m m c ^Z£/?r-;)f7e(f £,, TAe ( r. To/f/fM/i /7//f/.7) '/s>wf'/f)f//r/r/'//f ¦/S9o. SERMONS DISCOURSES. BY THOMAS CHALMERS, D-D. & LL.D., PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY OF THE FREE CHURCH OF SCOTLAND. THIRD COMPLETE AMERICAN EDITION, FROM THE LATE GLASGOW STEREOTYPE EDITION, REVISED AND CORRECTED BY THE AUTHOR. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II. NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER 58 CANAL STREET. 1848. CONTENTS OF VOL. II. SERMONS ON THE DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. SERMON I. THE NECESSITY OF THE SPIRIT TO GIVE EFFECT TO THE PREACHING OF THE GOSPEL. " And my speech, and my preaching, was not with enticing words of man's wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power ; that your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God."— 1 Cor. ii. 4, 5 13 SERMON II. THE MYSlTiRIOUS ASPECT OF THE GOSPEL TO THE MEN OF THE WORLD. " Then said I, Ah, Lord God ! they say of me, Doth he not speak parables 1" — Ezek. xx. 49. 20 SERMON III. THE PREPARATION NECESSARY FOR UNDERSTANDING THE MYSTERIES OF THE GOSPEL. "He answered and said unto them, Because it is given unto you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it is not given. For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance ; but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath."— Matt. xiii. 11, 12 26 SERMON IV. AN ESTIMATE OF THE MORALITY THAT IS WITHOUT GODLINESS. " If I wash myself with snow water, and make my hands never so clean ; yet shalt thou plunge me in the ditch, and mine own clothes shall abhor me. For he is not a man, as I am, that I should answer him, and we should come together in judgment. Neither is there any day's-man betwixt us, that might lay his hand upon us both." — Job ix. 30 — 33. . . 32 SERMON V. THE JUDGMENT OF MEN, COMPARED WITH THE JUDGMENT OF GOD. " With me it is a very small thing that I should be judged of you, or of man's judgment ; — he that judgeth me is the Lord." — 1 Cor. iv. 3, 4. 37 SERMON VI. THE NECESSITY OF A MEDIATOR BETWEEN GOD AND MAN. " Neither is there any day's-man betwixt us, that might lay his hand upon us both." Job ix. 33. ... 44 SERMON VII. THE FOLLY OF MEN MEASURING THEMSELVES BY THEMSELVES. " For we dare not make ourselves of the number, or compare ourselves with some that com mend themselves : but they, measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise." — 2 Cor. x. 12. 48 SERMON VIII. CHRIST THE WISDOM OF GOD. " Christ the Wisdom of God."— 1 Cor. i. 24 ; 55 IV CONTENTS. SERMON IX. THE PRINCIPLES OF LOVE TO GOD. "Keep yourselves in the love of God." — Jude 21 61 SERMON X. GRATITUDE, NOT A SORDID AFFECTION. "We love him, because he first loved us." — 1 John iv. 19 66 SERMON XI. THE AFFECTION OF MORAL ESTEEM TOWARDS GOD. " One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after ; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inqiire in his temple." — Psalm xxvii. 4 75 SERMON XII. THE EMPTINESS OF NATURAL VIRTUE. " But I know you, that ye have not the love of God in you." — John v. 42. . 82 SERMON XIII. THE NATURAL ENMITY OF THE MIND AGAINST GOD. " The carnal mind is enmity against God." — Rom. viii. 7 91 SERMON XIV. THE POWER OF THE GOSPEL TO DISSOLVE THE ENMITY OF THE HUMAN HEART AGAINST GOD. " Having slain the enmity thereby." — Ephes. ii. 16 . 96 SERMON XV. THE EVILS OF FALSE SECURITY. " They have healed also the hurt of the daughter of my people slightly, saying, Peace, peace; when there is no peace." — Jer. vi. 14 101 SERMON XVI. THE UNION OF TRUTH AND MERCY IN THE GOSPEL. "Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other." — Psalm lxxxv. 10 107 SERMON XVII. THE PURIFYTNG INFLUENCE OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH. "Sanctified by faith." — Acts xxvi. 18 113 DISCOURSES ON THE APPLICATION OP CHRISTIANITY TO THE COMMERCIAL AND ORDINARY AFFAIRS OF LIFE. DISCOURSE I. ON THE MERCANTILE VIRTUES WHICH MAY EXIST WITHOUT THE INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. " Finally, brethren, whatsoeve things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report ; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." Phil. iv. 8 119 CONTENTS. DISCOURSE II. THE INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY IN AIDING AND AUGMENTING THE MERCANTILE VIRTUES. " For he that in these things serveth Christ is acceptable to God, and approved of men.' — Rom. xiv. 18. . I'?5 DISCOURSE III. THE POWER OF SELFISHNESS IN PROMOTING THE HONESTIES OF MERCANTILE NTERCOURSE. " And if you do good to them which do good to you, what thank have ye 1 for sinners also do even the same." — Luke vi. 33. 131 DISCOURSE IV. THE GUILT OF DISHONESTY NOT TO BE ESTIMATED BY THE GAIN OF IT. " He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much; and he that is unjust in the least, is unjust also in much." — Luke xvi. 10. 139 DISCOURSE V. ON THE GREAT CHRISTIAN LAW OF RECIPROCITY BETWEEN MAN AND MAN. " Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them ; for this is the law and the prophets." — Matt. vii. 12 147 DISCOURSE VI. ON THE DISSIPATION OF LARGE CITIES. " Let no man deceive you with vain words ; for because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience." — Eph. v. 6 154 DISCOURSE VII. ON THE VITIATING INFLUENCE OF THE HIGHER UPON THE LOWER ORDERS OF SOCIETY. " Then said he unto the disciples, It is impossible but that offences will come : but woe unto him through whom they come ! It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he cast into the sea, than that he should offend one ofthese little ones." — Luke xvii. 1,2. 1C1 DISCOURSE VIII. ON THE LOVE OF MONEY. " If I have made gold my hope, or have said to the fine gold, Thou art my confidence; If 1 rejoiced because my wealth was great, and because mine hand had gotten much ; If I beheld the sun when it shined. or the moon walking in brightness ; and my heart hath been secretly enticed, or my mouth hath kissed my hand ; this also were an iniquity to be punished by the judge; for I should have denied the God that is above." — Job xxxi. 24— 28. . . 169 SERMONS PREACHED IN ST. JOHN'S CHURCH, GLASGOW. SERMON I. THE CONSTANCY OF GOD I.N HIS WORKS AN ARGUMENT FOR THE FAITHFULNESS OF GOD IN HIS WORD. " For ever, O Lord, thy word is settled in heaven. Thy faithfulness is unto all generations : thou hast established the earth, and it abideth. They continue this day according to thy ordi nances : for all are thy servants." — Psalm cxix. 89, 90, 91 261 SERMON II. THE EXPULSIVE POWER OF A NEW AFFECTION. "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him."— 1 John * 15 -271 VI CONTENTS. SERMON III. THE SURE WARRANT OF A BELIEVER'S HOPE. " For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son , much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life." — Romans v. 10 278 SERMON IV. THE RESTLESSNESS OF HUMAN AMBITION. " How say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain t — 0 that I had the wings of a dove, that I may fly away, and be at rest." — Psalm xi. 1, and lv. 6. .... 285 SERMON V. THE TRANSITORY NATURE OF VISIBLE THINGS, "The things that are seen are temporal." — 2 Cor. iv. 18. 289 SERMON VI. ON THE UNIVERSALITY OF SPIRITUAL BLINDNESS. " Stay yourselves, and wonder, cry ye out, and cry : they are drunken, but not with wine; they stagger, but not with strong drink. For the Lord hath poured out upon you the spirit of deep sleep, and hath closed your eyes ; the prophets and your rulers, the seers hath he covered. And the vision of all is become unto you as the words of a book that is sealed, which men de liver to one that is learned, saying, Read this, I pray thee : and he saith, I cannot ; for it is sealed. And the book is delivered to him that is not learned, saying, Read this, I pray thee ; and he saith, I am not learned." — Isaiah xxix. 9 — 12 294 SERMON VII. ON THE NEW HEAVENS AND THE NEW EARTH. " Nevertheless we, according to his promise look for new heavens and a new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness." — 2 Peter iii. 13 301 SERMON VIII. THE NATURE OF THE KINGDOM OF GOD. " For the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power." — 1 Cor. iv. 20. . . 307 SERMON IX. ON THE REASONABLENESS OF FAITH. " But before faith came, we were kept under the law, shut up unto the faith which should afterwards be revealed." — Gal. iii. 23. 313 SERMON X. ON THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. " And he said unto them, The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath." Mark ii. 27 319 SERMON XI. ON THE DOCTRINE OF PREDESTINATION. " And now I exhort you to be of good cheer : for there shall be no loss of any man's life among you, but of the ship. Paul said to the centurion and to the soldiers, Except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved." — Acts xxvii. 22, 31 335 SERMON XII. ON THE NATURE OF THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST. " Wherefore I say unto you, All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men- but the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall not be forgiven unto men. And whosoever speaketh a word against tho Son of man, it shall be forgiven him; but whosoever speaketh against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, neither in this world, neither in the world to come." — Matt. xii. 31, 32. 332 CONTENTS. Vll SERMON XIII. ON THE ADVANTAGES OF CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE TO THE LOWER ORDERS OF SOCIETY. " Better is a poor and a wise child than an old and foolish King, who will no more be ad monished."— Eccl. iv. 13 340 SERMON XIV. ON THE DUTY AND THE MEANS OF CHRISTIANIZING OUR HOME POPULATION. " And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every crea ture."— Mark xvi. 15. . . . . 345 SERMON XV. ON THE DISTINCTION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND CONSIDERATION. " The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib ; but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider." — Isaiah i. 3. . ....... 350 DISCOURSES ON THE CHRISTIAN REVELATION, VIEWED IN CONNECTION WITH MODERN ASTRONOMY. DISCOURSE I. A SKETCH OF THE MODERN ASTRONOMY. " When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained ; What is man, that thou art mindful of hun 1 and the son of man, that thou visitest him?' — Psalm viii. 3, 4 362 DISCOURSE II. THE MODESTY OF TRUE SCIENCE. " And if any man think that he knoweth any thing, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to know."— 1 Cor. viii. 2 369 DISCOURSE III. ON THE EXTENT OF THE DIVINE CONDESCENSION. " Who is like unto the Lord our God, who dwelleth on high ; Who humbleth himself to be hold the things that are in heaven, and in the earth !" — Psalm cxiii, 5, 6. . . . 377 DISCOURSE IV. ON THE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN'S MORAL HISTORY IN THE DISTANT PLACES OF CREATION. 'Which things the angels desire to look into." — 1 Peter i. 12. .... 383 DISCOURSE V. ON THE SYMPATHY THAT IS FELT FOR MAN IN THE DISTANT PLACES OF CREATION. " I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons which need no repentance." — Luke xv. 7. . . 390 DISCOURSE VI. ON THE CONTEST FOR AN ASCENDENCY OVER MAN, AMONG THE HIGHER ORDERS OF INTELLIGENCE. " And having spoiled principalities and powers, he made a show of them openly, triumphing over them in it."— Col. ii. 15 39g Vlll CONTENTS. DISCOURSE VII. ON THE SLENDER INFLUENCE OF MERE TASTE AND SENSIBILITY IN MATTERS OF RELIGION. " And lo ! thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument; for they hear thy words, but they do them not." — Ezekiel xxxiii. 32. 401 APPENDIX 41C OCCASIONAL SERMONS, &c. SERMON. PREACHED BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR RELIEF OF THE DESTITUTE' SICK. "Blessed is he that considereth the poor; the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble." — Psalm xii. 1 ¦ 176 SERMON. THOUGHTS ON UNIVERSAL PEACE. " Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more." — Isaiah xi. 4 185 AN ADDRESS TO THE INHABITANTS OF THE PARISH OF KILMANY. THE DUTY OF GIVING AN IMMEDIATE DILIGENCE TO THE BUSINESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 194 THE INFLUENCE OF BIBLE SOCIETIES ON THE TEMPORAL NECESSITIES OF THE POOR. 210 SERMON. PREACHED BEFORE THE SOCIETY IN SCOTLAND FOR PROPAGATING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE. " And Nathaniel said unto him, Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth 1 Philip saith unto him, come and see." — John i. 46 221 SERMON. DELIVERED ON THE DAY OF THE FUNERAL OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF WALES. " For when thy judgments are in the earth, the inhabitants of the world will learn right eousness." — Isaiah xxvi. 9 229 SERMON. THE DOCTRINE OF CHRISTIAN CHARITY APPLIED TO THE CASE OF RELIGIOUS DIFFERENCES. " And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye 1 — Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye ; and behold a beam is thine own eye 1 Thou hypocrite ! first cast out the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye."— Matt. vii. 3, 4, 5. . 240 SERMON. ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. " A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast."— Prov. xii. 10. ... 251 SERMONS DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. PREFACE. The doctrine which is most urgently, and most frequently insisted on in the following volume, is that of the depravity of human nature; and it were certainly cruel to expose the unworthiness of man for the single object of disturbing him. But the cruelty is turned into kindness, when, along with the knowledge of the disease, there is offered an adequate and all-powerful remedy. It is impossible to have a true perception of our own character, in the sight of God, without feeling our need of acquittal ; and in opposition to every obstacle, which the justice of God seems to hold out to it, this want is provided for in the Gospel. And it is equally impossible, to have a true perception of the character of God, as being utterly repugnant to sin, without feeling the need of amendment ; and in opposition to every obstacle, which the impotency of man holds out to it, this want is also provided for in the Gospel. There we behold the amplest securities for the peace of the guilty. But there do we also behold securities equally ample for their progress, and their perfection in holiness. Insomuch, that in every genuine disciple of the New Testament, we not only see one who, delivered from the burden of his fears, rejoices in hope of a coming glory — but we see one who, set free from the bondage of corruption, and animated by a new love and a new desire, is honest in the purposes, and strenuous in the efforts, and abundant in the works of obedience. He feels the instigations of sin, and in this respect he differs from an angel. But he follows not the instigations of sin, and in this respect he differs from a natural or unconverted man. He may experience the motions of the flesh — but he walks not after the flesh. So that in him we may view the picture of a man, struggling with effect against his earth-born propensities, and yet hateful to himself for the very existence of them — holier than any of the people around him, and yet humbler than them all — realizing, from time to time, a posi tive increase to the grace and excellency of his character, and yet becoming more tenderly conscious every day of its remaining deformities — gradually expanding in attainment as well as in desire, towards the light and the liberty of heaven, and yet groaning under a yoke from which death alone will fully emancipate him. When time and space have restrained an author of sermons from entering on what may be called the ethics of Christianity, — it is the more incumbent on him to avouch of the doctrine of the gospel, that while it provides directly for the peace of a sinner, it provides no less directly and efficiently for the purity of his practice — that faith in this doctrine never terminates in itself, but is a mean to holi ness as an end — and that he who truly accepts of Christ, as the alone foundation of his meritorious acceptance before God, is stimulated, by the circumstances of his new condition, to breathe holy purposes, and to abound in holy perfoimances. He is created anew unto good works. He is made the workmanshipof God in Christ Jesus. The anxious enforcement of one great lesson on the part of a writer, generally proceeds from the desire to effect a full and adequate conveyance, into the mind of another, of some truth which has filled his own mind, by a sense of its im portance ; and, in offering this volume to the public, the author is far from being insensible to the literary defects that from this cause may be charged upon it. He knows, in particular, that throughout these discourses there is a frequent 12 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. fSERM. recurrence of the same idea, though generally expressed in different language, and with some new speciality, either in its bearing or in its illustration. And he further knows, that the habit of expatiating on one topic may be indulged to such a length, as to satiate the reader, and that, to a degree, far beyond the limits of his forbearance. And yet, if a writer be conscious that, to gain a reception for his favorite doc trine, he must combat with certain elements of opposition, in the taste, or the pride, or the indolence, of those whom he is addressing, this will only serve to make him the more importunate, and so to betray him still farther into the fault of redundancy. If the lesson he is urging be of an intellectual character, he will labour to bring it home, as nearly as possible, to the understanding. If it be a moral lesson, he will labour to bring it home, as nearly as possible, to the heart. It is difficult, and it were hard to say in how far it would be right, to restrain this propensity in the pulpit, where the high matters of salvation are addressed to a multitude of individuals, who bring before the minister every possible variety of taste and of capacity ; and it it no less difficult, when the compositions of the pulpit are transferred to the press, to detach from them a peculiarity by which their whole texture may be pervaded, and thus to free them from what may be counted by many to be the blemish of a very great and characteristic deformity. There is, however, a difference between such truths as are merely of a specu lative nature, and such as are allied with practice and moral feeling ; and much ought to be conceded to this difference. With the former, all repetition may often be superfluous ; with the latter, it may just be by earnest repetition, that their influence comes to be thoroughly established over the mind of an inquirer. And, if so much as one individual be gained over in this way to the cause of righteousness, he is untrue to the spirit and to the obligations of his office, who would not, for the sake of this one, willingly hazard all the rewards, and all the honours of literary estimation. And, if there be one truth which, more than another, should be habitually presented to the notice, and proposed to the conviction of fallen creatures, it is the humbling truth of their own depravity. This is a truth which may be re cognized and read in every exhibition of unrenewed nature ; but it often lurks under a specious disguise, and it is surely of the utmost practical importance to unveil and elicit a principle, which, when admitted into the heart, may be con sidered as the great basis of a sinner's religion. SERMON I. The Necessity of the Spirit to give Effect to the Preaching of the Gospel. 'And my speech, and my preaching, was not with enticing words of man's wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power : that your faith should not stand in the wisdom of man but in the power of God." — 1 Corinthians, ii. 4, 5 Paul, in his second epistle to the Co rinthians has expressed himself to the same effect as in the text, in the following words : " Not that we are sufficient of ourselves to think any thing as of ourselves; but our sufficiency is of God ; who also hath made us able ministers of the New Testament; not of the letter, but of the Spirit." In both these passages, the Apostle points to a speciality in the work of a Christian teacher,— a something essential to its suc cess, and, which is not essential to the pro ficiency of scholars in the ordinary branches of education, — an influence that is beyond the reach of human power and human wis dom ; and to obtain which, immediate re course must be had, in the way of prayer and dependence, to the power of God. With out attempting a full exposition of these dif ferent verses, we shall, first, endeavour to direct your attention to that part of the work of a Christian teacher, which it has in com mon with any other kind of education ; and, secondly, offer a few remarks on the spe ciality that is adverted to in the text. I. And here it must be admitted, that even in the ordinary branches of human learning, the success of the teacher, on the !•] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 13 one hand, and the proficiency of the scho lars on the other, are still dependent on the will of God. It is true, that in this case, we are not so ready to feel our depend ence. God is apt to be overlooked in all those cases where he acts with uniformity. Wherever we see, what we call, tbe opera tion of a law of nature, we are apt to shut our eyes against the operation of his hand, and faith in the constancy of this law, is sure to beget, in the mind, a sentiment of independence on the power and will of the Deity. Now, in the matters of human edu cation, God acts with uniformity. Let there be zeal and ability on the part of the teacher, and an ordinary degree of aptitude on the part of the taught, — and the result of their vigorous and well sustained co-operation may in general be counted upon. Let the parent, who witnesses his son's capacity. and his generous ambition for improvement, send him to a well qualified instructor, and he will be filled with the hopeful sentiment of his future eminence, without any refer ence to God whatever, — without so much as ever thinking of his purpose or of his agency in the matter, or its once occurring to him to make the proficiency of his son the sub ject of prayer. This is the way in which nature, by the constancy of her operations, is made to usurp the place of God : and it goes far to spread, and to establish the de lusion, when we attend to the obvious fact, that a man of the most splendid genius may be destitute of piety ; that he may fill the office of an instructor with the greatest talent and success, and yet be without reverence for God, and practically disown him ; and that thousands of our youth may issue every year warm from the schools of Philosophy, stored with all her lessons, and adorned with all her accomplishments, and yet be utter strangers to the power of godliness, and be filled with an utter distaste and antipathy for its name. All this helps on the practical conviction, that common education is a business, with which prayer and the exercise of depend ence on God, have no concern. It is true that a Christian parent will see through the vanity of this delusion. Instructed to make his requests known unto God in all things, he will not depose him from the supremacy of his power and of his government over this one thing, — he will commit to God the progress of his son in every one branch of education he may put him to, — and, know ing that the talent of every teacher, and the continuance of his zeal, and his powers of communication, and his faculty of interest ing the attention of his pupils, — that all these are the gifts of God, and may be with drawn by him at pleasure, — he will not suf fer the regular march and movement of what is visible or created to cast him out of his dependence on the Creator. He will see that everyone element which enters into the business of education, and conspires to the result of an accomplish!*! and a well- informed scholar, is in the hand of theDeity, and he will pray for the continuation of these elements, — and while science is raising her wondrous monuments, and drawing the admiration of the world after her, — it re mains to be seen, on the day of the revela tion of hidden things, whether the prayers of the humble and derided Christian, for a blessing on those to whom he has confided the object of his tenderness, have not sus tained the vigour and brilliancy of those very talents on which the world is lavishing the idolatry of her praise. Let us now conceive the very ablest of these teachers, to bring all his powers and all his accomplishments, to bear on the sub ject of Christianity. Has he skill in the languages? The very same process by which he gets at the meaning of any ancient author, carries him to a fair and faithful ren dering of the scriptures of the Old and New Testament. Has he a mind enlightened and exercised on questions of erudition 1 The very same principles which qualify him to decide on the genuineness of any old publication, enable him to demonstrate the genuineness of the Bible, and how fully sustained it is on the evidence of history. Has he that sagacity and comprehension of talent, by which he can seize on the leading principles which run through the writings of some eminent philosopher? This very ex ercise may be gone through on the writings of Inspiration ; and the man, who, with the works of Aristotle before him can present the world with the best system or summary of his principles, might transfer these very pow ers to the works of the Apostles and Evan gelists, and present the world with a just and interesting survey of the doctrines of our faith. And thus it is, that the man who might stand the highest of his fellows in the field of ordinary scholarship, might turn his entire mind to the field of Christianity ; and, by the very same kind of talent, which would have made him the most eminent of all the philosophers, he might come to be counted the most eminent of all the theolo gians ; and he who could have reared to his fame some monument of literary genius might now, by the labours of his midnigh oil, rear some beauteous and consistent fabric of orthodoxy, strengthened, in all its parts, by one unbroken chain of reasoning, and recommended throughout by the powers of a persuasive and captivating eloquence. So much for the talents which a Christian teacher may employ, in common with other teachers, and even though they did make up all the qualifications necessary for his office, there would still be a call, as we said before, for the exercise of dependence upon God. Well do we know, that both he and his hearers would be apt to put their faith 14 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. in the uniformity of nature ; and forgetting that it is the inspiration of the Almightv which giveth and preserveth the understand ing of all his creatures, might be tempted to repose that confidence in man, which dis places God from the sovereignty that belongs to him. But what we wish to prepare you for, by the preceding observations, is, that you may understand the altogether pe.culiar call, that there is for dependence on God in the case of a Christian teacher. We have made a short enumeration of those talents which a teacher of Christianity might possess, in common with other teachers ; but it is for the purpose of proving that he might pos sess them all, and heightened to such a de gree, if you will, as would have made him illustrious on any other field, and yet be ut terly destitute of powers for acquiring him self, or of experience for teaching others, that knowledge of God and of Jesus Christ which is life everlasting. With the many brilliant and imposing things which he may have, there is one thing which he may not have, and the want of that one thing may form an invincible barrier to his usefulness in the vineyard of Christ. If, conscious that he wants it, he seeks to obtain from God the sufficiency which is not in himself, then he is in a likely way of being put in possession of that power, which alone is mighty to the pulling down of strong holds. But if he, on the one hand, proudly conceiving thc sufficiency to be in himself, enters with aspiring confidence into the field of argument, and think that he is to carry all before him, by a series of invin cible demonstration; or, if his people, on the other hand, ever ready to be set in mo tion by the idle impulse of novelty, or to be seduced by the glare of human accomplish ments, come in trooping multitudes around him, and hang on the eloquence of his lips, or the wisdom of his able and profound un derstanding, a more unchristian attitude cannot be conceived, nor shall we venture to compute the weekly accumulation of guilt which may come upon the parties, when such a business as this is going on. How little must the presence of God be felt in that place where the high functions of the pulpit are degraded into a stipulated ex change of entertainment on the one side, and of admiration on the other; and surely it were a sight to make angels weep when a weak and vapouring mortal, surrounded by his fellow sinners, and hastening to the grave and the judgment along with them, finds it a dearer object to his bosom, to regale his hearers by the exhibition of himself, than to do in plain earnest thn work of his Mas ter, and urge on the business of repentance and of faith by the impressive simplicities of the Gospel. II. This brings us to the second head of discourse, under which we shall attempt to give ynu a clear view of what that is which constitutes a speciality in the work of a Christian teacher. And to carry you at once by a few plain instances to the matter we are aiming to impress upon you, let us suppose a man to take up his Bible, and with the same powers of attention and un derstanding which enable him to compre hend the subject of any other book, there is much in this book also which he will be able to perceive and to talk of intelligently. Thus, for example, he may come, by the mere exercise of his ordinary powers, to understand that it is the Holy Spirit which taketh of the things of Christ and showeth them to the mind of man. But is not his understanding of this truth, as it is put down in the plain language of the New Testament, a very different thing from the Holy Spirit actually taking of these things and showing them unto him ? Again, he will' be able to say, and to annex a plain mean ing to what he says, that man is rescued from his natural darkness about the things of God, by God who created the light out of darkness shining in his heart, and giving him the light of the knowledge of his glory in the face of Jesus Christ. But is not his saying this, and understanding this, by tak ing up these words in the same obvious way in which any man of plain and honest understanding would do, a very different thing from God actually putting forth his creative energy upon him, and actually shining upon his heart, and giving him that light and that knowledge which are ex pressed in the passage here alluded to? Again, by the very same exercise where with he renders the sentence of an old au thor into his own language, and perceives the meaning of that sentence, will he annex a meaning to the following sentence of the Bible — " the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him ; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discern ed." By the mere dint of that shrewdness and sagacity with which nature has en dowed him, he will perceive a meaning here which you will readily acknowledge could not be perceived by a man in a state of idiotism. In the case of the idiot, there is a complete barrier agajnst his ever ac quiring that conception of the meaning of this passage, which is quite competent to a man of a strong and accomplished under standing. For the sake of illustration, we may conceive this poor outcast from the common light of humanity, in some unac countable fit of attention, listening to the sound of these words, and making some strenuous but abortive attempts to arrive at the same comprehension of them with a man whose reason is entire. But he can not shake off the fetters which the hand of nature has laid upon his understanding I] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 15 and he goes back again to the dimness and delirium of his unhappy situation ; and his mind locks itself up in the prison-hold of its confined and darkened faculties ; and if, in his mysterious state of existence, he formed any conception whatever of the words now uttered in your hearing, we may rest assured that it stands distinguished by a wide and impassable chasm, from the conception of him, who has all the com mon powers and perceptions of the species. Now, we would ask what kind of con ception is that which a man of entire facul ties may form ? Only grant us the unde niable truth, that he may understand how he cannot discern the things of the Spirit, unless the Spirit reveal them to him ; and yet with this understanding, he may not be one of those in behalf of whom the Spirit hath actually interposed with his peculiar office of revelation ; and then you bring into view another barrier, no less insur mountable than that which fixes an immu table distinction between the conceptions of an idiot and of a man of sense, — even that wonderful barrier which separates the natural from the spiritual man. You can conceive him struggling with every power which nature has given him to work his way through this barrier. You can con ceive him vainly attempting, by some en ergies of his own, to force an entrance into that field of light where every object of faith has the bright colouring of reality thrown over it, — where he can command a clear view of the things of eternity, — where spiritual truth comes home with effect upon his every feeling and his every conviction, — where he can expatiate at freedom over a scene of manifestation, which the world knoweth not, — and breathe such a peace, and such a joy, and such a holiness, and such a superiority to time, and such a de- votedness of all his affections to the things which are above, as no man of the highest natural wisdom can ever reach with all his attention to the Bible, and all the efforts of his sagacity, however painful, to unravel, and to compare and to comprehend its pas sages. And it is indeed a deeply interest ing object to see a man of powerful under standing thus visited with an earnest desire after the light of the gospel, and toiling at the entrance with all the energies which belong to him, — pressing into the service all the resources of argument and philoso phy, — mustering to the high enterprise, his attention, and his conception, and his rea son, and his imagination, and the whole host of his other faculties, on which science has conferred her imposing names, and laid before us in such a pompous catalogue, as might tempt us to believe, that man, by one mighty grasp of his creative mind, can make all truth his own, and range at plea sure over the wide variety of her domin ions. How natural to think that the same powers and habits of investigation which carried him to so respectable a height in the natural sciences will enable him to clear his way through all the darkness of the ology. It is well that he is seeking, — for if he persevere and be in earnest, he will obtain an interest in the promise, and will at length find ; — but not till he find, in the progress of those inquiries on which he en tered with so much alacrity, and prosecuted with so much confidence, that there is a barrier between him and the spiritual dis cernment of his Bible, which all the powers of philosophy cannot scale, — not till he find, that he must cast down his lofty imagina tions, and put the pride of all his powers and his pretensions away from him, — not till he find, that, divested of those fancies which deluded his heart into a feeling of its own sufficiency, he must become like a little child, or one of those babes to whom God reveals the things which he hides from the wise and from the prudent,- — not till he find, that the attitude of self-dependence must be broken down, and he be brought fo acknow ledge that the light he is aspiring after, is not created by himself, but must be made to shine upon him at the pleasure of an other, — not in short, till, humbled by the mortifying experience that many a simple cottager who reads his Bible and loves his Saviour has got before him, he puts himself on a level with the most illiterate of them all, and prays that light and truth may beam on his darkened understanding from the sanctuary of God. "We read of the letter, and we read also of the spirit, of the New Testament. It would require a volume, rather than a sin gle paragraph of a single sermon, to draw the line between the one and the other. But you will readily acknowledge that there are many things of this book which a man, though untaught by the Spirit of God, may be made to know. One of the simplest in stances is, he may learn the number of chapters in every book, and the number of verses in every chapter. But is this all? No, — for by the natural exercise of his me mory he may be able to master all its his torical information. And is this all? No, for by the natural exercise of his judgment he may compare scripture with scripture, — he may learn what its doctrines are, — he may demonstrate the orthodoxy of every one article in our national confession,— he may rank among the ablest and most judi cious of the commentators, — he may read, and with understanding, too, many a pon derous volume, — he may store himself with the learning of many generations, — he may be familiar with all the systems, and have mingled with all the controversies, — and yet, with a mind supporting as it does the burden of the erudition of whole libraries, 16 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. he may have gotten to himself no other wisdom than the wisdom of the letter of the New Testament. The man's creed, with all -its arranged and its well weighed arti cles, may be no better than the dry bones in the vision of Ezekiel, put together into a skeleton, and fastened with sinews, and covered with flesh and skin, and exhibiting to the eye of the spectators, the aspect, and the lineaments of a man, but without breath, and remaining so, till the Spirit of God breathed into it, and it lived. And it is in truth a sight of wonder, to behold a man who has carried his knowledge of scripture as far as the wisdom of man can carry it, — to see him blest with all the light which nature can give, but labouring under all the darkness which no power of nature can dispel, — to see this man of many ac complishments, who can bring his every power of demonstration to bear upon the Bible, carrying in his bosom a heart un- cheered by any one of its consolations, un moved by the influence of any one of its truths, unshaken out of any one attachment to the world, and an utter stranger to those high resolves, and the power of those great and animating prospects, which shed a glory over the daily walk of a believer, and give to every one of his doings the high charac ter of a candidate for eternity. We are quite aware of the doubts which this is calculated to excite in the mind of the hearer, — nor is it possible within the compass of an hour to stop and satisfy them all ; or to come to a timely conclusion, with out leaving a number of unresolved ques tions behind us. There is one, however, which we cannot pass without observation. Does not this doctrine of a revelation of the Spirit, it may be asked, additional to the revelation of the word, open a door to the most unbridled variety? May it not give a sanction to any conceptions of any visionary pretenders, and clothe in all the authority of inspira tion a set of doctrines not to be found within the compass of the written record ? Does it not set aside the usefulness of the Bible, and break in upon the unity and consis tency of revealed truth, by letting loose upon the world a succession of fancies, as endless and as variable as are the caprices of the human imagination ? All very true, did we ever pretend that the office of the Spirit was to reveal any thing additional to the information, whether in the way of doc trine or of duty, which the Bible sets before us. But his office, as defined by the Bible itself, is not to make known to us any truths which are not, contained in the Bible; but to make clear to our understandings the truths which are contained in it. He opens our understandings to understand the Scrip tures. The word of God is called the sword of the Spirit. It is the instrument by which the Spirit worketh. He does not tell us any thing that is out of the record ; but all that is within it he sends home; with clearness and effect, upon the mind. He does not make us wise above that which is written ; but he makes us wise, up to that which is written. When a telescope is directed to some distant landscape, it enables us to see what we could not otherwise have seen; but it does not enable us to see any thing which has not a real existence in the pros pect before us. It does not present to the eye any delusive imagery, — neither is that a fanciful and fictitious scene which it throws open to our contemplation. The natural eye saw nothing but blue land stretching along the distant horizon. By the aid of the glass, there bursts upon it a charming variety of fi Ids, and woods, and spires, and villages. Yet who would say that the glass added one feature to this assemblage ? It discovers nothing to us which is not there; nor, out of that portion of the book of na ture which we are employed in contem plating, does it bring into view a single character which is not really and previously inscribed upon it. And so of the Spirit. He does not add a single truth, or a single character, to the book of revelation. He enables the spiritual man to see what the natural man cannot see; but the spectacle which he lays open is uniform and immu table. It is the word of God which is ever the same ; — and he, whom the Spirit of God has enabled to look to the Bible with a clear and affecting discernment, sees no phantom passing before him ; but amid all the vision ary extravagance with which he is charged, can, for every one article of his faith, and every one duty of his practice, make his triumphant appeal to the law and to the testimony. We trust that this may be made clear by one example. We have not to travel out of the record for the purpose of having this truth made known to us, — that God is every where present. It meets the obser vation of the natural man in his reading of the Bible ; and he understands, or thinks he understands, the terms in which it is delivered ; and he can speak of it with con sistency; and he ranks it with the other attributes of God ; and he gives it an avowed and formal admission among the articles of his creed ; and yet, with all this parade of light and knowledge, he, upon the sub ject of the all-seeing and ever-present Deity, labours under all the obstinacy of an habit ual blindness. Carry him abroad, and you will find that the light which beams upon his senses, from the object of sight, com pletely overpowers that light which ought to beam upon his spirit, from this object of faith. He may occasionally think of it as he does of other things ; but for every one practical purpose the thought abah- I-J DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 17 dons him, so soon as he goes into the next company or takes a part in the next worldly concern, which, in the course of his business, comes round to him. It com pletely disappears as an element of conduct, and he talks, and thinks, and reasons just as he would have done, had his mind, in reference to God, been in a state of entire darkness. If any thing like a right con ception of the matter ever exist in his heart, the din and the day light of the world drive it all away from him. Now, to recti fy this case, it is surely not necessary, that the Spirit add an}' thing to the truth of God's omnipresence, as it is put down in the written record. It will be enough, that he gives to the mind upon which he ope rates, a steady and enduring impression of this truth. Now, this is one part of his office, and accordingly it is said of the unc tion of the Spirit, that it is an unction which remaineth. Neither is it necessary that the light, which he communicates, should con sist in any vision which he gives to the eye, or in any bright impression upon the fancy, of any one thing not to be found within the pages of the Bible. It will be enough if he give a clear and vigorous ap prehension of the truth, just as it is written, to the understanding. Though the Spirit should do no more than give vivacity and effect to the truth of the constancy of God's presence, just as it stands in the written record — this will be quite enough to make the man who is under its influence carry an habitual sense of God about with him, think of him in the shop and in the market place, walk with him all the day long, and feel the same moral restraint upon his doings, as if some visible superior, whose virtues he revered, and whose approbation he longed after, haunted his every footstep, and kept an attentive eye fastened upon the whole course of his history. The natu ral man may have sense, and he may have sagacity, and a readiness withal to admit the constancy of God's presence, as an un deniable doctrine of the Bible. But to the power of this truth he is dead ; and it is only to the power of this world's interests and pleasures that he is alive. The spiritual man is the reverse of all this, and that without carrying his conceptions a single hair breadth beyond the communications of the written message. He makes no pre tensions to wisdom by one jot or one tittle beyond the testimony of Scripture, and yet, after all, he lives under a revelation to which the other is a stranger. It does not carry him by a single footstep without the field of the written revelation, but it throws a radiance over every object within it. It furnishes him with a constant light which enables him to withstand the domineering influence of sight and of sense. He dies unto the world, he lives unto God, — and the reason is, that there rests upon him a peculiar manifestation, by which the truth is made visible to the eye of his mind, and a peculiar energy, by which it comes home upon his conscience. And if you come to inquire into the cause of this speciality, it is the language of the Bible, confirmed, as we believe it to be, by the soundest experience, that every power which nature has con ferred upon man, exalted to its highest measure, and called forth to its most stren uous exercise is not able to accomplish it, — that it is due to a power above nature, and beyond it ; that it is due to what the Apostle calls the demonstration of the Spirit, — a de monstration withheld from the self-suffi cient exertions of man, and given to his be lieving prayers. And here we are reminded of an instruc tive passage in the life of one of our earliest and most eminent reformers. When thelight of divine truth broke in upon his heart, it was so new and so delightful to one form erly darkened by the errors of popery, — he saw such a power and such an evidence along with it, — he was so ravished by its beauties, and so carried along by its resist less arguments, that he felt as if he had nothing to do, but to brandish those mighty weapons, that he might gain all hearts and carry every thing before him. But he did not calculate on the stubborn resistance of corrupt human nature, to him and to his reasonings. He preached and he argued, and he put forth all his powers of eloquence amongst them. But mortified that so many hearts remained hardened, that so many hearers resisted him, that the doors of so many hearts were kept shut in spite of all loud and repeated warnings, that so many souls remained unsubdued, and dead iD trespasses and sins, he was heard to ex claim that old Adam was too strong for young Melancthon. There is the malignity of the fall which adheres to us. There is a power of cor ruption and of blindness along with it, which it is beyond the compass of human means to overthrow. There is a dark and settled depravity in the human character, which maintains its gloomy and obstinate resistance to all our warnings and all our arguments. There is a spirit working in the children of disobedience which no power of human eloquence can lay. There is a covering of thick darkness upon the face of all people, a mighty influence abroad upon the world, with which the Prince of the power of the air keeps his thousands and his tens of thousands under him. The minister who enters into this field of con flict may have zeal, and talents, and elo quence. His heart may be smitten with the love of the truth, and his mind be fully fraught with its arguments. Thus armed, he may come forth among his people, 18 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. SERM flushed with the mighty enterprise of turn ing soids from the dominion of Satan unto God. In all the hope of victory he may discharge the weapons of his warfare among them. Week after week, he may reason with them out of tbe Scriptures. Sabbath after Sabbath he may declaim, he may de monstrate, he may put forth every expe dient, he may at one time set in array be fore them the terrors of the law, at another he may try to win them by the free offer of the Gospel ; and, in the proud confidence of success, he may think that nothing can withstand him, and that the heart of every hearer must give way before the ardour of his zeal and the power of his invincible arguments. Yes; they may admire him, and they may follow him, but the question we have to ask is, will they be converted by him ? They may even go so far as to allow that it is all very true he says. He may be their favourite preacher, and when he opens his exhortations upon them, there may be a deep and a solemn attention in every countenance. But how is the heart coming on all the while? How do those people live, and what evidence are they giving of being born again under the power of his ministry ? It is not enough to be told of those momentary convictions which flash from the pulpit, and carry a thrilling influ ence along with them through the hearts of listening admirers. Have these hearers of the word, become the doers of the word? Have they sunk down into the character of humble, and sanctified, and penitent, and pains-taking Christians ? Where, where is the fruit? And while the preaching of Christ is all their joy, has the will of Christ become all their directions ? Alas, he may look around him, and at the end of the year, after all the tumults of a sounding popularity, he may find the great bulk of them just where they were, — as listless and uncon cerned about the things of eternity, — as ob stinately alienated from God, — as firmly devoted to selfish and transitory interests, — as exclusively set upon the farm, and the money, and the merchandize, — and, with the covering of many external decencies, to make them as fair and plausible as their neighbours around them, proving by a heart given, with the whole tide of its affections, to the vanities of the world, that they have their full share of the wickedness which abounds in it. After all his sermons, and all his loud and passionate addresses, he finds that the power of darkness still keeps its ground among them. He is grieved to learn that all he has said, has had no more effect, than the foolish and the feeble lisp- ings of infancy. He is overwhelmed by a sense of his own helplessness, and the lesson is a wholesome one. It makes him feel that the sufficiency is not in him, but in God ; it makes him understand that another power must be brought to bear upon the mass of resistance which is before him ; and let the man of confident and aspiring genius, who thought he was to assail the dark seats of human corruption, and to carry them by storm, let him be reduced in mortified and dependent humbleness to the expedient of the Apostle, let him crave the intercessions of his people, and throw himself upon their prayers. Let us now bring the whole matter to a practical conclusion. For the acquirement of a saving and spiritual knowledge of the gospel, you are on the one hand, to put forth all your ordinary powers, in the very same way that you do for the acquirement of knowledge in any of the ordinary branches of human learning. But in the act of doing so, you, on the other hand, are to proceed on a profound impression of the utter fruit lessness of all your endeavours, unless God meet them by the manifestations of his Spirit. In other words, you are to read your Bible, and to bring your faculties of attention, and understanding, and memory, to the exercise, just as strenuously as if these and these alone could conduct you to the light after which you are aspiring. Bui you are at the same time to pray as earn estly for this object, as if God accomplished it without your exertions at all, instead of accomplishing it in the way he actually does, by your exertions. It is when youi eyes are turned toward the book of God's testimony, and not when your eyes are turned away from it. that he fulfils upon you the petition of the Psalmist, — " Lord, do thou open mine eyes, that I may behold the wondrous things contained in thy law." You are not to exercise your faculties in searching after truth without prayer, else God will withhold from you his illuminating influences. And you are not to pray for truth. without exercising your faculties, else God will reject your prayers, as the mockery of a hypocrite. But you are to do both, and this is in harmony with the whole style of a Christian's obedience, who is as strenuous in doing as if his doings were to accomplish all, and as fervent in prayer, as if without the inspiring energy of God, all his doings were vanity and feebleness. And the great Apostle may be quoted as the best exam ple of this observation. There never existed a man more active than Paul, in the work of the Christian ministry. ^How great the weight and the va riety of hfs labours ! What preaching, what travelling, what writing of letters, what daily struggling with difficulties, what constant exercise of thought in watching over the Churches, what a world of perplexity in his dealings with men, and in the hard dealings of men with him ; and were they friends or were they enemies, how his mind be hooved to be ever on the alert, in counsel !•] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 19 ling the one and warding off the hostility of the other. Look to all that is visible in the life of this Apostle, and you see nothing but bustle, and enterprise, and vareity. You see a man intent on the fur therance of some great object, and in the prosecution of it, as ever diligent, and as ever doing, as if the whole burden of it lay upon himself, or as if it were reserved for the strength of his solitary arm to ac complish it. To this object he conse crated every moment of his time, and even when he set him down to the work of a tent-maker, for the sake of vindicating the purity of his intentions, and holding forth an example of honest independence to the poorer brethren ; even here, you just see another display of the one principle which possessed his whole heart, and gave such a character of wondrous activity to all the days of his earthly pilgrimage. There are some, who are so far misled by a kind of perverse theology which they have adopted, as to hesitate about the lawfulness of being di ligent and doing in the use of means. While they are slumbering over their speculation, and proving how honestly they put faith in it by doing nothing, let us be guided by the example of the pains-taking and indus trious Paul, and remember, that never since the days of this Apostle, who calls upon us to be followers of him, even as he was of Christ, — never wrere the labours of human exertion more faithfully rendered, — never were the workings of a human instrument put forth with greater energy. But it forms a still more striking part of the example of Paul, that while he did as much toward the extension of the Chris tian faith, as if the whole success of the cause depended upon his doing, — he prayed as much, and as fervently for this object, as if all his doings were of no consequence. A fine testimony to the supremacy of God, from the man, who, in labours was more abundant than any that ever come after him, that he counted all as nothing, unless God would interfere to put his blessings upon all, and to give his efficacy to all ! He who looked so busy, and whose hand was so constantly engaged, in the work that was before him, looked for all his success to that help which cometh from the sanc tuary of God. There was his eye directed. Thence alone did he expect a blessing upon his endeavours. He wrought, and that with diligence too, because God bade him ; but he also prayed, and that with equal dili gence, because God had revealed to him, that plant as he may, and water as he may, God alone giveth the increase. He did ho mage to the will of God, by the labours of the ever-working minister,— and he did ho mage to the power of God, by the devotions of the ever-praying minister. He did not say, what signifies my working, for God R alone can work with effect 1 This is very true, but God chooses to work by instru ments, — and Paul, by the question, " Lord what wilt thou have me to do ?" expressed his readiness to be an instrument in his hand. Neither did he say, what signifies my praying, for I have got a work here to do, and it is enough that I be diligent in the performance of it. No— for the power of God must be acknowledged, and a sense of his power must mingle with all our per formances; and therefore it is that the Apostle kept both working and praying, and with him they formed two distinct emana tions of the same principle ; and while there are many who make these Christian graces to neutralize each other, the judicious and the clear-sighted Paul, who had received the spirit of a sound mind, could give his unembarrassed vigour to both these exer cises, and combine, in his own example, the utmost diligence in doing, with the utmost dependence on him who can alone give to that doing all its fruit and aH its efficacy. The union of these two graces has at times been finely exemplified in the latter, and uninspired ages of the Christian Church: and the case of the missionary Elliot is the first, and the most impressive that occurs to us. His labours, like those of the great Apostle, were directed to the extension of the vineyard of Christ, — and he was among the very first who put forth his hand to the breaking up the Ameri can wilderness. For this purpose did he set himself down to the acquirement of a harsh and barbarous language ; and he be came qualified to confer with savages ; and he grappled for years with their untracta- ble humours ; and he collected these wan derers into villages ; and while other re formers have ennobled their names by the formation of a new set of public laws, did he take upon him the far more arduous task of creating for his untamed Indians, a new set of domestic habits ; and such was the power of his influence that he carried his christianizing system into the very bosom of their families ; and he spread art, and learning, and civilization amongst them ; and to his visible labours among his people he added the labours of the closet ; and he translated the whole Bible into their tongue; and he set up a regular provision for the education of their children ; and lest the spectator who saw his fourteen towns risen as by enchantment in the desert, and peo pled by the rudest of his tribes, should ask in vain for the mighty power by which such wondrous things had been brought to pass, — this venerable priest left his testi mony behind him ; and neither overlooking the agency of God, nor the agency of man as the instrument of God, he tells us in the one memorable sentence written by him- 20 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. self at the end of his Indian grammar, that " prayers and pains through faith in Christ Jesus can do any thing." The last inference we shall draw from this topic, is the duty and importance of prayer among Christians, for the success of the ministry of the Gospel. Paul had a high sense of the efficacy of prayer. Not ac cording to that refined view of it, which, making all its influence to consist in its im proving and moralizing effect upon the mind, fritters down to nothing the plain import and significancy of this ordinance. With him it was a matter of asking and of receiving. And just as when in pursuit of some earthly benefit which is at the giving of another, you think yourselves surer of your object the more you multiply the number of askers and the number of appli cations — in this very way did he, if we may be allowed the expression, contrive to strengthen and extend his interest in the court of heaven. He craved the interces sion of his people. There were many be lievers formed under his ministry, and each of these could bring the prayer of faith to bear upon the counsels of God, and bring down a larger portion of strength and of fitness to rest on the Apostle for making more believers. It was a kind of creative or accumulating process. After he had travelled in birth with his new converts till Christ was formed in them — this was the use he put them to. It is an expedient which harmonizes with the methods of Pro vidence and the will of God, who orders in tercessions, and on the very principle too, that he willeth all men to be saved, and to come to the knowledge of the truth. The intercession of christians, who are already formed, is the leaven which is to leaven the whole earth with Christianity. It is one of the destined instruments in the hand of God for hastening the glory of the latter days. Take the world at large, and the doctrine of intercession, as an engine of mighty power, is derided as one of the re veries of fanaticism. This is a subject on which the men of the world are in a deep slumber ; but there are watchmen who never hold their peace day nor night, and to them God addresses these remarkable words, " Ye that make mention of the Lord, keep not silence, and give him no rest, till he establish, and till he make Jem salem a praise in the earth." SERMON II. The mysterious Aspect of the Gospel to the Men of the TVorld " Then said I, Ah, Lord God ! they say of me, Doth he not speak parables ?" — Ezekiel xx. 49. In parables, the lesson that is meant to be conveyed is to a certain degree shaded in obscurity. They are associated by the Psalmist with dark sayings — " I will open my mouth in a parable, I will utter dark sayings of old." We read in the New Tes tament of a parable leaving all the effect of an unexplauied mystery upon the under standing of the general audience to which it was addressed ; and the explanation of the parable given to a special few was to them the clearing up of a mystery. "It is given unto you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven; but to them it is not given !" The prophets of old were often commis sioned to address their countrymen under the guise of symbolical language. This threw a veil over the meaning of their com munications ; and though it was, a veil of such transparency as could be seen through by those who looked earnestly and atten tively, and with a humble desire to be taught in the will of God, — yet there was dimness enough to intercept all the moral, and all the significancy, from the minds of those who wanted principle to be in earnest; or who wanted patience for the exercise, of attention; or who wanted such a concern about God, a»' either to care very much for his will, or to feel that any thing which re spected him was worth the trouble of a very serious investigation. They who wanted this concern and this principle, from them was taken away even that which they had. God at length ceased from his messages, and the Spirit of God ceased from his warnings. They who had the preparation of all this docility, to them more was given. Their honest desire after knowledge, was rewarded by the acquire ment of it. They continued to look, and to enquire, and at length they were illumi nated ; and thus was fulfilled the saying of the Saviour, that " whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundantly, — but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even ihat he hath." It is not difficult to conceive how the ob scure intimations of Ezekiel would be taken by the careless and ungodly men of his generation. It is likely that even from the naked denunciations of vengeance they would have turned contemptuously away. II.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 21 And it is still more likely that they would refuse the impression of them, when offered to their notice, under a figurative disguise. It is not at all to be supposed that they would put forth any activity of mind in quest of that which they nauseated, and of that which, if ever they had found, they would have found to be utterly revolting to all their habits of impiety. They are the very last men we should expect to meet with at the work of a pains-taking search after the interpretation of these parables. Nay, they would gladly fasten upon the obscurity of them both as a circumstance of reproach against the prophet, and as an apology for their own indifference. And thus it is, that to be a teacher of parables might at length become a scoff and a by-word ; and the pro phet seems to have felt the force of it as an opprobrious designation, seems to be looking forward to the mixture of disdain and impa tience with which he would be listened to, when God charged him with an allegorical communication to his countrymen, and he answered, " Ah, Lord God ! they say of me, Doth he not speak parables ?" Now the question we have to put is — Is there no similar plea of resistance ever pre ferred against the faithful messengers of God in the present day? It is true, that in our time there is no such thing as a man coming amongst you, charged with the ut terance of a direct and personal inspiration. But it is the business of every minister truly to expound the record of inspiration ; and is it not very possible that in so doing he may be reproached, not for preaching para- bolically, but for preaching mysteriously ? Have you never heard of a sermon being called mystical ; and what shall we think of it, if, in point of fact, this imputation falls most readily and most abundantly on the sermon that is most pervaded by the spirit, and most overrun with the phraseology of the New Testament? In that composition there are certain terms which recur inces santly, and which would therefore appear to represent certain very leading and promi nent ideas. Now, whether are these ideas clearly and promptly suggested to your mind, by the utterance of terms ? What are the general character and effect which in your eye is imparted to a sermon, when, throughout the whole of it, the words of the apostolic vocabulary are ever and anon ob truded upon your hearing — and the whole stress of the argument is made to lie on such matters as sanctification; and the atonement ; and the blood of the everlasting covenant ; and the indwelling of the Holy Ghost, who takes up his habitation in the soul of the believer ; and salvation by grace ; and the spirit of adoption poured forth on the heart, and filling it with all the peace and joy of a confident reconciliation; and the exercise of fellowship with the Father, and the Son ; and the process of growing up unto Christ ; and the habit of receiving out of his fulness, and of beholding with open face his glory, so as to be changed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the spirit of the Lord. We are not at present asking, if you feel the disgust with which unsubdued nature ever listens to these representations, or in what degree they are offensive to your taste, and pain fully uncongenial with the whole style and habit of your literature. But we ask, if such terms and such phrases as have now been specified, do not spread before the eye of your mind an aspect of exceeding dim ness over the preacher's demonstration ? Does he not appear to you as if he wrapped himself up in the obscurity of a technical language, which you are utterly at a loss to comprehend ? When the sermon in ques tion is put by the side of some lesson of obvious morality, or some exposition of those principles which are recognized and acted upon in ordinary life, does it not look to you as if it was shrouded from common observation altogether; and that ere you could be initiated into the mystery of such language and of such doctrine, you would need to describe a mighty and still untrod den interval from all your present habits of conception ? And yet, what if it be indeed the very language and the very doctrine of the New Testament? — if all the jargon that is charged on the interpretation of the word be the actual word itself? — and if the preacher be faithfully conveying the mes sage of the Bible, at the very time that the hearer is shielding himself from the impres sion of it by the saying, that he preacheth mysteries ? But to keep the two parties at a still more hopeless distance from each other, — the message of such a preacher, incomprehen sible as many of its terms and many of its particulars may be, evidently bears a some thing upon it that is fitted to alarm the fears, and utterly to thwart the strongest tendencies of nature. Let him be just a faithful expounder of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and let the blindness of the natural man be what it may, still there is scarcely a hearer who can fail to perceive, that, an terior to the reception of this Gospel, th preacher looks upon him as the enemy ol God, — and strongly points at such a con troversy between him and his maker, as can only be made up through an appointed Mediator — and requires of him such a faith as will transform his character, and as will shift the whole currency of his affections and desires — and affirms the necessity of such a regeneration, as that all old things shall be done away, and all things shall be come new ; — and lets him know, that to be a Christian indeed he must die unto sense, he must be crucified unto the world, and, 22 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. renouncing its charms and its predilections, must learn to have his conversation in hea ven, and to choose God as the strength of his heart and his portion for evermore. All this flashes plainly and significantly enough, through that veil of mysticism which ap pears to overspread the general doctrine of the preacher; and imparts a forbidding cha racter to it in the eyes of those to whom we are alluding ; and they will be glad of any pretence to shun a painful and a re volting contemplation ; and they will com plain of him on the very ground on which the Jews of old complained of Ezekiel, as a dealer in parables — and while much of their antipathy is founded upon his being so strict and so spiritual, and so unaccom modating to the general tone of society, one of the charges which will be most fre quently and most loudly preferred against him, is, that he is so very mysterious. In the prosecution of the following dis course, we shall endeavour in the first place to state shortly the ground on which the religion of the New Testament looks so mysterious a thing to the men of the world, and then conclude with a short practical remonstrance upon this subject. I. There are certain experiences of hu man life so oft repeated, and so familiar to all our recollections, that when we per ceive, or think we perceive, an analogy be tween them and the matters of religion, then religion does not appear to us to be mysterious. There is not a more familiar exhibition in society than that of a servant who performs his allotted work,- and who obtains his. stipulated reward — and we are all servants, and one is our master, even God. There is nothing more common than that a son should acquit himself to the satis faction of his parents, — and we are all the children of an universal parent, whom it is our part to please in all things. Even when that son falls under displeasure, and is either visited with compunction or made to re ceive the chastisement of his disobedience, there is nothing more common than to witness the relentings of an earthly father, and the readiness with which forgiveness is awarded on the repentance and sorrow of the offender, — and we, in like manner, liable to err from the pure law of heaven, have surely a kind and indulgent Father to deal with. And, lastly, there is nothing more common than that the loyalty of a zealous and patriotic subject should be rewarded by the patronage, or at least by the protection of the civil magistrate,— and that an act of transgression against the laws should be visited by an act of vengeance on the part of him who is a terror to evil-doers, while a praise to such as do well. And thus it is, too, that we are under a lawgiver in heaven who is able both to save and to destroy. Now so long as the work of rijigious in struction can be upheld by such anahgies as these,— so long as the relations of civil or of domestic society can be employed to illustrate the relation between God and the creatures whom he has formed, — so long as the recollections of daily experience can thus be applied to the method of the divine administration,— a vein of perspicuity will appear to run through the clear and rational exposition of him who has put all the mist and all the technicals of an obscure theo logy away from him. All his lessons will run in an easy and direct train. Nor do we see how it is possible to be bewildered amongst such explanations, as are sug gested by the most ordinary doings and concerns of human society ; — and did the preacher only confine himself to such doc trine, as that God rewards the upright, and punishes the rebellious, and upon the im pulse of that compassion which belongs to him, takes again the penitent into accept ance, and in the great day of remuneration, will give unto every man according to his works, — did he only confine himself to truths so palpable, and build upon it appli cations so obvious, as just to urge us to the performance of duty by the promised re ward, and deter us from the infraction of it by the severities of the threatened punish ment, and call us to reformation by affec tionately pleading with us the mercies of God, and warn us with all his force and all his fidelity, that should we persist in ob stinate impenitence we shall be cut off from happiness for ever, — there might be some thing to terrify, — but there would at least be nothing to darken or to perplex us in these interpretations — nothing that would not meet common intelligence, and be helped forward by all the analogies of common ob servation, — and should this therefore prove the great burden of the preacher's demon stration, we should be the last to reproach him, as a dealer in parables, or as a dealer in mysteries. To attach us the more to this rational style of preaching, we cannot but perceive that it obtains a kind of experimental coun tenance from the actual distinctions of cha racter which are realized in the peopled world around us. Can any thing be more evident than that there is a line of separa tion between the sensual and the temperate, between the selfish and the disinterested, between the sordid and the honourable ; or if you require a distinction more strictly religious, between the profane and the de cent keeper of all the ordinances ? Do not the former do, what, in the matter of it, is contrary to the law of God, and the latter do, what, in the matter of it, is agreeable to that law? Here then at.once we witness the two grand divisions of human society in a state of real and visible exemplification II.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 23 — and what more is necessary than just to employ the most direct and intelligible mo tives of conduct, for persuading men to withdraw from one of these divisions, and pass over to the other of them? Surely it is just as we occupy the higher and the lower places in the scale of character, that we shall be found on the right and on the left hand of the judge on the day of reckon ing: And what more obvious way, then, of preparing a people for eternity— than just to point our urgency to the one object of prevailing upon men to cross the line of separation, to cease from the iniquities which abound on the one side of it, and to put on'' the reformations which are practised on the other side of it ? For this purpose, what else is to be done than plainly to tell the whole amount of the interest and obli gation which lies on the side of virtue, and as plainly to tell of the ruin and the degrada tion both of character and of prospect which lie on the side of vice — to press the accom plishments of a good life on the one hand, and to denounce the falsehoods and the dis honesties, and the profligacies of a bad life on the other, — in a word, to make our hearers the good subjects of God, much in the same way, as you would propose to make them the good servants of their mas ter or the good subjects of their govern ment : and thus by the simple and direct enforcements of duty, to shun all the diffi culties of a scholastic theology, and to keep clear of all its mysteriousness. It is needless to say how much this pro cess is reversed by many a teacher of Christianity. It is true that they hold out most prominently the need of some great transition — but it is a transition most mys teriously different from the act of crossing that line of separation, to which we have just been adverting. Without referring at all in fact to any such line, do they come forth from the very outset with one sweep ing denunciation of worthlessness and guilt, which they carry round among all the va rieties of character, and by which they affirm every individual of the human race, to be an undone sinner in the sight of God. Instead of bidding him look to other sin- ers less deformed by blemishes, and more .ch in moral accomplishments, than him self, and then attempt to recover his dis tance from the divine favour by the imita tion of them, they bid him think of the awful amount of debt and of deficiency that lies between the lawgiver in heaven, and a whole world guilty before him. They speak of a depravity so entire, and of an alienation from God, so deep, and so uni versal, as positively to obliterate that line of separation which is supposed to mark off those, who, upon the degree of their obedience, are rightful claimants to the honours of eternity, from those, who, upon the degree of their disobedience, are wretch ed outcasts of condemnation. They reduce the men of all casts and of all characters, to the same footing of worthlessness in the sight of God ; and speak of the evil of the human heart in such terms, as will sound to many a mysterious exaggeration, and, like the hearers of Ezekiel, will these not be able to comprehend the argument of the preacher, when he tells them, though in the very language of the Bible, that they are the heirs of wrath; that none of them is righteous, no not one; that all flesh have corrupted their ways, and have fallen short of the glory of God ; that the world at large is a lost and a fallen world, and that the natural inheritance of all who live in it, is the inheritance of a temporal death, and a ruined eternity. When the preacher goes on in this strain, those hearers whom the spirit has not con vinced of sin will be utterly at a loss to un derstand him, — nor are we to wonder, if he seem to speak to them in a parable, when he speaks of the disease, — that all the darkness of a parable should still seem to hang over his demonstrations, when as a faithful expounder of the revealed will and counsel of God, he proceeds to tell them of the remedy. For God hath not only made known the fearful magnitude of his reckon ing against us, but he has prescribed, and with that authority which only belongs to him, the way of its settlement ; and that he has told us all the works and all the efforts of unrenewed nature are of no avail in gaining us acceptance, and that he has laid the burden of our atonement on him who alone was able to bear it ; and he not only invites, butfie commands, and he beseeches us to enter into peace and pardon on the footing of that expiation which Christ hath made, and of that righteousness which Christ hath wrought out for us ; and he further declares, that we have come into the world with such a moral constitution, as will not merely need to be repaired, but as will need to be changed or made over again, ere we be meet for the inheritance of the saints; and still for this object does he point our eyes to the great Mediator who has undertaken, not merely for the forgive ness, but who has undertaken for the sancti fication of all who put their trust in him ; and he announces that out of his fulness there ever come forth supplies of strength for the new obedience of new creatures in Jesus Christ our Lord. Now, it is when the preacher is unfolding this scheme of salva tion, — it is when he is practically applying it to the conscience and the conduct of his hearers, — it is when the terms of grace, and faith, and sanctification, are pressed into frequent employment for the work of these very peculiar explanations, — it is when, in stead of illustrating his subject by those 24 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. analogies of common life which might have done for men of an untainted nature, but which will not do for the men of this cor rupt world, he faithfully unfolds that econo my of redemption which God hath actually set up for the recovery of our degenerate species, — it is then, that to a hearer still in darkness, the whole argument sounds as strangely and as obscurely, as if it were conveyed to him in an unknown language, — it is then, that the repulsion of his nature to the truth as it is in Jesus, finds a willing excuse in the utter mysteriousness of its articles, and its terms ; and gladly does he put away from him the unwelcome mes sage, with the remark, that he who delivers it, is a speaker of parables, and there is no comprehending him. It will readily occur as an observation upon all that has been delivered, that by the great majority of hearers, this imputation of mysteriousness is never preferred,— that in fact, they are most habituated to this style of preaching, — and that they recognise the very thing which they value most, and are best acquainted with, when they hear a sermon replete with the doctrine, and abounding in the terms, and uttered in the cadence of orthodoxy. Of this we are per fectly aware. The point to carry with the great bulk of hearers is, not to conquer their disgust at the form of sound words, but to conquer their resistance to the power of them ; to alarm them by the considera tion, that the influence of the lesson is alto gether a distinct matter from the pleasant ness of the song, — that their ready and de lighted acquiescence in the preaching of the faith, may consist with a total want of obe dience to the faith, — and that with all the love they bear to the phraseology of the gospel, and all their preference for its minis ters, and all their attendance upon its sacra ments, the kingdom of God, however much it may have come to them in word, may not at all have come to them in power. This is a distinct error from the one we have been combating, — a weed which grows abundantly in another quarter of the field altogether, — a perverseness of mind, more deceitful than the other, and perhaps still more unmanageable, and against which the faithful minister has to set himself amongst that numerous class of professors, who like to hear of the faith, but never ap ply a single practical test to the question, Am I in the faith ? who like to hear of re generation, but never put the question, Am I really regenerated? who like to hear that without Christ they can do nothing, but may be enabled to do all things through him strengthening them, but never enter into the important personal inquiry, Is he really strengthening me, and am I, by my actual victory over the world, and my actual pro gress in the accomplishments of personal Christianity, bearing evidence upon myself that I have a real part and interest in these things ? There can be no doubt as to the existence of such a class,— and under another text, there could be no difficulty in finding out a spiritual application, by which to reach and to reprove them. But the matter suggested by the present text is, that if a minister of the present day should preach as the Apos tles did before him,— if the great theme of his ministrations be Jesus Christ, and him crucified,— if the doctrine of the sermon be a faithful transcript of the doctrine df the New Testament, — there is one class, we have every warrant for believing, from whom the word will not return unto him void, — and there is another class who will be the willing hearers, but not the obe dient doers of the word : but there is still a third class, made up of men of cultivated literature, and men of polished and respec table society, and men of a firm secular in telligence in all the ordinary matters of bu siness, who, at the same time, possessing no sympathies whatever with the true spirit and design of Christianity, are exceedingly shut up, in all the avenues both of their heart and understanding, against the pecu liar teaching of the gospel. Like the hearers of Ezekiel, they feel an impression of mys teriousness. There is a certain want of adjustment between the truth as it is in Je sus, and the prevailing style of their con ceptions. All their views of human life, and all the lessons they may have gathered from the school of civil or classical mo rality, and all their preferences for what they count the clearness and the ration ality of legal preaching, and all the pre dilections they have gotten in its favour from the most familiar analogies in human society, — all these, coupled with their jitter blindness to the magnitude of that guilt which they have incurred under the judg ment of a spiritual law, enter as so many elements of dislike in their hearts, towards the whole tone and character of the peculiar doctrines of Christianity. And they go to envelope the subject in such a shroud of mysticism to their eyes, that many of the preachers of the gospel are, by them, resist ed on the same plea with the prophet of old, to whom his contemptuous countrymen meant to attach the ridicule and the igno miny of a proverb, when they said, — he is a dealer in parables. We mistake the matter, if we think that the offence of the cross has yet ceased from the land. We mistake it, if we think that the persecution of contempt, a species of persecution more appalling to some minds than even direct and personal violence, is not still the appointed trial of all who would live godly, and of all who would expound zealously and honestly the doctrine of II.] DEPRAVIT1 OF HUMAN NATURE. 25 Christ Jesus our Lord. WTe utterly mis take it, if we think that Christianity is not even to this very hour the same very peculiar thing that it was in the days of the Apos tles, — that it does not as much signalize and separate us from a world lying in wick edness, — that the reproach cast upon Paul, that he was mad, because he was an intrepid follower of Christ, is not still ready to be preferred against every faithful teacher, and every consistent disciple of the faith, — and that, under the terms of methodism, and fanaticism, and mysticism, there is not rea dy to be discharged upon them from the thousand batteries of a hostile and unbe lieving world, as abundant a shower of in vective and contumely as in the first ages. II. Now, if there be any hearers present who feel that we have spoken to them, when we spoke of the resistance which is held out against peculiar Christianity, on the ground of that mysteriousness in which it appears to be concealed from all ordinary discernment, — we should like to take our leave of them at present with two observa tions. We ask them, in the first place, if they have ever, to the satisfaction of their own minds, disproved the Bible, — and if not, we ask them how they can sit at ease, should all the mysteriousness which they charge upon Evangelical truth, and by which they would attempt to justify their contempt for it, be found, to attach to the very language, and to tire very doctrine of God's own communication ? What if it be indeed the truth of God ? What if it be the very language of the offended lawgiver? What if they be the only overtures of re conciliation, upon the acceptance of which a sinner can come nigh unto him? Now he actually does say that no man cometh unto the Father but by the Son, — and that his is the only name given under heaven whereby men can be saved, — and that he will be magnified only in the appointed Mediator, — and that Christ is all in all, — and that there is no other foundation on which man can lay, and that he who be lieveth on him shall not be confounded. He further speaks of our personal prepa ration for heaven — and here, too, may his utterance sound mysteriously in your hear ing, as he tells that without holiness no man can see God, — and that we are without strength while we are without the Spirit to make us holy — and that unless a man be born again he shall not enter into the king dom of God, — and that he should wrestle in prayer for the washing of regeneration — and that he should watch for the Holy Ghost with all perseverance, — and that he should aspire at being perfect through Christ strengthening him — and that he should, under the operation of those great provisions which are set up in the New Testament for creating us anew unto good works, conform himself unto that doctrine of grace by which he is brought to deny un godliness and worldly lusts, and to live so berly, righteously, and godly in the present evil world. . We again ask them, if all this be offensive to their taste, and utterly re volting to their habits and inclinations, and if they turn with disgust from the bitter ness of such an application, and can behold no strength to constrain them in any such arguments, and no eloquence to admire in them. With what discernment truly is your case taken up in this very Bible, whose phraseology and whose doctrine are so unpalatable to you, when it tells us of the preaching of the cross being foolish ness, — but remember that it says it is fool ishness to those who perish : when it tells of the natural man not receiving of the things of the Spirit, — but remember that it says, if ye have not the Spirit of God, ve are none of his ; when it tells of the gospel being hid, — but hid to them who are lost : " In whom the God of this world hath blinded the minds of those which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them." Secondly, let us assure the men, who at this moment bid the stoutest defiance to the message of the gospel — the men whose na tural taste appears to offer an invincible barrier against the reception of its truths, the men who, upon the plea of mysterious ness, or the plea of fanaticism, or the plea of excessive and unintelligible Deculiarity, are most ready to repudiate the whole style and doctrine of the New Testament, — let us assure them that the time may yet come, when they shall render to this very gospel the most striking of all acknowledgments, even by sending to the door of its most faithful ministers, and humbly craving from them their explanations and their prayers. It indeed offers an affecting con trast to all the glory of earthly prospects, and to all the vigour of confident and re joicing health, and to all the activity and enterprize of business, when the man who made the world his theatre, and felt his mountain to stand strong on the fleeting foundation of its enjoyments and its con cerns, — when he comes to be bowed down with infirmity, or receives from the trouble within, the solemn intimation that death is now looking to him in good earnest: When such a man takes him to the bed of sick ness, and he knows it to be a sickness unto death, — when, under all the weight of breathlessness and pain, he listens to the man of God, as he points the way that leadeth to eternity, — what, I would ask, is the kind of gospel that is most fitted to charm the sense of guilt and the anticipa tions of vengeance away from him ? Sure we are, that we never in these affecting 26 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. circumstances — through which you have all to pass — we never saw the man who could maintain a stability, and a hope, from the sense of his own righteousness ; but who, if leaning on the righteousness of Christ, could mix a peace and an elevation with his severest agonies. We never saw the expiring mortal who could look with an un daunted eye on God as his lawgiver ; but often has all its languor been lighted up with joy at the name of Christ as his Sa viour. We never saw the dying acquaint ance, who upon the retrospect of his virtues and of his doings, could prop the tranquilli ty of his spirit on the expectation of a legal reward. O no ! this is not the element which sustains the tranquillity of death beds. It is the hope of forgiveness. It is a believing sense of the efficacy of the atone ment. It is the prayer of faith, offered up in the name of him who is the captain of all our salvation. It is a dependence on that power which can alone impart a meetness for the inheritance of the saints, and present the spirit holy, and unreproveable, and un blamable, in the sight of God, Now, what we have to urge is, that if these be the topics, which, on the last half hour of your life, are the only ones that will possess, in your judgment, any value or [sf.hm. substantial importance, why put them away from you now? You will recur to them then; and for what? that you may get the forgiveness of your sins. But there is a something else you must get, ere you can obtain an entrance into peace or glory. You must get the renovation of that nature, which is so deeply tainted at this moment With the guilt of ingratitude and forgetful- ness towards God. This must be gone through ere you die ; and say if a change so mighty should be wantonly postponed to the hour of dying ?— when all your refusals of the gospel have hardened and darkened the mind against it; when a demonstration of the Spirit then, is surely not to be counted on, as the return that you will experience for resisting all his intimations now ; when the effects of the alienation of a whole life, both in extinguishing the light of your con science, and in riveting your distaste for holiness, will be accumulated into such a barrier in the way of your return to God, as stamps upon death-bed conversions, a grievous unlikelihood, and should give an imperious force to the call of "To- day;»_ -« while it is called to-day, harden not your hearts, seeing that now is your accepted time, and now is your day of salvation." SERMON III. The Preparation necessary for Understanding the Mysteries of the Gospel. ' He answered and said unto them, Because it is given unto you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it is not given. For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance; but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken even that he hath."