he lived. In all his studies, he never forgot that he was connected by a thou- sand ties to the race of mankind. His high and religious sense of humanity made him a Preacher ; and he entered the sacred desk, fervid with the prayerful meditations of his study, a preacher of righteousness. Holding the Gospel as the only hope of a fallen race he shrunk not from applying its principles to all the relations of human duty. Most of all did he "remember those in bonds, as bound with them," pleading their cause as those whom Christ had redeemed, and protesting earnestly, upon every new occasion, against their oppressions. The last discourse to which he set his hand, and which he never lived to finish, was in view of the passage of the Nebraska Bill, that has since brought the country to the verge of civil war. And whatever human interest he sought to advance, he ever spoke in the name of Him who died for man. His MEMOIR. 45 theme, and his manner, found their dignity in the faith of Him who hath in all things the just preeminence. Professor Post, from whom the reader has already heard of Mr. S. as a scholar, speaks of him also as a preacher, and an inquirer after truth. He says : " Of his general character and success as a minister of the Gospel, others, from nearer and constant observation, can speak more fully than myself I can only say, that all performances by him in the pulpit and on public occasions, to which I bad opportunity to listen, were of high gfade and promise, both intellectual and rhetorical; they were marked with true originality and independence of thought, and yet with great candor and earnestness. He ever impressed me, both in private intercourse and in the pulpit, as a sincere, honest, in- dependent and intrepid thinker — blending much simplicity and godly sincerity with high intellectual power. He seemed to me an earnest seeker after truth, single-minded, resolute and conscientious in its pursuit, and in the utterance of what he supposed it to be. If mis- taken, or impracticable, or one-sided in his views, I felt his Christian ingenuousness, earnestness, and honesty ; and his simple and humble piety gave assurance he would ultimately rectify what was amiss, and complete what was defective. I felt he sincerely sought God's aid. and wished to know and utter His Truth, and that he was one whom God would help. He aimed too, I believe, to do God's will, as well as to know it. Practically, he was an honest, earnest, God- loving man. He knew not how to temporize or conceal. The dan- gers in his case were ever in a tendency to the opposite and nobler extreme. '■ I felt, when startled by the sorrowful tidings of his premature death, that one had gone who was ripe for an exchange of worlds, but in whose early decease the cause of Christian truth and man- hood had suffered a great loss." A number of the friends who knew him well in Elgin, prominent citizens and members of the church to which he ministered, have borne similar testimony to his viitues. They say : 4:6 MEMOIR. " He came among us, a stranger, but his purity of character, and his earnestness in the advocacy of truth in all its relations to the highest interests of mankind, soon won for him the esteem and re- spect of numerous friends, who will never cease to cherish the warm- est regard for his memory. Karely have we met with one possessing so many excellencies of character qualifying him for usefulness — so much gentleness, sincerity, and true piety, combined with uncommon intellectual culture and talents of a high order. " In our judgment, it would be doing great injustice to the memory of Mr. Starr, to convey the impression that he was one of the ordina- ry type of ministers who occupy our Western pulpits. He seemed to understand and appreciate the spirit and wants of the age, and took a broad and liberal view of all subjects which relate to the welfare of man. He was unusually free from all bondage to creeds and opinions, and in his public as well as private teachings endeavored to promote and encourage in others the same freedom of thought which he him- self exercised. He believed in progress, and that all men should be free — and hence he was earnestly opposed to the exercise of mere hu- man authority in matters of religion. It may be truly said of him, ' He spake not what men, but what he, thought.' This scented to re- sult from his perfect sincerity, truthfulness, and honesty, and not from any desire of distinction. He was one of those who are willing to be wiser to-day than yesterday. And, like all men of large soul and liberal views, he was tolerant of the opinions of others, condemning no one for his honest convictions, however erroneous. He was bold, free, and untrammelled in the advocacy of whatever he believed to be right ; and though naturally disposed to be at peace with all men, without giving offence to any one, he could not withhold what seem- ed to him important truth, when the occasion demanded that it should be spoken. " Temperance, Anti-Slavery, and all other movements for the eleva- tion of humanity, found in Mr. Starr a warm friend and earnest ad- vocate. Practical Christianity was far more important in his view than forms of doctrine ; and hence he was always ready to extend the right hand of Christian fellowship to all who gave evidence of Christian character in their lives, without requiring them to accept his own peculiar views of theology. Although few men possessed more acute and discriminating minds, or were more familiar with all questions of technical theology, yet regarding the simple and practi- MEMOIR 47 cal teachings of Christ as containing all that is essential to true re- ligion, he opposed all systems and forms which require conformity of belief in mere theological dogmas and non-essential matters of faith. " This communication can give but a faint conception of his real worth. But enough has been stated to show that he was eminently fitted for usefulness, and that the Church and the world sustained a serious and irreparable loss in his death ; for such men are much needed in the ministry at the present day, and seldom found. While we mourn for his loss, it is gratifying to know that the influence of his teachings and example is still felt for good in the community, and wherever he was known." The depressed feelings of Mr. S. in view of the evils of sect, and of the suspicions which annojed him, were renew- ed on the occasion we have adverted to, shortly before his death. His views of Christian liberty were misunderstood ; bis defence seemed to be heard reluctantly; "a heretic has no rights," said he, —and he thought the rule of the civil- ians respecting the ninety and nine guilty and the innocent one, was reversed in ecclesiastical jurisprudence. In a letter to a friend, under date of February 21, 1854, after speaking of his inclination to quit the Church, he says : " An expression in your letter has helped me to right myself, how- ever. It is best for me, I suppose, and it is the correct principle, that I should not leave the Church till I am driven out, b lieving it to be indeed of Christ's body ; and, within certain limits, I must submit to every ordinance of man, for the Lord's sake. Neither am I bound, as I see, to divulge my philosophical opinions to my brethren (if I can have patience to hold them in) , because they have deceived them- selves about them ; but as long as I can stay in the Church, and work for freer and more charitable principles in it, I ought, perhaps, to do so. It -woxxld he a great deal easier, less trying to the spirit, to leave at once and set up for myself; for then I might obtain tolerance, as of a distinct sect, and be kindly regarded and treated, instead of being watched and waylaid, as a suspicious character in the sect. " Many a good man has had to endure hardship, and to wait long 48 MEMOIR. for vindication and truth's triumph — yea, many hare closed their eyes upon the world before it came. . . . " Dear brother, let us strive, and pray for greater holiness. For our dear Master's sake, let us endeavor to keep -our spirits subdued to the sway of love. . . . ' Rejoice in the Lord alway,' my brother. It is not what we cfo, but what we are, that most concerns." These were the beginning of his last words. Death was already on its way, taking, in its course, the spirit of his mother-in-law, Mrs. Jane S. Collins, who had died on the 23d of January. In a hurried visit to the paternal roof, Mr. S. and his sorrowiu'^ companion had looked upon the face of the dead, returning to Elgin on the 10th of February. With the note of this event, and of a mar- riage in his parish, a few days after, his journal closes. The next parting and reiihion were to be his own. His work was done. On Friday, the 24th of February, he was quite unwell, and would frequently leave his study, and try to dissipate his feelings by conversation or some light employment. The next morning a physician was called. On Monday, he thought his recovery doubtful, but said to his wife : " Have no fears for me ; it will be well Avith me." The next day his disease proved to be that most dreadful malady, the small-pox. Wednesday morning he desired to look out at the window, and remarked, " How pleasant to see the light of a beautiful morning once more," But at night he became delirious, and continued wandering during the greater part of the day following. On Satur- day he was much better, and dictated to his wife a message to his people, respecting a series of meetings which he had expected would be held. That night his tongue began to falter, and, with the closing hour of Monday, March 6 th, MEMOIR. 49 shortly after his last word, that he was " better," his voice was hushed in death. "And when I learned, a few daj^s after," says the friend who knew his trials best, " that God had removed him by a sudden and unexpected disease, although I mourned his loss as my dear Christian friend, I, in spite of myself, blessed God that He had taken him away from the evil to come." A dear friend offers the following appropriate tribute to his memory : Farewell, true heart ! Thou hast found thy rest. A Father's man- sion is opened unto thee. A Saviour's arms are ready to enfold thee. The joyful award, " Well done, good and faithful servant," is already thine. He whose faithful minister thou wast on earth, has released thee early from thy toil, and called thy spirit from its earthly tabernacle to His own blessed abode. Thou wast by nature too sensitive long to bear the shock of life's stern battle ; too fearless in urging thy Master's cause, to escape the shafts of bitterness aimed at those who fear not man, but God. A faithful w:ttchman upon the towers of Israel, thou wast a shining mark for the arrows of envy and detraction. An earnest seeker after truth, thou couldst not escape the assaults of bigotry. Self-sacri- ficing and artless, thou couldst not contend against the craft of worldly Avisdom. Frithful and uncompromising, thou couldst not please the time-serving and the fearful. Yet so gentle and winning, that all who loved thy Master, or sought His grace, might take new courage at thy cheering words. Th:ni hast left friends — tried and trusty, while thou wert with them, and whose hearts beat more quickly now, as they remember thy labor of love and thy earnest ministry in spiritual things. Thou hast friends who forget not the words of life thou didst speak — nor the bread of life, which, in humble imitation of thy Master, thou didst offer to all who loved Him, serving and obeying Him. Friends and kinilred hast thou left, who love thee truly, who think of thee daily, whcse hope and prayer is to follow thee in thy example, and to meet thee again in thy reward. 50 MEMOIR. Many souls there are in which the seed thou didst freely scatter has taken root, and sprung up, and borne fruit abundantly, — choking the foul weeds of sin and error, bringing them out from bondage into the liberty of Christ. These shall be gathered for thee in the Har- vest, and the joy of thy labor shall be full. Sleep on then, Brother ! and take thy rest. We sorrow not for thee. Thine is the gain — the loss is ours. And while we grieve for ourselves, we forget not that divine wisdom will jet solve the mystery of thy removal from us : for, our Father doeth all things well ! A beautiful monument has been erected bj his beloved congregation, with the following inscriptions : REV. WM. H. STARR, PASTOR OF THE CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH IN ELGIN. Born at Middletown^ Conn.^ April 27, 1817. Died at Elgin, III., March, 1854. Translated from the troublous pilgrimage of life, our friend and teacher " sleeps well." Some few of those who revered and appre- ciated the sainted dead, while he traveled the thorny pathway of life uncomplainingly, and full of Christian faith, have erected this mon- umental marble and consecrated it to his memory, securely relying on that blessed promise of Holy Writ which applies to him who has gone before to the unreturning tomb. " The teachers shall shine as the brightness of the firmament ; and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars, for ever and ever." Call it not vain; they do not err, Who say that when a teacher dies, Religion mourns her worshiper, And celebrates his obsequies. "We entertained an angel unawares." PASSAGES FROM "THE FUGITIVE." A NARRATIVE POEM. " Open thy mouth for the dumb; plead the cause of the poor and needy." " 'TwAS evening of a golden summer day. Beyond where rolls Missouri's turbid flood, A scene of nature's vast magnificence, Wilt re heaped her bounties and her beauties lay, Glowed in the sunset flush ; nor earth alone, — But cloud-built piles hung in the liquid blue That arched above, reflecting fulgent hues That made the air a glory and a joy, And lured the eye to gaze, and heaved the heart With gladness and thanksgiving. Is there one Whom Nature moves not with her evening smile? Can any look upon a scene so fair. Nor feel the mantling glow from field and cloud Stealing upon his soul, until it flames With pleasure like their own I And where's a heart Could lie in shadows, 'mid a radiance bright As this ? Sweet radiance ! that seemed lingering long, As it unwilling to forsake or mar Such beauty. Who, with sorrow's tones, could bring One jar upon the faultless sweet accord Of that high hymn of Nature to her God ? Alas ! there was a man that moved through all, Untouched by one sweet sympathy of joy. 52 PASSAGES FROM THE FUGITIV. Forest and plain, and mountain- cloud gold-dyed, He heeded not, nor thought of loveliness Or praise ; — and why ? His heart is all too full Of some strange sorrow, shutting in his sense." This creature had a human form, and soul, and love for wife and child ; and they " Were well — and now of his fast coming steps Expectant smiled. In him, then, why such grief? I said, a man. Yes ! God's hand made him so : But man ! man's laws — oh, Heaven ! — made him a thing ! Not man, nor ox, nor dog ; nay, not a plough, Or hoe ; — but a poor, lone, unclassed something, Without a name but for that one word, slaveP He resolves upon escape : " I'll go, then, though the way is crowded thick With every danger : freedom is the prize I run for ; they, for blood ; and shall I not Outstrip them in the race ? Setting out with wife and child, he crosses the Missouri, and the " Father of Waters," with the help of rude rafts, and begins to feel that he is free. But not yet. Even in a land consecrated to liberty, " A law is writ Which says, The man who dares be black, must be A slave, unless he prove that he is free. Oh, blasphemy upon the form of man ! The work of God ! Prove that the stars are pure ! Prove that the Heaven is high, and God dwells there. But ask not for the proof that He has made All human souls with human rights, — lest thou Seem not a man, and God deny thy claim To that sweet mercy He for man has wrought." " There is a law, another law, which says — Passages from the fugitive. 53 Give not thy hungering brother bread — shield not The homeless stranger — tell him not his way — Nay, rather, if the starving wretch ask help, Chain him, and sell him, for a wandering dog. Great God ! and yet the grass grows green ! and yet How canst Thou see't, and hold Thy lightnings back! After a fine paraphrase of Matt, xxv., 34 — 43, the poem advances to a conclusion : " There are, who for the right scorn the world's scorn, Despise its threatening wrath, and will not be The truckling minions of tyrannic wrong. And they will help — and thou, brave man, shalt go, "With the dear sharers of thy toils and hopes, Safe to unshackled freedom." The epilogue appears to have been added at a later date. We give it entire. " Thus, friends and fellow-freemen, thus, The hunted slave appeals to us. Thus Christ's own warning in our ears Is sounded, to assure our fears Of His dread vengeance for the wrong That through the earth has triumphed long. Thus his blest promise pleads, again, To lift the yoke and break the chain. But oh ! Thou God of glory, see Men mock and spurn Thy high decree ; And, with the trump of law, proclaim Their wrathful scorn upon Thy name. A NATION, leagued, now dares defy. Great God, the lightning of Thine eye ; Uses the power which Thou hast given, To rend the statutes of high Heaven, Proclaim Thy law repealed, and those "Who dare obey it, wrath-doomed foes. Our tears no more we now must shed O'er pity banished, jnstice dead j 54 PASSAGES FROM THE FUGITIVE. No more must feel the prisoner's sigh ; No more must hear the wanderer's cry ; The outcast, hunted and betrayed, By deed, or word, or look, to aid ; — Nay. not to join the onset made^ Is treason now ! and death the doom ! Room for the hangman, freemen ! room ! The law commands, and we must fear, Senates are God's vice-gerents here : Nay, higher than God's throne appear. My country, is it thou^ hast dared Defy God's arm of vengeance bared? And shall thy sons the horror crown, And the rebellion make their own ? Say, Christian freemen ! shall we yield Our manhood's arms in such a field ? This law's commands, say ! shall we fear? Are Senates God's vice-gerents here? They may crush the weak, and help the strong, But can they alter right and wrong ? Can they turn God's wrath into a smile? Or make that pure which He made vile ? Can human Senates break His rod? Can Congress change the law of God ? Not so our fathers judged, who strove For the freedom they have taught us love, 'Gainst king and senate, arms and laws ; Battling 'gainst power, in manhood's cause. No human laws can change the right ! Here kings have no power, armies no might. Nay, right and wrong, men once did own. Eternal are, as God's high throne ! Not God Himself can loose their bonds ! In their dread might His kingdom stands. He sways His sceptre by their laws ; Thus Heaven He savos, and hell He awes Provoke not, then, their awful power, Nations, or men : their vengeful hour Ye cannot 'scape, nor fly their doom ; PASSAGES FROM THE FUGITIVE. 55 Their strength is resistless, their hour will come. 'Tis God who wields their sovereign might ; Ye cannot shun His piercing sight. Repeal the wicked law ! the guilt, The deepening, blackening, gathering guilt, Of blood, in Moloch's conquests spilt, Of justice turned aside for gold; Of freemen into bondage sold; Of prisoners bound, and hurried back, To die on Slavery's lingering rack ; Of sundered ones, 'whom God had joined," Without one farewell word, consigned To life-long severance in the home Of darkness, xvhence no tidings come ; Of weeping girlhood dragged to shame ; Of cruel wrongs without a name ; Of hopeless sorrow, groans and tears, Through the long agony of years ; — This guilt, this dreadful guilt, is yours, My countrymen, while still endures That wicked law by which 'tis wrought ! 'Tis yours, unless, remitting not. You lift your voice, and stretch your hand, To drive it from this groaning land. The wicked law you fail to oppose Stands with your virtual assent. "Woes You might, but will not, aid to heal, 'Gainst you to Heaven make just appeal. Go ! blot that law from off the page Stained with its record ! Let the age No more such shames and miseries know; Forget all meaner strifes, and show Your first love is fur freedom ! Let Thy freeman's soul be firmly set. That the glad day shall hasten, when Freedom has conquered ! And, till then, Go aid the feeble captive's flight ; Give food and shelter ; for the right 56 Passages from the fugitive. Dare all things — so, God's hand shall bless Thee^ in thine hour of deep distress. Go ! speed the fugitive along, Till Ae, too, shall begin the song, Glad freedom's song, on the strange shore Where slavery's minions chase no more. Oh, when shall the children of Africa be All thus rejoicing in songs of the free ? When, when shall the voice of a loud jubilee Roll over the land and over the sea, Proclaiming the tyrant's chains everywhere broken, And the glad word of brotherhood everywhere spoken? When the tears of the slave shall no more wet the sod. Nor the billows of ocean be stained with his blood ? When the earth shall bear up on its bosom no longer, The wretch who shall claim, by the right of the stronger, His perishing brother to trample in dust 1 Oh, God, Thou art holy ! oh, God, Thou art just ! Look down on a nation revolted from Thee, And that which Thou biddest forbidding to be, The ' throne of iniquity ' building ' by law,' And binding the poor for grim lust's bloody maw. In mercy and truth, let thine arm be made bare; The prisoner lead out from the house of despair ; ' Break the arm of the wicked ;' ' the rulers ' high born, Who • counsel together,' oh, ' laugh them to scorn.' Great God, Thou art holy ! great God, Thou art just! The friend of the captive — in Thy name we trust : The glad day of Freedom — it will come, it must DISCOURSES DISCOURSES. DISCOURSE I. Faith — Its Nature — Importance of the Subject. John vi. 29 : ^^ Jesus answered and saidunto them, This isthe work of God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent.** This is the answer to a grave question. " What shall we do ?" cried the half-convinced, yet still-doubting Jews, to Jesus, the Holy One of Bethlehem ; " what shall we do that we misht work the works of God ?" and " what shall we do?'' echoes a groahing world in every age. What shall we do to accomplish the great end of our being, to secure its highest perfection, to obtain the favor of Him who made us, to " work the works of God V Tell us, thou Nazarene, thou meek and mighty One, tell us, — ^What shall we do ? Believe ! is the reply, from the lips of gi*ace and truth ; he- lieve on Him whom God hath sent," It is the answer for all ages and all climes — the central truth of Christian doc- trine, echoed by Holy Apostles and Martyrs, witnesses for the truth, who sealed it with their blood, and sung its praises with dying lips — " this is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent." *^ He tJiat believcth on the Son hath everlasting life;''* he that believeth not on the Son shall not see life, but the wrath 60 DISCOURSES. of God abideth on him." " If ye believe not that I am he, ye will die in your sins." What, then, is it to Believe? — If faith in Jesus Chrifit is a matter of such consequence, ivJiat is Faith ? The answer- to this question should not be difficult, for the Lord Jesus Christ certainly intended to give a pZam di- rection to those who inquired of Him the way of life. And in other matters men know well enough what it is to be- lieve. But upon the subject of faith in Christ, and reli- gious faith generally, so much obscurity has been cast, that, while nothing is so much written and spoken about, nothing is so little understood, and scarcely anything so misrepresented. Who that has read the hundredth or the thousandth part of what has been printed upon this sub- ject, in sermons, in newspapers, in pamphlets and books, but has deeply and painfully felt how much obscurity rests upon it, and how many absurd things are said about it ; and who that has read with a spirit anxious for its own profit, or its salvation even, or that it might know how to direct the inquiring soul, anxious to learn just what faith is and how the soul cmi believe, but has felt how utterly unsatisfying are the definitions and directions commonly given ; nay, how, as he read, obscurity oft-times grew more obscure, and " confusion worse confounded?" The obscurity with which this subject has been invested, or the confusion in which it has been involved, has been productive of evil to the cause of Christ in many ways. It has " given occasion to the enemy to blaspheme." Faith has often been spoken of as though it were some- thing altogether separate and apart from reason ; and as if, in believing, a man left behind him the dictates of his understanding and went upon some other basis. How DISCOURSES. 61 much occasion has thus been given to unbelievers to sneer at and reproach the rehgion of Jesus, and how often they have acted upon it, few, probably, are aware of. " Our religion," says the infidel Hume, in his " Essay on Miracles," " our religion is founded on Faith, not on reason ; and 'tis a sure method of exposing it to put it to a test which it is by no means fitted to endure." " Mere reason is insufficient to convince us of its veracity ; and whoever is moved by faith to assent to it, is conscious of a continual miracle in his own person, which subverts all the princi- ples of his understanding." How much mischief this blasphemous sneer has accom- plished by planting the seeds of infidelity in cultivated and superior minds, we cannot estimate ; but we can easily see what occasion has been given for such sneerg by the terms in which faith has been spoken of frequently by professed believers. The distinguished Brewster, in his "Life of Sir Isaac New- ton," speaking of the great man's religious belief, says : " The inquiring spirit will explore the history of a mind so richly endowed, and will seek the shelter of its authority on those great questions which reason has abandoned to faith and hope." If this is sensible language, — if reason has abandoned the great questions of religious belief, surrendering them to some- thing that is called faith and hope, methinks " the inquir- ing spirit" might naturally ask one question more : of what greater " aathoritif is the mind of Sir Isaac Newton on such matters thdn the mind of an idiot ? And if religious questions, the very highest and most momentous that occupy the mind of man, may be settled by abandoning reason and resort- ing to faith, why may not all other questions be settled in 62 DISCOURSES. the same manner, and man define himself to be a credulous animal, whose business it is to believe every thing and prove nothing ! whose highest excellence consists in having the longest creed, embracing the most innumerable beliefs, of things possible and things impossible, things imaginable, and, if there be such things, things unimaginable? How can we wonder, when such language is used by believers, that they are reproached by infidels tvith credulity ? But it is not Sir David Brewster alone who speaks after this manner. We hear similar language on every side of us. Upham says, in his " Life of Faith," " if faith did not carry us beyond the reach of our own understanding, be- yond the line of human reason it would not be faith ;" and in this way speak many others.* It is not to be denied, indeed, that each language is some- times designed to express a real truth ; but such a form of expression is unphilosophical, growing out of an indefinite apprehension of the nature of faith, and leading often to great error. Never, until men understand better what faith is, and so perceive its relations to reason, will they cease to deceive themselves by such expressions, or be able to avoid and refute the sneers of infidels. * Bacon. — " The use of reason in spiritual things, and the latitude thereof, is very great and general : for it is not for nothing that the Apostle calleth religion our reasonable service of God; insomuch as the very ceremonies and figures of the old law were full of reason and signification, much more than the ceremonies of idolatry and magic, that are full of non-significants and surd characters. But most especially the Christian Faith, as in all things, so in this deserveth to be highly magnified ; holding and preserving the golden mediocrity in this point between the law of the heathen and the law of Mahomet, which have embraced the two extremes. For the religion of the heathen had no constant belief or confession, but left all to the liberty of argument ; and the religion of Mahomet, on the other side, interdicteth argument altogether ; the one having the ver}^ face of error, and the other of imposture: whereas the Faith doth both admit and reject disputation, with difference," — Advancement of Learning. DISCOURSES. 63 There is a class of men at the present day who make great claims to learning and philosophy, that are especially at fault in this matter. The transcendental religionists talk loudly in praise of faith ; they divorce it entirely from the understanding, however, and seem to give up the ground of maintenance of religious truth by appropriate and sub- stantial evidence, laying the basis of faith in an asserted and peculiar constitution of soul itself Faith with them seems to be a distinct sphere of mental action from the exercise of reason and choice, a separate capacity of soul from all others. Its exercise proceeds from itself alone, indepen- dent of all other faculties.* But if this doctrine is true, all reasoning about the great fundamental truths of rehgion must be at once abandoned. Man's understanding must no longer be exercised upon those themes once esteemed the highest objects of mental activity ; and if any man doubt the reality and truthfulness of those objects from not perceiv- ing any such out-goings of faith in his own mind, he must be left to himself with the information that these are not appropriate subjects for investigation and argument ; that " our holy religion is founded on Faith, not on rea- son ;" and that '• it is a sure method of exposing it, to put it to a test which it is by no means fitted to endure." We must say, that the man Avho believes such a creed as this, gives some evidence of a faith possessing a peculiar claim to be considered as distinct from the exercise of reason. From the errors and absurdities which have now been * To this divorce of Faith and Reason applies the remark of Locke, that those who are for laying aside the use of Reason in matters pertaining to Revelation, resemble one who should put out his eyes in order to make use of a telescope. And that of Leibnitz : " H est vrai que de uotre temps une personne de la plus grande elevation disait, qu' en article de foi, 11 fallait se crever les geux pour TOir clair.'' — Nouveaux Essais. — [Ed. 64 DISCOURSES. noticed, if they are errors and absurdities, a correct and definite apprehension of the nature of faith would free the minds of men ; and this alone can do it. But these are not the only evils from which men would be delivered by a better understanding;; of the nature of faith. The confusion and obscurity which prevail in relation to this subject, work evil also to the sincere inquirer and the true believer. It is not to be supposed, indeed, that men do not -know practically what it is to believe ; but many have heard so much said about Christian faith, and in such sort, that it seems well nigh impossible for them to apply their own practical knowledge to the subject, and to real- ize that it is only that simple thing which it is. Penitent seekers of salvation by Christ hare often been told that they must believe, and yet that they could not believe ; — that speculative faith would not answer, but they must exercise a true and heartij faith ; that what such a faith is, however, no one could describe to them, nor could they know or understand it till they had acquired it, with- out knowing how, — like shutting a man up in a horrible dungeon, and telling him there was a way of escape, but he could never find it till he saw it, and could never see it till he had first found it. And in this Avay many a man has been kept for a long time in an agony of suspense and fear, who all that time was virtually a believer and justified before God, having practically all of faith except its peace. And if many such a soul has not thus been driven back into rebellion and open iniidelity, it is because the abound- ing grace of God alone has prevented. Many inquirers, again, have been told what faith is in such terms, as rendered what was before dim, now wholly obscure. The difficulty is not explained — the precise thing DISCOURSES. es is not pointed out which they must do; and it cannot be, until the nature of faith is analysed and its elements dis- tinctly marked. One of them comes, perhaps, saying : "The doctrine that Christ died for me, my understanding assents to as true, but my heart finds no comfort in it : you say this intellectual assent alone is not true faith ; what more then shall I do to believe ?" " You must go to Christ," is perhaps the reply. "Well, show me where He is," and I will gladly go to Him. " But this is a figure of speech — you must not take my words literally." " Very well, then ; explam your figure of speech — show me hoiv I must go to Him." And here likely enough the reply is, you must go to Him believingli/." That is, " to have faith in Christ," is " to go to Him believingly," — a very intelli- gible definition. The want of a clear understanding of what faith is, how- ever, and what are its relations to the Christian system, is not alone a source of difficulty in the case of inquirers ; it is a fruitful source of mischief to thousands of professed be- lievers, and of injury and dishonor to the religion they pro- fess. Something which is called " faith" has been too gen- erally substituted in the Church for true piety and genuine righteousness. Men have thought, that to be worldly-mind- ed, proud, angry, and vindictive in temper, selfish and un- just, though not so well, is still not positively inconsistent with the religion of Jesus, provided they have " faith." They have imagined they might be neglecters of God and not lovers of men, did they only " believe." They have thought that " faith" would suffice instead of meekness, pa- tience, purity, and genuine benevolence of heart, and thus they might sail smoothly into the eternal haven with a righteousness not their own ; a figment of an unholy heart and a disordered brain. 