— Matthew xiii. 11, 12. It is of importance to mark the principle of distribution on which it is given to some to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, and it is not given to others. Both may at the outset be equally destitute of a clear understanding of these mysteries. But the former may have what the latter have not. With the former there may be a de sire for explanation ; with the latter there may be no such desire. The former may, in the earnest prosecution of this desire, be praying earnestly, and reading diligently, and striving laboriously, to do all that they know to be the will of God. With the latter, there may be neither the habit of prayer, nor the habit of inquiry, nor the habit of obedience. To the one class will be given what they have not. From the other class what they have shall be taken away. We have already attempted to excite in the latter class a respectful attention to the truths of the gospel, and shall now confine ourselves chiefly to the object of encouraging and di recting those who feel the mysteriousness of these truths, and long for light to arise in the midst of it ; — shall address ourselves to those who have an honest anxiety after that truth, which is unto us salvation, but find the way to it beset with many doubts and many perplexities, — to those who are impressed with a general conviction on the side of Scripture, but in whose eyes a darkness impenetrable still broods over its pages,— to those who are haunted by a sense of the imperious necessity of religion, and at the same time cannot escape from the impression, that if it is any where to be found, it is to be found within the records of the Old and New Testament, but from whose heart in the reading of these records the veil still remains untaken away. In the further prosecution of this dis course, let us attempt, in the first place, to explain what it is that we ought to have, in order to attain an understanding of the mys teries of the gospel; and, in the second III.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 27 place, how it is that in many cases these mysteries are evolved upon the mind in a clear and convincing manifestation. I. First, then, we ought to have an honest desire after light ; and if we have this desire, it will not remain unproductive. There is a connexion repeatedly announced to us in Scripture between desire upon this subject, and its accomplishment. He that wiueth to do the will of God shall know of my doctrine. He who hungereth and thirsteth shall be filled. He who lacketh wisdom and is desirous of obtaining it, let him vent his desire in prayer, — and if it be the prayer of confidence in God, his desire shall be given him. There are thousands to whom the Bible is a sealed book, and who are satis fied that it should remain so, who share in the impetuous contempt of the Pharisees against a doctrine to which they are alto gether blind, who have no understanding of the matter, and no wish that it should be otherwise, — and unto them it will not be given to know the mysteries of the king dom of heaven. They have not, and from them therefore shall be taken away even that which they have. There are others, again, who have an ardent and unquencha ble thirst after the mysteries of the gospel ; who, like the prophet in the apocalypse, weep much because the book is not opened to them ; who complain of darkness, like the Apostles of old when they expostulated with their Teacher because he spoke in parables, and, like them, who go to him with their requests for an explanation. These shall find that what they cannot do for themselves, the Lion of the tribe of Judah will do for them. He will prevail to open the book, and to loose the seals thereof. There is something they already have, even an honest wish to be illuminated, and to this more will be given. They are awake to the disirableness, they are awake to the necessity of a revelation, which they have not yet gotten, — and to them belongs the promise of, Awake, O sinner, and Christ shall give thee light. Secondly, We ought to have a habit of prayer conjoined with a habit of inquiry; and to this more will be given. We have already adverted to the circumstance, that it is in the Bible, and not out of the Bible, where this light is to be met with. It is by the Spirit of God, shining upon the word of God, that his truth is reflected with clearness upon the soul. It is by his opera tion that the characters of this book are made to stand as visibly out to the eye of the understanding, as they do to the eye of the body ; and therefore it is evident that it is not in the act of looking away from the written revelation, but in the act of looking towards it, that the wished-for illumination will at length come into the mind of an inquirer. Let your present condition then S be that of a darkness as helpless and as unattainable as can possibly be imagined, there still remains an obvious and practica ble direction which you can be doing with in the mean time. You can persevere in the exercise of reading your Bible. There you are at the place of meeting etween the Spirit of God and your own spirit. You may have to wait, as if at the pool of Siloam ; but the many calls of the Bible to wait upon God, to wait upon him with pa tience, to wait and to be of good courage, all prove that this waiting is a frequent and a familiar part of that process by which a sinner finds his way out of darkness into the marvellous light of the gospel. And we have also adverted already, though in a very general way, to the dif ference in point of result between the active inquiries of a man who looks forward to the acquisition of saving truth as the natural and necessary termination of his inquiries, and of a man who mingles with every per sonal attempt after this object, the exercise of prayer, and a reverential sense of his dependence on God. The latter is just as active, and just as inquisitive as the former. The difference between them does not lie in the one putting forth diligence without a feeling of dependence, and the other feel ing dependence, without a putting forth of diligence. He who is in the right path to wards the attainment of light, combines both these properties. It is through the avenues of a desirous heart and of an exercised understanding, and of sustained attention, and of faculties in quest of truth, and labouring after the possession of it, that God sends into the mind his promised manifestations. All this exercise on the one hand, without such an acknowledgement of him as leads to prayer, will be productive of nothing in the way of spiritual discernment. And prayer, with out this exercise, is the mere form and mockery of an acknowledgement. He who calls upon us to hearken diligently, when he addresses us by a living voice, does in effect call upon us to read and to ponder diligently when he addresses us by a writ ten message. To ask truth of God, while we neglect to do for this object what he bids us, is in fact not to recognize God, but to insult him. It is to hold out the appear ance of presenting ourselves before him, while we are not doing it at the place of meeting, which he has assigned for us. It is to address an imaginary Being, whom we have invested with a character of our own conception, and not the Being who bids us search his Scriptures, and incline unto his testimonies, and stir ourselves up that we may lay hold of him. Such prayer is utterance, and nothing more. It wants all the substantial characters of prayer. It may amount to the seeking of those who 28 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM, shall not be able to enter the strait gate. It falls short of the striving of those who take the kingdom of heaven by force, and of whom that kingdom suffereth violence. He who without prayer looks confidently forward to success as the fruit of his own investigations, is not walking humbly with God. If he were humble he would pray. But whether is he the more humble, who joins with a habit of prayer all those ac companying circumstances which God hath prescribed, or he who, in neglect of these circumstances, ventures himself into his presence in the language of supplication ? There may be the show of humility in con fiding the whole cause of our spiritual and saving illumination to the habit of praying for it to God. But if God himself tells us, that we must read, and seek, and meditate, then it is no longer humility to keep by the solitary exercise of praying. It is, in fact, keeping pertinaciously by our own way, heedless of his will and his way altogether. It is approaching God in the pride of our own understanding. It is detaching from the whole work of seeing after him some of those component parts which he himself hath recommended. In the very act of making prayer stand singly out as alone instrument of success, we are in fact draw ing the life and the spirit out of prayer itself ; and causing it to wither into a thing of no power and no significancy in the sight of God. It is not the prayer of acknow ledgement, unless it comes from him who acknowledges the will of God in other things as well as in prayer. It is not the prayer of submission unless it comes from the heart of a man who manifests a principle of sub mission in all things. Thirdly, We ought to do all that we know to be God's will ; and to this habit of humble earnest desirous reformation, more will be given. AVe trust that what has been said will prepare you for the reception of another advice besides that of reading or praying for the attainment of that manifestation which you are in quest of, — and that is, doing. There is an alarm raised in many a heart at the very suggestion of doing for an inquirer, lest he should be misled as to the ground of his justification; lest among the multitude or the activity of his works, he should miss the truth, that a man is ac cepted, not through the works of the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ; lest by every one performance of duty, he should just be adding another stone to the fabric of a de lusive confidence, and presumptuously try to force his own way to heaven, without the recognition of the gospel or any of its peculiarities. Now, doing stands precisely in the same relation to prayer that reading does. Without the one or the other it is the prayer either of presumption or hypo crisy. If he both read and pray, it is far more likely that he will be brought unto the condition of a man being justified through faith in Christ, thati that he will rest his hopes before God in the mere exercise of reading. If he both do and pray, it is fai more likely that he will come to be esta blished in the righteousness of Christ, as the foundation of all his trust, than that he will rest upon his own righteousness. For a man to give up sin at the outset, is just to do what God wills him at the outset. For a man at the commencement of his inquiries, to be strenuous in the relinquishment 6f all that he knows to be evil, is just to enter on the path of approach towards Christ, in the very way that Christ desires him. He who cometh unto me must forsake all. For a man to put forth an immediate hand to the doing of the commandments, while he is groping his way towards a firm basis on which he might rear his security before God, is not to deviate or diverge from the Saviour. He may do it with an eye of most intense earnestness towards the Saviour, — and while the artificial interpreter of Christ's doctrine holds him to be wrong, Christ him self may recognize him to be one of those who keep his sayings, and to whom there fore he stands pledged to manifest himself The man in fact by strenuously doing, is just the more significantly and the more energetically praying. He is adding one in gredient to the business of seeking, without which the other ingredient would be in God's sight an abomination. He is strug gling against all regard to iniquity in his heart, seeing that if he have this regard God will not hear him. To say, that it is danger ous to tell a man in these circumstances to do, lest he rest in his doings, and fall short of the Saviour, is to say, that it would be dangerous to place a man on the road to his wished-for home, lest, when he has got upon the road, he should stand still and be satisfied. The more, in fact, that the man's conscience is exercised and enlightened (and what more fitted than wilful sin to deafen the voice of conscience altogether?) the less will it let him alone, and the more will it urge him onward to that righteousness which is the only one commensurate to God's law, and in which alone the holy and inflexible God can look upon him with complacency. Let him humbly betake himself, then, to the prescribed path of reading, and prayer, and obvious reformation,— and let us see if there do not evolve upon his mind, in the prosecu tion of it, the worthlessness of all that man can do for his meritorious acceptance with the Lawgiver— and the deep ungodliness of character which adheres to him — and the suitableness of Christ's atonement to all his felt necessities, arid all his moral aspi rations — and the need in which he stands of a regenerating influence, to make him a III.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 29 willing and a spiritual subject of God. Let us see whether, though the light which he at length receives be marvellous, the way is not plain which leads to it; and whether though nature be compassed about with a darkness which no power of nature can dissipate, — there is not a clear and obvious procedure, by the steps of which the most alienated of her children may be carried on wards to all the manifestation of the king dom of grace, and to the discernment of all its mysteries. Though to the natural eye, then, the doc trine of Christ be not plain, the way is plain by which we arrive at it. Though, ere we see the things of Christ, the Spirit must take of them and show them unto us, — yet this Spirit deals out such admonitions to all, that, if we-follow them, he will not cease to enlarge, and to extend his teaching, till we have obtained a saving illumination. He is given to those who obey him. He abandons those who resist him. When conscience tells us to read, and to pray, and to reform, it is he who is prompting this faculty-. It is he who^is sending through this organ, the whispers of his own voice to the ear of the inner man. If we go along with the move ment, he will follow it up by other move ments. He will visit him who is the willing subject of his first influences by higher de monstrations. He will carry forward his own work in the heart of that man, who, while acting upon the suggestions of his own moral sense, is in fact acting in con formity to the warnings of this kind and faithful monitor. So that the Holy Spirit will connect his very first impulses on the mind of that inquirer, who, under the reign of earnestness, has set himself to read his Bible, and to knock with importunity at the door of heaven, and to forsake the evil of his ways, and to turn him to the practice of all that he knows to be right, — the Spirit will connect these incipient measures of a seeker after Zion, with the acquirement of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Christ. Let it not be said, then, that because the doctrine of Christ is shrouded in mystery to the general eye of the world, it is such a mystery as renders it inaccessible to the men of the world. Even to them does the trumpet of invitation blow a certain sound. They may not yet see the arcana of the temple, but they may see the road which leads to the temple. If they are never to obtain admission there, it is not because they cannot, but because they will not, come to it. "Ye will not come to me," says the Saviour, " that ye might have life," Reading, and prayer, and reformation, these are all obvious things ; and it is the neglect of these obvious things which involves them in the guilt and the ruin of those who ne glect the great salvation. This salvation is to be found of those who seek after it. The knowledge of God and of Jesus Christ, which is life everlasting, is a knowledge open and acquirable to all. And, on the day of judgment, there will not be found a single instance of a man condemned be cause of unbelief, who sought to the utter most of his opportunities; and evinced the earnestness of his desire after peace with God, by doing all that he might have done, and by being all that he might have been. Be assured, then, that it will be for want of seeking, if you do not find. It will be for want of learning, if you are not taught. It will be for want of obedience to the movements of your own conscience, if the Holy Ghost, who prompts and who stimulates the conscience to all its move ments, be not poured upon you, in one large and convincing manifestation. It may still be the day of small things with you — a day despised by the accomplished adepts of a systematic and articled theology. But God will not despise it. He will not leave your longings for ever unsatisfied. He will not keep you standing always at the threshold of vain desires and abortive endeavours. That faith, which is the gift of God, you have already attained, in a degree, if you have obtained a general conviction of the importance and the reality of the whole matter. He will increase that faith. Act up to the light that you have gotten by heading earnestly, and praying importu nately, and striving laboriously, — and to you more will be given. You will at length obtain a clear and satisfying impression of the things of God, and the things of salvation. Christ will be recognised in all his power and in all his preciousness. You will know what it is to be established upon him. The natural legality of your hearts will give way to the pure doctrine of accep tance with God, through faith in the blood of a crucified Saviour. The sanctifying in fluence of such a faith will not merely be talked of in word, 'but be experienced in power; and you will evince that you are God's workmanship in Christ Jesus, by your abounding in all those fruits of righ teousness which are through him, to the praise and glory of the Father. II. We shall now attempt to explain, how it is that the mysteries of the gospel are, in many cases, evolved upon the mind in a clear and convincing manifesta tion. And here let it be distinctly understood, that the way in many cases may be very far from the way in all cases. The expe rience of converts is exceedingly various, — nor do we know a more frequent, and at the same time a more groundless cause of anxiety, than that by which the mind of an inquirer is often harassed, when he at tempts to realize the very process bv which 30 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. another has been called out of darkness to the marvellous light of the gospel. R eferring, then, to those grounds of mys teriousness which we have already specified in a former discourse, — God may so mani fest himself to the mind of an inquirer, as to convince him, that all those analogies of common life which are taken from the re lation of a servant to his master, or of a son to his father, or of a subject to his sove reign, utterly fail in the case of man, as he is by nature, in relation to his God. A ser vant may discharge all his obligations ; a son may acquit himself of all his duties, or may, with his occasional failures, and his occasional chastisements, still keep his place in the instinctive affection of his pa rents; and a subject may persevere in un- seduced loyalty to the earthly government under which he lives. But the glaring and the demonstrable fact with regard to man, viewed as a creature, is, that the habit of his heart is one continued habit of dislike and resistance to the Creator who gave him birth. The earthly master may have all those services rendered to which he has a right, and so be satisfied. The earthly father may have all the devotedness, and all the attach ment from his family, which he can desire, and so be satisfied. The earthly sovereign may have all that allegiance from a loyal subject, who pays his taxes, and never transgresses his laws, which he expects or cares for, and so be satisfied. But go up ward from them to the God who made us, — to the God who keeps us, — to the God in whom we live, and move, and have our being, — to the God whose care and whose presence are ever surrounding us, who, from morning to night, and from night to morning, watches over us, and tends us while we sleep, and guides us in our waking moments, and follows us to the business of the world, and brings us back in safety to our homes, and never for a single instant of time withdraws from us the superintend ence of an eye that never slumbers, and of a hand that is never weary. Now, all we require is a fair estimate of the claims of such a God. Does he ask too much, when he asks the affections of a heart that receives its every beat, and its every movement, from the impulse of his power ? Does he ask too much, when he asks the devoted ness of a life, which owes its every hour and its every moment to him, whose right hand preserves us continually? Has he no right to complain, when he knocks at the door of our hearts, and trying to possess himself of the love and the confidence of his own creatures, he finds that all their thoughts, and all their pursuits, and all likings, are utterly away from him? Is there no truth, and no justice in the charge which he prefers against us, — when, sur rounded as we are by the gifts of nature and of providence, all of which are his, the giver is meanwhile forgotten, and, amid the enjoyments of his bounty, we live without him in the world. If it indeed be true, that it is his sun which lights us on our path, and his earth on which we tread so firmly, and his air which circulates a freshness around our dwellings, and his rain which produces all the luxuriance that is spread around us, and drops upon every field the smiling pro mise of abundance for all the wants of his dependent children, — if all this be true, can it at the same time be right, that this all' providing God should have so little a place in our remembrance ? that the whole man should be otherwise engaged than with a sense of him, and the habitual exercise of acknowledgment to him ? that in fact the full play of his regards should be expended on the things which are formed, and through the whole system of his conduct and his affairs, there should be so utter a neglect of him who formed them ? Surely if this be the true description of man, and the cha racter of his heart in reference to God, then it is a case of too peculiar a nature to be illustrated by any of the analogies of human society. It must be taken up on its own grounds; and should the injured and of fended Lawgiver offer to make it the subject of any communication, it is our part hum bly to listen and implicitly to follow it. And here it is granted, that amongst the men who are utter strangers to this com munication, you meet with the better and the worse; and that there is an obvious line of distinction which marks off the base and the worthless amongst them, from those of them who are the valuable and the ac complished members of society. And yet do we aver that one may step over that line and not be nearer than he was to God, — that, between the men on either side of it, and Him who created them, there lies an untrodden gulf of separation, — that, with all the justice which rules their transac tions, and all the honour which animates their bosoms, and all the compassion which warms their hearts, and streams forth either in tears of pity, or in acts of kind ness, upon the miserable, — with all these virtues which they do have, and which serve both to bless and to adorn the condi tion of humanity, there is one virtue, which, prior to the reception and the influence of the gospel of Christ, they most assuredly do not have, — they are utterly devoid of godliness, They have no desire, and no inclination towards God. There may be the dread of him, and the occasional re membrance of him ; but there is no affec tion for him. This is the charge which we carry round amongst all the sons and daughters of Adam, who have not submitted themselves III.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 31 to the only name that is given under hea ven whereby men can be saved. We are not denying that the persons of some of them are dignified by the more respectable attributes of character ; and that, from the persons of others of them, there are beau- teously reflected the more amiable and en dearing attributes of character. But we affirm, that with all these random varieties of moral exhibition which are to be found— the principle of loyalty to God has lost the hold of a presiding influence over all the children of our degraded and undone nature. We ask you to collect all the scat tered remnants of what is great, and of what is graceful in accomplishments that may have survived the fall of our first pa rents ; and we pronounce, of the whole as semblage, that they go not to alleviate, by one iota, the burden of that controversy which lies between God and their posterity, — that throughout all the ranks and diver sities of character which prevail in the world, there is one pervading affection of enmity to him ; that the man of talents for gets that he has nothing which he did not receive, and so, courting by some lofty en- terprize of mind, the gaze of this world's admiration, he renounces his God, and makes an idol of his fame, — that the man of ambition feels not how subordinate he is to the might and the majesty of his Cre ator, but turning away all his reverence from him, falls down to the idol of power, — that the man of avarice withdraws all his trust from the living God, and, embarking all his desire in the pursuit of riches, and all his security in the possession of them, he makes an idol of wealth, — that, descend ing from these to the average and the every day members of our world's population, we see each walking after the counsel of his own heart, and in the sight of his own eyes, with every wish directed to the objects of time, and every hope bounded by its anti cipations : and, amid all the love they bear to their families, and all the diligence they give to their business, and all the homage of praise and attachment they obtain from their friends, are they so surrounded by the influences of what is seen and what is sen sible, that the invisible God is scarcely ever hought of, and his character not at all dwelt on with delight, and his will never admitted to an habitual and a practical as cendency over their conduct, so as to make it true of all, and of every one of us, that there is none who understandeth, and none who seeketh after God. Now, if a man do not see this case made out against himself in all its enormity, he will feel that the man who talks of it, and who proposes the gospel application to it, talketh mysteriously. If the Spirit have not convinced him of sin, and he have not learned to submit his character to the lofty standard of a law which offers to subordinate to the will of God, not merely the whole habit of his outward his tory, but also the whole habit of his inward affections, both the disease and the remedy are alike unknown to him. His character may be fair and respectable in the eyes of men; but it will not carry upon it one feature of that spirituality and holiness, and relish for those exercises that have God for their immediate object, which assimilate men to angels, and make them meet for the joys of eternity. His morality will be the morality of life, and his virtues will be the virtues of the world; and all the mys tery of a parable, or of a dark saying will appear to hang over the terms and the ex planations of that gospel, against the light of which, the god of this world blindeth the minds of those who believe not. LetTis therefore reflect that the principle on which the peculiarities of the gospel look so mysterious, is just the feeling which na ture has of its own sufficiency; and, that you may renounce this delusive feeling altogether, we ask you to think, how totally destitute you are of that whic God chiefly requires of you. He requires your heart, and we venture to say of every man amongst you, who has heretofore lived in neglect of the great salvation, that his heart, with all its ob jects and affections, is away from God, — that it is not a sense of obligation to him which forms the habitual and the presiding in fluence of its movements, — that therefore every day and every hour of your history in the world, accumulates upon you the guilt of a disobedience of a far deeper and more offensive character than even the disobedience of your more notorious and external violations. There is ever with you, lying folded in the recesses of your bosom, and pervading the whole system both of your desires and your doings, that which gives to sin all its turpitude, and all its moral hideousness in the sight of God. There is a rooted preference of the creature to the Creator. There is a full desire after the gift, and a listless ingratitude to wards the giver. There is an utter devoted- ness, in one shape or other, to the world that is to be burnt up,- — and an utter forget- fulness, amid all your forms, and all your decencies, of him who endureth for ever. There is that universal attribute of the car nal mind — enmity against God ; and we affirm that, with this distaste in your hearts towards him, you, on every principle of a spiritual and intelligent morality, are as chargeable with rebellion against your Maker, as if some apostate angel had been your champion, and you warred with God, under the waving standards of defiance. It was to clear away the guilt of this mon strous iniquity that Christ died. It was to make it possible for God, with his truth 32 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. unviolated, and his holiness untarnished, and all the high attributes of his eternal and unchangeable nature unimpaired, to hold out forgiveness to the world, — that propi tiation was made through the blood of his own son, even that God might be just while the justifier of them who believe in Jesus. It is to make it possible for man to love the Being whom nature taught him to hate and to fear, that God now lifts, from his mercy-seat, a voice of the most beseech ing tenderness, and smiles upon the world as God in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, and not imputing unto them their trespasses. It was utterly to shift the moral constitution of our minds, — an achievement beyond any power of humanity, — that the Saviour, after he died and rose again, obtained the promise of the Father, even that Spirit, through whom alone the fixed and radical disease of nature can be done away. And thus, by the ministration of the baptism of the Holy Ghost, does he undertake not only to improve but to change us, — not only to repair but to re-make us, — not only to amend our evil works, but to create us anew unto good works, that we may be the workmanship of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. These are the leading and essential peculiarities of the New Testament. This is the truth of Christ ; though to the gene ral mind of the world it is the truth of Christ in a mystery. These are the para bles which the commissioned messengers of grace are to deal out to the sinful children of Adam, — and dark as they may appear, or disgusting as they may sound in the ears of those who think that they are rich, and have need of nothing, they are the very ar- licles upon which hope is made to beam on the heart of a converted sinner, — and peace is restored to him, — and acceptance with God is secured by the terms of an un alterable covenant, — and the only effec tive instruments of a vital and substantial reformation are provided ; so that he who before was dead in trespasses and sins is quickened together with Christ, and made alive unto God, and renewed again after his image, and enabled to make constant progress in all the graces of a holy and spiritual obedience. SERMON IV. An Estimate of the Morality that is without Godliness. " If I wash myself with snow water, and make my hands never so clean : Yet shalt thou plunge me in the ditch, and mine own clothes shall abhor me. For he is not a man, as I am, that 1 should answer him, and we should come together in judgment. Neither is there any day's-man betwixt us, that might lay his hand upon us both." — Job ix. 30 — 33. To the people of every Christian coun try the doctrine of a Mediator between God and man is familiarized by long possession ; though to many of them it be nothing more than the familiarity of a name recognized as a well-known sound by the ear, without sending one fruitful or substantial thought into the understanding. For, let it be ob served, that the listless acquiescence of the mind in a doctrine, to the statement or to the explanation of which it has been long habituated, is a very different thing from the actual hold which the mind takes of the doctrine, — insomuch that it is very possible for a man to be a lover of orthodoxy, and to sit with complacency under its ministers, and to be revolted by the heresies of those who would either darken or deny any of its articles, — and, in a word, to be most te nacious in his preference for that form of words to which he has been accustomed ; while to the meaning of the words them selves, the whole man is in a state of entire dormancy; and delighted though he really lie by the utterance of the truth, exhibits not in his person, or in his history, one I evidence of that practical ascendency which 'Christian truth is sure to exert over the heart and the habits of every genuine be liever. In the midst oi all that dimness, and all this indolence about the realities of salva tion, it is refreshing to view the workings of a mind that is in earnest ; and of a mind too, which, instead of being mechanically carried forward in the track of a prescribed or authoritative orthodoxy, is prompted to all its aspirations by a deep feeling of guilt, and of necessity. Such we conceive to hav been the mind of Job, to whom the doc trine of a Redeemer had not been explicitly unfolded, but who seems at times to have been favoured with a prophetic glimpse of him through the light of a dim and distant futurity. The state of his body, covered as it was with disease, makes him an object of sympathy. But there is a still deeper and more attractive sympathy excited by the state of his soul, labouring under the visitation of a hand that was too heavy for him ; called out to combat with God, and struggling to maintain it ; at one time, IV.j DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 33 tempted to measure the justice of his cause with the righteousness of Heaven's dis pensations ; at another, closing his com plaint with the murmurs of a despairing ac quiescence ; and at length brought, through all the varieties of an exercised and agitated spirit, to submit himself to God, and to re pent in dust and in ashes. There is a darkness in the book of Job. He, at one time, under the soreness of his calamity, gives way to impatience ; and, at another, he seems to recall the hasty utter ance of his more distempered moments. He, in one place, fills his mouth with argu ments; and, in another, he appears willing to surrender them all, and to decline the unequal struggle of man contending with his Maker. He is evidently oppressed throughout by a feeling of want, without the full understanding of an adequate or an appropriate remedy. Now, it does give a higher sense of the value of this remedy, when we are made to witness the unsatis fied longings of one who lived in a dark and early period of the world, — when we hear him telling, as he does in these verses, where the soreness lies, and obscurely guessing at the ministration that is suited to it, — nor do we know a single passage of the Bible which carries home with greater effect the necessity of a Mediator, than that where Job, on his restless bed, is set before us, wearying himself in the hopeless task of arguing with God, and calling for some day's-man betwixt them who might lay his hand upon them both. The afflictions which were heaped upon Tob made him doubt his acceptance wiih his Maker. This was the great burden of his complaint, and the recovery of this ac ceptance was the theme of many a fruit less and fatiguing speculation. We have one of these speculations in the verses which are now submitted to you; and as they are four in number, so there is such a distinction in the subjects of them, that the passage naturally resolves itself into four separate topics of illustration. In the 30th verse, we have an expedient proposed by Job, for the pupose of obtaining the accept ance which he longed after: "If I wash myself with snow water, and make my hands never so clean." In the 31st verse, we have the inefficacy of this expedient ; "Yet shalt thou plunge me in the ditch, and mine own clothes shall abhor me." In the 32d verse, he gives the reason of this ineffi cacy; " For he is not man, as I am, that I should answer him, and we should come together in judgment." And in the 33d verse, he intimates to us the right expedient, under the form of complaining that he him self has not the benefit of it : " Neither is there any day's-man betwixt us, that might lay his hand upon us both." I. It is not to be wondered at, that even 5 a mistaken efficacy should be ascribed to snow water, in the country of Job's resi dence, where snow, if ever it fell at all, must have fallen rarely, at very extraordi nary seasons, and in the more elevated parts of his neighbourhood. This rarity, added to its unsullied whiteness, might have given currency to an idea of its efficacy as a puri fier, beyond what actually belonged to it. Certain it is, too, that snow water, like water deposited from the atmosphere, in any other form, does not possess that hard ness which is often to be met with in spring water. But however this be, and whether the popular notion of the purifying virtues of snow water, taken up by Job, be well founded or not, we have here an expedient suggested for making the hands clean, and the man pure and acceptable in the sight of God,— a method proposed within the reach of man, and which man can perform, for making himself an object of complacency to his Maker; a method, too, which is quite effectual for beautifying all that meets the discernment of the outward eye, and which is here set before us as connected with the object of gaining the eye of that high and heavenly Witness, with whom we have to do. This is what we understand to be re presented by washing with snow water. It comprehends all that man can do for washing himself, and for making himself clean in the sight of God. Job complains of the fruitlessness of this expedient, and perhaps mingles with his complaints the reproaches of a spirit that was not yet sub dued to entire acquiescence in the righte ousness of God. Let us try to examine this matter, and, if possible, ascertain whe ther man is able, on the utmost stretch of his powers and of his performances, to make himself an object of approbation to his Judjre. Without entering into the metaphysical controversy about the extent or the freedom of human agency, let it be observed, that there is a plain and a popular understanding on the subject of what man can do and of what he cannot do. We wish to proceed on this understanding for the present, and to illustrate it by a few examples. Should it be asked, if a man can keep his hands from stealing, it would be the unhesitating answer of almost every one that he can do it, — and if he can keep his tongue from lying, that he can do it, — and if he can con strain his feet to carry him every Sabbath to the house of God, that he can do this also, — and if he can tithe his income, or even reducing himself to the necessaries of life, make over the mighty sacrifice of all the remainder to the poor, that it is certainly possible for him to do it, — and if he can keep a guard upon his lips, so that not one whisper of malignity shall escape from them, that he can also prescribe this task to 34 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. himself, and is able to perform it, — and if he can read much of his Bible, and utter many prayers in private, that he can do it, — ;md if he can assemble his family on the morning and the evening of every day, and go through the worship of God along with tbem, that all this he can do, — that all this lies within the compass of human agency. Let any one man do, then, what all men think it possible for him to do, and he will wear upon his person the visible exhibition of much to recommend him to the favoura ble judgment of his fellows. He will be guilty of no one transgression against the peace and order of society. He will be cor rect, and regular, and completely inoffen sive. He will contribute many a deed of positive beneficence to the welfare of those around him ; and may even, on the strength of his many decencies, and many observa tions, hold out an aspect of religiousness to the general eye of the world. There will be a wide and most palpable distinction of character between him, and those who, at large from the principle of self-control, re sign themselves to the impulse of every present temptation; and are either intem perate, or dishonest, or negligent of ordi nances, just as habit, or the urgency of their feelings and their circumstances, may hap pen to have obtained the ascendancy over them. Those do not what they might, and what, in common estimation, they can do ; and it is just because the man has put forth all his strenuousness to the task of accom plishing all that he is able for, that he looks so much more seemly than those who are beside him, and holds out a far more en gaging display of what is moral and praise worthy to all his acquaintances. II. I will not be able to convince you how superficial the reformation of all these doings is, without passing on to the 31st verse, and proving, that in the pure eye of God the man who has made the most co pious application in his power of snow water to the visible conduct, may still be an object of abhorrence ; and that if God enter into judgment with him, he will make him appear as one plunged in the ditch, his righteousness as filthy rags, and himself as an unclean thing. There are a thousand things which, in popular and understood language, man can do. It is quite the general sentiment, that he can abstain from stealing, and lying, and calumny, — that he can give of his substance to the poor, and attend church, and pray, and read his Bible, and keep up the worship of God in his family. But, as an instance of distinction between what he can do, and what he cannot do, let us make the undoubted assertion, that he can eat wormwood, and just put the ques tion, if he can also relish wormwood. That is a different affair. I may command the performance; but have no such command over my organs of .sense, as to command a liking, or a taste for the performance. The illustration is homely ; but it is enough for our purpose, if it be effective. I may ac complish the doing of what God bids ; but have no pleasure in God himself. The for cible constraining of the hand, may make out many a visible act of obedience, but the relish of the heart may refuse to go along with it. The outer man may be all in a bustle about the commandments of God, while to the inner man God is an offence and a weariness. His neighbours may look at him, and all that their eye can reach may be as clean as snow-water can make it. But the eye of God reaches a great deal farther. He is the discerner of the thoughts and in tents of the heart, and he may see the foul ness of spiritual idolatry in every one of its receptacles. The poor man has no more conquered his rebellious affections, than he has conquered his distaste for wormwood. He may fear God ; he may listen to God ; and, in outward deed, may obey God. But he does not, and he will not, love God; and while he drags a heavy load of tasks, and' duties, and observances after him, he lives in the hourly violation of the first and greatest of the commandments. Would any parent among you count it enough that you obtained a service like this from one of your children ? Would you be satisfied with the obedience of his hand, while you knew that the affections of his heart were totally away from you? Let every one requirement, issued from the chair of parental authority, be most rigidly and punctually done by him, would not the sullenness of his alienated countenance turn the whole of it into bitterness? It is the heart of his son which the parent longs af ter ; and the lurking distaste and disaffection which rankle there, can never, never be made up by such an obedience, as the yoked and the tortured negro is compelled to yield to the whip of the overseer. The service may be done ; but all that can mi nister satisfaction in the principle of the service, may be withheld from it; and though the very last item of the bidden per formance is rendered, this will neither mend the deformity of the unnatural child, nor soothe the feelings of the afflicted and the mortified father. God is the Father of spirits; and the willing subjection of the spirit is that which he requires of us. " My son, give me thy heart ;" and if the heart be withheld, God says of all our visible performances, "To what purpose is the multitude of your sacri fices unto me ?" The heart is his require ment ; and full, indeed, is the title which he prefers to it. He put life into us ; and it is he who hath drawn a circle of enjoyments, and friendships, and interests around us. Every thing that we take delight in, is mill- IV.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 35 tstered to us out of his hand. He plies us every moment with his kindness ; and when at length the gift stole the heart of man away from the Giver, so that he Jjecame a lover of his own pleasure, rather than a lover of God, even then would he not leave us to perish in the guilt of our rebellion. Man made himself an alien, but God was not willing to abandon him ; and, rather than lose him for ever, did he devise a way of access by which to woo, and to welcome him back again. The way of our recovery is indeed a way that his heart was set upon ; and to prove it, he sent his own eternal Son into the world, who unrobed him of all his glories and made himself of no reputation. He had to travel in the greatness of his strength, that he might unbar the gates of acceptance to a guilty world ; and now that, in full harmony with the truth and the jus tice of God, sinners may draw nigh through the blood of the atonement, what is the wonderful length to which the condescen sion of God carries him? Why, he actually beseeches us to be reconciled ; and, with a tone more tender than the affection of an earthly father ever prompted, does he call upon us to turn, and to turn, for why should we die? if, after all this, the antipathy of na ture to God still cleave to us ; if, under the power of this antipathy, the service we yield be the cold and unwilling service of constraint ; if, with many of the visible out works of obedience, there be also the strag glings of a reluctant heart to take away from this obedience all its cheerfulness, is not God defrauded of his offering ? Does there not rest on the moral aspect of our character, in reference to him, all the odious- ness of unnatural children ? Let our outer doings be what they may, does there not adhere to us the turpitude of having deeply revolted against that Being whose kindness has never abandoned us ? And, though pure in the eye of our fellows, and our hands be clean as with snow-water, is there nothing in our hearts against which a spiritual law may denounce its severities, and, the giver of that law may lift a voice of righteous ex postulation? " Hear ye now what the Lord saith : Arise, contend thou before the moun tains, and let the hills hear thy voice. Hear ye, O mountains, the Lord's controversy, and ye strong foundations of the earth : for the Lord hath a controversy with his people, and he will plead with Israel. 0 my people, what have I done unto thee, and wherein have I wearied thee ? testify against me." It is not easy to lay open the utter naked ness of the natural heart in reference to God ; or to convince the possessor of it, that, under the guise of his many plausi bilities, there may lurk that which gives to sin all its hideousness. The mere man of ordinances cannot ac quiesce in what he reckons to be the ex aggerations of orthodoxy upon this subject ; nor can he at all conceive how it is possible that, with so much of the semblance of god liness about him, there should, at the same time, be within him the very opposite of godliness. It is, indeed, a difficult task to carry upon this point the conviction of him who positively loves the Sabbath, and to whom the chime of its morning bells brings the delightful associations of peace and of sacredness, — who has his hours of prayer, at which he gathers his family around him, and his hours of attendance on that house where the man of God deals out his weekly lessons to the assembled congregation. It may be in vain to tell him, that God in fact is a weariness to his heart, when it is at tested to him by his own consciousness; that when the preacher is before him, and the people are around him, and the pro fessed object of their coming together is to join in the exercise of devotion, and to grow in the knowledge of God, he finds in fact that all is pleasantness, thathis eye is not merely filled with the public exhibition, and his ear regaled by the impressiveness of a human voice, but that the interest of his heart is completely kept up by the succes sion and variety of the exercises. It may be in vain to tell him, that this religion of taste or this religion of habit, or this re ligion of inheritance, may utterly consist with the deep and the determined worldli- ness of all his affections,— that he whom he thinks to be the God of his Sabbath is not the God of his week ; but that, throughout all the successive days of it, he is going astray after the idols of vanity, and living without God in the world. This is demon stration enough of all his forms, and all his observations, being a mere surface display, without a living principle of piety. But perhaps it may serve more effectually to convince him of it, should we ask him, how his godliness thrives in the closet, and what are the workings of his heart, in the ab stract and solitary hour of intercourse with the unseen Father. In church, there may be much to interest him, and to keep him alive. But when alone, and deserted by all the accompaniments of a solemn assembly, we should like to know with what vivacity he enters on the one business of meditating on God, and holding converse with God. Is the sense of the all-seeing and ever-pre sent Deity enough for him ; and does love to God brighten and sustain the moments of solitary prayer ? The mind may have enough to interest it in church ; but does the secret exercise of fellowship with the Father bring no distaste, and no weariness along with it? Is it any thing more than the homage of a formal presentation ? And when the business of devotion is thus un peopled of all its externals, and of all its 36 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. SERM. accessaries ; when thus reduced to a naked exercise of spirit, can you appeal to the longings, and the affections of that spirit, as the essential proof of your godliness ? And do you never, on occasions like this, dis cover that which is in your hearts, and de tect their enmity to him who formed them ? Do you afford no ground for the complaint which he uttered of old, when be said, " Have I been a wilderness unto Israel, and a land of darkness ?" and do you not per ceive that with this direction of your feel ings and your desires away from the living God, though you be outwardly clean, as by the operation cf snow water, he may plunge you in the ditch, and make your own clothes to abhor you. We shall conclude this part of our sub ject with two observations. First. The efforts of nature may, in point of inadequacy, be compared to the applica tion of snow water. Yet there is a practical mischief here, in which the zeal of contro versy, bent on its one point, and its one principle, may unconsciously involve us. We are not, in pursuit of any argument whatever, to lose sight of efforts. We are not to deny them the place, and the im portance which the Bible plainly assigns to them; nor are we to forbear insisting upon their performance by men, previous to con version, and in the very act of conversion, and in every period of the progress, how ever far advanced it may be, of the new creature in Jesus Christ our Lord. We speak just now of men, previous to con version, and we call to your remembrance the example of John the Baptist. The in judicious way in which the doings of men have been spoken of, has had practically this effect on many an inquirer. Since do ing is of so little consequence, let us even abstain from it. Now the forerunner of Christ spake a very different language. Me unceasingly called upon the people to do ; and this was the very preaching which the divine wisdom appointed as a preparation for the Saviour. " He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none ; and he that hath meat, let him do likewise."— " Exact no more than that which is ap pointed."—" Do violence to no man ; neither accuse any falsely, and be content with your wages." Was not John, then, it may be said, a mere superficial reformer? Had he stopped short at this, he would have been no better. His teaching could have done no more than is done by the mere application of snow water. But" he did not stop here. He told thc people that there was a preacher and a preaching to come after him, in comparison of which he and his sermons were nothing. He pointed the eye and the expectation of his hearers full upon one that was greater than himself; pentance, and called upon the people to frame their doings, he told them of one mightier than he, who was to baptize with the Holy Ghost and with fire. And, Secondly, That you may be con vinced of the utter necessity of such a bap tism, let us affirm the inadequacy of all the fairest virtues and accomplishments of nature. God has, for the well-being of society, provided man with certain feel ings and constitutional principles of action, which lead him to a conduct beneficial to those around him ; to which conduct he may be carried by the impulse of these principles, with as little reference to the will of God, as a mother, among the in ferior animals, when constrained by the sweet and powerful influences of natural affection, to guard the safety, and provide for the nourishment of her young. Take account of these principles as they exist in the bosom of man, and you there find com passion for the unfortunate ; the shame of detection in any thing mean, or disgrace ful ; the desire of standing well in the opinion of his fellows ; the kindlier chari ties, which shed a mild and a quiet lustre over the walks of domestic life; and those wider principles of patriotism and public usefulness which, combined with an appe tite for distinction, will raise a few of the more illustrious of our race to some high and splendid career of beneficence. Now, these are the principles which, scattered in various proportions among the individuals of human kind, gave rise to the varied hues of character among them. Some possess them in no sensible degree; and they are pointed at with abhorrence, as the most monstrous and deformed of the species. Others have an average share of them; and they take their station amongst the common-place characters of society. And others go beyond the average; and are singled out from amongst their fellows, as the kind, the amiable, the sweet-tempered, the upright, whose hearts swell with hon ourable feeling, or whose pulse beats high in the pride of integrity. Now, conceive for a moment, that the belief of a God were to be altogether ex punged from the world. We have no doubt that society would suffer most painfully in its temporal interests by such an event. But the machine of society might still be kept up ; and on the face of it you might still meet with the same gradations of cha racter, and the same varied distribution of praise, among the individuals who compose it. Suppose it possible, that the world could be broken off from the system of God's ad ministration altogether; and that he were to consign it, with all its present accommoda tions, and all its natural principles, to some far and solitary place, beyond the limits of and, while he baptized with water unto re- 1 his economy— we should still find ourselves *¦•] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 37 in the midst of a moral variety of character ; and man, sitting in judgment over it, would say of some, that they are good, and of others, that they are evil. Even in this desolate region of atheism, thc eye of the sentimentalist might expatiate among beau- ous and interesting spectacles, — amiable mothers shedding their graceful tears over the tomb of departed infancy ; high-toned integrity maintaining itself unsullied amid the allurements of corruption ; benevolence plying its labours of usefulness ; and patri otism earning its proud reward, in the testi mony of an approving people. Here, then, you have compassion, and natural affec tion, and justice, and public . spirit — but would it not be a glaring perversion of lan guage to say, that there was godliness in a world, where there was no feeling and no conviction about God. In the midst of this busy scene, let God reveal himself, not to eradicate these princi ples of action — but giving his sanction to whatsoever things are just, and lovely, and honourable, and" of good repor^, to make himself known, at the same time as the Creator and Upholder of all things, and as the Being with whom all his rational off spring had to do. Is this solemn an nouncement from the voice of the Eternal to make no difference upon them? Are those principles which might flourish and be sustained on a soil of atheism, to be counted enough even after the wonderful truth of a living and a reigning God has burst upon the world ? You are just ; — right, indispensably right. You say you have as serted no more than your own. But this property is not your own. He gave it to you, and he may call upon you to give to him an account of your stewardship. You are compassionate; — right also. But what if he set up the measure of the sanctuary upon your compassion? and, instead of a desultory instinct, excited to feeling by a moving picture of sensibility, and limited in effect to a humble fraction of your expendi ture, he call upon you to love your neigh bour as yourself, and to maintain this prin ciple at the expense of self-denial, and in the midst of manifold provocations ? You love your children ; — still indispensably right. But what if he should say, and he has actually said it, that you may know how to give good gifts unto your children, and still be evil? and that if you love father, or mother, or wife, or children, more than him, you are not worthy of him ? The lus tre of your accomplishments dazzles the eye of your neighbourhood, and you bask with a delighted heart in the sunshine of glory. But what if he should say, that his glory, and not your own, should be the constant aim of your doings ? and that if you love the praise of men more than the praise of God, you stand, in the pure and spiritual records of heaven, convicted of idolatry ? You love the things of the world ; and the men of the world, coming together in judgment upon you, take no offence at it. But God takes offence at it. He says, — and is he not right in saying ? — that if the gift withdraw the affections from the Giver, there is something wrong; that the love of these things is opposite to the love of the Father ; and that, unless you withdraw your affections from a world that perisheth, you will perish along with it. Surely if these, and such like principles, may consist with the atheism of a world where God is un- thought of and unknown, — you stand con victed of a still deeper and more determined atheism, who under the revelation of a God challenging the honour that is due unto his name, are satisfied with your holding in society, and live without him in the world. SERMON V. The Judgment of Men, compared with the Judgment of God. '¦ With me it is a very small thing that I should be judged of you, or of man's judgment — he that judget me is the Lord." — 1 Corinthians iv. 3, 4. III. When two parties meet together on the business of adjusting their respective claims, or when, in the language of our text, they come together in judgment, the principles on which they proceed must de pend on the relation in which they stand to each other : and we know not a more fatal or a more deep laid delusion, than that by which the principles, applicable to the case of a man entering into judgment with his fellow-men, are transferred to the far dif ferent case of man's entering into judgment with his God. Job seems to have been aware of this difference, and at times to have been humbled by it. In reference to man, he stood on triumphant ground, and often spoke of it in a style of boastful vindi cation. No one could impeach his justice. No one could question his generosity. And he made his confident appeal to the remem brance of those arcund him, when he says of himself, that he delivered the poor that 38 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [serm. cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him ; that the blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon him, and he caused the widow's heart to sing for joy ; that he put on righteousness, and it clothed him, and his judgment was as a robe and a diadem ; that he was eyes to the blind, and feet was he to the lame ; that he was a father to the poor, and the cause that he knew not, he searched out. On these grounds did he challenge the judgment of man, and actually obtained it. For we are told, because he did all this, that when the ear heard him, then it blessed him, and when the eye saw him, it gave witness unto him. There is not a more frequent exercise of mind in society, than that by which the members of it form and declare their judg ment of each other — and the work of thus deciding is a work which they all share in, and on which, perhaps, there is not a day of their lives wherein they are not called upon to expend some measure of attention and understanding — and we know not if there be a single topic that more readily engages the conversation of human beings — and often do we utter our own testimony, and hear the testimony of others to the virtues and vices of the absent— and out of all this has arisen a standard of estimation — and it is such a standard as many may actually reach, and some have actually ex ceeded — and thus it is, that it appears to re quire a very extended scale of reputation to take in all the varieties of human charac ter — and while the lower extremity of it is occupied by the dishonest, and the per fidious, and the glaringly selfish, who are outcasts from general respect ; on the higher extremity of it, do we behold men, to whom are awarded, by the universal voice, all the honours of a proud and unsullied excel lence — and their walk in the world is digni fied by the reverence of many salutations — and as we hear of their truth and their uprightness, and their princely liberalities, and of a heart alive to every impulse of sympathy, and of a manner sweetened by all the delicacies of genuine kindness; — who does not see that, in this assemblage of moral graces and accomplishments, there is enough to satisfy man, and to carry the admiration of man ? and can we wonder if, while we gaze on so fine a specimen of our nature, we should not merely pronounce upon him an honourable sentence at the tribunal of human judgment, but we should conceive of him that he looks as bright and faultless in the eye of God, and that he is in every way meet for his presence and his friendship in eternity. Now, if there be any truth in the dis tinction of our text ; if a man may have the judgment of his fellows, and yet be utterly unfit for contending in judgment with God; if there be any emphasis in the considera tion, that he is God, and not man ; or any delusion in conceiving of him, that he is altogether like unto ourselves,— may not all that ready circulation of praise, and of acknowledgement, which obtains in society, carry a most ruinous, and a most bewitching influence along with it ? Is it not possible that on the applause of man there may be reared a most treacherous self-complacency? Might not we build a confidence before God, on this sandy foundation? Think you not, that it is just this ill-supported con fidence which shuts out from many a heart the humiliating doctrine of the gospel? Is there no such imagination as that because we are so well able to stand our ground before the judgment of the world, we shall be equally well able to stand our ground be fore the judgment-seat of the great day? Are there not many who, upon this very prin ciple, count themselves rich and to have need of nothing? And have you never met with men of character, and estimation in society, who, surrounded by the gratulations of their neighbourhood, find the debasing views of humanity, which are set before us in the New Testament, to be beyond theii comprehension; who are utterly in the dark, as to the truth and the justness of such re presentations, and with whom the voice of God is therefore deafened by the voice and the testimony of men ? They see not them selves in that character of vileness and of guilt which he ascribes to them. They are blind to the principle of the text, that he is not a man ; and that they may not be able to answer him, though they may be able to meet the every reproach, and to hold out the lofty vindication against every charge which any one of their fellows may prefer And thus it is, that many live in the habitual neglect of a salvation which they cannot see that they require ; and spend their days in an insidious security, from which nothing but the voice of the last messenger, or the call of the last trumpet, shall awaken them. To do away this delusion, we shall ad vert to two leading points of distinction between the judgment of men and that of God. There is a distinction founded upon. the claims which God has a right to pre fer against us, when compared with the claims which our fellow-men have a right to prefer against us ; — and there is a dis tinction founded upon that clearer and more elevated sense which God has of that holi ness without which no man shall see his face, of that moral worth without which we are utterly unfit for the society of heaven. The people around me have no right to complain, if I give to every man his own . or, in other words, if I am true to all my promises, and faithful to all my bargains : and if what I claim as justice to myself, I most scrupulously render to others, when v.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 39 they are in like circumstances with myself. Now, let me do all this, and I earn amongst my fellows the character of a man of honour and of equity. Did I live with such a character in an unfallen world, these vir tues would not at aU signalize me, though the opposite vices would mark me out for universal surprise and indignation. But it so happens that I live in a world full of corruption, where deceit and dishonesty are common ;,— where, though the higher de grees of them are spoken of with abhor rence, the lower degrees of them are looked at with a very general connivance ; — where . the inflexibility of a truth that knows not one art of concealment, and the delicacy of an honour that was never tainted, would greatly signalize me ; — and thus it is, that though I went not beyond the strict require ments of integrity, yet by my nice and un varying fulfilment of them, should I rise above the ordinary level of human reputa tion, and be rewarded by the most flatter ing distinctions of human applause. But again, I may in fact give to others more than their own ; and in so doing I may earn the credit of other virtues. I may gather an additional lustre around my cha racter, and collect from those around me the tribute .of a still louder and more rap turous approbation. I may have a heart constitutionally framed to the feeling and the exercise of compassion. I may scatter on every side of me the treasures of benefi cence. I may have an eye for pity, and a hand open as day for melting charity. I may lay aside a large proportion of my wealth to the service of others, — and what with a bosom open to every impulse of pity, and with an eye ever lighted up by the smile of courteousness, and with a ready ear to all that is offered in the shape of complaint or supplication, I may not go be yond the demands of others, but I may go greatly beyond all that they have a right to demand, and if I signalize myself by rendering faithfully to every man his due, — still more shall I signalize myself by a kindness that is never weary, by a liberality that never is exhausted. Now, we need not offer to assign the pre cise degree to which a man must carry the exercise of these gratuitous virtues, ere he can obtain for them the good will, and the good opinion of society. We need not say by how small a fraction of his income, he may thus purchase the homage of his ac quaintances, — at how easy a rate he may send away one person delighted by his af fability ; or another by the hospitality of his reception ; or a third by the rendering of a personal service ; or a fourth by the direct conveyance of a present, — or, finally, for what expense he may surround him self by the gratitude of many poor, and the blessings and the prayers of many cottages. We cannot bring forward any rigid com putation of this matter. But we appeal to the experience of your own history, and to your observation of others, if a man might not, without any painful, or any sensible surrender of enjoyment at all, stand out to the eye of others in a blaze of moral re putation — if the substantial citizen might not, on the convivialities of friendship, be indulging his own taste, and at the very time be securing from his pleased and sa tisfied guests, the attestations of their cor diality — if the man of business might not be nobly generous to his friends in adver sity, and at the same time be running one unvaried career of accumulation — if the man of society might not be charming every acquaintance by the truth and the tenderness of his expressions, and at the same time, instead of impairing, be height ening his share of that felicity, which the Author of our being has annexed to human intercourse — if a thousand little acts of ac commodation from one neighbour to an other, might not swell the tide of praise and of popularity, and yet, as ample a remain der of pleasurable feeling be left to each as before. And even when the sacrifice is more painful, and the generosity more ro mantic, and man can appeal to some mighty reduction of wealth as the measure of his beneficence to others, might it not be said of him, if the life be more than meat, and the body than raiment, that still there is left to him more than he can possibly sur render ? that, though he strip himself of all his goods to feed the poor, there remains to him that, without which all is nothing ness, — that abreathing and a conscious man, he still treads on the face of our world, and bears his part in that universe of life, where the unfailing compassion of God still con tinues to uphold him, — that instead of lying wrapt in the insensibility of an eternal grave, he has all the images of a waking existence around him, and all the glories of immortality before him, — that instead of being withered to a thing of nought, and gone to that dark and hidden land, where all is silence and deep annihilation, a thou sand avenues of enjoyment are still open to him, and the promise of a daily provision is still made sure, and he is free to all the common blessings of nature, and he is freer still to all the consolations, and to all the privileges of the gospel. Thus it appears that after I have fulfilled all the claims of men, and men are satis fied, — that after having gone, in the exer cise of liberality, beyond these claims, and men are filled with delight and admiration, — that after, on the footing of equal and in dependent rights, I have come into judg ment with my fellows, and they have awarded to me the tribute of their most honourable testimony, the footing on which 40 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [serm. I stand with God still remains to be at tended to, and his claims still remain to be adjusted, — and the mighty account still lies uncancelled between the creature and the Creator, — between the man who, in refer ence to his neighbours, can say, I give every one his own, and out of my own I expa tiate in acts of tenderness and generosity amongst them, and the God who can say, You have nothing that you did not receive, and all you ever gave is out of the ability which I have conferred upon you, and this wealth is not your own, but his who be stowed it, and who now calls upon you to render an account of your stewardship, — between the man who has purchased, by a fraction of his property, the good will of his acquaintances, and the God who asserts his right to have every fraction of it turned into an expression of gratitude, and devoted to his glory, — between the man who holds up his head in society, because his justice, and the ministrations of his liberality, have distinguished him, and the God who de mands the returns of duty and of acknow ledgement, for giving him the fund of these ministrations, and for giving what no money can purchase, — for putting the principle of life into his bosom, — for furnishing him with all his senses, and, through these in lets of communication, giving him a part, and a property, in all that is around him, — for sustaining him in all the elements of his being, and conferring upon him all his capacities, and all his joys. Now, what we wish you to feel is, that the judgment of men may be upon your side, and the judgment of God be most righteously against you — that while from the one nothing is heard but admiration and gratitude, from the other, there may be such a charge of sinfulness, as, when set in or der before your eye, will convince you, that he by whom you consist, is defrauded of all his offerings, — that, while all the com mon honesties and humanities of social life, are acquitted to the entire satisfaction of others, and to the entire purity of your own reputation in the world, your whole heart and conduct may be utterly pervaded by the habit of ungod&iess, — that, while not one claim which your neighbours can prefer, is not met most readily, and dis charged most honourably, the great claims of the Creator, over those whom he has formed, may lie altogether unheeded; and he, your constant benefactor, be not loved, — and he, your constant preserver, be not depended on,— and he, your most legiti mate sovereign, be not obeyed,— and he, the unseen Spirit, who pervades all, and upholds all, be neither worshipped in spirit and in truth, nor vested with the hold of a rightful supremacy over your rebellious affections. God is not man; nor can we measure what is due to him, by what is due to our fellows in society. He made us, and he upholds us, and at his will the life which is in us, will, like the expiring vapour, pass away ; and the tabernacle of the body, that curious frame-work which man thinks he can move at his own pleasure, when it is only in God that he moves, as well as lives, and has his being, will, when abandoned by its spirit, mix with the dust out of which it was formed, and enter again into the un conscious glebe from which it was taken. It was, indeed, a wondrous preferment for unshapen clay to be wrougdit into so fine an organic structure, but not more wondrous surely than that the soul which animates it should have been created out of nothing; and what shall we say, if the compound being so originated, and so sustained, and depending on the will of another for every moment of his continuance, is found to spurn the thought of God, in distaste and disaffection away from him ? When the spirit returns to him who sitteth on the throne; when the question is put, Amid all the multitude of your doings in the world, what have you done unto me ? When the rightful ascendency of his claims over every movement of the creature is made manifest by him who judgeth righteously ; when the high but just pretensions of all things being done to his glory ; of the entire heart being consecrated in every one of its re gards to his person and character ; of the whole man being set apart to his service, and every compromise being done away, between the world on the one hand, and that Being on the other, who is jealous of his honour : — when these high pretensions are set up and brought into comparison with the character and the conduct of any one of us, and it be inquired in how far we have rendered unto God the ever-breathing gratitude that is due to him, and that obe dience which we should feel at all times to be our task and our obligation ; how shall we fare in that great day of examination, if it be found that this has not been the tendency of our nature at all ? and when he who is not a man shall thus enter into judgment with us, how shall we be able to stand ? Amid all the praise we give' and receiv from each other, we may have no claims to that substantial praise which cometh from God only. Men may be satisfied, but it followeth not that God is satisfied. Un- , der a ruinous delusion upon this subject, we may fancy ourselves to be rich, and have need of nothing, while, in fact, we are naked, and destitute, and blind, and misera ble. And thus it is, that there is a morality of this world, which stands in direct oppo sition to the humbling representations of the Gospel ; which cannot comprehend what it means by the utter worthlessness ^l DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 41 and depravity of our nature ; which pas sionately repels this statement, and that too on its own consciousness of attainments superior to those of the sordid, and the profli gate, and the dishonourable ; and is fortified in its resistance to the truth as it is in Jesus, by the flattering testimonials which it gathers to its respectability and its worth from the various quarters of human society. A just sense of the extent of claim which God has upon his own creatures, would lay open this hiding-place of security : would lead us to see, that to do some things for our neighbours, is not the same with doing all things for our Maker ; that a natural principle of honesty to man, is altogether distinct from a principle of entire devoted- ness to God ; that the tithe which we be stow upon others is not an equivalent for a total dedication unto God of ourselves, and of all which belongs to us ; that we may present those around us with many an of fering of kindness, and not present our bodies a living sacrifice to God, which is our reasonable service ; that we may earn a cheap and easy credit for such virtues as will satisfy the world, and be utter strangers to the self-denial, and the spiritu ality, and the mortification of every earthly desire, and the affection for the things that are above ; — all of which graces enter as essential ingredients into the sanctification of the gospel. But this leads us to the second point of distinction between the judgment of man and that of God, — even his clearer and more elevated sense of that holiness without which no man shall see his face, and of that moral worth without which we are utterly unfit for the society of heaven. Man's sense of the right and the wrong may be clear and intelligent enough, in so far as that part of character is concerned which renders us fit for the society of earth. Those virtues, without which a community could not be held together, are both urgently demanded by that community, and highly appreciated by it. The morality of our , earthly life, is a morality which is in direct subservience to our earthly accommodation ; and seeing that equity, and humanity, and civility, are in such visible and immediate connexion with all the security, and all the enjoyment which they spread around them, it is not to be wondered at, that they should throw over the character of him by whom they are exhibited, the lustre of a grateful and a superior estimation. And thus it is, that even without any very nice or exqui site refinement of these virtues, many an ordinary character will pass; — and should that character be deformed by the levities, or even by the profligacies of intemperance, he who sustains it may still bear his part among the good men of society, — and keep away from it all that malignity, and all that 6 dishonesty, which have a disturbing effect on the enjoyments of others, and these others will still retain their kindliness for the good-humoured convivialist, — and he will be suffered to retain his own taste, and his own peculiarities ; and, though it may be true, that chastity, and self-control, and the severer virtues of personal discipline and restraint, would in fact give a far more happy and healthful tone to society than at present it possesses, yet this influence is not so conspicuous, and heedless men do not look so far : and therefore it is, that in spite of his many outward and positive trans gressions of the divine law, many an indi vidual can be referred to, who, with his average share of the integrities and the sen sibilities of social life, has stamped upon him the currency of a very fair e\«fery-day character, who moves among his fellows without disgrace, and meets with acceptance throughout the general run of this world's companies. If such a measure of indulgence be ex tended to the very glaring iniquities of the outer man, let us not wonder though the errors of the heart, the moral diseases of the spirit, the disorganization of the inner man, with its turbulent passions, and its worldly affections, and its utter deadness to the consideration of an overruling God, should find a very general indulgence among our brethren of the species. Bring a man to sit in judgment over the depravi ties of our common nature, and unless these depravities are obviously pointed against the temporal good of society, what can we expect, but that he will connive at the infirmities of which he feels himself to be so large and so habitual a partaker? What can we expect but that his moral sense, clouded as it is against the discern ment of his own exceeding turpitude, will also perceive but dimly, and feel but ob tusely, a similar turpitude in the character of others ? What else can we look for, than that the man who fires so promptly on the reception of an injury, will tolerate in his fellow all the vindictive propensities ? — or, that the man who feels not in his bosom a single movement of principle or of tender ness towards God, will tolerate in another an equally entire habit of ungodliness ? — or, that the man who surrenders himself to the temptations of voluptuousness, will per ceive no enormity of character at all in the unrestrained dissipations of an acquaint ance? — and, in a word, when I see a man whose rights I have never invaded, who has no complaint of personal wrong or provocation to allege against me, and who shares equally with myself in nature's blindness and nature's propensities, I will not be afraid of entering into judgment with him ; — nor shall I stand in awe of any pene trating glance from his eye, of any indig- 42 DjSPRAVITY of human nature. [serm. nant remonstrance from his offended sense of what is righteous, though there be made bare to his inspection all my devotedness to the world, and all my proud disdain at the insolence of others, and all my anger at the sufferings of injustice, and all my in difference to the God who formed me, and all those secrecies of an unholy and an un heavenly character, which are to be brought out into full manifestation on the great day of the winding up of this world's history. It is a very capital delusion that God is like unto man, — " Thou thoughtest that I was altogether such a one as thyself; but I will reprove thee, and set thy sins in order before thine eyes. Now consider this, ye that forget God, lest I tear you in pieces, and there be none to deliver." Man and man may come together in judg ment, and retire from each other in mutual complacency. But when man and God thus come together, there is another prin ciple, and another standard of examination. There is a claim of justice on the part of the Creator, totally distinct from any claim which a fellow-creature can prefer, — and while the one will tolerate all that is con sistent with the economy and the interest of the society upon earth, the other can tolerate nothing that is inconsistent with the economy and the character of the so ciety in heaven. God made us for eternity. He designed us to be the members of a family which never separates, and over which he himself presides in the visible glory of all that worth, and of all that moral excellence, which belong to him. He formed us at first after his own likeness ; and ere we can be re-admitted into that paradise from which we have been exiled, we must be created anew in the image of God. These spirits must be made perfect, and every taint of selfishness and impurity be done away from them. Heaven is the place into which nothing that is unclean or unholy can enter ; and we are not preparing for our inherit ance there, unless there be gathering upon us here, the lineaments of a celestial cha racter. Now, a man may be accomplished in the moralities of civil and of social life, without so much as the semblance of such a character resting upon him. He may have no share whatsoever in the tastes, or in the enjoyments, or in the affections of paradise. There might not be a single trace of the mark of the Lamb of God upon his forehead. He who ponders so intelligently the secrets of the heart, may be able to discover there no vestige of any love for himself, — no sensibility at all to what is amiable or to what is great in the character of the Godhead,— no desire whatever after his glory, — no such feeling towards him who is to tabernacle with men, as will qualify him to bear a joyful part in the songs, and the praises of that city which has foundations. Surrounded as he is by the perishable admiration of his fellows, he is altogether out of affection, and out of ac quaintance, with that Being with whom he has to do; and it will be found, on the great day of the doings, and the deliberations of the judgment-seat, that as he had no relish for God in time, so is he utterly unfit for his presence, or for his friendship in eternity. It is said of God, that he created man after his own image, and it was upon losing this image that he was cast out of paradise: and ere he can be again admitted, the image that has been lost must again be formed on him. The grand qualification for the so ciety of heaven is, that each of its members be like unto God. In the selfish and sensual society of earth, there is many a feature of resemblance to the Godhead that is most readily dispensed with ; and many an indi vidual here obtains applause and toleration among his fellows, though there is not one attribute of the saintly character belonging to him. Let him only fulfil the stipulations of integrity, and smile benignity upon his friends, and render the alacrity of willing and valuable services to those who have never offended him, and on the strength of such performances as these, may he rise to a conspicuous place in the scale of this world's reputation. But what would have been the sad event to us, had these been the only performances which went to illus trate the character of the Godhead, — had he been a God of whom we coidd say no more, than that he possessed the one attri bute of an unrelenting justice, or even that he went beyond this attribute, in the exer cise of kindness to those who loved him, and in acts of beneficence to those who had never offended him ? Do we not owe our place and our prospect to the love of God for his enemies? Is it not from the riches of his forbearance and long-suffering, that we draw all our enjoyments in time, and all our hopes^for eternity? Is it not be cause, though grieved with sinners every day, he still waits to be gracious ; that he holds out to us, his heedless and wayward children, the beseeching voice of reconcilia tion ; and puts on such an aspect of tender ness to those who have not ceased from their birth to vex his Holy Spirit, and to thwart him every hour by the perverseness of their disobedience ? This is the godlike attribute on which all the privileges of our fallen race are suspended ; and yet against the intimation of which, nature, when urged by the provocations of injustice, rises in such a tumult of strong and impetuous re sistance. It is through the putting forth of this attribute, that any redeemed sinners are to be found among the other society of heaven ; but into which no member shall be admitted out of this corrupt world till there be stamped and realized on his own v-1 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 43 person, that feature of the divinity to which he owes a distinction so exalted. And tell us, ye men who are so jealous of right and of honour, who take sudden fire at every insult, and suffer the slightest imagination of another's contempt, or another's unfair ness, to chase from your bosom every feel ing of complacency ; — ye men whom every fancied affront puts into such a turbulence of emotion, and in whom every fancied in fringement stirs up the quick and the re sentful appetite for justice — how will you stand the rigorous application of that test by which the forgiven of God are ascer tained, even that the spirit of forgiveness is in them, and by which it will be pronounced whether you are indeed the children of the highest, and perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect ? But we must hasten to a close, and will, therefore, barely suggest some other mat ters of self-examination. We ask you, to think of the facility with which you might obtain the approbation of men, without be ing at all like unto God in the holiness of his character. We ask you to think of the delight which he takes in the contempla tion of what is pure, and moral, and righ teous. We ask you to think how one great object of his creation, was to diffuse over the face of it a multiplied resemblance of himself, — and that, therefore, however fit you may be for sustaining your part in the alienated community of this world, you are most assuredly unfit for the great and the general assembly of the spirits of just men made perfect, — if unlike unto God who is in the midst of them, you have no conge nial delight with the Father of all, in the contemplation of spiritual excellence. Now, are you not blind to the glories and the perfections of that Being who realizes this excellence to a degree that is infinite? Does not the creature fill up all your avenues of enjoyment, while the Creator is forgotten? In reference to God, is there not an utter dulness and insensibility of all your re gards to him ? If thus blind to the percep tion of that supreme virtue and loveliness which reside in the Godhead, are you not, in fact, and by nature an outcast from the Godhead ? And an outcast will you ever remain, until your character be brought under some mighty revolutionizing influ ence which is able to shift the currency of your desires, and to over-rule nature with all her obstinate habits, and all her fond and favourite predilections. These are topics of great weight and great pregnancy ; but we leave them to your own thoughts, and only ask you at present to look at the vivid illustration of them that may be gathered out of the history of Job. In reference to his fellows, he could make a triumphant appeal to the honour and the humanity which adorned him, — he could speak of the splendid career of beneficence that he had run, — and in the recollection of the plaudits that had surrounded him, he could boldly challenge the inspection of all his neighbours, and of all his enemies, on the whole tract of his visible history in the world. He protested his innocence before them, and even so long as he had only heard of God by the hearing of the ear did he ad dress him in the language of justification. But when God at length revealed himself, — when the worth and the majesty of the Eternal stood before him in visible array, — when the actual presence of his Maker brought the claims of his Maker to bear impressively upon his conscience, it was not merely the presence of the power of God Which overawed him ; it was the pre sence of the righteousness of God which convinced him, — and when, from the bright assemblage of all that was pure, and holy, and graceful in the aspect of the Divinity, he turned the eye of contemplation down ward upon himself, — 0 it is instructive to be told, how the vaunting patriarch shrunk into all the depths of self-abasement at so striking a manifestation ; and how he said, " I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee; where fore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and in ashes." It is indeed a small matter to be judged of man's judgment. He who judges us is God. From this judgment there is no es cape, and no hiding place. The testimony of our fellows will as little avail us in the day of judgment, as the help of our fel lows will avail us in the hour of death. We may as well think of seeking a refuge in the applause of men, from the condem nation of God, as we may think of seeking a refuge in the power or the skill of men, from the mandate of God, that our breath shall depart from us. And, have you never thought, when called to the chamber of the dying man, — when you saw the warning of death upon his countenance, and how its symptoms gathered and grew, and got the ascendency over all the ministrations of human care and of human tenderness, — when it every day became more visible, that the patient was drawing to his close, and that nothing in the whole compass of art or any of its resources, could stay the advances of the sure and the last malady, — have you never thought, on seeing the bed of the sufferer surrounded by other comforters than those of the Patriarch, — when, from morning to night, and from night to morning, the watchful family sat at his couch, and guarded his broken slum bers, and interpreted all his signals, and tried to hide from his observation the tears which attested him to be the kindest ot parents, — when the sad anticipation spread its gloomy stillness over the household, and 44 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE, [serm. even set forth an air of seriousness and con cern upon the men of other families, — when you have witnessed the despair of friends, who could only turn them to cry at the spectacle of his last agonies, and had seen how little it was that weeping children and inquiring neighbours could do for him, — when you have contrasted the unrelenting necessity of the grave, with the feebleness of every surrounding endeavour toward it, has the thought never entered within you, How powerless is the desire of man ! — how sure and how resistless is the decree of God! And on the day of the second death, will it be found, that it is not the imagination of man, but the sentence of God that shall stand. When the sound of the last trumpet awakens us from the grave, and the ensigns of the last day are seen on the canopy of heaven, and the tremor of the dissolving ele ments is felt upon the earth, and the Son of God with his mighty angels are placed around th e j udgment-seat,and the men of all ages and of all nations are standing before it, and wait ing the high decree of eternity, — then will it be found, that as no power of man can save his fellow from going down to the grave of mortality, so no testimony of man can save his fellow from going down to the pit of con demnation. Each on that day will mourn apart. Each of those on the left hand, en grossed by his own separate contemplation, and overwhel med by the dark and the louring futurity of his own existence, will not have a thought or a sympathy to spare for those who are around him. Each of those on the fight hand will see and acquiesce in the righ teousness of God, and be made to acknow ledge, that those things which are highly esteemed among men are in his sight an abomination. When the judge and his at tendants shall come on the high errand of this world's destinies, they will come from God, — and the pure principle they shall bring along with them from the sanctuary of heaven, will be the entire subordination of the thing formed to him who formed it. In that praise which upon earthly feelings the creatures offer one to another, we behold no recognition of this principle whatever; and therefore it is, that it is so very differ ent from the praise which cometh from God only. And should any one of these crea tures be made on that great day of manifes tation, to see his nakedness, — should the question, what have you done unto me? leave him speechless ; should at length, con victed of his utter rebelliousness against God, he try to find among the companions of his pilgrimage, some attestation to the kindness that beamed from him upon his fellow mortals in the world, — they will not be able to hide him from the coming wrath. In the face of all the tenderness they ever bore him, the severity of an unreconciled law giver must have upon him its resistless operation. They may all bear witness to the honour and the generosity of his doings among men, but there is not one of them who can justify him before God. Nor among all those who now yield him a ready testi mony on earth will he find a day's-man be twixt htm and his Creator, who can lay his hand upon them both. SERMON VI. The Necessity of a Mediator between God and Man. 