4* 66 DISCOURSES. There are, it is to be feared, many such " believers" at the present day in a certain quarter of the Church, Avhere the highest " orthodoxy" is set up, and where the all-suffi- ciency and the alone-sufficiency of faith are most loudly proclaimed, and where men turn their fellow-men to chat- tels, sell the image of Christ for God, make gain of the sanctifying work of the Holy Ghost, — " I believe in Him of Calvary." And so in all quarters of the Church are men found, w^ho think they may be on the side of the oppressor ; they may be governed by the maxims of this world instead of the teachings of Christ ; they may be proud, selfish, sensual, and yet their " faith" shall save them. " Can faith save them?" "If it hath networks, it is dead :" " the devils also believe, and tremble :" •' by works a man if justified, and not by faith only." So teaches the Apostle James ; and what vaunter of his faith will dare dispute him? Such a state of things in the Church as has been spoken of, has naturally arisen, by human depravity, from the im- perfect, partial view of faith which Luther had, in con- nection with the importance he assigned to it in his theological system. Luther had undoubtedly grasped a great truth, and he wrote a mighty work with it. But both he, and theologians generally, since his day, have seen this truth indistinctly and partially, and hence error has been mixed up with their teachings, and mischief has grown out of error.* * This censure is warranted by tlie following expressions of Luther : " Ita vides, quam dives sit homo Christiauus ; etiam volens non potest perdere salu- tem suam quantiscunque peccatis, nisi nolit credere. Kulla enim peccata po.-> sunt damnare, nisi sola incredulitas." — De Captiv. Bab., torn, ii., fol.26't. " Esto peccator et pecca fortiter, sed fortius fide et gaude in Christo, qui victor est pec- catl, mortis, et mundi : peccandum est, quamdiu hie sumus. Vita baeo non est DISCOURSES. 67 It is not true that the Roman Church, before Luther, did not hold the doctrine of justification by faith. In the early ages of that Church, justification, by faith in Christ, was distinctly maintained. Gradually, however, works of penance were added to the requirements of their doctrine of salvation, and Christ was more and more left out of view. Then the doctrine of purgatory was adopted, and applied to the purification of " believers " who died with habitatio justitiae ; sed exspectamus, ait Petrus, coelos novos, et terrain novam in quibus justitia habitat."— -Epis«. arf Melancthon, 1521; Jena, 1556. "Si in fide fieri posset adulterium, peccatum non esset." — Disput. torn, i., p. 523. Cited by J. A. Moehler, Symbolisjn, ch. in., § xvi. " Believe firmly that thou art absolved, and thou art so, whatever be thy contrition." — Senn. cle Indulg. Cited by Bossuet, Variations of Prot., Bk. i., § ix. The obvious antlnomianism of these expressions is corrected in the Augsburg Confession, in an article cited by Bossuet; yet it has not failed to give just offence to the Romanists. The half-truth contained in the last passage, which Luther has put in the form of a dangerous error, is i-estored to its true connexion in the following beauti- ful passage of Neander, which is pertinent to the difficulty just stated (p. 16) : " The law always presents itself as imperative, and makes the salvation of men dependent on the perfect fulfilment of all its commands. ' Do all this, and thou shalt live.' But since no one can fulfil these conditions, the law can only pro- duce despair. But the Gospel addresses the man who despairs of himself, 'Do not give thyself up to the feeling of despair. Ask not howthou canst make the impossible possible. Thou needest only receive the salvation prepared for thee ; only believe, and thou hast with thy faith all that is needed for thy inward life.' Paul admirably illustrates this, by applying to it the passage in Deut. xxx., 12 : i Say not to thyself, Who shall ascend to Heaven, and prepare a path for me thither ? For Christ has descended from Heaven and has prepared such a path. To ask such a que.stion, is to desire that ChrLst would descend again from Heaven for thy sake. But say not. Who shall descend for me to the regions of the dead, and deliver me thence ? Christ has risen from the dead, and has delivered thee from the power of death. To ask this, is to desire that Christ might now rise from the dead for thy sake, as if He were not already risen. Instead of asking suth questions, only let the Gospel be cherished with vital power in thy heart ; believe In Him who descended from Heaven and rose from death, and thus ob- tained salvation for thee. Whoever has this faith is truly pious, and may be assured of salvation.' " — Planting and Training, Bk. vi., ch. i. For other instances of the sundering of Faith from Morals, see Appendix, Note 6.— [Ed. 68 DISCOURSES. unexpiated sins, while all unbelievers were assigned to eter- nal perdition. Thus it came to pass that in the days of Luther the chil- dren of '* the Church " were held to be saved from everlast- ing woe through their '-'' faith^'' though needing works of penance to save them from purgatorial fires, while mibe- lievers were held doomed to inevitable perdition. The Romanist's justifying faith, however, at the time, was not generally the right kind of faith. It was faith in the Church, faith in her so-called ' saints" and her " holy Virgin," instead of faith in Christ. Luther preached faith in Christ only, for justification ; and faith in Christ alone, for complete justification. Tiiis was the difference. But Luther's position compelled him to lay much stress upon justifying faith ; and in so doing he obscured his view of faith, as a general principle, magnifying the rela- tive importance of one of its activities, and overlooking or failing to see the rest. Theologians in Protestant communities, since his day, have been coming out more and more from under the pressure of Romanist ideas which caused this tendency in Luther's mind ; yet for a long time they followed in his footsteps, not having, like the great Reformer, capacity to strike out for themselves a new path adapted to their own circumstances. The consequence, in part, has been from the very fact that circumstances have not required so great stress, or rather so much insisting, on the doctrine of justification ; that the continual harping upon it, in some quarters, has caused a still more unequal estimate of its relative import- ance, and a neglect of the other equally essential doctrines of true repentance and a holy obedience. One of the activi- DISCOURSES. 69 ties of faith has been insisted on at the expense of the others ; one has been exalted and the others depressed. Hence has arisen that practical mischief of which I have spoken, in which men have substituted justifying faith instead of sanctifying faith — that " faith that works by love and pu- rifies the heart." I knoAv it will be said by some that the faith of such men, who live not according to the Gospel, is not sincere — not true faith ; but I am prepared to show that it is or may be sincere, and a true faith, while at the same time it is an impious presumption before God, and cannot justify, because " faith without works is dead," profitless, and "by works a man is justified, and not by faith only." Before closing these remarks, there is another reason, which should be mentioned, for desiring a solution of the question, '* what is faith *?" and that is found in the indis- tinctness which prevails as to the perception of its moral quality, or wherein its moral quality consists. Much has been said to explain why God requires faith of His creatures, what is the virtue of it, wherein it is a holy exercise ; and, as far as my knowledge extends, without distinct and perfectly satisfying results. But a distinct, analytic knowledge of what faith is, would certainly answer this question, since the knowledge of all its elements and sources involves the knowledge of that element or motive source which constitutes it an exer- cise of virtue. And it is hardly too much to say, that this knowledge cannot be obtained in any other way than by the analysis of faith itself. It will not, surely, be doubted, whether such a knowledge is desirable. How else, except by mere general analogy, can we answer the cavils of a man who demands that God should give him certain knowledge as the ground of His action ? and how else 70 DISCOURSES.. can we attain full satisfaction for ourselves, and assign to faith its proper place in the moral system of God's realm ? Analogy may silence our objections ; it cannot satisfy our doubts, or our desires to understand. I have now made some allusion to the confusion and in- distinctness in men's ideas, generally, of faith, and endea- vored to present to you some reasons which seem to demand a more thorough and definite analysis of its nature. It is my design, under Providence, to prosecute this subject ; and, in the second place, to test some of the various defini- tions which have been given of faith ; thirdly, to give a new definition of it ; fourthly, to test that definition ; fifthly, to show when and how faith has moral quality ; and, sixthly, to show the various applications of faith, (in other words, the various kinds of faith,) their moral qual- ity, and the character they give to the soul, — including its application to natural and to spiritual things, and the fact that ail religious acts are wholly, or in part, acts of faith ; also, faith in God, His truth and Providence ; and faith in Christ, regenerating, justifying and sanctifying, with spe- cial reference to the doctrine of the text, that Christ is the great object of faith by which the world must be saved. I conclude my present remarks with one observation. The view which we have taken of the obscurity and error which prevails on the subject of faith, shows us the import- ance to religion of a true and intelligible philosophy of mind. It is only by understanding the nature of his soul, and its ways of action, that man can settle those great questions which are constantly arising, touching the nature and the ground of obligation, and touching the corres- pondence, therefore, of revelation, to the laws written in the structure of the soul. The fact that all these ques- DISCOURSES. 