'Neither is there any day's-man betwixt us, that might lay his hands upon us both." — Job ix. 33. IV. The feeling of Job, at the time of his uttering the complaint which is recorded in the verses before us, might not have been altogether free of a reproachful spirit towards those friends who had refused to advocate his cause, and who had even added bitterness to his distress by their most painful and unwelcome arguments. And well may it be our feeling, and that too without the presence of any such ingredient along with il— that there is not a man upon earth who can execute the office of a day's-man be twixt us and God,— that taking the com mon sense of this term, there is none who can act as an umpire between us the chil dren of ungodliness, and the Lawgiver, whom we have so deeply offended; or taking up the term that occurs in the Sep- tuagint version of the Bible, that amongst all our brethren of the species, not an indi vidual is to be found who, standing in the place of a mediator, can lay his hand upon us both. It is, indeed, very possible, that all this may carry the understanding, and at the same time have all the inefficiency of a cold and general speculation. But should the Spirit, whose office it is to convince us of sin, lend the power of his demonstration to the argument,— should he divide asunder our thoughts, and enable us to see that, with the goodly semblance of what is fait and estimable in the sight of man, all within us is defection from the principle of loyaltv to God — that while we yield a duty as the members of society, the duty that lies upon us, as the creatures of the Supreme Bein» VI.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 45 is, in respect of the spirit of allegiance which gives it all its value, fallen away from, by every one of us, — should this conviction cleave to us like an arrow sticking fast, and work its legitimate influence, in causing us to feel all the worthlessness of our charac ters, and all the need and danger of our circumstances, — then would the urgency of the case be felt as well as understood by us, — nor should we be long of pressing the inquiry of, where is the day's-man betwixt us that might lay his hand upon us both! And, in fact, by putting the Mediator away from you, — by reckoning on a state of safety and acceptance without him, what is the ground upon which, in reference to God, you actually put yourselves? We speak not at present of the danger of per sisting in such an attitude of independence, of its being one of those refuges of treache ry in which the good man of the world is often to be found, — of its being a state wherein peace, when there is no peace, lulls him by its flatteries unto a deceitful repose. We are not at present saying how ruinous it is to rest a security upon an im posing exterior, when in fact the heart is not right in the sight of God, and while the reproving eye of him, who judgeth not as man judgeth, is upon him, or how poison ous is the unction that comes upon the soul from those praises which upon the mere exhibition of the social virtues, are rung and circulated through society. But, in addition to the danger, let us insist upon the guilt of thus casting the offered Medi ator away from us. It implies in the most direct possible way, a sentiment of the suffi ciency of our own righteousness. It is ex pressly saying of our obedience, that it is good enough for God. It is presumptuously thinking that what pleases the world may please the Maker of it, even though he him self has declared it to be a world lying in wickedness. There is an aggravation you will perceive in all this which goes beyond the simple infraction of the commandment. It is, after the infraction of it, challenging for some remainder or for some semblance of conformity, the reward and approbation of the God whose law we have dishonour ed. It is, after we have braved the attribute of the Almighty's justice, by incurring its condemnation, making an attempt upon the attribute itself, by bringing it down to the standard of a polluted obediences It is, after insulting the throne of God's righteousness, embarking in the still deadlier enterprize of demolishing all the stabilities which guard it; and spoiling it of that truth which has pronounced a curse on the children of iniquity, — of that holiness which cannot dwell with evil, — of that unchangeableness which will admit of no compromise with sinners that can violate the honours of the Godhead, or weaken the authority of his government over the universe that he has formed. It is laying those paltry accom plishments which give you a place of dis tinction among your fellows, before that God of whose throne justice and judgment are the habitation, and calling upon him to connive at all that you want, and to look with complacency on all that you possess. It is to bring to the bar of judgment the poor and the starving samples of virtue which are current enough in a world broken loose from its communion with God, and to defy the inspection upon them of God's eternal Son, and of the angels he brings along with him to witness the righ teousness of his decisions. Sin has indeed been the ruin of our nature — but this re fusal of the Saviour of sinners lands them in a perdition still deeper and more irreco verable. It is blindness to the enormity of sin. It is equivalent to a formally an nounced sentiment on your part that your performances, sinful as they are, and pol luted as they are, are good enough for hea ven. It is just saying of the offered Saviour that you do not see the use of him. It is a provoking contempt of mercy ; and causing the measure of ordinary guilt to overflow, by heaping the additional blasphemy upon it, 01 calling upon God to honour it by his rewards, and to look to it with the compla cency of his approbation. We cannot, then, we cannot draw near unto God, by a direct or independent ap proach to him. And who in these circum stances, is fit to be the day's-man betwixt you ? There is not a fellow-mortal from Adam downward, who has not sins of his own to answer for. There is not one of them who has not the sentence of guilt in scribed upon his own forehead, and who is not arrested by the same unsealed barrier which keeps you at an inacessible distance from God. There is not one of them whose entrance into the holiest of all would not inflict on it as great a profanation, as if any of you were to present yourselves before him, who dwelleth there, without a Media tor. There lieth a great gulf between God and the whole of this alienated world; and after looking round amongst all the men of all its generations, we may say, in the language of the text, that there is not a day's-man betwixt us who can lay his hand upon us both. What we aim at as the effect of all these observations, is, that you should feel your only security to be in the revealed and the offered mediator ; that you should seek to hiin as your only effectual hiding-place; and who alone, in the whole range of uni versal being, is able to lay his hand upon you, and shield you from the justice of the Almighty, and to lay his hand upon God, and stay the fury of the avenger. By him the deep atonement has been rendered. 4(3 EPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [serm. By him the mystery has been accomplish ed, which angels desired to look into. By him such a sacrifice for sin has been offered, as that, in the acceptance of the sinner, every attribute of the Divinity is exalted ; and the throne of the Majesty in the hea vens, though turned into a throne of grace, is still upheld in all its firmness, and in all its glory. Through the unchangeable priest hood of Christ, the vilest of sinners may draw nigh, and receive of that mercy which has met with truth, and of that peace which is in close alliance with righteousness ; and without one perfection of the Godhead being surrendered by this act of forgiveness, all are made to receive a higher and more wondrous manifestation ; for though he will by no means clear the guilty, yet there is no place for vengeance, when all their guilt is cleared away by the blood of the ever lasting covenant ; and though he executeth justice upon the earth, yet he can be just while the justifier of them who believe in Jesus. The work of our redemption is every where spoken of as an achievement of strength — as done by the putting forth of mighty energies — as the work of one who, travelling in his own unaided greatness. had to tread the wine-press alone ; and who, when of the people there was none to help him, did by his own arm bring unto him salvation. To move aside the obstacle which beset the path of acceptance ; to re instate the guilty into favour with the of fended and unchangeable Lawgiver : to avert from them the execution of that sen tence to which there were staked the truth and justice of the Divinity ; to work out a pardon for the disobedient, and at the same time to uphold in all their strength the pillars of that tii rone which they had insulted; to in tercept the defied penalties of the law, and at the same time magnify it, and to make it ho nourable; thusto bend, as it were, the holy and everlasting attributes of God, and in doing so, to pour over them the lustre of ahigh and awful vindication, — this was an enterprise of such height, and depth, and length, as no cre ated being could fulfil, and which called forth the might and the counsel of him who is the power of God, and the wisdom of God. When no man could redeem his neigh bour !Vom thc grave,— God himself found out a ransom. When not one of the beings whom he had formed could offer an ade quate expiation,— did the Lord of hosts awaken the sword of vengeance against his fellow. When there was no messenger among the angels who surrounded his throne, that could both proclaim and pur chase peace for a guilty world,— did God manifest in the flesh descend in shrouded majesty amongst our earthly tabernacles, and pour out his soul unto the death for us, and purchase the church by his own blood, and bursting away from the grave which could not hold him, ascend to the throne of his appointed mediatorship; and now he, the first and the last, who was dead and is alive, and maketh intercession for trans gressors, is able to save to the uttermost all who come unto God through him ; and standing in the breach between a holy God and the sinners who have offended him, does he make reconciliation, and lay his hand upon them both. But it is not enough that the Mediator be appointed by God, — he must be accepted by man. And to incite our acceptance does he hold forth every kind and constraining argument. He casts abroad, over the whole face of the world, one wide and universal assurance of welcome. " Whosoever cometh unto me shall not be cast out." " Come unto me all ye who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." " Where sin hath abounded, grace hath much more abounded." " Whatsoever ye ask in my name ye shall receive." The path of access to Christ is open and free of every obstacle, which kept fearful and guilty man at an impracticable distance from the jealous and unpacified Lawgiver. He hath put aside the obstacle, and now stands in its place. Let us only go in the way of the Gospel, and we shall find nothing between us and God but the author and finisher of the Gos pel, — who, on the one hand, beckons to him the approach of man with every token of truth and of tenderness; and, on the other hand, advocates our cause with God, and fills his mouth with arguments, and pleads that very atonement which was devised in love by the Father, and with the incense of which he was well pleased, and claims, as the fruit of the travail of his soul, all who put their trust in him ; and thus, laying his hand upon God, turns him altogether from the fierceness of his indignation. But Jesus Christ is something more than the agent of our justification, — he is the agent of our sanctification also. Standing between us and God, he receives from him of that Spirit which is called the promise of the Father, and he pours it forth in free and generous dispensation on those who believe in him. Without this spirit there may, in a few of the goodlier specimens of our race, be within us the play of what is kindly in constitutional feeling, and with out us the exhibition of what is seemly in a constitutional virtue ; and man, thus stand ing over us in judgment, may pass his ver dict of approbation ; and all that is visible in our doings may be pure as by the ope ration of snow water. But the utter irre- ligiousness of our nature will remain as entire and as obstinate as ever. The aliena tion of our desires from God will persist with unsubdued vigour in our bosoms ; and sin, in the very essence of its elementary principle, will still lord it over the inner vi-] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 47 man with all the power of its original as cendency,— till the deep, and the searching, and the pervading influence of the love of God be shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost. This is the work of the great Mediator. This is the might and the mys tery of that regeneration, without which we shall never see the kingdom of God. This is the office of Him to whom all power is committed, both in heaven and in earth, — who reigning In heaven, and uniting its mercy with its righteousness, causes them to flow upon earth in one stream of celes tial influence ; and reigning on earth, and working mightily in the hearts of its peo ple, makes them meet for the society of heaven, — thereby completing the wonderful work of our redemption, by which, on the one hand he brings the eye of a holy God to look approvingly on the sinner, and on the other hand, makes the sinner fit for the fellowship, and altogether prepared for the enjoyment of God. Such are the great elements of a sinner's religion. But if you turn from the pre scribed use of them, the wrath of God abideth on you. If you kiss not the Son while he is in the way, you provoke his anger, and when once it begins to burn, they only are blessed who have put their trust in him. If, on the fancied sufficiency of a righteousness that is without godliness, you neglect the great salvation, you will not escape the severities of that day, when the Being with whom you have to do shall en ter with you into judgment ; and it is only by fleeing to the Mediator, as you would from a coming storm, that peace is made between you and God, and that, sanctified by the faith which is in Jesus, you are made to abound in such fruits of righteous ness, as shall be to praise and glory at the last and the solemn reckoning. Before we conclude, we shall just advert to another sense, in which the Mediator be tween God and man may be affirmed to have laid his hand upon them bo h : — He fills up that mysterious interval which lies between every corporeal being, and the God who is a spirit and is invisible. No man hath seen God at any time, — and the power which is unseen is terrible. Fancy tremoles before its own picture, and superstition throws its darkest imagery over it. The voice of the thunder is awful, but not so awful as the conception of that angry being who sits in mysterious concealment, and gives it all its energy. In these sketches of the imagination, fear is sure to predomi nate. We gather an impression of Nature's God, from those scenes where Nature threatens,, and looks dreadful. We speak not of the theology of the schools, and the empty parade of its demonstrations. We speak of the theology of actual feeling, — that theology which is sure to derive its lessons from the quarter whence the human heart derives its strongest sensations, — and we refer both to your own feelings, and to the history of this world's opinions, if God is more felt or more present to your ima ginations in the peacefulness of spring, or the loveliness of a summer landscape, than when winter with its mighty elements sweeps the forest of its leaves, — when the rushing of the storm is heard upon our windows, and man flees to cover himself from the desolation that walketh over the surface of the world. If nature and her elements be dreadful, how dreadful that mysterious and unseen Being, who sits behind the elements he has formed, and gives birth and movement to all things ! It is the mystery in which he is shrouded,— it is that dark and unknown region of spirits, where he feigns in glory, and stands revealed to the immediate view of his worshippers, — it is the inexplicable manner of his being so far removed from that province of sense, within which the understanding of man can expatiate, — it is its total unlikeness to all that nature can furnish to the eye of the body, or to the conception of the mind, which animates it, — it is all this which throws the Being who formed us at a distance so inaccessi ble, — which throws an impenetrable mantle over his way, and gives us the idea of some dark and untrodden interval betwixt the glory of God, and all that is visible and created. Now, Jesus Christ has lifted up this mys terious veil, or rather he has entered within it. He is now at the right hand of God; and though the brightness of his Father's glory, and the express image of his person, he appeared to us in the palpable charac ters of a man ; and those high attributes of truth, and justice, and mercy, which could not be felt or understood, as they existed in the abstract and invisible Deity, are brought down to our conceptions in a man ner the most familiar and impressive, by having been made, through Jesus Christ, to flow in utterance from human lips, and to beam in expressive physiognomy from a human countenance. So long as I had nothing before me but the unseen spirit of God, my mind wandered in uncertainty, my busy fancy was free to expatiate, and its images filled my heart with disquietude and terror. But in the life, and person, and history of Jesus Christ, the attributes of the Deity are brought down to the observation of the senses ; and I can no longer mistake them, when in the Son, who is the express image of his Father, I see them carried home to my understanding by the evidence and expression of human organs, — when I see the kindness of the Father, in the tears which fell from his Son at the tomb of Lazarus, — when I see his 48 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. justice blended with his mercy, in the ex clamation, " 0 Jerusalem, Jerusalem," by Jesus Christ ; uttered with a tone more tender than the sympathy of human bosom ever prompted, while he bewailed the sen tence of its desolation, — and in the look of energy and significance which he threw upon Peter, I feel the judgment of God himself, flashing conviction upon my con science, and calling me to repent while his wrath is suspended, and he still waiteth to be gracious. And it was not a temporary character which he assumed. The human kindness, and the human expression which makes it intelligible to us, remained with him till his latest hour. They survived his re surrection, and he has carried them along with him to the mysterious place which he now occupies. How do I know all this ? I know it from his history ; I hear it in the parting words to his mother from the cross; I see it in his unaltered form when he rose triumphant from the grave; I perceive it in his tenderness for the scruples of the unbelieving Thomas; and I am given to understand, that as his body retained the impression of his own sufferings, so his mind retains a sympathy for ours, as warm, and gracious, and endearing, as ever. We have a Priest on high, who is touched with a fellow feeling of our infirmities. My soul, unable to support itself in its aeriai flight among the spirits of the invisible, now re poses on Christ, who stands revealed to my conceptions in the figure, the countenance, the heart, the sympathies of a man. He has entered within that veil which hung over the glories of the Eternal ; and the mysterious inaccessible throne of God is divested of all its tenors, when I think that a friend who bears the form of the species, and knows its infirmities, is there to plead for me. SERMON VII. The Folly of Men measuring themselves by themselves. " For we dare not make ourselves of the number, or compare ourselves with some that commend themselves , but they, measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise." — 2 Corinthians, X. 12. St. Paul addressed these words to the members of a Christian congregation ; and were we to confine their application to those people of the present day, who in circumstances, bear the nearest resemblance to them, we would, in the present discourse, have chiefly to do with the more serious and declared professors of the Gospel. Nor should we be long at a loss for a very ob servable peculiarity amongst them, against which to point the admonition of the Apostle. For, in truth there is a great dis position with the members of the religious world, to look away from tbe unalterable standard of God's will, and to form a stand ard of authority out of the existing attain ments of those whom they conceive to be in the faith. We know nothing that has contributed more than this to reduce the tone of practical Christianity. We know not a more insidious security, than that which steals over the mind of him who when he looks to another of eminent name for godliness, or orthodoxy, and perceives in him a certain degree of conformity to the world, or a certain measure of infirmity of temper, or a certain abandonment of him self to the natural enjoyments of luxury, or of idle gossiping, or of commenting with malignant pleasure on the faults and fail ings of the absent, thinks, that upsn such an example, it is safe for him to allow in himself an equal extent of indulgence; and to go the same lengths of laxity or trans gression ; and thus, instead of measuring himself by the perfect law of the Almighty, and making conformity to it the object of his strenuous aspirings, — does he measure himself and compare himself with his fel low-mortals, — and pitches his ambition to no greater height than the accidental level which obtains amongst the members of his own religious brotherhood, and finds a quiet repose in the mediocrity of their actual accomplishments, and of their current and conventional observations. There is much in this consideration to alarm many of those who within the pale of a select and peculiar circle, look upon themselves as firmly seated in an enclosure of safety. ' They may be recognized by the society around them as one of us; and they may keep the even pace of acquirement along with them; and they may wear all those marks of distinction which separate them from the general and unprofessing public ; and, in respect of Church, and of sacrament, and of family observances, and of exclusive preference for each other's conversation, and of meetings for prayer and the other exercises of Christian fellow ship, they may stand most decidedly out vn.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 49 from the world, and most decidedly in with thoie of their own cast and their own de nomination ;— and yet, in fact, there may be individuals, even of such a body as this, who instead of looking upwards to the Being with whom they have to do, are looking no further than to the testimony and example of those who are immediately around them; who count it enough that they are highly esteemed among men; who feel no earnestness, and put forth no strength in the pursuit of a lofty sanctification ; who are not living as in the sight of God, and are not in the habit of bringing their con duct into measurement with the principles of that great day, when God's righteousness shall be vindicated in the eyes of all his creatures ; who, satisfied, in short, with the countenance of the people of their own communion, come under the charge of my text, that measuring themselves by them selves and comparing themselves among themselves, they are not wise. Now, though this habit of measuring oursslves by ourselves, and comparing our selves among ourselves, be charged by the Apostle, in the text, against the professors of a strict and peculiar Christianity ; it is a habit so universally exemplified in the wond, and ministers such a deep and fatal security to the men of all characters who live in it, and establishes in their hearts so firm a principle of resistance against the humbling doctrines of the New Testament, that we trust we shall be excused if we leave out, for a time, the consideration of those who are within the limits of the Church, and dwell on the operation of this habit among those who are without these limits ; and going beyond that territory of observation to which the words now read would appear to restrict us, we shall attend to the effects of that principle in human nature which are there adverted to; in as far as it serves to fortify the human mind against an entire reception cf the truths and the overtures of the Gospel. It may be remarked, by way of illustra tion, that the habit condemned in the text is an abundant cause of that vanity which is founded on a sense of our importance. If, instead of measuring ourselves by our com panions and equals in society, we brought ourselves into measurement with our supe riors, it might, go far to humble and chastise our vanity. The rustic conqueror on some arena of strength or of dexterity, stands proudly elevated among his fellow-rustics who are around him. Place him beside the re turned warrior, who can tell of the hazards, and the achievements, and the desperations of the great battle in which he had shared the renown and the danger; and he will stand convicted of the humility of his own performances. The man who is most keen, and, at the same time, most skilful in the 7 busy politics of his corporation, triumphs in the consciousness of that sagacity by which he has baffled and overpowered the devices of his many antagonists. But take him to the high theatre of Parliament, and bring him into fellowship with the man who has there won the mighty game of superiority, and he will feel abashed at the insignifi cance of his own tamer and homelier pre tensions. The richest individual of the district struts throughout his neighbour hood in all the glories of a provincial emi nence. Carry iiim to the metropolis of the empire, and he hides his diminished head under the brilliancy of rank far loftier than his own, and equipage more splendid than that by which he gathers from his sur rounding tributaries, the homage of a re spectful admiration. The principle of all this vanity was seen by the discerning eye of the Apostle. It is put down for our instruc tion in the text before us. And if we, instead of looking to our superiority above the level of our immediate acquaintanceship, pointed an eye of habitual observation to our inferi ority beneath the level of those in society who are more dignified and more accomplish ed than ourselves, — such a habit as this might shed a graceful humility over our charac ters, and save us from the pangs and the delusions of a vanity which was not made for man. And let it not be said of those, who, in the more exalted walks of life, can look to few or to none above them, that they can derive no benefit from the principle of my text, be cause they are placed beyond the reach of its application. It is true of him who is on the very pinnacle of human society, that standing sublimely there, he can cast a downward eye on all the ranks and varieties of the world. But, though in the act of looking beneath him to men, he may gather no salutary lesson of humility — the lesson should come as forcibly upon him as upon any of his fellow mortals, in the act of looking above him to God. f nstead of com paring himself with the men of this world, let him leave the world and expatiate in thought over the tracts of immensity, — let him survey the mighty apparatus of worlds scattered in such profusion over its distant regions ; let him bring the whole field of the triumphs of his ambition into measurement with the magnificence that is above him, and around him, — above all, let him rise through the ascending series of angels, and principalities, and powers, to the throne of the august Monarch on whom all is sus pended, — and then will the lofty imagina tion of his heart be cast down, and all vanity die within him. Now, if all this be obviously true of that vanity which is founded on a sense of our importance, might it not be as true of that complacency which is founded on a sense 50 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [sERM. of our worth. Should it not lead us to sus pect the ground of this complacency, and to fear lest a similar delusion be misleading us into a false estimate of our own righteous ness ? When we feel a sufficiency in the act of measuring ourselves by ourselves, and comparing ourselves among ourselves, is it not the average virtue of those around us that is the standard of measurement? Do we not at the time, form our estimate of human worth upon the character of man as it actually is, instead of forming it upon the high standard of that pure and exalted law which tells us what the character ought to be? Is it not thus that many are lulled into security, because they are as good or better than their neighbours? This may do for earth, but the question we want to press is, will it do for heaven? It may carry us through life with a fair and equal character in society, and even when we come to die, it may gain us an epitaph upon our tomb stones. But after death cometh the judg ment; and in that awful day judgment is laid to the line and righteousness to the plummet, every refuge of lies will be swept away, and every hiding-place of security be laid open. Under the influence of this delusion, thousands and tens of thousands are posting their infatuated way to a ruined and un done eternity. Tlie good man of society lives on the applause and cordiality of his neighbours. He compares himself with his fellow-men ; and their testimony to the graces of his amiable, and upright, and ho nourable character, falls like the music of paradise upon his ears. And it were also the earnest of paradise, if these his flatterers and admirers in time were to be his judges in the day of reckoning. But, alas ! they will only be his fellow-prisoners at. the bar. The eternal Son of God will preside over the solemnities of that day. He will take the judgment upon himself, and he will conduct it on his own lofty standard of ex amination, and not on the maxims or the habits of a world lying in wickedness. O ye deluded men! who carry your heads so high, and look so safe and so satisfied amid the smooth and equal measurements of society, — do you ever think how you are to stand the admeasurement of Christ and of his angels ? and think you that the fleeting applause of mortals, sinful as your selves, will carry an authority over the mind of your judge, or prescribe to him that solemn award which is to fix you for eternity? £ In the prosecution of the following dis course, let us first attempt to expose the folly of measuring ourselves by ourselves, and comparing ourselves amongst our selves ; and then point out the wisdom op posite to this folly, which is recommended in the gospel. I. The folly of measuring ourselves by ourselves is a lesson which admits of many illustrations. The habit is so universal. i| is so strikingly exemplified, even among the most acknowledged outcasts from all that is worthy, and all that is respectable in general estimation. There is not a congre gated mass of human beings, associated in one common pursuit, or brought togethei by one common accident, among whom there is not established either some tacit or proclaimed morality, to the observance of which, or to the violation of which, there is awarded admiration or disgrace, by the voice of the society that is formed by them. You cannot bring two or more human beings to act in concert without some con ventional principle of right and wrong arising out of it, which either must be prac tically held in regard, or the concert is dis sipated. And yet it may be altogether a concert of iniquity. It may be a concert of villany and injustice against the larger interests of human society. It may be a banded conspiracy against the peace and the property of the commonwealth; and there may not be a member belonging to it who does not carry the stamp of outlawry upon his person, and who is not liable, and rightly liable, to the penalties of an out raged government, against which he is bid ding, by the whole habit of his life, a daily and systematic defiance. And yet even among such a class of the species as this, an enlightened observer of our nature will not fail to perceive a standard of morality, both recognized and acted upon by all its individuals, and in reference to which mo rality, there actually stirs in many a bosom amongst them a very warm and enthusi astic feeling of obligation,— and some will you find, who, by their devoted adherence to its maxims, earn among their compa nions all the distinctions of honour and of virtue, — and others who, by falling away from the principles of the compact, become the victims of a deep and general execra tion. And thus may the very same thing be perceived with them, that we see in the more general society of mankind— a scale of character, and, corresponding to it, ascale of respectability, along which the members of the most wicked and worthless associa tion upon earth may be ranged according to the gradation of such virtues as are there held in demand, and in reverence ; and thus there will be a feeling of complacency, and a distribution of applause, and a conscious superiority of moral and personal attain ment, and all this grounded on the habit of measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves amongst themselves. The first case of such an exhibition which we offer to your notice, comes so aptly in for the purpose of illustration, that homely and familiar as it is, we cannot resist the Til.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 51 introduction of it We allude to the case of smugglers. These men, in as far at least as it respects one tie of allegiance, may be considered as completely broken loose from the government of'their country. They have formed themselves into a plot against the interests of the public revenue, and it may be generally said of them, that they have no feeling whatever of the criminality of their undertaking. On this point there is utterly wanting the sympathy of any common principle between the administra tors of the law and the transgressors of the law, — and yet it would be altogether untrue to nature and to experience to say of the latter, that they are entire strangers to the feeling of every moral obligation. They have a very strong sense of obligation to each other. There are virtues amongst them which serve to signalize certain mem bers, and vices amongst them which doom to infamy certain other members of their own association. In reference to the duties which they owe to government, they may be dead to every impression of them. But in reference to those duties, on the punctual fulfilment of which depends the success, or even the continuance, of their system of operations, they may be most keenly and sensitively alive. They may speak of the informer who has abandoned them, with all the intensity of moral hatred and con tempt; and of the man, again, who never once swerved from his fidelity; of the man, who, with all the notable dexterity of his evasions from the vigilance that was sent forth to track and to discover him, was ever known to be open as day amongst the members of his own brotherhood ; of the man, who, with the unprincipledness of a most skilful and systematic falsehood, in reference to the agents and pursuers of the law, was the most trusty, and the most in corruptible, in reference to his fellows of the trade; of the man who stands highest amongst them in all the virtues of pledged and sworn companionship ; — why, of such a man will these roving mountaineers speak in terms of honest and heartfelt veneration; and nothing more is necessary, in order to throw a kind of chivalric splendour over him, than just to be told, along with his in flexible devotedness to the cause, of his hardy adventures, and his hair-breadth mi racles of escape, and his inexhaustible re sources, and of the rapidity of his ever-suit ing and ever-shifting contrivances, and of his noble and unquelled spirit of daring, and of the art and activity by which he has eluded his opponents, and of the unfalter ing courage by which he has resisted them. We doubt not, that even in the history of this ignominious traffic, there do occur such deeds and characters of unrecorded hero ism ; and still the men who carry it on, measuring themselves by themselves, may never think of the ignominy. They will enjoy the praise they have one of another, and care not for the distant blame that is cast upon them by the public voice. They will carry in their bosoms the swelling consciousness of worth, and be regaled by the home testimony of those who are about them ; and all this at the very time when, to the general community, they offer a spec tacle of odiousness ; all this at the very time, when the power and the justice of an incensed government are moving forth upon them. But another case, still more picturesque, and, what is far better, still more subservi ent to the establishment of the lesson of our text, may be taken from another set of ad venturers, hardier, and more ferocious, and more unprincipled than the former. We allude to the men of rapine ; and who, rather than that their schemes of rapine should be frustrated, have so far overcome all the scruples and all the sensibilities of nature, that they have become men of blood. They live as commoners upon the world ; and, at large from those restraints, whether of feel ing or of principle, which hold in security together the vast majority of this world's families, they are looked at by general so ciety with a revolting sense of terror and of odiousness. And yet, among these mon sters of the cavern, and practised as they are in all the atrocities of the highway, will you find a virtue of their own, and a high- toned morality of their own. Living as they do, in a state of emancipation from the law universal, still there is among them a law isoterical, in doing homage to which, the hearts of these banditti actually glow with the movements of honourable principle; and the path of their conduct is actually made to square with the conformities of right and honourable practice. Extraordi nary as you may think it, the very habit of my text is in full operation among these very men, who have wandered so far from all that is deemed righteous in society; and disowning, as they do, our standard of prin ciple altogether, they have a standard among themselves, on which they can adj ust a scale of moral estimation, and apply it in every exercise of judgment on the character of each individual who belongs to them. In reference to every deviation that is made by them from the general standard of right, there is an entire obliteration of all their sensibilities, — and this is not the ground on which they ever think either of reproach ing themselves, or of casting any imputation of disgrace on their companions. But, in reference to their own particular standard of right, they are all awake to the enormity of every act of transgression against it, — and thus it is, that measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves amongst themselves, there is just with them 52 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [serm. as varied a distribution of praise and of obloquy as is to be met with on the face of any regular and well-ordered common wealth. And who, we would ask, is the man among all these prowling outcasts of nature, on whom the law of his country would inflict the most unrelenting ven geance? He who is most signalized by the moralities of his order, — he who has gained by fidelity, and courage, and disinterested honour, the chieftainship of confidence and affection amongst, them, — he, the foremost of all the desperadoes, on whose character perhaps the romance of generosity and truth is strangely blended with the stern barbari ties of his calling,— and who, the most ad mired among the members of his own bro therhood, is, at the same time, the surest to bring down upon his person all the rigours and all the severities of the judgment-seat. Let us now follow with the eye of our observation, a number of these transgres sors into another scene. Let us go into the place of their confinement; and, in this re ceptacle of many criminals, with all their varied hues of guilt and of depravity, we shall perceive the habit of my text in full and striking exemplification. The mur derer stands lower in the scale of character than the thief. The first is worse than the second — and you have only to reverse the terms of the comparison, that you may be enabled to see how the second is better than the first. Thus, even in this repository of human worthlessness, we meet with grada tions of character ; with the worse and the better and the best ; with an ascending and a descending scale, which runs in conti nuity, from the one who stands upon its pinnacle, to the one who is the deepest and most determined in wickedness amongst them. It is utter ignorance of our nature to conceive that this moral gradation is not fully and frequently in the minds of the criminals themselves, — that there is not, even here, the habit of each measuring himself with his fellow-prisoners around him, and of some soothed by the conscious ness of a more untainted character, and rejoicing over it with a feeling of secret, elevation. They, in truth, know themselves to be the best of their kind, — and this know ledge brings a complacency along with it, — and, even in this mass of profligacy, there swells and kindles the pride of superior at tainments. But there is at least one delu sion from which one and all of them stand exempted. The very best of them, how ever much he may be regaled by the in ward sense of his advantage over others, knows, that in reference to the law, he is not on a footing of merit, but on a footing of criminality, — knows, that though he will be the most gently dealt with, and that on him the lightest penalty will fall, yet still he stands to his judge and to his country, in the relation of a condemned malefactor- feels, how preposterous it were, if, on the plea of being the most innocent of the whole assemblage, he was to claim, not merely exemption from punishment, but the reward of some high and honourable distinction at the hands of the magistrate. He is fully aware of the gap that lies be tween him and the administrators of jus tice, — is sensible, that though he deserves to be beaten with fewer stripes than others, yet still, that, in the eye of the law, he de serves to be beaten ; and that he stands at as hopeless a distance, as the most depraved of his fellows, from a sentence of complete justification. Let us, last of all, go along with these malefactors to the scene of their banishment. Let us view them as the members of a sepa rated community ; and we shall widely mistake it, if we think, that in this settle ment of New South Wales, there is not the same shading of moral variety, there is not the same gradation of character, there is not the same scale of reputation, there is not the same distribution of respect, there is not the same pride of loftier principle, and debasement of more shameful and abandon ed profligacy, there is not the same triumph of conscious superiority on the one hand, and the same crouching sense of unwortlii- ness on the other, which you find in the more decent, and virtuous, and orderly so ciety of Europe. Within the limits of this colony there ex ists a tribunal of public opinion, from which praise and popularity, and reproach, are awarded in various proportions among all the inhabitants. And without the limitsof this colony there exists another tribunal of public opinion, by the voice of which an unexpected stigma of exclusion and disgrace is cast upon every one of them. Insomuch, that the same individual may by a nearer judgment, be extolled as the best and the most distinguished of all who are around him, — and by a more distant judgment, he may have all the ignominy of an outcast laid upon his person and his character He may, at one and the same time, be regaled by the applause of one society, and held in rightful execration by another society. In the former, he may have the deference of a positive regard rendered to him for his virtues,— while, from the latter, he is justly exiled by the hateful contamination of his vices. And in him do we behold the in structive picture of a man, who, at the bar of his own neighbourhood, stands the highest in moral estimation,— while, at a higher bar, he has had a mark of foulest ignominy stamped upon him. We want not to shock the pride or the delicacy of your feelings. But on a ques tion so high as that of your eternity, we want to extricate you from the power of VII.