71 lions run back, at last, to the nature and laws of mind, and the fact that man is capable of introspection, and so of learning the nature of those laws, sufficiently demon- strate the need of a true philosophy of mind, at least on the part of all those who would be teachers of religion or morals, and help thoughtful and inquiring spirits onward in their way to glory. Let no timid and narrow-minded believer, then, try to lay his embargo upon thought, and object to the young preacher of the Gospel, that his mind tends too much to philosophy. There is a true phi- losophy, as well as a false ; and if a sincere and honest heart cannot find it, or help to find it, then woe be to this world, for the philosophy of Heaven shall not prevail, but the philosophy of earth shall fight against it, and against the kingdom of our Lord, for ever. May God forbid, for His name's sake ! DISCOURSE II. Faith — Definitions Examined. John vi. 29 : " Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent.^' The inquiry raised in the former discourse upon this text — the inquiry, " IVhat is it to believe f — ought not, as has been stated, to be difficult of reply ; for the direction in the text was intended by our Lord as a plain answer to the mo- mentous question which had been asked Him. Practically, as has also been observed, and naturally, the direction would not be difficult to be understood ; but owing to the peculiar circumstances in which the great doctrine of jus- tification by faith in Jesus Christ struggled into light in these latter days, and the coloring with which that doc- trine became consequently invested, a mystery has been thrown around the simple form of faith, both in theory, and by natural result, in practice. Having considered this fact, and the mischiefs resulting from it, and the need consequently arising of a better un- derstanding of the nature of faith, Ave come now, II. To examine some of the answers which have been attempted to this question : in other words, to test some of the definitions which various writers have given of faith. It should be observed here, that, subjectively considered, or with reference to the mind, two kinds of faith are gen- erally acknowledged, one of which is called *•' historical," DISCOURSES. 73 or "speculative," consisting in a bare assent of under- standing to an alleged truth, with or without some corres- ponding emotion ; the other is the kind of faith spoken of in the Scnptures, and with which our present inquiry is wholly concerned. This latter, or Scriptural faith, is of a practical or voluntary nature, as appears from three consider- ations : first, we can conceive of no sort of faith which shall differ at all from a mere ^'historical faith," except one which shall contain a voluntary element ; second, the Scriptures evidently treat the faith of which they speak as a practical matter — as something which men volun- tarily exercise, or refuse to exercise — " this is the work of God, [i. e., what God requires] that ye believe : " if ye be- lieve not. . . .ye shall die in your sins ;" and, thirdly, no otherwise than as a voluntary affection, can faith be a vir- tuous exercise, or a matter of obligation.* Scriptural faith, then, or that with which our present inquiry is wholly concerned, is a practical or voluntary faith, as distinguished from a mere historical belief. This being premised, let us notice some of the definitions which have been given of it. These definitions, however, we must here observe, are none of them general definitions of practical faith ; but only, so far as I have seen, definitions of that particular application of practical religious faith, by which a man is justified before God, — variously termed evangelical^ justifying^ or saving faith. This want of a gen- eral definition of practical faith, seems to have given rise to the error, anions:; theoloo!;ical writers, of confoundiig all kinds of religious faith, or all those exercises of faith spoken of in the Bible, with that particular application of it by which is procured the forgiveness of sin. Not see- * See ^ few opinions cited in support of this view, Appendix, Note B. 74 DISCOURSES. ing distinctly the nature of faith itself, they have failed to see distinctly the nature of its different applications, and their different objective and subjective effects. Not seeing that justifying faith is only one of these applications, and purely objective in its consequences, they have sought to give such a definition of it as would embrace all the exer- cises of religious faith and all its consequences. Thus, one says, '"justifying or saving faith is an entire confidence or trust in God's character and declarations, and in the character and doctrines of Christ, with an unre- served surrender of the will to his guidance, and depend- ence on his merits for salvation." Another says, " saving faith is a realizing, cordial (or confiding) belief in (or assent to) the entire testimony of God." These definitions plainly include almost all the forms and exercises of religious ftiith — faith in the holiness of God, faith in His infinite knowledge and power, and in His Providence, as well as faith in His atoning sacrifice. But though the former are all necessary in the justified soul, just as repentance is necessary, yet it is manifestly faith in .the atonement alone that delivers from the penalty of past transgressions ; and this alone, therefore, is properly called "justifying faith." But if the definitions noticed embrace most or all kinds of religious faith, may they not be taken as definitions of religious faith in general, and may we not examine them in this light ? What, then, shall be said to them as such ? " Religious faith is a confiding belief in, or assent to, the entire testimony of God." This definition may be correct, but it is of no value, ex- cept to the compiler of a dictionary. It is not philosophi- cal, but lexical. It does not analyze faith, and so show us DISCOURSES. 7fi what it is, by revealing the parts of which it is composed ; it only calls it by another name. It does not reveal to him whose understanding assents to the truth that Christ died for him, but whose heart dees not feel peace in it, how he must obtain that peace — what he ihust do to believe. It will not instruct the believer, nor aid the inquirer, nor answer any religious purpose. The other definition is somewhat better, as it makes an attempt, at least, at analysis : " Confidence in God and His Word, and submission of will to His guidance." 'But there are difficulties with this, also. In the first place, it is not sufficiently analytic, and does not show the relation even of the parts mentioned, to one another* " Confidence," as here employed, denotes, evidently, a com- plex state of mind ; and, supposing it to be easily under- stood, yet the great question is, how does it arise in the mind, and what is the relation between it and the act of the will ? Must one feel perfect confidence before he sub- mits to God ? How, then, shall he feel it ? If he has it not, and it does not come from the act of the will submit- ting to God, how shall he attain it, so as to exercise faith "? If it does come from the act of the will, hoiu ^ and what, in this case, is the act of the will based on ? The defini- tion throws no light on the subject. Indeed, it seems rather to convey the idea that the feeling of confidence must precede the act of the will and be the basis of it, and so makes faith an impossibility where confidence does not first exist. Again, this definition does not express the grounds of faith— its relation to reason and to virtue. If it be said that the grounds of faith are implied in the mention of the character and declarations of God, it must be replied, on 76 DISCOURSES. what principle are we to believe the evidence for the as- serted character and declarations of God, rather than the evidence against them? There is no hint, in the definition, of the existence of such a principle ; and no hint, there- fore, of the ultimate grounds of faith, or its ultimate rela- tion to reason and to moral excellence. This definition, therefore, is not sufficient. It will not instruct the be- liever, nor help the inquirer, nor silence the infidel. It must also be said, that while it is too general for jus- tifying faith, it is not, in strictness, sufficiently comprehen- sive for a definition of religious faith, since it will not ap- ply to faith in the existence itself of God ; which is, in- deed, the corner stone or the sub-stratum of all other ar- ticles of religious faith. The same objection applies also to the definition previ- ously noticed, and to several others which may now be given. " Faith," says a distinguished teacher of theology, "is a firm, cordial belief in the veracity of God — or a full and affectionate confidence in the certainty of those through which God has declared, and because he has declared them." Says another, "Faith is an affectionate practical confidence in the testimony of God." But, taking these definitions even in the extent to which they are applicable, the saioe objections apply to them as the one first treated. They are not analytic. They merely substitute " confidence" " or belief" for the word "faith," and add a few epithets which distinguish Scriptural from historical faith, without pointing out the elements of that distinction or of the faith so distinguished. They do not tell us what " practical confidence" is, nor how it is more intelligible than practical faith. They do not instruct the DISCOURSES. 77 believer, nor direct the inquirer, nor silence the infidel. They are of some use doubless to the lexicographer !* "The faith of tlie Gospel," says Dr. Dwight, "is that emotion of the mind which is called trust or confidence, exercised toward the moral character of God, and particu- larly of the Saviour." If the word " emotion" is here used in strictness, the definition is not correct, for it excludes the voluntary element which always enters into Scriptural faith. But if the word be taken loosely, to denote a complex state of the mind, the definition, like the others, is only lexical, while it is more faulty than the others in being more re- stricted in its application. Another definition of faith is, " an influential helief of the testimony of God." This plainly means a belief which in- fluences the mind to action ; and is the same with the fol- lowing definition, which is also found — " that firm belief of God's testimony which influences the will." Plainly, these definitions entirely exclude any voluntary element from faith itself, holding the volition to be only the result of faith. But passing over this error as perhaps only an inaccu- racy of language, the great objection to these definitions is, that they make the determination of the will wholly a con- sequence of the feeling of confidence, and thus cut off all possibility of believing from those who have not that feel- ing ; at least, until in some unknown manner they have obtained it. This is saying to such persons, that their dif- ficulty or their sin does not consist in their not believing, — for they cannot believe ; but in their not doing some- thing else which would make them believe — which is absurd. * These -writers and some others define faith as if it were belief only in the tes- timony or in the veracity of a person or persons — which is too narrow. 78 DISCOURSES Other definitions of saving faith are, that it is " coming to Christ," "looking to Him," "receiving Him." But these are only lexical definitions, couched in figurative language, and needing explanation at least as much as the thing defined. One further definition only will I now notice, and it is one far superior to the others. It is found in Tholiick, in his note on John iii. 36, and is as follows : " Faith is a sub- mission to something which is objectively higher in respect to knowledge and will, and therefore includes obedience." That is, as I understand it, faith is a determination to do the will of one seen to be superior in knowledge and good- ness. The excellence of this definition consists in the fact that it exhibits distinctly the voluntary element of faith, and as proceeding upon a proper ground. It says to that class of inquirers who assent to the wisdom and goodness of God, and yet are not believers, " go, act vpon it, submit to His guidance, and obey him, and you will be believers." Herein it says truly ; and the truth is a most valuable one. But it has also some defects. It does not seem, indeed, to be designed as a general definition of religious faith, but only of one form of it — that faith in the Son of God by which we receive the gifts of God's grace flowing to us through him. It is not, therefore, sufficiently abstract to answer the purposes of a general definition, and does not throw such light upon all the questions concerning faith as we desire. It does not exhibit the nature of the connec- tion of faith and reason. In other words, it does not point out the nature and conditions of that intellectual assent which it supposes, nor its exact relation to the act of faith. This intellectual assent is acknowledged to be involuntary ; and behind this fact the unbeliever sometimes shelters him- DISCOURSES. 7gi self, and denies his obligation to believe ; and without a better knowledge of the whole nature of faith we cannot dislodge him. An exact comprehension of the nature of the assent and of the whole ground of faith, as we shall see hereafter, would drive out the unbeliever from this hiding-place, and silence the sneer of the infidel ; but that comprehension this definition does not give, and though it gives the ground of faith, it does not give it analytically, and show us those elements which it is necessary to see. The definition is also incomplete, if regarded as a phi- losophical definition, because it gives no account of the feeling of confidence which is an element in religious belief, nor of its relation to the act of faith. With these defects, however, the author spoken of is not chargeable, as he had not undertaken to give a general and philosophical definition of faith. 1 speak of them only as things wanting to our knowledge, and which that definition, excellent as it is, does not supply. Let me, how- ever, give it the praise to say, that if I have fallen upon a true account of faith, that definition was one of the steps that led me to it. In the discussion of the various definitions of faith which have now been noticed, my remarks have been protracted to a greater extent than was at first designed. But they will not prove without profit, if they have so convinced you of the real need of a better understanding of the sub- ject than has generally prevailed, that you will be prepared truly to welcome any new light which may be thrown upon the subject, and to treasure up in your hearts the truth. For great will be the bearing of that truth upon your des- tiny in this life and in that which is to come. Faith is the foundation-wall of religion, the great totality of godli- 80 DISCOURSES. uess. " If je believe not, ye will die in your sins." And yet, notwithstanding the magnitude of this subject, and the many attempts which have been made to elucidate it, a writer of some eminence, who has doubtless read with at- tention most of what has been written upon the nature of faith, uses this language concerning it : " While, by turn- ing the mind in upon itself we know what faith is, [z. e, every man knows practically what it is to believe,] we are nevertheless not able to define it."* But the difficulty is, perhaps, not so great in the pre- sent state of knowledge, as this writer has supposed. A definition can be given, I trust, which will silence the infidel, satisfy the philosopher, and be intelligible to a child. For the present, however, I conclude with a single observation. In view of our discussion, we see a remarkable illustra- tion of the adaptedness of the Gospel to human wants ; — that while so much (obscurity has prevailed theoretically on the nature of faith, thousands and ten thousands of the simplest minds have been taught of Christ practically to be- lieve," and believing have rejoiced, with joy unspeakable and full of glory." The difficulties which have been thrown in their way may have hindered or obstructed many, but they could not wholly prevent the efficacy of the mighty drawing with which He who was " lifted up" has " drawn all men to Him." Christ is not only the great object of faith, but He is also the great' source of faith, the mighty argument of a God of grace, who careth for the creatures He has made. " Blessed are they that have not seen '• Him" and yet have believed." And to " Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith," be everlasting thanks from innumer- able hosts of His redeemed. Amen ! * Upham's Life of Faith, p. 15. DISCOURSE III. Faith — True Definition. Hebrews xi. 1 : '^ Noiv faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen^ Having noticed, in the two former discourses upon this text, the obscurity which prevails respecting the nature of Faith, and having examined such definitions of it as have been accessible to me, I come now, according to the plan proposed, III. To set forth a new definition of it. It will be remembered that two kinds of faith have been noticed in the course of this discussion, viz. : (1) historical or speculative faith, consisting of an intellectual assent to a proposed truth, with or without such emotion as such a truth fitly produces in the mind, according to the state of that mind ; and (2) Scriptural faith, which was shown to be a voluntary, practical faith. With the latter alone, as was also stated, we are at present concerned. It is Scriptural, practical, voluntary- faith, of which we now seek a definition. It is proper here to premise, that the object of faith is always — to speak with philosophical accuracy — some- thing set forth as a truth. It is common, indeed, to speak of beings and entities as objects of faith, and the language is therefore proper, though not designed as philosophically exact. Thus, we speak of faith in God. But by this Ian- 82 DISCOURSES. guage we mean some truth set forth or asserted concerning God ; — either Plis existence, or His goodness, or His prov- idence over us, or some other truth ; or, perhaps, all of these. So, too, the sick man may say that he has faith in a certain medicine : by w^hich he means, he has faith in the supposed truth that this medicine has curative power. Faith, then, let it be remembered, has always for its ob- ject something set forth as aJruth ; or, to use a more con- venient expression, some proposed truth. In defining faith, I propose now to give, in the first place, a complete and philosophically exact definition, which will exhibit the whole subject ; and, after elucidating this, to add a more brief and simple definition, exhibiting the voluntary element perspicuously, or just what one must do to believe ; and this will be intelligible, I trust, to every mind, even that of a child. I observe, then, practical faith is a complex state of mind, consisting of an intellectual assent to the probability of a proposed truth, or of the evidence by which it is supported, with the determination to act upon it, in view of said probability, and of the motives by which it (the truth) is accompanied, and with a corresponding emotion of the heart.* ♦ A twelfth Discourse was presented by the Author, on the subject of faith, consisting mostly of recapitulation . In the form of notes, and inserted extracts, it may partly answer the purpose of the revision which he designed. He says : '* In addition to what has now been said, it should also be remarked, that when faith in general is spoken of in the inspired writings, it is not faith in general which is meant, nor even, with one or two exceptions, religious faith in general ; "bMX faith in some particular truth " The same thing is true, also, in many of the religious writings of our times ; and the fact that the writers generally do not themselves perceive it, that they do not distinguish between the general principle of faith and those forms of it which they have mentioned, is one of the causes of the confusion and obscurity so common in their ideas and language. One man may have faith in the un- varying goodness of God ; another, in the all-disposing providence of God ; another, in Hia ordering all events to carry out perfectly His own desires ; and DISCOURSES. 83 In elucidation of this definition, it will be necessary, first, to notice the nature of evidence, and the fact that there may be probable evidence both far and against a pro- posed truth. Evidence in behalf of any proposition, consists in an array of facts which necessarily or apparently involve in them the truth of that proposition. If it be seen that that truth is necessarily involved, i. e., that the contrary is im- possible, the evidence is called demonstrative. Such is the evidence by w^hich mathematical propositions are sup- ported. But, an array of facts may apparently involve a certain truth ; that is, it may be seen that that truth will, wholly or in part, account for those facts, while no other truth is seen to be certainly the true account of them. This is of the kind called probable evidence, to distinguish it from the other, called demonstrative, and is of the kind upon which most human actions proceed.