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 53 every vain and bewildering delusion. We want to urge upon you the lesson of Scripture, that this world differs from a prison-house, only in its being a more spa cious receptacle of sinners,— and that there is not a wider distance, in point of habit and of judgment, between a society of con victs, and the general community of man kind, than there is between the whole com munity of our species, and the society of that paradise, from which, under the apos- tacy Of our fallen nature, we have been doomed to live in dreary alienation. We refuse not to the men of our world the pos session of many high and honourable vir tues; but let us not forget, that amongst the marauders of the highway, we hear, too, of inflexible faith, and devoted friendship, and splendid generosity. We deny not, that there exists among our species, as much truth and as much honesty, as serve to keep society together : but a measure of the very same principle is necessary, in order to perpetuate and to accomplish the end of the most unrighteous combinations. We deny not, that there flourishes on the face of our earth a moral diversity of hue and of character, and that there are the better and the best who have signalized themselves above the level of its general population; but so it is in the malefactor's dungeon ; and as there, so here, may a positive sen tence of condemnation be the^ lot of the most exalted individual. We, deny not, there are many in every neighbourhood, to whose character, and whose worth, the cordial tribute of admiration is awarded ; but the very same thing may be witnessed amongst the outcasts of every civilized ter ritory, — and what they are, in reference to the country from which they have been exiled, we may be, in reference to the whole of God's unfaUen creation. In the sight of men we may be highly esteemed, — and we may be an abomination in the sight of an gels. We may receive homage from our immediate neighbours for all the virtues of our relationship with them, — while our re lationship with God may be utterly dis solved, and its appropriate virtues may nei ther be recognized nor acted on. There may emanate from our persons a certain beauteousness of moral colouring on those who are around us, — but when seen through the universal morality of God's extended and all-pervading government, we may look as hateful as the outcasts of felony, — and living, as we do, in a rebellious province, that has broken loose from the community of God's loyal and obedient worshippers, we may, at one and the same time, be sur rounded by the cordialities of an approving fellowship, and be frowned upon by the su preme judicatory of the universe. At one and the same time, we may be regaled by the incense of this world's praise, and be the objects of Heaven's most righteous execra tion. But is this the real place, it may be asked, that our world occupies in the moral uni verse of God ? The answer to this question may be obtained either out of the historical informations of Scripture, or out of a sur vey that may be made of the actual charac ter of man, and a comparison that may be instituted between this character and the divine law. We can conceive nothing more uniform and more decisive than the testi mony of the Bible, when it tells us that however fair some may be in the eyes of men, yet that all are guilty before God; that in his eyes none are righteous, no not one : that he, who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, finds out iniquity in every one of us ; that there is none who under- standeth, and none who seeketh after God ; that however much we may compare our selves amongst ourselves, and found a com placency upon the exercise, yet that we have altogether gone out of the way ; that however distinctly we may retain, even in the midst of this great moral rebellion, our relative superiorities over each other, there is a wide and a general departure of the species from God ; that one and all of us have deeply revolted against him : that the taint of a most inveterate spiritual disease has overspread all the individuals of all the families upon earth ; insomuch, that the heart of man is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked, and the imagina tions of his thoughts are only evil, and that continually. The fall of Adam is represented, in the Bible, as that terribly decisive event, on which took place this deep and fatal un hingement of the moral constitution of our species. From this period the malady has descended, and the whole history of our world gives evidence to its state of banish ment from the joys and the communica tions of paradise. Before the entrance of sin did God and man walk in sweet com panionship together, and saw each other face to face in the security of a garden. A little further down in the history, we meet with another of God's recorded manifesta tions. We read of his descent in thunder upon mount Sinai. O what a change from the free and fearless intercourse of Eden ! God, though surrounded by a people whom he had himself selected, here sits, if we may use the expression, on a throne of awful and distant ceremony ; and the lift ing of his mighty voice scattered dismay among the thousands of Israel. When he looked now on the children of men, he looked on them with an altered counte nance. The days were, when they talked together in the lovely scenes of paradise as one talketh with a friend. But, on the top of Sinai, he wraps himself in storms, and 54 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. orders to set bounds about the mount, lest the people should draw near, and God should break forth upon them. But we have an evidence to our state of banishment from God, which is nearer home. We have it in our own hearts. The habitual attitude of the inner man is not an attitude of subordination to God. The feel ing of allegiance to him is practically and almost constantly away from us. All that can give value to our obedience, in the sight of an enlightened Spirit who looks to mo tive, and sentiment, and principle, has con stitutionally no place, and no residence in our characters. We are engrossed by other anxieties than anxiety to do the will, and to promote the honour, of him who formed us. We are animated by other affections altogether, than love to him, whose right hand preserves us continually. That Being by whom we are so fearfully and wonder fully made ; whose upholding presence it is that keeps us in life, and in movement, and in the exercise of all our faculties ; who has placed us on the theatre of all our enjoyments, and claims over his own crea tures the ascendency of a most rightful au thority ; — that surely is the Being with whom we have to do. And yet, when we take account of our thoughts and of our doings, how little of God is there ? In the random play and exhibition of such feelings as instinctively belong to us, we may gather around us the admiration of our fellows, — and so it is in a colony of exiled criminals. But as much wanting there, as is the ho mage of loyalty to the government of their native land; so much wanting here, is the homage of any deference or inward regard, to the government of Heaven. And yet this is the very principle of all that obedience which Heaven can look upon. If it be true that obedience is rewardable by God, but that which has respect unto God, then this must be the essential point on which hinges the difference between a rebel, and a loyal subject to the supreme Lawgiver. The re quirement we live under is to do all things to his glory ; and this is the measure of principle and of performance that will be set over you, — and tell us, ye men of civil and relative propriety, who, by exemplifying in -he eye of your fellows such virtue, as may be exemplified by the outcasts of banish ment, have shed around your persons the tiny lustre of this world's moralities; tell us how you will be able to stand such a severe and righteous application? The measure by which we compare ourselves with ourselves, is not the measure of the sanctuary. When the judge comes to take account of us, he will come fraught with the maxims of a celestial jurisprudence, and his question will be, not, what have you done at the shrine of popularity, — not, what have vou done to sustain a character amongst men, — not what have you done at the mere impulse of sensibilities however amiable, or of native principles however up right, and elevated, and manly, — but what have you done unto me? how much of God. and of God's will, was there in the principle of your doings ? This is the hea venly measure, and it will set aside all your earthly measures and comparisons. It will sweep away all these refuges of lies. The man whose accomplishments of character, however lively, were all social, and worldly, and relative, will hang his head in confu sion when the utter wickedness of his pre tensions is thus laid open, — when the God who gave him every breath, endowed him with every faculty, enquires after his share of reverence and acknowledgment, — when he tells him from the judgment-seat, I was the Being with whom you had to do, and yet in the vast multiplicity of your doings, I was seldom or never thought of, — when he convicts him of habitual forgetfulness of God, and setting aside all the paltry measurements which men apply in their estimates of one another, he brings the high standard of Heaven's law, and Heaven's al legiance to bear upon them. It must be quite palpable to any man who has seen much of life, and still more if he has travelled extensively, and witnessed the varied complexions of morality that obtain in distant societies, — it must be quite ob vious to such a man, how readily the moral , feeling, in each of them, accommodates itself to the general state of practice and observa tion, — that the practices of one country, for which there is a most complacent tolera tion, would be shuddered at as so many atrocities in another country, — that in every given neighbourhood, the sense of right and of wrong, becomes just as fine or as obtuse as to square with its average purity, and its average humanity, and its average uprightness, — that what would revolt the' public feeling of a retired parish in Scot land as gross licentiousness or outrageous cruelty, might attach no disgrace whatever to a residenter in some colonial settlement, — that, nevertheless, in the more corrupt and degraded of the two eommunites, there is a scale of differences, a range of charac ter, along which are placed the compara tive stations of the disreputable, and thc passible, and the respectable, and the super- excellent; and vet it is a very possible thing, that, if a man in the last of these stations were to import all his habits and all his profligacies into his native land, superexcellent as he may be abroad, at home he would be banished from the gene ral association of virtuous and well-ordered families. Now, all we ask of you is, to transfer this consideration to the matter before us, — to think how possible a thing it is, that the moral principle of the world VIII.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 55 at large, may have sunk to a peaceable and approving acquiescence, in the existing practice of the world at large, — that the security which is inspired by the habit of measuring ourselves by ourselves, and com paring ourselves amongst ourselves, may therefore be a delusion altogether, — that the very best member of society upon earth, may be utterly unfit for the society of hea ven, — that the morality which is current here, may depend upon totally another set of principles from the morality which is held to be indispensable there ; — and when we gather these principles from the book of God's revelation, — when we are told that the law of the two great commandments is, to love the Lord our God with all our strength, and heart, and mind, and to bear the same love to our neighbour that we do to our selves, — the argument advances from a con jecture to a certainty, that every inhabitant of earth when brought to the bar of Heaven's judicature, is altogether wanting ; and that unless some great moral renovation lake effect upon him, he can never be admitted within the limits of the empire of righteousness. SERMON VIII. Christ the Wisdom of God. "Christ the Wisdom of God."— 1 Corinthians i. 24. We cannot but remark of the Bible, how uniformly and how decisively it announces itself in all its descriptions of the state and character of man, — how, without offering to palliate the matter, it brings before us the totality of our alienation, how it represents us to be altogether broken off from our alle giance to God, — and how it fears not, in the face of those undoubted diversities of cha racter which exist in the world, to assert of the whole world, that it is guilty before him. And if we would only seize on what may be called the elementary principle of guilt, — if we would only take it along with us, that guilt, in reference to God, must consist in the defection of our regard and our reverence from him, — if we would only open our eyes to the undoubted fact, that there may be such an utter defection, and yet there may be many an amiable, and many a graceful exhibition, both of feeling and of conduct, in reference to those who are around us, — then should we recognize, in the statements of the Bible, a vigorous, discerning, and intelligent view of human nature, — an unfaltering announcement of what that nature essentially is, under all the plausibilities which serve to disguise it, — and such an insight, in fact, into the secre cies of our inner man, as if carried home by that Spirit, whose office it is to apply the word with power into the conscience, is enough, of itself, to stamp upon this book, the evidence of the Divinity which in spired it. But it is easier far to put an end to the resistance of the understanding, than to alarm the fears, or to make the heart soft and tender, under a sense of its guiltiness, or to prompt the inquiry, — if all those secu rities, within the entrenchment of which I want to take my quiet and complacent re pose, are thus driven in, where in the whole compass of nature or revelation can any effectual security be found? It may be easy to find our way amongst all the com- p'lexional varieties of our nature, to its ra dical and pervading ungodliness; and thus to carry the acquiescence of the judgment in some extended demonstration about the utter sinfulness of the species. But it is not so easy to point this demonstration towards the bosom of any individual, — to gather it up, as it were, from its state of diffusion over the whole field of humanity, and send it with all its energies concentered to a single heart, in the form of a sharp, and humbling, and terrifying conviction, — to make it enter the conscience of some one listener, like an arrow sticking fast,— or, when the appalling picture of a whole world lying in wickedness, is thus presented to the understanding of a general audience, to make each of that audience mourn apart over his own wickedness ; just as when, on the day of judgment, though all that is visible be shaking, and dissolving, and giving way, each despairing eye-witness, shall mourn apart over the recollection of his own guilt, over the prospect of his own rueful and undone eternity. And yet, if this be not done, nothing is done. The lesson of the text has come to you in word only and not in power. To look to the truth in its gene rality, is one thing; to look to your own separate concern in it, is another. What we want is that each of you' shall turn his eye homewards ; that each shall purify his own heart from the influence of a delusion which we pronounce to be ruinous; that each shall beware of leaning a satisfaction, or a triumph, on the comparison of himself with corrupt and exiled men, whom sin has de graded into outcasts from the presence of 56 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. God, and the joys of paradise ; that each of you shall look to the measure of God's law, so that when the commandment comes upon you, in the sense of its exceeding broad ness, a sense of your sin, and of your death in sin, may come along with it. " Without the commandment I was alive," says the Apostle ; " but when the commandment came, sin revived, and I died." Be assured, that if the utterance of such truth in your hearing, impress no personal earnestness, and iead to no personal measures, and be followed up by no personal movements, then to you it is as a sounding brass and as a tinkling cymbal. The preacher has been beating the air. That great Agent, whose revealed office it is to convince of sin, has refused to go along with him. Another in fluence altogether, than that which is salu tary and saving, has been sent into your bosom ; and the glow of the truth universal has deafened or intercepted the application of the truth personal, and of the truth particular. Thisleads us to the second thing proposed in our last discourse, under which we shall at tempt to explain the wisdom opposite to that folly of measuring ourselves by ourselves, and comparing ourselves among ourselves, which we have already attempted to expose". The first step is to give up all satisfac tion with yourselves, on the bare ground, that your conduct comes up to the measure of human character, and human reputation around you. This consideration may be of importance to your place in society ; but, as to your place in the favour of God, it is utterly insignificant. The moral differences which obtain in a community of exiles, are all quite consistent with the entire oblitera tion amongst them, of the allegiance that is due to the government of their native land. And the moral differences which obtain in the world, may, in ever)' way, be as consistent with the fact, that one and all of us, in our state of nature, are alienated from God by wicked works. And, in like manner, as convicts may be all alive to a sense of their reciprocal obligations, while dead, in feeling and in principle, to the su preme obligation under which they lie to the sovereign, — so may we, in reference to our fellow-men, have a sense of rectitude, and honour, and compassion, while, in re ference to God, we may labour under the entire extinction of every moral sensibili ty, — so that the virtues which signalize us, may, in the, language of some of our old divines, be neither more nor less than splendid sins. With the possession of these virtues, we may not merely be incurring svery day the guilt, of trespassing and sin ning against, our Maker in heaven ; but de void as we are of all apprehension of the enormity of this, we may strikingly realize the assertion of the Bible, that we are dead \\ trespasses and sins. And we pass our time in all the tranquillity of death. We say peace, when there is no peace. Though in a state of disruption from God, we live as securely and as inconsiderately as if there were no question and no controversy betwixt us. About this whole matter, there is within us a spirit of heaviness and- of deep slumber. We lie fast asleep on the brink of an unprovided eternity, — and, if possible to awaken you, let us urge you to compare, not your own conduct with that of acquaintances and neighbours, but to compare your own finding of the ungodli ness that is in your heart with the doctrine of God's word about it, — to bring down the loftiness of your spirit to its humbling de clarations — to receive it as a faithful saying, that man is lost by nature, and that unless there be some mighty transition, in his his tory, from a state of nature to a state of salvation, the wrath of God abideth on him. The next inquiry comes to be, What is this transition ? Tell me the step I shouk take, and I wdll take it. It is not enough, then, that you exalt upon your own person the degree of those virtues, by which you have obtained a credit and a distinction among men. It is not enough, that you throw a brighter and a lovelier hue over your social accomplishments. It is not enough, that you multiply the offerings of your charity, or observe a more rigid com pliance, than heretofore, with all the requi sitions of justice. All this' you may do, and yet the great point, on which ydur controversy with God essentially hinges, may not be so much as entfered upon. All this you may do, and yet obtain no nearer approximation to Him who sitteth on the throne, than the' outlaws of an offended government for their fidelities to each other. To the eye of man you may be fairer than before.and in civil estimation be greatly more righteous thanbefore, — and yet, with the tin- quelled spirit of impiety within you, and as habitual an indifference as ever to all the sub ordinating claims of the divine will over your heart and your conduct, you may stand at as wide a distance from God as before. And besides, how are we to dispose of the whole guilt of your past iniquities? Whether, is it the malefactor or the Lawgiver who is to arbitrate this question ? God may remit our sins, but it is for him to proclaim this. God may pass them over ; but it is for him to issue the deed of amnesty. God may have found out a way whereby, in consis tency with his own character, and with the stability of his august government, he may take sinners into reconciliation ; but it is for him both to devise and to publish this way ; — and we must just do what convicts do, when they obtain a mitigation or a cancel- ment of the legal sentence under which they lie, — we must passively accept of it, on the terms of the deed, — we must look VIII.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 57 to the warrant as issued by the sovereign, and take the boon or fulfil the conditions, just as it is there presented to us. The ques tion is between us and God ; and in the ad justment of this question, we must look singly to the expression of his will, and feel that it is wilh him, and with his authority, that we have exclusively to do. In one word, we must wait his own revelation, and learn from his own mouth how it is that he would have us to come nigh unto him. Let us go then to the record. " No man cometh unto the Father but through the Son." " There is no other name given un der heaven, but the name of Jesus, whereby we can be saved." "Without the shedding of blood there is no remission of sin ;" and " God hath set forth Christ to be a propitia tion through faith in his blood." " He was once offered to bear the sins of many," — and " became sin for us, though he knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." " God is in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, and not imputing unto them their trespasses." " Justified by faith, we have peace with God through Jesus Christ our Lord ;" — " and we become the children of God, through the faith that is in Christ Jesus." We are "reconciled to God by the death of his Son,"—" and by his obedience are many made righteous," — and " where sin abounded, grace did much more abound." These verses sound foolishness to many ; but the cross of Christ is foolish ness to those that perish. They appear to them invested with all the mysteriousness of a dark and hidden saying ; but if this Gospel be hid, it is hid to them which are lost. They have eyes that they cannot see the wondrous things contained in this book of God's communication; but they have minds which believe not, because they are blinded by the god of this world, lest the light of the glorious Gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine into them. And here we cannot but insist on the utter hopelessness of their circumstances, who hear these overtures of reconciliation, but will not listen to them. Theirs isj ust the case of rebels turning their back on a deed of grace and of amnesty. We are quite confi dent in stating it to the stubborn experience of human nature, that all who reject Christ, as he is offered in the Gospel, persist in that radical ungodliness of character on which the condemnation of our world mainly and essentially rests. And as they thus refuse to build their security on the foundation of his merits, — what, we would ask, is the other foundation on which they build it? If ever they think seriously of the matter, or feel any concern about a foundation on which they might rest their confidence be fore God, 'they conceive it to lie in such feelings, and such Humanities, and such honesties, as make them even with the 8 world, or as elevate them to a certain de gree above the level of the world's popula tion. These are the materials of the found ation on which they build. It is upon the possession of virtues which in truth have not God for their object, that they propose to support in the presence of God the atti tude of fearlessness. It is upon the testi mony of fellow rebels that they brave the judgment of the Being who has pronounced of them all, that they have deeply revolted against him. And all this in the face of God's high prerogative, to make and to pub lish his own overtures. All this in contempt of that Mediator whom he has appointed. All this in resistance tothe authentic deed of grace and of forgiveness, which has been sent to our world, and from which we gather the full assurance of God's willingness to be reconciled ; but, at the same time, are ex pressly bound down to that particular way in which he has chosen to dispense recon ciliation. Who does not see, that, in these circumstances, the guilt of sin is fearfully aggravated on the part of sinners, by their rejection of the Gospel? Who does not see, that thus to refuse the grant of everlast ing life in the terms of the grant, is just, to set an irretrievable seal upon their own con demnation ? Who does not see, that, in the act of declining to take the shelter which is held out to them, they vainly imagine, that God will let down his approbation to such performances as are utterly devoid of any spirit, of devout or dutiful allegiance to the Lawgiver ? This is, in fact, a deliberate p sting of themselves, and that more firmly and more obstinately than ever, on the ground of their rebellion— and let us no longer wonder, then, at the terms of that alternative of which we read so often in the Bible. We there read, that if we believe, we shall be saved ; but we also read, that if we believe not, we shall be damned. We are there told of the great salvation ; but how shall we escape if we neglect it ? We are there invited to lay hold of the Gospel, as the savour of life unto life : but, if we refuse the invitation, it shall be to us the savour of death unto death. The gospel is there freely proclaimed to us, for our acceptance ; but if we will not obey the Gospel, we shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Saviour's power. We are asked to kiss the Son while he is in the way; but if we do not, the alternative is that he will be angry,and that his wrath will burn against us. He is revealed to us a sure rock, on which if welean weshall not be confounded ; but if we shift our dependence away from it, it will fall upon us and grind us to powder. And this alternative, so far from a matter to be wondered at, appears resolvable into a principle that might be easily compre hended. God is the party sinned against: and if he have the will to be reconciled, it 5S DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. is surely for him to prescribe the way of it : and this he has actually done in the re velation of the New Testament: and whether he give a reason for the way or not. certain it is, that in order to give it accomplish ment, he sent his eternal Son into our world ; and this descent was accompanied with such circumstances of humiliation, and con flict, and deep suffering, that heaven looked on with astonishment, and earth was bid den lo rejoice, because of her great salva tion. It is enough for us to know that God lavished on this plan the riches of a wisdom that is unsearchable; that, in the hearing of sinful men, he has proclaimed its import ance and its efficacy ; that every Gospel messenger felt himself charged with tidings pregnant of joy, and of mighty deliverance to the world. And we ask you just to con ceive, in these circumstances, what effect it should have on the mind of the insulted Sovereign, if the world, instead of respond ing, with grateful and delighted welcome, to the message, shall either nauseate its terms, or, feeling in them no significancy, shall turn with indifference away from it ? Are we at all to wonder if the King, very wroth with the men of such a world shall at length send his armies to destroy it ? Do you think it likely that the same God, who after we had broken his commandment, was willing to pass by our transgressions, will be equally willing to pass them by after we have thus despised the proclamation of his mercy; after his forbearance and his long-suffering have been resisted ; and that scheme of par don, with the weight and the magnitude of which angels appear to labour in amaze ment, is received' by the very men for whom it was devised, as a thing of no estimation ? Surely, if there had been justice in the sim ple and immediate punishment of sin — this justice will be discharged in still brighter manifestation on him, who, in the face of such an embassy, holds out in his determi nation to brave it. And, if it be a righteous thing in God to avenge every violation of his law, how clearly and how irresistibly righteous will it appear, when, on the great day of his wrath, he taketh vengeance on those who have added to the violation of his law, the rejection of the Gospel ! But what is more than this — God hath condescended to make known to us a rea son, for that peculiar way of reconciliation, which he hath set before us. It is, that he might be just while the justifier of those who believe in Jesus. In the dispensation of his mercy, he had to provide for the dig nity of his throne. He had to guard the stability of his truth and of his righteous ness. He had to pour the lustre of a high and awful vindication, over the attributes of a nature that is holy and unchangeable. He had to make peace on earth and good will to men meet, and be at one with glory to God in the highest ; and for this purpose did the eternal Son pour out his soul an of fering for sin, and by his obedience unto death, bring in an everlasting righteousness. It is through the channel of this great ex piation that the guilt of every believer is washed away ; and it is through the im puted merits of him with whom the Fathei was well pleased, that every believer is ad mitted to the rewards of a perfect obedience. Conceive any man of this world to reject the offers of reward and forgiveness in this way, and to look for them in another. Con ceive him to challenge the direct approba tion of his Judge, on the measure of his own worth, and his own performances, and to put away from him that righteousness of Christ, in the measure of which there is no short coming. Is he not, by this attitude, holding out against God, and that too, on a question in which the justice of God stands committed against him ? Is not the poor sinner of a day entering into a fearful con troversy, with all the plans, and all the per fections of the Eternal? Might not you conceive every attribute of the Divinity, gathering into a frown of deeper indigna tion against the daringness of him, who thus demands the favour of the Almighty on some plea of his own, and resolutely declines it on that only plea, under which the acceptance of the sinner can be in har-- mony with the glories of God's holy and inviolable character? Surely, if we have fallen short of the obedience of his law, and so short as to have renounced altogether that godliness which imparts to obedience its spiritual and substantial quality, — then do we aggravate the enormity of our sin, by building our hope before God on a foun dation of sin? To sin is to defy God: but the very presumption that he will smile complacency upon it, involves in it another, and a still more deliberate attack upon his government ; and all its sanctions, and all its severities, are let loose upon us in greater force and abundance than before, if we either rest upon our own virtue, or mix up this polluted ingredient with the righteous ness of Christ, and refuse our single, entire, and undivided reliance on him who alone has magnified the law and made it honour able. But such, if we may be allowed the expres sion, is the constitution of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, that, in proportion to the terror which it holds out to those who neglect it, is the security that it provides to all who flee for refuge to the hope which is set before them. Paul understood this well, when, though he profited over many of his equals in his own nation,— when, though had he measured himself by them, he might have gathered from the comparison a feeling of proud su periority,— when, though in all that ,was counted righteous among his fellows, he VIII.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 59 signalized himself in general estimation,— yet he willingly renounced a dependence upon all, that he might win Christ, and be found in him, not having his own righ teousness, which was of the law, but that righteousness which is through the faith of Christ, even the righteousness which is of God by faith. He felt the force of the al ternative, between the former and the latter righteousness. He knew that the one ad mitted of no measurement with the other ; and that whatever appearance of worth it had in. the eyes of men, when brought to their relative and earthly standard, it was reduced to nothing, and worse than nothing, when brought to the standard of Heaven's holy and unalterable law. Jesus Christ has in our nature fulfilled this law ; and it is in the righteousness which he thus wrought, that we are invited to stand before God. You do not then take in a full impression of Gospel security, if you only believe that God is merciful, and has forgiven you. You are called farther to believe, that God is righteous, and has justified you. You have a warrant to put on the righteousness of Christ as a robe and a diadem, and to go to the throne of grace with the petition of Look upon me in the face of him who hath fulfilled all righteousness. You are furnished with such a measure of righteousness as God can accept, without letting down a single attribute which belongs to him. The truth, and the justice, and the holiness, which stand in such threatening array against the sinner who is out of Christ, now form into a shield and a hiding-place around him. And while he who trusts in the general mercy of God does so at the expense of his whole character, he who trusts in the mercy of God, which hath ap peared unto all men through the Saviour, offers in that act of confidence an homage to every perfection of the Divinity, and has every perfection of the Divinity upon his side. And thus it is, that under the economy of redemption, we now read, not merely of God being merciful, but of God being just and faithful in forgiving our sins, and in cleansing us from all our unrighteousness. Thus much for what may be called the judicial righteousness with which every believer is invested by having the merits of Christ imputed to him through faith. But this faith is something more than a name. It takes up a positive residence in the mind as a principle. It has locality and opera tion there, and has either no existence at all, or by its purifying and reforming in fluence on the holder of it, does it invest him also with a personal righteousness. Now, to apply the conception of our text to this personal righteousness, the first thing we would say of it is, that it admits of no measurement whatever with the social worth, or the moral virtue, or any other of the personal accomplishments of character which may belong to those who have not the faith of the Gospel. Faith accepts of the offered reconciliation, and moves away from the alienated heart those, suspicions, and aversions, and fears, which kept man asunder from his God. We would not say, then, of the personal righteousness of a be liever, that it consisted in a higher degree of that virtue which may exist in a lower degree with him who is not a believer. It consists in the dawn, and the progress, and the perfecting of a virtue, which, before he was a believer, had no existence whatever. It consists in the possession of a character of which, previous to his acceptance of Christ, he had not the smallest feature of reality ; though to the external eye, there may have been some features of resem blance. The principle of Christian sancti fication, which, if we were to express it by another name, we would call devotedness to God, is no more to be found in the un believing world, than the principle of an allegiance to their rightful sovereign, is to be found among the outcasts of banishment. It is not by any stretching out of the mea sure of your former virtues, then, that you can attain this principle. There needs to be originated within you a new virtue al together. It is not by the fostering of that which is old, — it is by the creation of some thing new, that a man comes to have the personal righteousness of a disciple of the New Testament. It is by giving existence to that which formerly had no existence. And let us no longer wonder, then, at the magnitude of the terms which are employed in the Bible, to denote the change, the per sonal change, which in point of character, and affection, and principle, takes place on all who become meet for the inheritance of the saints. It is there called life from the dead, and a new birth, and a total reno vation, — all old things are said to be done away, and all things to become new. With many it is a wonder how a change of such totality and of such magnitude, should be accounted as indispensable to the good and creditable man of society, as the sunken profligate. But if the one and the other are both dead to a sense of their Lawgiver in heaven, — then both need to be made alive unto him. With both there must be the power and the reality of a spiritual resur rection. And after this great transition has been made, it will be found that the virtues of the new state, and those of the old state, cannot be brought to any common standard of measurement at all. The one distances the other by a wide and impassable inter val. There is all the difference in point of principle between a man of the world and a new creature in Christ, that there is be tween him who has the Spirit of God, aira him who has it not,— and all the difference 60 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. in point of performance, that there is be tween him who is without Christ, and can therefore do nothing, and him who can do all things through Christ strengthening him. There is a new principle now, which formerly had no operation, even that of godliness, — and a new influence now, even that of the Holy Ghost, given to the prayers of the believer ; — and under these provi sions will he attain a splendour and an en ergy of character, with which, the better and the best of this world can no more be brought into comparison, than earth will compare with heaven, or the passions and the frivolities of time, with the pure ambi tion and the lofty principles of eternity. And let it not be said, that the transforma tion of which we are now speaking, in stead of being thus entire and universal, consists only with a good man of the world in the addition of one virtue, to his previous stock of many virtues. We admit that he had justice before, and humanity before, and courteousness before, and that the god liness which he had not before, is only one virtue. But the station which it asserts, among the other virtues, is a station of supreme authority. It no sooner takes its place among them, than it animates them all, and subordinates them all. It sends forth among them a new and pervading quality, which makes them essentially different from what they were before. I may take daily exercise from a regard to my health, and by so doing I may deserve the character of a man of prudence ; or I may take daily exercise apart from this consideration altogether, and because it is the accidental wish of my parents that I should do so ; and thus may I deserve the character of a man of filial piety. The ex ternal habit is the same ; but under the one principle, the moral character of this habit is totally and essentially different from what it is under the other principle. Yet the difference here, is, most assuredly, not greater than is the difference between the justice of a good man of society, and the justice of a Christian disciple. In the former case, it is done unto others, or done unto himself. In the latter case, it, is done unto God. The frame-work of his outer doings is animated by another spirit alto gether. There is the breath of another life in it. The inscription of Holiness to God stands engraven on the action of the be liever; and if this character of holiness be utterly effaced from the corresponding action of the good man of society, then, surely, in character, in worth, in spiritual and intelligent estimation, mere is the ut most possible diversity between the two actions. So that, should the most upright and amiable man upon earth embrace the Gospel faith, and become tho subject of the Gospel regeneration, — it is true of him, too, that all old things are done away, and that all things have become new. Thus it is, that while none of the Christian virtues can be made to come into measure ment with any of what may be called the constitutional virtues, in respect of their principle, because the principle of the one set differs from that of the other set, in kind as well as in degree, yet there are certain corresponding virtues in each of the classes, which might be brought together into mea surement, in respect of visible and external performance. And it is a high point of obligation with every disciple of the faith, so to sustain his part in this competition, as to show forth the honour of Christianity; to prove by his own personal history in the world, how much the morality of grace outstrips the morality of nature ; to evince the superior lustre and steadiness of the one, when compared with the frail, and fluctuating, and desultory character of the other; and to make it clear to the eye of experience, that it is only under the pecu liar government of the doctrine of Christ, that all which is amiable in human worth, becomes most lovely, and all which is justly held in human admiration, becomes most great, and lofty, and venerable. The Bible tells us to provide things honest in the sight of men, as well as of God. It tells us, that upon the person of every Christian, the features of excellence should stand so legi bly engraven, that, as a living epistle, he might be seen and read of all men. It is true, there is much in the character of a genuine believer which the world cannot see, and cannot sympathize with. There is the rapture of faith, when in lively exer cise. There is the ecstacy of devotion. There is a calm and settled serenity amid all the vicissitudes of life. There is the habit of having no confidence in the flesh, and of rejoicing in the Lord Jesus. There is a holding fast of our hope in the pro mises of the Gospel. There is a cherishing of the Spirit of adoption. There is the work of a believing fellowship with the Father and with the Son. There is a move ment of affection towards the things which are above. There is a building up of our selves on our most holy faith. There is a praying in the Holy Ghost. There is a watching for his influence with all perse verance. In a word, there is all which the Christian knows to be real, "and which the world hates, and denounces as visionary. in the secret, but sublime and substantial processes of experimental religion. But, on the other hand, there is also much in the doings of an altogether Chris tian of that palpable virtue which forces itself upon general observation ; and he is most grievously untrue to his master's cause, if he do not, on this ground, so out run the world, as to force from the men of IX.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 61 it, an approving testimony. The eye of the world cannot enter within the spiritual reces^es of his heart; but let him ever re member that it is fastened, and that too with keen and scrutinizing jealousy, on the path of his visible history. It will offer no homage to the mere sanctity of his com plexion ; nor, unless there be shed over it the expression of what is mild in domestic, or honourable in public virtue, will it ever look upon him in any other light, than as an object of the most unmingled disgust. And therefore it is, that he must enter on the field of ostensible accomplishment, and there bear away the palm of superiority, and be the most eminent of his fellows in all those recognized virtues, that can bless or embellish the condition of society; the most untainted in honour, and the most dis interested in justice, and the most alert in beneficence, and the most unwearied in all these graces, under every discouragement and every provocation. We have now only time to say, that we shall not regret the length of this discourse, or even the recurrence of some of its argu ments, if any hearer amongst you, not in the faith, be led by it, to withdraw his con fidence from the mere accomplishments of nature, — and if any believer amongst you be led by it not to despise these accom plishments, but to put them on, and to ani mate them all with the spirit of religious ness,— if any hearer amongst you, beginning to perceive his own nothingness in the sight of God, be prompted to inquire, Wherewithal shall I appear before him? and not to rest from the inquiry, till he flee from his hiding- place, to that everlasting righteousness which the Saviour hath brought in : and if any believer amongst you, rightly dividing the word of truth, shall act on the principle, that though nothing but the doctrine of Christ crucified, can avail him for accept ance with God, yet he is bound to adorn this doctrine in all things. And knowing that one may acquiesce in the whole of such a demonstration, without carrying it personally home, we leave off with the sin gle remark, that every conviction not prose cuted, every movement of conscience not followed up, every ray of light or of truth not turned to individual application, will aggravate the reckoning of the great day, — and that in proportion to the degree of ur gency which has been brought to bear upon you, and been resisted, will be the weight and the justness of your final condemnation. SERMON IX. The Principle of Love to God. " Keep yourselves in the love of God." — Jude 21. It is not easy to give the definition of a term, which is currently and immediately understood without one. But, should not this ready understanding of the term super sede the definition of it, what can we tell of love in the way of explanation, but by a substitution of terms, not more simple and more intelligible than itself? Can this affec tion of the soul be made clearer to you by words, than it is already clear to you by your own consciousness? Are we to at tempt the elucidation of a term, which, without any feeling of darkness or of mys tery, you make familiar use of every day ? You say with the utmost promptitude, and you have just as ready an apprehension of the meaning of what you say, that I love this man, and bear a still higher regard to another, but have my chief and my best liking directed to a third. We will not at tempt to go in search of a more luminous or expressive term, for this simple affection, than the one that is commonly employed. But it is a different thing to throw light upon the workings of this affection, — to point your attention to the objects on which it rests, and finds a complacent gratification, — and to assign the circumstances, which are either favourable or unfavourable to its ex citement. All this may call forth an exer cise of discrimination. But instead of dwell ing any more on the significancy of the term love, which is the term of my text, let us forthwith take it unto use, and be confi dent that, in itself, it carries no ambiguity along with it. The term love, indeed, admits of a real and intelligible application to inanimate ob jects. There is a beauty in sights, and a beauty in sounds, and I may bear a posi tive love to the mute and unconscious in dividuals in which this beauty hath taken up its residence. I may love a flower, or a murmuring stream, or a sunny bank, or a humble cottage peeping forth from its con cealment, — or in fine, a whole landscape may teem with such varied graces, that I may say of it, this is the scene I most love to behold, this is the prospect over which my eye and my imagination most fondly expatiate. The term love admits of an equally real 62 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. and equally intelligible application to our fellow-men. They, too, are the frequent and familiar objects of this affection, and they often are so, because they possess cer tain accomplishments of person and of cha racter, by which it is excited. I love the man whose every glance speaks an effusive cordiality towards those who are around him. I love the man whose heart and whose hand are ever open to the represen tations of distress. I love the man who possesses such a softness of nature, that the imploring look of a brother in want, or of a brother in pain, disarms him of all his selfishness, and draws him out to some large and willing surrender of generosity. I love the man who carries on his aspect, not merely the expression of worth, but of worth maintained in the exercise of all its graces, under every variety of temptation and discouragement ; who, in the midst of calumny, can act the warm and enlightened philanthropist ; who, when beset with many provocations, can weather them all in calm and settled endurance ; who can be kind even to the unthankful and the evil ; and who, if he possess the awful virtues of truth and of justice, only heightens our attach ment the more, that he possesses goodness, and tenderness, and benignity along with them. Now, we would have you to advert to one capital distinction between the former and the latter class of objects. The inani mate reflect no love upon us back again. They do not single out any one of their ad mirers, and, by an act of preference, either minister to his selfish appetite for esteem, or minister to his selfish appetite for enjoy ment, by affording to him a larger share than to others, of their presence, and of all the delights which their presence inspires. I'hey remain motionless in their places, without will and without sensibility; and the homage they receive, is from the dis interested affection which men bear to their loveliness. They are loved, and that purely, because they are lovely. There is no mix ture of selfishness in the affection that is of fered to them. They do not put on a sweeter smile to one man than to another ; but all the features of that beauty in which they are arrayed, stand inflexibly the same to every beholder ; and he, without any con scious mingling whatever of self-love, in the emotion with which he gazes at the charms of some external scenery, is actu ated by a love towards it, which rests and which terminates on the objects that he is employed in contemplating. But this is not always the case when our fellow men are objects of this affection. I should love cordiality, and benevolence, and compassion for their own sakes; but let your own experience tell how far more sweetly and more intensely the love is felt, when this cordiality is turned, in one stream of kindliness, towards myself; when the eye of friendship has singled out me, and looks at me with a peculiar graciousness; when the man of tenderness has pointed his way to the abode of my suffering family, and there shed in secrecy over them his liberalities, and his tears; when he has for given me the debt that I was unable to dis charge ; and when, oppressed as I am, by the consciousness of having injured or reviled him, he has nobly forgotten or overlooked the whole provocation, and persists in a re gard that knows no abatement, in a well doing that is never weary There is an elemeqt, then, ill the love I bear to a fellow man, which does not exist in the love I bear to an inanimate object, and which may serve, perhaps, to darken the character.of the affection 1 feel towards the former. We most readily concede it, that the love of another, on account of the virtues which adorn him, changes its moral character altogether, if it be a love to him, solely on account of the benefit which I de rive from the exercise of these virtues. I should love compassion on its own account, as well as on the account that it is I who have been the object of it. I should love justice on its own account, as well as on the account that my grievances have been redressed by the dispensation of it. On looking at goodness, I should feel an affec tion resting on this object, and finding there its full and its terminating gratification; and that, though I had never stood in the way of an}- one of its beneficent operations. How is it, then, that the special direction of a moral virtue in another, towards the object of my personal benefit, operates in enhancing both the sensation which it im parts to my heart, and the estimate which I form of it ? What is the peculiar quality com municated to my admiration of another's friendship, and another's goodness, by the circumstance of myself being the individual towards whom that friendship is cherished, and in favour of whom, that goodness puts itself forth into active exertion? At the sight of a benevolent man, there arises in my bosom an instantaneous homage of re gard and of reverence; — but should that homage take a pointed direction towards myself,— should it realize its fruits on the comfort, and the security of my own per son, — should it be employed in gladdening my home, and spreading enjoyment over my family, oppressed with want and pining in sickness, there is. you will allow, by these circumstances, a heightening of the love and the admiration that I formerly rendered him. And, we should like to know what is the precise character of the addition that has thus been given to my regard for the virtue of benevolence. We should like to know, if it be altogether a pure and a IX.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 63 praise-worthy accession that has thus come upon the sentiment with which I now look at my benefactor, — or, if, by contracting any taint of selfishness, it has lost the high rank that formerly belonged to it, as a dis interested affection, towards the goodness which beautifies and adorns his character. There is one way, however, in which this special direction of a moral virtue to wards my particular interest, may increase my affection for it, and without changing the moral character of my affection. It gives me a nearer view of the virtue in question. It is true, that the virtue may just be as lovely when exercised" in behalf of my neighbour, as when exercised in behalf of myself. But, in the former case, I am not an eye-witness to the display and the evo lution of its loveliness. I am a limited be ing, who cannot take in so full and so dis tinct an impression of the character of what is distant, as of the character of what is immediately beside me. It is true, that all the circumstances may be reported. But you know very well, that a much livelier representation is obtained of any object, by the seeing of it, than by the hearing of it. To be told of kindness, does not bring this attribute of character so forcibly, or so clearly home to my observation, as to re ceive a visit from kindness, and to take it by the hand, and to see its benignant mien, and to hear its gentle and complacent voice, and to witness the solicitude of its inquiries, and to behold its tender and honest anxiety for my interest, and to share daily and weekly in the liberalities which it has be stowed upon me. When all this goes on around my own person, and within the limits of my own dwelling-place, it is very true that self is gratified, and that this cir cumstance may give rise to sensations, which are altogether distinct from the love I bear to moral worth, or to moral excel lence. But this does not hinder, that along with these sensations, a disinterested love for the moral virtue of which I have been the object, may, at the same time, have its room and its residence within my bosom. I may love goodness more than ever, on its own account, since it has taken its spe cific way to my habitation, and that, just because I have obtained a nearer acquaint ance with it. I may love it better, because I know it better. My affection for it may have become more intense, and more de voted than before, because its beauty is now more fully unfolded to the eye of my ob servation than before. And thus, while we admit that the goodness of which I am the object, originates within me certain feelings different in kind from that which is excited by goodness in the general, yet it may heighten the degree of this latter feeling also. It may kindle or augment the love I bear to moral virtue in itself; or, in other | words, it may enhance my affection for worth, without any change whatever in the moral character of that affection. Now, before we proceed to consider those peculiar emotions which are excited within me, by being the individual, in whose fa. vour certain virtues are exercised, and which emotions are, all of them, different in kind from the affection that I bear for these vir tues, — let us farther observe, that the term love, when applied to sentient beings con sidered as the object of it, may denote an affection, different in the principle of its ex citement, from any that we have been yet considering. My love to another may lie in the liking I have for the moral qualities which belong to him ; and this, by way of distinctness, may be called the love of moral esteem or approbation. Or, my love to an other may consist in the desire I have for his happiness ; and this may be called the love of kindness. These two are often al lied to each other in fact, but there is a real difference in their nature. The love of kindness which I bear to my infant child may have no reference to its moral qualities whatever. This love finds its terminating gratification in obtaining, for the object of it, exemption from pain, or in ministering to its enjoyments. It is very true, that the sight of what is odious or revolting in the character of another, tends, in point of fact, to dissipate all the love of kindness I may have ever borne to him. But it does not always do so, and one instance of this proves a real distinction, in point of nature, between the love of kindness, and the love of moral esteem. And the highest and most affecting instance which can be given of this distinction, is in the love wherewith God hath loved the world ; is in that kind ness towards us, through Christ Jesus, which he hath made known to men in the Gospe ; is in that longing regard to his fallen creatures, whereby he was not will ing that any should perish, but rather that all should live. There was the love of kind ness standing out, in marked and separate display, from the love of moral esteem ; for, alas ! in the degraded race of mankind, there was not one quality which could call forth such an affection in the breast of the God head. It was, when we were hateful to him in character, that in person and in interest we were the objects of his most unbounded tenderness. It was, when we were enemies, by wicked works, that God looked on with pity, and stretched forth, to his guilty chil dren, the arms of offered reconciliation. It was when we had wandered far in the paths of worthlessness and alienation, that he de vised a message of love, and sent his Son into our world, to seek and to save us. And this, by the way, may serve to il lustrate the kind of love which we are re quired to bear to our enemies. We are rr 64 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [serm. quired to love them, in the same way in which God loves his enemies. A conscien tious man will feel oppressed by the diffi culty of such a precept, if he try to put it into obedience, by loving those who have of fended, with the same feeling of complacency with which he loves those who have be friended him. But the truth is. that the love of moral esteem often enters, as a principal ingredient, into the love of complacency; and we are not required, by our imitation of the Godhead, to entertain any such affec tion for the depraved and the worthless. It is enough, that we cherish towards them in our hearts the love of kindness; and this will be felt a far more practicable achieve ment, than to force up the love of compla cency into a bosom, revolted by the aspect of treachery, or dishonesty, or unprincipled selfishness. There is no possible motive to excite the latter affection. There may be a thousand to excite the former : and we have only to look to the unhappy man in all- his prospects, and in all his relations; we have only to pity his delusions, and to view him as the hapless victim of a sad and ruin ous infatuation ; we have only to carry our eye onwards to the agonies of that death, which will shortly lay hold of him, and to compute the horrors of that eternity, which, if not recovered from the error of his way, he is about to enter; we have only, in a word, to put forth an exercise of faith in certain near and impending realities, the evidence of which is altogether resistless, in order to summon up such motives, and such considerations, as may cause the compassion of our nature to predominate over the re sentment of our nature: and as will assure to a believer the victory over such urgen cies of his constitution as, to the unrenewed heart, are utterly unconquerable. But to resume our argument, let it be ob served that the kindness of God is one of the loveliest, and most estimable of the attri butes which belong to him. It is a bright feature in that assemblage of excellencies, which enter into the character of the God head: and, as such, independently altogether of this kindness being exercised upon me, I should offer to it the homage of my moral approbation. But, should I be the special and the signalized object of his kindness, there is another sentiment towards God, be side the love of moral esteem, that ought to be formed within me by that circumstance, and which, in the business of reasoning, should be kept apart from it. There is the love of gratitude. These often go together, and may be felt simultaneously, towards the one being we are employed in contem plating. But they are just as distinct, each from the other, as is the love of moral es teem from the love of kindness. We trust that we have already convinced you, that God feels towards us, his inferiors, the love of kindness, when he cannot, from the na ture of the object, feel for us the slightest degree of the love of moral esteem. In the same manner may we feel, we are not say ing towards God, but towards an earthly benefactor, the love of gratitude, when, from the nature of the object we are employed in contemplating, there is much to impair within us the love of moral esteem, or to extinguish it altogether. Is it not most na tural to say of the man, who has been per sonally benevolent to myself, and who has, at the same time, disgraced himself, by his vices, that, bad as he is, he has been at all times remarkably kind to me, and felt many a movement of friendship towards my per son, and done many a deed of important service to my family, and that I, at least, owe him a gratitude for all this, — that I, at least, should be longer than others, of dis missing from my bosom the last remaindei of cordiality towards him, — that if, infamy and poverty have followed, in the career of his wickedness, and he have become an outcast from the attentions of other men, it is not for me to spurn him instantly from my door, — or, in the face of my particular recollections, to look unpitying and un moved, at the wretchedness into which he has fallen. It is the more necessary, to distinguish the love of gratitude from the love of moral esteem, that each of these affections may be excited simultaneously within me, by one act or by one exhibition of himself, on the part of the Deity. Let me be made to un derstand, that God has passed by my trans gression, and generously admitted me into the privileges and the rewards of obe dience, — I see in this a tenderness, and a mercy, and a love, for' his creatures, which, if blended at the same time with, all that is high and honourable in the more august attributes of his nature, have the effect of presenting him to my mind, and of draw ing out my heart in moral regard to him, as a most amiable and estimable object of contemplation. But besides this, there is a peculiar love of gratitude, excited by the consideration that I am the object of this benignity, — that I am one of the creatures to whom he has directed this peculiar re gard, — that he has singled out me, and con ceived a gracious purpose towards me, and in the execution of this purpose is lavishing upon my person, the blessings of a father's care, and a father's tenderness. Both the love of moral esteem, and the love of grati tude, may thus be in contemporaneous op eration within me; and it will be seen to accomplish a practical, as well as a meta physical purpose, to keep the one apart from the other, in the view of the mind, when love towards God is the topic of spec ulation which engages it. But, farther, let it be understood, that the *J DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 65 love of gratitude differs from the love of moral esteem, not merely in the cause which immediately originates it, but also in the object, in which it finds its rest and its grati fication It is the kindness of another being to myself, which originates within me the 'ove of gratitude towards him ; and it is the view of what is morally estimable in this being, that originates within me all the love of moral esteem, that I entertain for him. There is a real distinction of cause between these two affections, and there is also between them a real distinction of object. The love of moral esteem finds its complacent grati fication, in the act of dwelling contempla tively on that Being, by whom it is excited ; just as a tasteful enthusiast inhales delight from the act of gazing on the charms of some external scenery. The pleasure he receives, emanates directly upon his mind, from the forms of beauty and of loveliness, which are around him. And if, instead of a taste for the beauties of nature, there ex ists within him, a taste for the beauties of holiness, then will he love the Being, who presents to the eye of his contemplation the fullest assemblage of them, and his taste will find its complacent gratification in dwelling upon him, whether as an object of thought, or as an object of perception. " One thing have I desired," says the Psalmist, " that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple." Now, the love of gratitude is distinct from this in its object. It is excited by the love of kindness; and the feeling which is thus excited, is just a feeling of kindness back again. It is kindness begetting kindness. The language of this affection is, " What shall I render unto the Lord for all his bene fits ?" He has done what is pleasing and gratifying to me. What shall I do to please, and to gratify him ? The love of gratitude seeks for answers to this question, and finds its delight in acting upon them, and whether the answer be, — this is the will of God, even your sanctification, — or, with the sacrifices of liberality God is well pleased, — or, obe dience to parents is well pleasing in his sight, — these all point out so many lines of conduct, to which the impulse of the love of gratitude would carry us, and attest this to be the love of God, — that ye keep his commandments. And, indeed, when the same Being com bines, in his own person, that which ought to excite the love of moral esteem, with that which ought to excite the love of grati tude, — the two ingredients, enter with a mingled but harmonious concurrence, into the exercise of one compound affection. It is true, that the more appropriate offering of the former is the offering of praise- just as when one looks to the beauties of nature, he breaks out into a rapturous ac knowledgment of them ; and so it may be, when one looks to the venerable, and the lovely in the character of God. The more appropriate offering of the latter, is the offer ing of thanksgiving, or of such services as are fitted to please, and to gratify a bene factor. But still it may be observed, how each of these simple affections tends to ex press itself, by the very act which more characteristically marks the workings of the other ; or, how the more appropriate offering of the first of them, may be prompt ed under the impulse, and movement of the second of them, and conversely. For, if I love God because of his perfections, what principle can more powerfully or more directly lead to the imitation of them? — which is the very service that he requires, and the very offering that he is most pleased with. And, if I love God because of his goodness to me, what is more fitted to prompt my every exertion, in the way of spreading the honours of his character and of his name among my fellows, — and, for this purpose, to magnify in their hearing the glories and the attributes of his nature ? It is thus that the voice of praise and the voice of gratitude may enter into one song of adoration ; and that whilst the Psalmist, at one time, gives thanks to God at the remembrance of his holiness, he, at another, pours forth praise at the remem brance of his mercies. To have the love of gratitude towards God, it is essential that we know and be lieve his love of kindness towards us. To have the love of moral esteem towards him, it is essential that the loveliness of his char acter be in the eye of the mind : or, in other words, that the mind keep itself in steady and believing contemplation of the excel lencies which belong to him. The view that we have of God, is just as much in the order of precedency to the affection that we entertain for him, as any two successive steps can be, in any of the processes of our mental constitution. To obtain the intro duction of love into the heart, there must, as a preparatory circumstance, be the in troduction of knowledge into the under standing; or, as we can never be said to know what we do not believe — ere we have love, we musthave faith; and, accordingly, in the passage from which our text is extracted, do we perceive the one pointed to, as the instrument for the production of the other. " Keep yourselves in the love of God, build ing yourselves up on your most holy faith." And here, it ought to be remarked, that a man may experience a mental process, and yet have no taste or no understanding for the explanation of it. The simple truths of the Gospel, may enter with acceptance into the mind of a peasant, and there work all the proper influences on his heart and cha racter, which the Bible ascribes to them: and 66 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [sllRan yet he may be utterly incapable of tracing that series of inward movements, by which he is carried onward from a belief in the truth, to all those moral and affectionate re gards, which mark a genuine disciple of the truth. He may be the actual subject of these movements, though altogether unable to fol- o\v or to analyze them. This is not pecu liar to the judgments or the feelings of Christianity. In the matters of ordinary life, a man may judge sagaciously, and feel correctly while ardently ; — and experience, in right and natural order, the play of his various faculties, without having it at all in his power, either to frame or to follow a true theory of his faculties. It is well, that the simple preaching of the Gospel has its right practical operation on men, who make no attempt whatever, to comprehend the meta physics of the operation. But, if ever metaphysics be employed to darken the freeness of the Gospel offer, or to dethrone faith from the supremacy which belongs to it, or to forbid the approaches of those whom God has not forbidden; then must it be met upon its own ground, and the real character of our beneficent religion be as serted, amid the attempts of those who have in any way obscured or injured it by their illustrations. SERMON X. Gratitude, not a sordid Affection. " We love him, because he first loved us." — 1 John iv. 19. Some theologians have exacted from an inquirer, at the very outset of his conver sion, that he should carry in his heart what they call the disinterested love of God. They have set him on the most painful ef forts to acquire this affection, — and that too, before he was in circumstances in which it was at all possible to entertain it. They have led him to view with suspicion the love of gratitude, as having in it a taint of selfishness. They are for having him to love God, and that on the single ground that he is lovely, without any reference to his own comfort, or even to his own safety. Strange demand which they make on a sentient being, that even amidst the fears and the images of destruction, he should find room in his heart for the love of com placency! and equally strange demand to make on a sinful being, that ere he admit such a sense of reconciliation into his bo som, as will instantly call forth a grateful regard to him who has conferred it, he must view God with a disinterested affec tion ; that from the deep and helpless abyss of his depravity, he must find, unaided, his ascending way to the purest and the sub limed emotion of moral nature ; that ere he is delivered from fearh-e must love, even though it be said of love, that it casteth out fear ; and that, ere he is placed on the van tage ground of the peace of the Gospel, he must realize on his character, one of the most, exalted of its perfections. The effect of all this on many an anxious seeker after rest, has been most discouraging. With the stigma that has been affixed to the love of gratitude, they have been positively apprehensive of the inroads of this affec tion, and have studiously averted the eye of their contemplation from the objects which are fitted to inspire it. In other words, they have hesitated to entertain the free of fers of salvation, and misinterpreted all the tokens of an embassy, which has proclaim ed peace on earth and good will to men. They think that all which they can possi bly gather, in the way of affection, from such a contemplation, is the love of grati tude ; and that gratitude is selfishness ; and that selfishness is not a gracious affection ; and that ere they be surely and soundly converted, the love they bear to God must be of a totally disinterested character; and thus through another medium than that of a free and gratuitous dispensation of kind ness, do they strive, by a misunderstood gospel, or without the gospel altogether, to reach a peace and a preparation which we fear, in their way of it, is to sinners utterly unattainable. In the progress of this discourse let us endeavour, in the first place, to rescue the love of gratitude from the imputations which have been preferred against it, — and secondly, to assign to the love of kindness manifested to the world in the gospel, and to the faith by which that love is made to arise in the heart, the place and the pre eminence which belong to them. I. The proper object of the love of grati tude, is the being who has exercised towards me the love of kindness ; and this is more correct than to say, that the proper object of this affection is the being who has con ferred benefits upon me. I can conceive another to load me with benefactions, and at the same time, to evince that kindness towards me was not the principle which impelled him. It may be done reluctantly x.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 67 at the bidding of another, or it may be done to serve some interested purpose, or it may be done to parade his generosity before the eye of the public. If it be not done from a real principle of kindness to myself, I may take his gifts, and I may find enjoyment in the use of them ; but I feel no gratitude to wards the dispenser of them. Unless I see his kindness in them, I will not be grateful. It is true, that, in point of fact, gratitude often springs from the rendering of a bene fit ; but, lest we should confound things which are different, let it be well observed, that this is only when the benefit serves as the indication of a kind purpose, or of a kind affection, on the part of him who hath granted it. And this may be proved, not merely by showing, that there may be no gratitude where there is a benefit, but also by showing, that there may be gratitude where there is no material benefit what ever. Just let the naked principle of kind ness discover itself, and though it have nei ther the power, nor the opportunity of coming forth with the dispensation of any service, it is striking to observe, how, upon the bare existence of this affection being known, it is met by a grateful feeling, on the part of him to whom it is directed; and what mighty augmentations may be given in this way, to the stock of enjoyment, and that, by the mere reciprocation of kindness begetting kindness. For, to send the expres sion of this kindness into another's bosom, it is not always necessary to do it on the vehicle of positive donation. It may be conveyed by a look of benevolence; and thus it is, that by the mere feeling of cor diality, a tide of happiness may be made to circulate throughout all the individuals of an assembled company. Or it may be done by a very slight and passing attention, and thus it is, that the cheap services of courte- ousness, may spread such a charm over the face of a neighbourhood. Or it may be done by the very poorest member of human so ciety; and thus it is, that the ready and sin cere homage of attachment from such a man, may beam a truer felicity upon me, and call forth a livelier gratitude to him who has conferred it, than some splendid act of patronage on the part of a superior. Or it may be done by a Christian visiter in some of the humblest of our city lanes, who, without one penny to bestow on th e children of want, may spread among them the simple con viction of her good will, and call down upon her person the, voice of thankfulness and of blessing from all their habitations. And thus it is, that by good will creating good will, a pure and gladdening influence will at length go abroad over the face of our world, and mankind will be made to know the might and the mystery of that tie which is to bind them together into one family, and they will rejoice in the power of that secret charm which so heightensand so mul tiplies the pleasure of all the members of it; and, when transported from earth to heaven, they will still feel, that while it is to the benefits which God hath conferred that they owe the possession and all the privileges of existence; it is to a sense of the love which prompted these benefits, that they will owe the ecstatic charm "of their immortality. It is the beaming kindness of God upon them, that will put their souls into the liveliest transports of gratitude and joy ; and it is the reciprocation of this kindness on the part of those, who, while they have fellowship with the Father, and with the Son, have fellow ship also with one another, that will cause the joy of heaven to be full. The distinction which we are now ad verting to, is something more, than a mere shadowy refinement of speculation. It may be realized on the most trodden and ordi nary path of human experience, and is, in fact, one of the most familiar exhibitions of genuine and unsophisticated nature in those ranks of society where refinement is un known. Let one man go over any given district of the city fully fraught with the materiel of benevolence; let him be the agent of some munificent subscription, and with nothing in his heart but just such affections, and such jealousies, and such thoughtful anxieties, about a right and equi table division, as belong to the general spirit of his office; let him leave some substantial deposit with each of the families ; and then compute, if he can, the quantity of gratitude which he carries away with him. It were a most unkind reflection on the lower orders, and not more unkind than untrue, to deny that there will be the mingling of some gratitude, along with the clamour, and the envy, and the discontent, which are ever sure to follow in the train of such a ministration. It is not to discredit the poor, that we intro duce our present observation ; but to bring out, if possible, into broad and luminous ex hibition, one of the finest sensibilities which adorns them. It is to let you know the high cast of character of which they are capable; and how the glow of pleasure which arises in their bosoms, when the eye of simple affection beams upon their per sons, or upon their habitations, may not have one single taint of sordidness to debase it. And to prove this, just let another man go over the same district, and in the train of the former visitation ; conceive him unbacked by any public institution, to have nothing in his hand that might not be absorbed by the needs of a single family, but that, utterly destitute as he is of the materiel, he has a heart charged and overflowing with the whole morale of benevolence. Just let him go forth among the people, without one other recommendation than an honest and undissembled good will to them; and let 6S DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. this good will manifest its' existence, in any one of the thousand ways, by which it may be authenticated ; and whether it be by the cordiality of his manners, or by his sympa thy with their griefs, or by the nameless at tentions and offices of civility, or by the higher aim of that kindness which points to the welfare of their immortality, and evinces its reality by its ready and unwearied ser vices among the young, or the sick, or the dying; just let them be satisfied of the one fact, that he is their friend, and that all their joys and all their sorrows are his own; he may be struggling with hardships and ne cessities as the poorest of them all ; but poor as they are, they know what is in his heart, and well do they know how to value it ; and from the voice of welcome, which meets him in the very humblest of their tenements; and from the smile of that heartfelt enjoy ment, which his presence is ever sure to awaken, and from the influence of gracious- ness which he carries along with him into every house, and by which he lights up an honest emotion of thankfulness in the bosom of every family, may we gather the exist ence of a power, which worth alone, and without the accompaniment of wealth, can bestow ; a power to sweeten and subdue, and tranquillize, which no money can pur chase, which no patronage can create. It will be readily acknowledged by all, that the most precious object in the manage ment of a town, is to establish the reign of happiness and contentment among those who live in it. And it is interesting to mark the operations of those, who, without advert ing to the principle that I now insist upon, think that all is to be achieved by the beg garly elements which enter into the arith metic of ordinary business; who rear their goodly scheme upon the basis of sums and computations ; and think that by an over whelming discharge of the materiel of be nevolence, they will reach an accomplish ment which the morale of benevolence alone is equal to. We are sure that it is not to mortify our men of grave, and official, and calculating experience, that we tell them, how, with all their strength, and all their sagacity, they have only given their money for that which is not meat, and their labour for that which satisfieth not. It is to illustrate a principle of our common nature, so obvious, that to be recognized, it needs only to be spoken of. And it were well, if in so doing their thoughts could be led to the instrumentality of this principle, as the only way, in which they can redeem the failures of their by-gone experience ; if they could be convinced, that the agents of a zealous and affectionate Christianity can alone do what all the influence of municipal weight and municipal wisdom cannot do; if they coula be taught what the ministra tions are, by which a pure and a respond ing gratitude, may be made to circulate throughout all our dwelling-places ; if, in a word, while they profess to serve the pool, they could be led to respect the poor, to do homage to that fineness of moral tempera ment which belongs to them, and which hitherto seems to have escaped, altogether, the eye of civil or political superintendence ; and they may rest assured, that let them give as much in the shape of munificence as they will, if they add not the love to the liberality of the Gospel, they will never soften one feature of unkindness, or chase away one exasperated feeling, from the hearts of a neglected population. But, beside the degree of purity in which this principle may exist among the most destitute of our species, it is also of import ance to mark the degree of strength, in which it actually exists among the most de praved of our species. And, on this subject, do we think that the venerable Howard has bequeathed to us a most striking and valuable observation. You know the his tory of this man's enterprises; how his do ings, and his observations, were among the veriest outcasts of humanity, — how he de scended into prison houses, and there made himself familiar with all that could most revolt or terrify, in the exhibition of om fallen nature; how, for this purpose, he made the tour of Europe ; but instead of walking in the footsteps of other travellers, he toiled his painful and persevering way through these receptacles of worthlessness ; — and, sound experimentalist as he was, did he treasure up the phenomena of our na ture, throughout all the stages of misfor tune, or depravity. We may well conceive the scenes of moral desolation that would often meet his eye ; and that, as he looked to the hard, and dauntless, and defying aspect of criminality before him, he would sicken in despair of ever finding one rem nant of a purer and better principle, by which he might lay hold of these unhappy men, and convert them into the willing and the consenting agents of their own amelio ration. And yet such a principle he found, and found it, as he tells us, after years of intercourse, as the fruit of his greater ex perience, and his longer observation ; and gives, as the result of it, that convicts, and that among the most desperate of them all, are not ungovernable, and that there is a way of managing even them, and that the way is, without relaxing, in one iota, from the steadiness of a calm and resolute disci pline, to treat them with tenderness, and to show them that you have humanity ; and thus a principle, of itself so beautiful, that to expatiate upon it, gives in the eyes of some, an air of fantastic declamation to our argument, is actually deponed to, by an aged and most sagacious observer. It is the very principle of our text ; and it would appeal JLJ DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 69 that it keeps a lingering hold of our nature, even in the last and lowest degree of human wickedness ; and that when abandoned by every other principle, this may still be de tected, — that even among the most hack neyed and most hardened of malefactors there is still about them a softer part which will give way to the demonstrations of ten derness : that this one ingredient of a bet ter character is still found to survive the dissipation of all the others, — that, fallen as a brother may be, from the moralities which at one time adorned him, the manifested good-will of his fellow-man still carries a charm and an influence along with it ; and that, therefore, there lies in this, an opera tion which, as no poverty can vitiate, so no depr vity can extinguish.* Now, this is the very principle which is brought into action, in the dealings of God with a whole world of malefactors. It looks as if he confided the whole cause of our recovery to the influence of a demon stration of good will. It is truly interest ing to mark, what, in the devisings of his unsearchable wisdom, is the character which he has made to stand most visibly out, in the great scheme and history of our re demption: and surely if there be one fea ture of prominency more visible than an other, it is the love of kindness. There appears to be no other possible way, by which a responding affection can be depo sited in the heart of man. Certain it is, that the law of love cannot be carried to its ascendency over us by storm. Authority cannot command it. Strength cannot im plant it. Terror cannot charm it into ex istence. The threatenings of vengeance may stifle, or they may repel, but they never can woo this delicate principle of our nature, into a warm and confiding attach ment. The human heart remains shut, in all its receptacles, against the force of these various applications ; and God, who knew what was in man, seems to have known, that in his dark and guilty bosom, there was but one solitary hold that he had over him ; and that to reach it, he must just put on a look of graciousness, and tell us that he has no pleasure in our death, and manifest to wards us the longings of a bereaved parent, and even humble himself to a suppliant in the cause of our return, and send a Gospel of peace into the world, and bid his messen gers to bear throughout all its habitations, the tidings of his good-will to the children of men. This is the topic of his most anxious and repeated demonstration. This manifested good will of God to his crea tures, is the band of love, and the cord of a man, by which he draws them. It is * The operation of the same principle has, of late, been strikingly exemplified by Mrs. Fry, and her coadjutors, in the prison at Newgate. true, that from the inaccessible throne of his glory, we see no direct emanation of his tenderness upon us, from this face of the King who is invisible. But, as if to make up for this, he sent his Son into the world, and declared him to be God mani fest in the flesh, and let us see, in his tears, and in his sympathies, and in all the recorded traits of his kindness, and gentleness, and love, what a God we have to deal with. It is true, that even in love to us, he did not let down one attribute of truth or of ma jesty which belonged to him. But, in love to us, he hath laid upon his own Son the burden of their vindication ; — and now, that every obstacle is done away ; now, that the barrier -which lay across the path of ac ceptance, is levelled by the power of him who travailed in the greatness of his strength for us ; now, that the blood of atonement has been shed, and that the justice of God has been magnified, and that our iniquities have been placed on the great Sacrifice, and so borne away that there is no more men tion of them : now, that with his dignity entire, and his holiness untainted, the door of heaven may be opened, and sinners be called upon to enter in, — is the voice of a friendly and beseeching God, lifted up with out reserve, in the hearing of us all; — his love of kindness is published abroad among men ; — and this one mighty principle of attraction is brought to bear upon a nature, that might have remained sullen and un moved under every other application. And, as God, in the measure of restoring a degenerate world unto himself, hath set in operation the very same principle as that which we have attempted to illustrate, — so the operation hath produced the very same result that we have ascribed to it. As soon as his love of kindness is believed, so soon does the love of gratitude spring up in the heart of the believer. As soon as man gives up his fear and his suspicion of God, and discerns him to be his friend, so soon does he render him- the homage of a willing and affectionate loyalty. There is not a man who can say, I have known and believed the love which God hath to us, who cannot say also, I have loved God because he first loved me. There has not, we will venture to affirm, been a single example in the whole history of the church, of a man who had a real faith in the overtures of peace and of tenderness which are proposed by the Gospel, and who did not, at the same time, exemplify this attribute of the Christian faith, that it worketh by love. It is thus that the faith, which recognizes God, as God in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, lies at the, turning point of conversion. In this way, and in this way alone, is there an inlet of communication open to the heart of man, for that principle of love to God, which gives all its power 70 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. and all its character to the new obedience of the gospel. So soon as a man really knows the truth, and no man can be said to know what he does not believe, will this truth enthrone a new affection in his bosom, which will set him free from the dominion of all such affections as are earthly and re bellious. " The whole style and spirit of his obedience are transformed. The man now walks with the vigour, and the confidence, and the enlargement, of one who is set at liberty. It looks a mysterious revolution in the general eye of the world. But the fact is, that from the moment a sinner closes with the overtures of the gospel, from that moment a new era is established in the history of his mind altogether. As soon as he sees what he never saw before, so soon does he feel what he never felt be fore. Without the faith of the gospel he may serve God in the spirit of bondage : he may be driven, by the terrors of his law, into many outward and reluctant conformi ties ; he may even, without the influence of these terrors, maintain a thousand decen cies of tastes, and custom, and established observation. But he is still an utter stranger to the first and the greatest commandment. There may be the homage of many a visi ble movement with the body, while, in the whole bent and disposition of the soul there is nothing but aversion, and distance, and enmity. Even the word of the gospel may be addressed, Sabbath after Sabbath, and that too, to hearers who offer no positive resistance to it, — but coming to them only in word, they remain as motionless and un impressed as ever, and with an utter dor mancy in their hearts as to any responding movement of gratitude. The heart, in fact, remains unapproachable in every other way, but by the gospel coming to it, not in word only, but in power, and in the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance. Then is it, that the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts; and that the gospel approves itself to be his power, and his wisdom, to the' sanctification of all who believe in it. Now, the theologians to Wiiom we allude, have set up obstacles in the way of such a process. They hold a language about the disinterested love of God, and demand this at the very outset of a man's conversion, in such a way, as may retard his entrance upon a life of faith,— as may have prolonged the darkness of many an inquirer, and have kept him in a state of despair, whom a right understanding of the gospel would have relieved of all his doubts, and all his per plexities. They seem to look on the love of gratitude, as having in it a taint of selfish ness. They say that to love a being, because he is my benefactor, is little bet ter than to love the benefit which he has conferred upon me ; and that this, instead of any evidence of a state of grace, is the mere effect of an appetite which belongs essentially and universally to the animal state of nature. They appear to have missed the distinction, between the love that is felt towards the benefit itself, and the love of gratitude that is felt towards the author of it ; though certainly there are here two ob jects of affection altogether distinct from each other. My liking for the gift is a different phase of mind from my liking for the giver. In the one exercise, I am looking to a different object, and my thoughts have a different employment, from what they have in the other. Had I an affection for the gift, without an affection for the giver, then might I evince an unmixed selfishness of character. But I may have both; and my affection for the giver may be purely in obedience to that law of reciprocity, whereby if another likes me, I am disposed by that circumstance, and by that alone, to like him back again. The gift may serve merely the purpose of an indication. It is the medium through which I perceive the love that another bears me. But it is possible for me to perceive this through another medium, and, in this case, the rising gratitude of my bosom might look a purer and more disinterested emotion. But the truth is, that it retains the very same character, though a gift has been the occa sion of its excitement, — and, therefore, it ought not to have been so assimilated to the principle of selfishness. It ought not to have been so discouraged, and made the object of suspicion, at that moment of its evolution, when the returning sinner looks by faith to the truths and the promises of the gospel, and sees in them the tenderness of an inviting" God. It ought not to have been so stigmatized, as a mere portion of his unrenewed nature ; for, in truth, it will heighten and grow upon him, with every step in the advancement of his moral re novation. It will be one of the gracefullest of his accomplishments in this world ; and so far from being extinguished in the next, along with the baser and more selfish affec tions of our constitution, it will pour an ani mating spirit into many a song of ecstacy, to him who loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood. The law of love begetting love, will obtain in eternity. Like the law of reciprocal attraction in the ma terial world, it will cement the immutable and everlasting order of that moral system, which is to emerge with the new heavens and the new earth, wherein dwelleth righ teousness. The love which emanates from the throne of God, upon his surrounding family, will call back a voice of blessing, and thanksgiving, and glory, from all the members of it. And the love which his children bear to each other, will, in like manner, be reflected and multiplied. All that is wrong in selfishness will be there X.