* [Most, if not all, the truths upon which men are called another, in His power and purpose to recover this world from sin. All these are, truly enough, men of faith — that is, of a certain kind of faith. But they should not all be spoken of in the same terms, aa though their faiths were identical ; for the faith of one is a very different thing from the faith of the others. "Faith may consist in an individual act, or in a continued state of mind; either way, it is composed of three elements : an intellectual assent to the prob- ability of a proposed truth, with a determination to act upon it, and accompany- ing and resulting feeling of assurance therein." * " Probability is the very guide of life." This statement of the author of the "Analogy" cannot be objected to if it receive a common-sense interpretation. It can only be abused by utter perversion into the Probabilism of the Jesuits. We are told, indeed, by the author of " Letters from Spain,'' that the Probabil- ioristae, or those who insist on taking the more probable side, are scarcely better than the Probabilistae. "The French proverb, Le mieux est Vennemi du bien, is perfectly applicable to the practical effects of these two systems in Spain." But this results from sheer indifference to truth, or a love of the probable bt- eause it is uncertain.'-[£D. 84 DISCOURSES. to act in this world, are probable truths ; that is, they are not necessarily true, to human knowledge ; their contrary is possible. There may be, also, in the case of many, some evidence against their reality ; but there must be, to con- stitute them probable truths, evidence in their favor which the understanding adjudges to be more weighty.] But again : there may be several distinct series or classes of facts, each of which apparently involves the proposed truth. In this case, the weight of the evidence is greatly aug- mented, the ratio of probability from the whole being equal to the multiplied ratios of each distinct series. In this way, this kind of evidence, though called "probable," to distinguish it from demonstrative evidence, may become so stronoj as to admit of no doubt in the mind. The two opposing probabilities, furthermore, may be of the same, or of different degrees. If of the same, the un- derstanding, looking at them both, will assent to neither conclusion ; but if of different degi-ees, the understanding will assent to the conclusion which has the greater weight of probability in its favor, and with a confidence propor- tioned to the disparity. [When, however, the understanding has so adjudged re- specting any proposed truth of a practical nature, it is still a distinct question whether the person to whom it is pro- posed will act upon It, or refuse to act. This he is to de- termine in view of the motives which prompt him. These motives may be derived from what will be the conse- quences of such action, if it shall turn out to be a real truth ; and they may also be derived, in part, from what will be the consequences of such action, even supposing it should not be real. Thus, a man may be moved to act upon the truthfulness DISCOURSES. 85 of the teachings and claims of Christ, by the eternal re- ward and punishment which are to follow obedience and disobedience, if those teachings and claims are true ; and also by the perceived fact, that by so acting, whatever else may be true of those claims, he will be using the best means which the world affords, to make himself and other men better and happier for this life. He may be moved, on the other hand, to reject the claims of Christ, or to act on the supposition of their falsity, by all the inducements which the world can offer to his cov- etousness, or his ambition. And this he may do, likewise, even though his understanding adjudged the evidence to be in favor of those claims. But if he does otherwise, if he acts upon the truth of those claims, the more evidence he sees in their favor, the more will the eternal reward have to do with his decision ; and the less evidence he sees, the more will he be left to those motives which come from the righteousness of Christ's commands and the practical tendency of faith in Him. The evidence, therefore, in favor of a proposed truth, while it may influence, does not necessarily determine the action which the mind shall take upon it.] But, in order to elucidate our definition a second fact must now be noticed. As the mind is a susceptible agent, it must have, while in a sound condition, some degree of feeling, however slight, in view of every probable truth which demands its action. This feelino; is a feelino; of as- surance, called, when directed to pleasing truths, trust, or confidence. From the nature of the case, however, this feeling is not the same before and after the purpose of act- ing on the truth, since its ohject, by such a purpose, becomes 86 DISCOURSES. changed. Before the purpose of acting, it is confidence that such and such a thing might be ; after the purpose, it is confidence that such a thing luill be.* Concerning this feeling of assurance, trust or confidence, however, four things must be said. (1st.) It may be very- slight, owing to unfavorable habitudes of the mind, and to weakness of intellectual assent or seen probability. (2d.) Other thoughts, attended with much more powerful emo- tions, may so keep crowding into the mind that a man may not be reflectively conscious of having this feeling of confidence in any degree. (3d.) This feeling will increase by acting on the truth to which it is directed. It will in- crease for two reasons — first, because, by acting on the truth, the attention will be more forcibly and exclusively turned toward it ; and, second, because new evidence will be continually presenting itself to the mind, to confirm the probability of the truth. No man, at any time of his life, can say, concerning any important practical proposition or doctrine, that he has seen all the facts, and had all the thoughts, which it is possible to see and to have, that go to establish its truth. When, therefore, he has decided to act upon its truth, and does so act, his attention being turned * It is undoubtedly true that there is a certain feeling of confidence often pre- ceding the act of faith, and this feeling is often called faith. But this feeling is always distinguishable from the real feeling of faith ; for it is always a feeling of satisfaction in view of the proposition that such a thing ivould be ; while the feeling of faith is a feeling of satisfaction in view of the proposition that such a thing will be. But a feeling may by many be thought to precede the act of faith, — which it does not; for the act of faith is not necessarily an outward act, btft the purpose of the heart, made, perhaps, long anterior to the outward act, in which it is afterwards to be embodied. The habitual feeling of confidence which dwells in the mind of one of fervent faith, is not the primal source of those acts of faith which are exhibited, and which may seem to flow from it alone ; there is in the mind, at the same time, an habitual state of the will, a fixed and general choice, which enables the mind to feel as it does, and from which the individual acts of faith proceed. DISCOURSES, 87 to it, new thoughts will be continually arising in his mind, confirming its assent, and so deepening its feeling of confi- dence in its adopted way. (4th.) One thing more must be said concerning this feeling of confidence : it may vary very much at diiferent times, owing to doubts arising from contemplated difficulties, or to different states of suscep- tibilities, and may, indeed, in some cases, never become a full and perfect confidence ; while at the same time, however, tlie heart may never swerve from it, never let go its hold of it, as a principle of action.* * In putting fonh. a definition of Scriptural or practical faith, it is not asserted "or implied tliat the word is always used among men, or even in Scripture, in the broad and full sense which is here given to it. Like every othei word express- ive of a mental act or state, its use may be more or less general or specific ; and when specific, it m.ay drop some of those elements which are essential to it in other cases. Thus we sometimes apply the term to a certain arA winch we wit- ness, without any direct reference to any emotion as connected with it ; and at other times we speak of the mere feeling of confidence under the same appel- lation, without thinking at all of any act or purpose as occasioning or follow- ing it. So, very commonly among Christian writers or speakers, and sometimes in the New Testament, the term is used to denote the feeling of confidence in God. An expression of this is found in Matt. xvii. 20, where Christ replies to the dis- ciples, who had asked him why they could not cast out the dumb spirit, " be- cause of your unbelief," or want of faith. The act of faith the disciples had evidently performed, by trying to cast him out ; and this act was doubtless at- tended with some degree of conviction. But their preceding and habitual /eeiing' of confidence in God was so feeble, that God saw fit to rebuke them for it, seeing that they ought to have gained a livelier confidence, by more constantly commu- ning with Him and making trial of His goodness. And this feebleness of hab- itual confidence, marking a poverty of spiritual attainment, Christ here terms unbelief. The same use of the word is quite common, also, among Christian writers and speakers of the present day, and will doubtless always be common. Again, however, we speak of faith very often with a principal reference to one of its elements, but really embracing them all. When we see a man en- counter a grievous and sore trial accompanied with strong temptation to swerve from the purpose of godliness, and find him holding fast his allegiance and man- ifesting a feeling of firm, and lively, and joyous confidence in God, we may speak with admiration of his /oi^A; and, according lo our own circumstances, or the connection and bent of our thoughts, we shall do so with our attention principally directed to the feeling — or, on the other hand, to the purpose — which 88 DISCOURSES. We are now prepared, I trust, to understand and to see the correctness of the definition of faith which has been given. When a proposition is presented to the mind of a man as a truth, and as one upon which he must act, either as being true or as being false ; and w*hen his understanding assents to the proposition as a probable truth, or, looking at the evidence, assents to the evidence as probable ; and when, in view of the motives which he sees pointing to such a course, he determines to act upon that proposition as though it ivere true, — this assent of the iinderstanding and this purpose of the heart, with that feeling which must neces- sarily follow such an assent and such a purpose, be it more or less — this assent, purpose and feeling, I say, are faith — practical faith. Before the mind forms this determination or purpose, the feeling of assurance or confidence may be so slight, in presence of other and more powerful feelings, as not to be known to exist ; but after the purpose is formed, it will in- crease ; and the longer the mind continues to act upon its adopted truth, the deeper and stronger (other things being equal) will this feeling become. The feeling of confidence, therefore, is not directly to be sought for, or to be deemed a pre-requisite to faith. In this, as in all other cases, let the heart do right, and it will eventually feel right. 1 repeat then, practical faith is a we witness ; in either case, however, we shall not of necessity wholly exclude from our minds, in using this word, the other idea which is at the same time presented to us. We may think most of the happy confidence which he enjoys ; but we shall not wholly lose sight of his firm fidelity of will ; — or we may think, most of his unwavering obedience ; but we shall not forget the deep and trust- ful peace of his heart. We shall mean by faith all that properly belongs to it, though one of its elements may be prominent in our view. DISCOURSES. 89 complex act or state of mind, consisting of an intellectual assent to the probability of a proposed truth or of the evi- dence by which it is supported, with the determination to act upon it in view of the motives which prompt to such a course, and tvith that feeling of assurance, which, in greater or less degree, necessarily follows such assent and determi- nation ; or, to put the definition in a better shape for practical purposes, as putting the voluntary or practical element foremost — Practical faith is acting upon a proposed truth in which the mind sees some probability, and of which it has therefore some feeling of assurance ; or, more simple still, and suffi- cient for common purposes — Faith in a truth, is acting upon it as true. Is there a child here, old enough to understand any de- finition whatever, who cannot understand this"? Let me present here an illustration of faith which is fre- quently employed, which will both illustrate this definition and show its correctness, though the latter I purpose to do more fully hereafter. A little girl was standing by the side of a trap door which opened through the floor of the room into the cellar. She looked down, but as the cellar was dark she could see nothing. Presently, however, she heard a voice speaking to her from out of that dark place, and knew it was the voice of her father. " My daughter," said the voice, " I am here below you — ^jump down, and I will catch you in my arms." The little girl hesitated. She looked down again into the darkness, and could see nothing, and she feared to leap. "My daughter," said the voice again, " do you not be- lieve me ? Your father is here— jump down, and you will 5* 90 DISCOURSES. be safe in my arms." She looked again — she sprang — and was caught with delight to the bosom of her parent. Now this, we are told, is faith. She believed what her father told her. Unquestionably this is correct. This was certainly faith — but, it was acting upon what her father told her, and neither more nor less. She acted upon her father'' s words as true — and this was, believing her father's words. How surprising, that so many have used this or similar illustrations to show what faith is — ^illustrations which do show exactly what it is — and yet have not perceived it to be just that simple thing which they have shown it to be — acting on the truth. [We will now briefly consider those passages of Scrip- ture which bear upon our subject. Those texts should be first noticed which may seem to some to conflict with the views advanced. Such are the texts which may appear to teach that God is the Author or Giver of faith in the human heart ; and one especially which some understand to deny that it is the act of man himself Says Paul to the Ephesians (ii. 8, 9) : " By grace are ye saved, through faith ; and that not of your- selves ; it is the gift of God : not of works, lest any man should boast." But Paul is not speaking o£ faith, but of salvation, when he says " this is not of yourselves, but is the gift of God." This is evident from two facts : first, that the word ren- dered " that" in our common version, but which I have rendered " this," is of a different gender, in the original Greek, from the word " faith," and cannot therefore refer to it, unless a change of style be supposed, for which there is here no reason, and of which there is, I believe, in all the rest of Paul's M^itings, no example ; and, second, that DISCOURSES. 91 to suppose it to mean faith, is to make the succeeding clause totally without meaning. What idea can be attached to the words,' as used by Paul, that " faith is not of works, lest any man should boast f when every one knows that these are the two distinct grounds of justificr.tion which he every- where treats of as things confessedly opposite. But, when he has said, " this salvation is not of yourselves — it is the gift of God," that he should add, "it is of faith and not of works, lest any man should boast," is perfectly intelligible. Paul does not, therefore, in this passage, deny that faith is of ourselves. But even admitting that he does, however, and that other passages also teach that God is the author of faith in the human heart, still all this does not overthrow or attack the principles advanced. God is truly the author of Faith, even as He is the author of all virtue or goodness, by giving all those means and influences by which it is produced. And in this sense, man is not the author of his own faith. Yet is it truly, nevertheless, his own exercise ; the act of his own mind and heart. And the fact that the Scriptures require it of him, as the condition of salvation, implies this, and is proof that they do not intend to deny it. Before, however, leaving this point, it should be noted also, that in several instances of the use of the word " faith" in the New- Testament Epistles, it plainly signifies some miraculous gift, and not that moral exercise which is the subject of our discussion. With regard to the Apostle Paul's usage of the term " faith," I next remark, one fact needs to be particularly noticed whenever we inquire into his teachings on this sub- ject. WTiile it is more frequently found in his writings than in any other part of the New Testament, it is seldom, 92 DISCOURSES. and I believe never, found in them with the general mean- ing of religious faith, but generally or always as denoting faith in some specific truth. When speaking of faith as justifying the believer in Jesus, he means faith in the aton- ing blood of Christ. But Abraham's faith, to which he also refers, was faith in the truthfulness of God to fulfil His promises. The influence of this faith is parallel to the influence of the Christian's justifying faith, to which he compares it, only in the fact that being both religious faith they possess moral quality, and, according to their extent, secure the approbation of God. But now when Paul had taught that penitent sinners are justified, that is, forgiven, by faith in Christ's atoning blood, and when some in that age, overlooking the fact that Paul was speaking only of penitent sinners, began to exercise faith in the doctrine that they could be saved by believing in Christ without repentance, or the forsaking of sin, the Apostle James steps forw^ard and denies that faith alone, that is, such a faith as this, can save men ; and asserts that a religious faith which has not fruits of holiness or works of love, is a dead or spurious faith, without saving influence. While his language, therefore, appears to con- tradict the language of Paul, he is only denying that which Paul never meant to assert. The use which the Apostle John, also, makes of the term, is very different from that of Paul. It has, in his Epistle, its broadest religious sig- nificance, though often applied to Christ as comprehending in himself the whole sum of religious truth. " This is the victory," he says, "that overcometh the world; even our faith. Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God ?"• With the notice of one more text of Scripture we will DISCOURSES. *93 close our discussion. Says the writer to tlie Hebrews (xi. 1), according to our version, " Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." If this trans- lation has any meaning at all, I have never been able to discover it. The Greek word vTroaraGcg- means, that which is laid down as a foundation ; or, next, the act of laying down (something) as a foundation ; i. e., taking something as a foundation, or resting upon it. The word translated " evidence," means rather " conviction." Rightly inter- preted, then, the verse would read thus : " faith is the re- lying upon things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."* But the writer evidently means, relying in one^s * " We must, with the best modem expositions, take VTrdoTaaij, not in the sense of substance, (which is generally assigned,) but of firm covfidence ; (as 2 Cor. ix. 4, xi. 17.) So the Pesch. Syriac well renders : ' Est autem fides persuasio de rebus illis quae sunt in spe, ac si jam esseut actu. .And so Tyndall : * Faythe is a sure confydence,' &c, — "YXsyxog. Firma persuasio. Kuinoel, So also Chrysostom : ttIotis eig rfiv av-riv roTs bpcoiihois (ptpci n\7ipo([)opLav ra lif) opdjyitva. Thustatth is both a disposition and a principle." — Ep.Blcomfield. Augustine renders vnoaTaaig by convictio. Tract. 79 in Joan, cited by Aquinas, Summa. ii. 2, q. 4, 1. 'YTrdoraoij and '^'^syXOi are synonymous in this passage, and signify ^r7?ia persuasio. Knapp. Chr. Theol. ^ cxxii. " The moral, comprehensive, and universal indication of religious conscious- ness is faith. It is the unity of sensation and perception of susceptibility and spontaneity in matters of religion. It is through Christianity alone that the no- tion of faith has so pervaded science and general culture., as to be regarded as the fundamental character and essential function of religious life ; wherefore faith in its general or philosophical meaning can only be apprehended according to the analogy of its strictly Christian meaning. A trace of the correct gener- alization is to be found in Hebrews xi. 1. Yet not as though vnoaraaK; and tXeyXoi were merely the energies of reflection and intellectual syllogizing. The usual explanation, that faith consists in maintaining as true the super- sensual derived from subjective yet conclusive grounds, does not reach its es- sence. Thus we simply perceive that faith in some way differs from opinion in- adequately grounded, and from knowledge ; but we do not perceive that it is an original, yet at the same time a free act of the subjective spirit; nor that it is a believing with the heart, Kap6ia yap nicrTtvsrai, (Rom. x. 10); nor that v6r]aii 6ia rrlaTEOJi or Trt