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 71 unknown. But gratitude, so far from being counted an unseemly companion for para dise, will be one chief ingredient in the fulness of its joy ; one of the purest and most exquisite of those pleasures which are for evermore. The first consideration, then, upon which we would elevate gratitude to the rank of a virtue, is, that in its object, it is altogether distinct from selfishness. It is enough, in deed, to dissolve the imagination of any kindred character between selfishness and gratitude, that the man without selfishness, seems to the eye of a beholder, as standing on a lofty eminence of virtue. The man without gratitude, is held, by all, to be a monster of deformity. Give me a man who seizes with ravenous appropriation all that I have to bestow, — and who hoards it, or feeds upon it, or, in any way rejoices over it, without one grateful movement of his heart towards me, — and you lay before me a character, not merely unlike, but, diametri cally opposite, to the character of him who obtains the very same gift, and, perhaps, de rives from the use of it, an equal, or a greater degree of enjoyment, to the sensitive part of his nature, — but who, in addition to all this, has thought, and affection, and the higher principles of his nature, excited by the consideration of the giver ; and looks to the manifested love that appears in this act of generosity; and is touched with love back again; and, under the influence of this responding affection, conceives the kindest wishes, and pours out the warmest prayers, for the interest of his benefactor, and shows him all the symptoms of friendship, and surrounds him with all its services. The second consideration upon which we would elevate gratitude to the rank of a pure virtue, has already been glanced at. Were it not a virtue, it would have no place in heaven. Did it only appertain to the un renewed part of our nature, it would find no admittance among the saints in paradise. But one of the songs of the redeemed, is a song of gratitude. And, thirdly, by looking more closely to this affection, both in its origin and in its exercises, we shall perceive in it, more clearly, all the characteristics of virtue. Let it be remarked, then, that an affection may simply exist, and yet be no evidence of any virtue, or of any moral worth in the holder of it. I may look on a beautiful prospect, and be drawn out to an invo luntary sentiment of admiration. Or, I may look on my infant child, and without one effort of volition, feel a parental tenderness towards it. Or, I may be present at a scene of distress, and without choosing or willing to be so, I may be moved to the softest com passion. And, in this way, I may have a character made up of many affections, some of which are tasteful, some of which are most amiable in themselves, and some oi which are most useful to society and yet none of which may p6ssess the smallest portion of the essential character of virtue. They may be brought into exercise without any working of a sense of duty whatever. One of those we have specified — the instinc tive affection of parents for their young, is exemplified in all its strength, and in all its tenderness, by the inferior animals. And, therefore, if we want to know what that is which constitutes the character of virtue, or moral worth, in a human being, we must look to something else, than to the mere existence of certain affections, however val uable they may prove to others, or whatever gracefulness they may shed over the com plexion of him who possesses them. Now, it would be raising a collateral into a main topic, were we to enter upon a full explanation of the matter that has now been suggested. And we shall, therefore, briefly remark, that to give the character of virtue to any grace of the inner man, the will, acting under a sense of duty, must, in some way or other, have been concerned in the establishment, or in the continuance of it ; and that to give the same character of virtue to a deed of the outer man, the will must also be concerned. A deed is only virtuous in as far as it, is voluntary ; and it is only in proportion to the share which the will has in the performance of it, and the will im pelling us to do, what we are persuaded ought to be done, that there can be awarded, to the deed in question, any character of moral estimation. This will explain what the circumstances are, under which the gratitude of a human being may at one time be an instinct, and at another time a virtue. I may enter the house of an individual who is an utter stranger to the habit of acting under a sense of duty ; who is just as much the creature of mere impulse, as the animals beneath him ; and who, therefore, though some of these impulses are more characteristic of his condition as a man, and most subser vient to the good of his fellows, may be con sidered as possessing no virtue whatever, in the strict and proper sense of the term. But he has the property of being affected by external causes. And I, by some mi nistration of friendship, may flash upon his mind such an overpowering conviction of the good will that I bear him, as to affect him with a sense of gratitude even unto tears. The moral obligation of gratitude may not be present to his mind at all. But the emotion of gratitude comes into his heart unbidden, and finds its vent in ac knowledgments, and blessings, on the per son of his benefactor. We would say, of such a person, that he possesses a happier original constitution than another, who, in the same circumstances, would not be so 72 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM powerfully or so tenderly affected. And yet he may have hitherto evinced nothing more than the workings of a mere instinct, which springs spontaneously within him, and gives its own impulse to his words and his performances, without a sense of duty having any share in the matter, or without the will prompting the individual by any such consideration, as, let me do this thing because I ought to do it. Let us now conceive the moral sense to be admitted to its share of influence over this proceeding. Let it be consulted on the question of what ought to be felt, and what ought to be done, by one being, when an other evinces the love of kindness towards him. A mere instinct may, in point of fact, draw out a return of love and of service back again. But it is the province of the moral sense to pronounce on the point of obligation, and we speak its universal sug gestion, when we say, that the love of grati tude ought to be felt, and the services of gratitude ought to be rendered. Now, to make this decision of the moral sense practically effectual, and, indeed, to make the moral sense have any thing to do with this question at all, the feeling of grati tude must, in some way or other, be de pendent either for its existence, or its growth, or its continuance, upon the will ; and the same will must also have a com mand over the services of gratitude. The moral sense, in fact, never interposes with any dictate, or with any declaration about the feelings, or the conduct of man, unless in so far as the will of man has an influ ence, and a power of regulation over them. It never makes the rate of the circulation of the blood a question of duty, because this is altogether an involuntary move ment. And it never would have offered any authoritative intimation, about the way in which gratitude ought to be felt, or ought to be expressed, unless the will had had some kind of presiding sovereignty over both the degree and the workings of this affection. The first way, then, in which the will may have to do with the love of gratitude, is by the putting forth of a desire for the pos- s^ssionof it. It may long to realize thismoral accomplishment. It may hunger and thirst after this branch of righteousness. Even though it has not any such power under its command as would enable it to fulfil such a volition, the volition itself has, upon it, the stamp and the character of virtue. The man who habitually wills to have in his heart a love of gratitude towards God, is a man at least of holy desires, if not of holy attainments. And, when we consider that a way has actually been established, in which the desire may be followed up by the attainment, — when we read of the pro mise given to those who seek after God, — when we learn the assurance that he will grant the heart's desire of those who will stir themselves up to lay hold of him,— when we think that prayer is the natural expression of desire for an object which man cannot reach, but which God is both able and willing to confer upon him, — then do we see how the very existence of the love of gratitude may have had its pure and holy commencement, in such a habitude of the will as has the essential character of virtue engraven upon it. " Keep your selves," says the Apostle, " in the love of God, by praying in the Holy Ghost." But, again, there are certain doings of the mind, over which the will has a control, and by which the affection of gratitude may either be brought into being, or be sus tained in lively and persevering exercise. At the bidding of the will, I can think of one topic, rather than of another. I can transfer my mind to any given object of contemplation. I can keep that object stea dily in view, and make an effort to do so, when placed in such circumstances as might lead me to distraction or forgetfulness. And it is in this way that moral praise or moral responsibility, may be attached to the love of gratitude. Ere the heart can be moved by this affection to another, there must be in the mind a certain appropriate object, that is fitted to call it, and to keep it in ex istence, — and that object is the love of kind ness which the other bears me. I may en deavour, and I may succeed in the endea vour, to hold this love of kindness in daily and perpetual remembrance. If the will have to do with the exercises of thought and memory, then the will may be respon sible for the gratitude that would spring in my bosom, did I only think of the love of God, and that would continue with me in the shape of an habitual affection, did I only keep that love in habitual remembrance. It is thus that the forgetfulness of God is chargeable with criminality, — and it will appear a righteous thing in the day of judg ment, when they, who are thus forgetful of him, shall be turned into hell. It is this which arms, with such a moral and condem natory force, the expostulation he holds with Israel, " that Israel doth not know, that my people do not consider." It is because we like not to retain God in our knowledge, that our minds become reprobate; — and, on'the other hand, it is by a continuous effort of my will, towards the thought of him, that I forget not his benefits. It is by the strenuousness of a voluntary act, that I con nect the idea of an unseen benefactor, with all the blessings of my present lot, and all the anticipations of my futurity. It is by a combat with the most urgent propensities of nature, that I am ever looking beyond this surrounding materialism, and setting God and his love before me all the day long X.J DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 73 There is no virtue, it is allowed, without voluntary exertion ; but this is the very character which runs throughout the whole work and exercise of faith. To keep him self in the love of God is a habit, with the maintenance of which the will of man has most essentially to do, because it is at his will that he keeps himself in the thought of God's love towards him. To bid away from me such intrusions of sense, and of time, as would shut God out of my recollections ; to keep alive the impression of him in the midst of bustle, and company, and worldly avocations ; to recall the thought of him and of his kindness, under crosses, and vexa tions, and annoyances ; to be still, and know that he is God, even when beset with tempt- tations to i m patience and discontent ; never to loose sight of him as merciful and gracious; and above all, never to let go my hold of that great Propitiation, by which in every time of trouble, I have the privilege of access with confidence to my reconciled Father; these are all so many acts of faith, but they are just such acts as the will bears a share, and a sovereignity, in the performance of. And, as they are the very acts which go to ali ment and to sustain the love of gratitude within me, it may be seen, how an affection which, in the first instance, may spring in voluntarily, and be therefore regarded as a mere instinct of nature, or as bearing upon ft a complexion of selfishness, may, in an other view, have upon it a complexion of deepest sacredness, and be rendered unto God in the shape of a duteous and devoted offering from a voluntary agent, and be, in fact, the laborious result of a most difficult, and persevering, and pains-taking habit of obedience. And if this be true of the mere sense of gratitude, it is still more obviously true of the services of gratitude. "What shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits ?" is the genuine language of this affection. It seeks to make a gratifying return of service, and that, under the feeling that it ought to do so. Or, in other words, do we behold that it is the will of man, prompted by a sense of duty, which leads him on to the obedience of gratitude, and that the whole of this obedience is pervaded by the essential character of virtue. This is the love of God, that ye keep his commandments. This is the most gratifying return unto him, that ye do those things which are pleasing in his sight. And thus it is, that the love of gratitude may be vindicated in its character of moral worth, from its first commence ment in the heart to its ultimate effect on the walk and conversation. It is originally distinct from selfishness in its object ; and it derives a virtuousness at its very outset, from the aspirations of a soul bent on the acquirement of it, because bent on being what it ought to be ; and it is sustained, both 10 in life and in exercise, by such habits ol thought as are of voluntary cultivation ; ana it nibly sustains an aspect of moral righ teousness onwards to the final result of its operation on the character, by setting him who is under its power, on a career of obe dience to God, and introducing him to an arduous contest of principle, with all the influences of sense and of the world. If, to render an affection virtuous, the will acting under a sense of duty, should be concerned either in producing or in per petuating it ; then the love of moral esteen, coming into the heart, as an involutary sensation, may, in certain circumstances. have as little of the character of virtue as the love of gratitude. In this respect, both these affections are upon a footing with each other ; and the first ought not to have been exalted at the expense of the se cond. That either be upheld within us in our present state, there must, in fact, be the putting forth of the same voluntary control over the thoughts and contemplations of the understanding; the same active exer cise of faith; the same laborious resistance to all those urgencies of sense which would expel from the mind the idea of an unseen and spiritual object ; the same remembrance of God sustained by effort, and prayer, and meditation. II. We now feel ourselves in a condition to speak of the Gospel, in its free and gra tuitous character ; to propose its blessings as a gift; to hold out the pardon, and the strength, and all the other privileges which it proclaims to believers, as so many articles for their immediate acceptance ; to make it known to men that they are not to delay their compliance with the overtures of mercy, till the disinterested love of God arises in their hearts ; but that they have a warrant for entering even now, into instant reconciliation with God. Nor are we to dread the approach of any moral contami nation, though when, after their eyes are opened to the marvellous spectacle of a plead ing, and offering, and beseeching God, hold ing out eternal life unto the guilty, through the propitiation which his own Son hath made for them, they should, from that mo ment, open their whole soul, to the influ ences of gratitude, and love the God who thus hath first loved them. We conclude then with remarking, that the whole of this argument gives us another view of the importance of faith. We do not say all for it that we ought, when we say that by faith we are justified in the sight of God. By faith also our hearts are purified. It is in fact the primary and the presiding principle of regeneration. It brings the heart into contact with that influence by which the love of gratitude is awakened. The love of God to us, if it is not believed, will exert no more power over our affections 74 DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. [SERM. than if it were a nonentity. They are tlie preachers of faith, then, who alone deal out to their hearers, the elementary and pervading spirit of the Christian morality. And the men who have been stigmatized us tlie enemies of good works, are the very men who are most sedulously employed in depositing within you, that good seed which has its fruit unto holiness. We are far from asserting, that the agency of grace is not concerned, in every step of that process, by which a sinner is conducted from the outset of his conversion to the state of being per fect, and complete in the whole will of God. But there is a harmony between the pro cesses of grace and of nature ; and in the same manner, as in human society, the ac tual conviction of a neighbour's good-will to me, takes the precedency in point of or der of any returning movement of gratitude on my part; so, in the great concerns of our fellowship with God, my belief that he loves me, is an event prior and preparatory to the event of my loving him. So that the primary obstacle to the love of God is not the want of human gratitude, but the want of human faith. The reason why man is not excited to the love of God by the revelation of God's love to him, is just because he does not be lieve that revelation. This is the barrier which lies between the guilty and their of fended Lawgiver. It is not the ingratitude of man, but the incredulity of man, that needs, in the first instance, to be overcome. It is the sullenness, and the hardness, and the obstinacy of unbelief which stands as a gate of iron, between him and his enlarge ment. Could the kindness of God, in Christ Jesus, be seen by him, the softening of a kindness back again, would be felt by him. And let us cease to wonder, then, at the preachers of the gospel, when they lay upon belief all the stress of a fundamental opera tion; — when they lavish so much of their strength on the establishment of a principle, which is not only initial, but indispensable ; when they try so strenuously to charm that into existence, without which all the ele ments of a spiritual obedience are in a state of dormancy or of death ; — when they la bour at the only practicable way by which the heart of a sinner can be touched, and attracted towards God ; — when they try so repeatedly to hold and to fasten him by that hnk which God himself hath put into their hands — and bring the mighty princi ple to bear upon their hearers, which any one of us may exemplify upon the poorest and by which both Howard and Pry have tried with success, to soften and to reclaim the most worthless of mankind. This also suggests a practical direction to Christians, for keeping themselves in the love of God. They must keep themselves in the habit, and in the exercise of faith. They must hold fast that conviction in their minds, the presence of which is indispensa ble to the keeping of that affection in their hearts. This is one of the methods recom mended by the Apostle Jude, when he tells his disciples to build themselves up on their most holy faith. This direction to you is both intelligible and practicable. Keep in view the truths which you have learned. Cherish that belief of them which you already possess. Recall them to your thoughts, and, in general, they will not come alone, but they will come accompa nied by their own power, and their own evidence. You may as well think of main taining a steadfast attachment to your friend, after you have expunged from your memory all the demonstrations of kindness he ever bestowed upon you, as think of keeping your heart in the love of God, after the thoughts and contemplations of the gospel have fled from it. It is just by holding these fast, and by building yourself up on their firm certainty, that you preserve this affection. Any man, versant in the matters of experimental religion, knows well what it is when a blight and a barren ness come over the mind, and when, under the power of such a visitation, it loses all sen sibility towards God. There is at that time a hiding of his countenance, and you lose your hold of the manifestation of that love wherewith God loved the world, even when he sent his only begotten Son into it, that we might live through him. You will re cover a right frame, when you recover your hold of this consideration. If you want to recall the strayed affection to your heart- recall to your mind the departed object of contemplation. If you want to reinstate the principle of love in your bosom — rein state faith, and it will work by love. It is got at through the medium of believing, and trusting; — nor do we know a more sum mary, and, at the same time, a more likely direction for living a life of holy and hea venly affection, than that you should live a life of faith. XL] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 75 SERMON XI. The Affection of Moral Esteem towards God. 1 One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my iife, to behold tlie beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple." — Psalm xxvii. 4. In our last discourse we adverted to the effect of a certain theological speculation about love, in darkening the freeness of the gospel, and intercepting the direct influence of its overtures and its calls on the mind of an inquirer. Ere we can conceive the love of gratitude towards another, we must see in him the love of kindness towards us ; and thus, by those who have failed to distinguish between a love of the benefit, and a love of the benefactor, has the virtue of gratitude been resolved into the love of ourselves. And they have thought that there must surely be a purer affection than this, to mark the outset of the great transition from sin unto righteousness ; and the one they have specified is the disinterested love of God. They have given to this last affection a place so early, as to distract the attention of an inquirer from that which is primary. The invitation of " come and buy without money, and without price," is not heard by the sinner along with the exaction of loving God for himself, — of loving him on account of his excellences, — of loving him because he is lovely. Let usvtherefore, try to ascer tain whether even this love of moral esteem is not subordinate to the faith of the gospel ; and whether it follows, that because this af fection forms so indispensable a part of godliness, faith should, on that account, be deposed from the place of antecedency which belongs to it. And here let it be most readily and most abundantly conceded, that we are not per fect and complete in the whole of God's will, till the love of moral esteem be in us, as well as the love of gratitude, — till that principle, of which, by nature, we are ut terly destitute, be made to arise in our hearts, and to have there a thorough esta blishment, and operation, — till we love God, not merely on account of his love to our persons, but on acconnt of the glory, and the residing excellence, which meet the eye of the spiritual beholder, upon his own cha racter. We are not preparing for heaven, — we shali be utterly incapable of sharing in the noblest of its enjoyments, — we shall not feel ourselves surrounded by an element of congeniality in paradise, — there will be no happiness for us, even in the neighbourhood of the throne of God. and with the moral lustre of the Godhead made visible to our eyes, if we are strangers to the emotion of loving God for himself, — if additional alto gether, to the consideration that God is looking with complacency upon me, I do not feel touched and attracted by the beau ties of his character, when I look with the eye of contemplation towards him. I am without the most essential of all moral ac complishments in myself, if I am without the esteem of moral accomplishments in another ; and if my heart be of such a con stitution that nothing in the character of God can draw my admiration, or my re gard, to him — then, though admitted within the portals of the city which hath founda tions, and removed from the torments of hell, I am utterly unfit for the joys and the exercises of heaven. I may spend an eter nity of exemption from pain, but without one rapture of positive felicity to brighten it. Heaven, in fact, would be a wilderness to my heart ; and, in the midst of its ac claiming throng would I droop, and be in heaviness under a sense of perpetual disso lution. And let this convince us of the mighty transition that must be described by the men of this world, ere they are meet for the other world of the spirits of just men made perfect. It is not speaking of this transition, in terms too great and too lofty, to say, that they must be born again, and made new creatures, and called out of dark ness into a light that is marvellous. The truth is. that out of the pale of vital Chris tianity, there is not to be found among all the varieties oftaste, and appetite, and sen timental admiration, any love for God as he is, — any relish for the holiness of his character, — any echoing testimony, in the bosom of alienated man, to what is grace ful, or to what is venerable in the character of the Deity. He may be feelingly alive to the beauties of what is seen, and what is sensible. The scenery of external nature may charm him. The sublimities of a sur rounding materialism may kindle and di late him with images of grandeur. Even the moralities of a fellow-creature may en gage him ; and these, with the works of genius, may fascinate him into an idolatrous veneration of human power, or of human virtue. But while he thus luxuriates and delights himself with the forms of derived excellence, there is no sensibility in his heart towards God. He rather prefers to keep by the things that are made, and, sur rounded by them, to bury himself into a 76 DEPRAVITY OF. HUMAN NATURE. [SERM forgetfulness of his Maker. He is most in his element, wh n in feeling, or in employ ment, he is most at a distance from God. There is a coldness, or a hatred, or a terror, which mixes up with all his contemplations of the Deity ; and gives to his mind a kind of sensitive recoil from the very thought of him. He would like to live always in the world, and be content with such felicity as it can give, and cares not, could he only get what his heart is set upon here, and be permitted to enjoy it for ever, though he had no sight of God, and no fellowship with him through eternity. The event to which, of all others, he looks forward with the most revolting sense of aversion and dismay, is that event which is to bring him into a nearer contact with God, — which is to dissolve his present close relationship with the creature, and to conduct his dis embodied spirit into the immediate pre sence of the Creator. There is nothing in death, in grim, odious, terrific death, that he less desires, or is more afraid of, than a nearer manifestation of the Deity. The world, in truth, the warm and the well known world, is his home; and the men who live in it, and are as regardless of the Divinity as himself, form the whole of his companionship. Were it not for the fear of hell, he would shrink from heaven as a dull and melancholy exile. All its songs of glory to him who sitteth on the throne, would be to his heart a burden and a weari ness ; — and thus it is, that the foundation of every natural man has its place in that perishable earth, from which death will soon carry him away, and which the fiery indignation of God will at length burn up ; and as to the being who endureth for ever, and with whom alone he has to do, he sees in him no form nor comeliness, nor no beauty that he should desire him. Now, is not this due to the darkness of nature, as well as to the depravity of na ture? There is in our diseased constitu tion, a spiritual blindness to the excellen ces of the Godhead, as well as a spiritual disrelish for them. The truth is, that these two elements go together in the sad pro gress of human degeneracy. Man liked not to retain God in his knowledge, and God gave him over to a reprobate mind ; and again, man walking in vanity, and an enemy to God by wicked works, had his understanding darkened, and was visited with ignorance, and blindness of heart. We do not apprehend God, and therefore it is that we must be renewed in the knowledge of him, ere we can be formed again to the love of him. The natural man can no more admire the Deity through the obscurities in which he is shrouded, than he can admire a landscape which he never saw, and which at the time of his approach to it, is wrap ped in the gloom of midnight. He can no more, with every offort to stir up his facul ties to lay hold of him, catch an endearing view of the Deity, than his eye can by straining, penetrate its way through a dark ened firmament, to the features of that ma terial loveliness which lies before him, and around him. It must be lighted up to him, ere he can love it, or enjoy it, and tell us what the degree of his affection for the scenery would be, if instead of being lighted up by the peaceful approach of a summer morn, it were to blaze into sudden visibility, with all its cultivation and cottages, by the fires of a bursting volcano. Tell us, if all the glory and gracefulness of the landscape which had thus started into view, would charm the beholder for a moment, from the terrors of his coming destruction ? Tell us, if it is possible for a sentient being to admit another thought in such circumstances as these, than the thought of his own preser vation. O would not the sentiment of fear about himself, cast out every sentiment of love for all that he now saw, and were he only safe could look upon with ecstacy? — and let the beauty be as exquisite as it may, would not all the power and pleasure of its enchantments fly away from his bosom, were it only seen through the glowing fer vency of elements that threatened to de stroy him ? Let us now conceive, that through that thick spiritual darkness by which every child of nature is encompassed, there was forced upon him a view of the countenance of the Deity, — that the perfections of God were made visible, — and that the character on which the angels of paradise gaze with delight, because they there behold all the lineaments of moral grandeur, and moral loveliness, were placed before the eye of his mind, in bright and convincing manifes tation. It is very true, that on what he would be thus made to see, all that is fair and magnificent are assembled, — that what ever of greatness, or whatever of beauty can be found in creation, is but a faint and shadowy transcript of that original sub stantial excellence, which resides in the conceptions of him who is the fountain of being, — that all the pleasing of goodness, and all the venerable of worth, and all the sovereign command of moral dignity meet and are realised on the person of God,— that through the whole range of universal existence there cannot be devised a single feature of excellence which does not serve to enrich the character of him who sustains all things, and who originated all things. No wonder that the pure eye of an angel takes in such fulness of pleasure from a contemplation so ravishing. But let all this burst upon the eye of a sinner, and let the truth and the righteousness of God out of Christ stand before it in visible array, along with the other glories of character which XI.] DEPRAVITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 77 belong to him. The love of moral esteem, you may say, ought to arise in his bosom ; — but it cannot. The affection is in such cir cumstances impossible. The man is in ter ror. And he can no more look with com placency upon his God, than he can delight himself with the fair forms of a landscape, opened to his view by the flashes of an im pending volcano. He cannot draw an emo tion so sweet and delightful as love, from the view of that countenance on which he beholds a purpose of vengeance against himself, as one of the children of iniquity. The fear which hath torment casteth out this affection altogether. There is positively no room for it within the bosom of a sen tient being, along with the dread and the alarm by which he is agitated. It is this which explains the recoil of his sinful na ture from the thought of God. The sense of guilt comes into his heart, and the terrors and the agitations of guilt come along with it. It is because he sees the justice of God frowning upon him, and the truth of God pledged to the execution of its threatenings against him, and the holiness of God which cannot look upon him without abhorrence, and all the sacred attributes of a nature that is jealous, and unchangeable, leagued against him for his everlasting destruction. He cannot love the Being, with the very idea of whom there is mixed up a sense of danger, and a dread of condemnation, and all the images of a wretched eternity. We cannot love God, so long as we look upon him as an enemy armed to destroy us. Ere we love him, we must be made to feel the security, and the enlargement of one who knows himself to be safe. Let him take his rod away from me, and let not his fear terrify me, — and then may I love him and not fear him ; but it is not so with me. But let him who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of his own glory, in the face of Jesus Christ, — let us only look upon him as God in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, and not imputing unto them their trespasses, — let him without expunging the characters of truth and majesty, from that one aspect of perfect excellence which belongs to him, — let him in his own unsearchable wisdom devise a way by which he can both bring them out in the eye of sinners with brighter illustration, and make these sinners feel that they are safe ; — let him lift off from the men of this guilty world, the burden of his vio lated law, and cause it to be borne by an other who can magnify that law, and make it honourable, — let him publish a full re lease from all its penalties, but in such a way, as that the truth which proclaimed them, and the justice which should execute them, shall remain untainted under the dis pensation of mercy, — let him instead of awaking the sword of vengeance against us, awake it against a sufferer of such worth and such dignity, that his blood shall be the atonement of a world, and by pouring out his soul unto death, he shall make the pardon of the transgressor meet, and be at one with the everlasting righteousness of God, — in a word, instead of the character of God being lighted up to the eye of the sinner, by the fire of his own indignation, let it through the demonstration of the Spirit be illustrated, and shone upon, by the mild, but peaceful light of the Sun of righ teousness, and then may the sinner look in peace and safety on the manifested charac ter of the Godhead. Delivered from the burden of his fears, he may now open his whole heart to the influences of affection. And th at love of moral esteem, which be fore the entrance of the faith of the gospel, the sense of condemnation was sure to scare away, is now free to take its place beside the love of gratitude, and to arise along with it in the offering of one spiritual sacrifice to a reconciled Father. Thus, then, it would appear, that the love of moral esteem is in every way as much posterior, and subordinate to faith, as is the love of gratitude- That we may be able to love God, either according to the one or the other of its modifications, we rnust_/irs and with which they can have no sympathy — md all this, though the same scripture which prescribes the exercises of household and of public religion, lays claim to an undivided authority over all the desires and affections of the soul ; and will admit of no compromise between God and the world ; and insist upon an utter deadness to the one, and a most vehement sensibility to the other ; and elevates the standard of loyalty to the Father of our Spirits, to the lofty pitch of loving him with all our strength, and of doing all things to his glory. Let these examples serve to impress a real and experimental distinction which obtains between two sets of virtues ; be tween those which possess the single ingre dient of being approved by God, while they want the ingredient of being also accepta ble unto men — and those which possess both these ingredients, and to the observ ance of which, therefore, we may be carried by a regard to the will of God, without any reference to the opinion of men — or by a regard to the opinion of men, without any reference to the will of God. Among the first class of virtues we would assign a foremost place to all those inward and spiritual graces which enter into the obe dience of the affections — highly approved of God, but not at all acceptable to the gene ral taste, or carrying along with them the general congeniality of the world. And then, though they do not possess the ingre dient of God's approbation in a way so separate and unmixed, we would say that abstinence from profane language, and at tendance upon church, and a strict keeping of the sabbath, and the exercises of family worship, and the more rigid decrees of so briety, and a fearful avoidance of every en croachment on temperance or chastity, rank more appropriately with the first than with the second class of virtues ; for though there be many in society who have no re ligion, and yet to whom several of these virtues are acceptable, yet you will allow, that they do not convey such a universal popularity along with them, as certain other virtues which belong indisputably to the second class. These are the virtues which have a more obvious and immediate bearing on the interest of society — such as the truth which is punctual to all its engagements, and the honour which never disappoints the confidence it has inspired, and the compas sion which cannot look unmoved at any of the symptoms of human wretchedness, and the generosity which scatters unsparingly around it. These are virtues which God has enjoined, and in behalf of which man j lifts the testimony of a loud and ready ad- 1 miration — virtues in which there is a meet ing and a combining of both the properties of our text; so that he who in these things serveth Christ, is both approved of God, and acceptable unto men. Let a steady hold be kept of this distinc tion, and it will be found capable of being turned to very useful application, both to the object of illustrating principle, and to the important object of detecting character. For this purpose, let us carry the distinc tion along with us, and make it subservient to the establishment of two or three succes sive observations. First. A man may possess, to a consider able extent, the second class of virtues, and not possess so much as one iota of the reli gious principle ; and that among other rea sons, because a man may feel a value for one of the attributes which belongs to this class of virtues, and have no value what ever for the other attribute. If justice be both approved by God, and acceptable to men, he may on the latter property alone, be induced to the strictest maintenance of this virtue — and that without suffering its former property to have any practical in fluence whatever on any of his habits, or any of his determinations , and the same with every other virtue belonging to this second class. As residing in his character, there may not be the ingredient of godli ness in any one of them. He may be well reported on account of them by men ; but with God he may lie under as fearful a severity of reckoning, as if he wanted them altogether. Surely, it does not go to alle viate the withdrawment of your homage from God, that you have such an homage to the opinion of men, as influences you to do things, to the doing of which the law of God is not able to influence you. It cannot be said to palliate the revolting of your in clinations from the Creator, that you have transferred them all to the creature; and given an ascendency to the voice of human reputation, which you have refused to the voice and authority of your Lawgiver in heaven. Your want of subordination to him, is surely not made up by the respectful subordination that you render to the taste or the judgment of society. And in addi tion to this, we would have you to remem ber, that though other constitutional prin ciples, besides a regard to the opinion of others, helped to form the virtues of the' second class upon your character ; though compassion and generosity, and truth, would have broken out into full and flou rishing display upon you, and that, just be cause you had a native sensibility, or a na tive love of rectitude ; yet, if the first ingredient be wanting, if a regard to the approbation of God have no share in the production of the moral accomplishment — then all the morality you can pretend to, is 128 INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY [DISC. of as little religious estimation, and is as utterly disconnected with the rewards of religio i, as all the elegance of taste you can pretend to, or all the raptured love of music you can pretend to, or all the vigour and dexterity of bodily exercise you can pre tend to. All these, in reference to the great question of immortality, profit but little; and it is godliness alone that is profitable unto all things. It is upon this considera tion that we would have you to open your eyes to the nakedness of your condition in the sight of God ; to look to the full weight of the charge that he may prefer against you; to estimate the fearful extent of the deficiency under which you labour ; to re sist the delusive whispering of peace, when there is no peace ; and to understand, that the wrath of God abideth on every child of nature, however rich he may be in the vir tues and accomplishments of nature. But again. This view of the distinction between the two sets of virtues, will serve to explain how it is, that, in the act of turn ing unto God, the one class of them appears to gather more copiously, and more con spicuously, upon the front of a renewed character, than the other class; how it is that the former wear a more unequivocal aspect of religiousness than the latter ; how it is, that an air of gravity, and decency, and seriousness, looks to be more in alliance with sanctity, than the air either of open integrity, or of smiling benevolence ; how it is, that the most ostensible change in the habit of a converted profligate, is that change in virtue of which he withdraws himself from the companions of his licen tiousness ; and that to renounce the dissi pations of his former life stands far more frequently, or, at least, far more visibly, as sociated with the act of putting on Chris tianity, than to renounce the dishonesties of his former life. It is true, that, by the law of the gospel he is laid as strictly under the authority of the commandment to live righ teously, as of the commandment to live soberly. But there is a compound cha racter in those virtues which are merely social ; and the presence of the one ingre dient serves to throw into the shade, or to disguise altogether, the presence of the other ingredient. There is a greater number of irreligious men, who are at the same time just in their dealings, than there is of irre ligious men, who are at the same time pure arid temperate in their habits;' and there fore it is that justice, even the most scrupu lous, is not so specifical, and of course not so satisfying a mark of religion, as is a so briety that is rigid and unviolable. And all this helps to explain how it is, that when a man comes under the power of religion, to abandon the levities of his past conduct is an event which stands far more notice ably out upon him, at this stage of his his tory, than to abandon the iniquities of his past conduct ; that the most characteristic transformation which takes place at such a time, is a transformation from thoughtless ness, and from licentious gaiety, and from the festive indulgencies of those with whom he is wont to run to all those excesses of riot, of which the Apostle says, that they which do these things shall not inherit the kingdom of God ; for even then, and in the very midst of all his impiety, he may have been kindhearted, and there might be no room upon his person for a visible trans formation from inhumanity of character, even then, he may have been honourable, and there might be as little room for a visible transformation from fraudulency of character. Thirdly. Nothing is more obvious than the antipathy that is felt by a certain. class of religionists against the preaching of good works ; and the antipathy is assuredly well and warrantably grounded, when it is such a preaching as goes to reduce the import ance, or to infringe upon the simplicity, of the great doctrine of justification by faith, but along with this, may there not be re marked the toleration with which they will listen to a discourse upon one set of good works, and the evident coldness and dis like with which the}- listen to a discourse on another set of them ; how a pointed remon strance against Sabbath breaking sounds in their ears as if more in character from the pulpit, than a pointed remonstrance against the commission of theft, or the speaking of evil ; how an eulogium on the observance of family worship, feels, in their taste, to be more impregnated with the spirit of sacred- ness, than an eulogium on the virtues of the shop, or of the market-place ; and that while the one is approved of as having about it the solemn and the suitable cha racteristics of godliness, the other is stig matized as apiece of barren, heartless, hea thenish, and philosophic morality? Now, this antipathy to the preachingof the latter species of good works, has something pe culiar in it. It is not enough to say, that it arises from a sensitive alarm about the stability of the doctrine of justification; for let it be observed, that this doctrine stands opposed to the merit not of one particular class of performances, but to the merit of all performances whatsoever. It is just as unscripturnl a detraction from the great truth of salvation by faith, to rest our ac ceptance with God on the duties of prayer, or of rigid Sabbath keeping, or of strict and untainted sobriety, as to rest it on the punc tual fulfilment of all your bargains, and on the extent of your manifold liberalities. It is not, then, a mere zeal about the great article of justification which lies at the bot tom of that peculiar aversion that is felt towards a sermon on some social or hu- II.] IN AUGMENTING THE MERCANTILE VIRTUES. 129 mane accomplishment; and that is not felt towards a sermon on sobermindedness, or a sermon on the observation of the sacra ment, or a sermon on any of those perform ances which bear a more direct and exclu sive reference to God. ' We shall find the explanation of this phenomenon, which often presents itself in the religious world, in that distinction of which we have just required that it should be kept in steady hold, and followed into its various applica tions. The aversion in question is often, in fact, a well founded aversion, to a topic, which, though religious in the matter of it, may, from the way in which it is proposed, be altogether secular in the principle of it. It is resistance to what is deemed, and justly deemed, an act of usurpation on the part of certain virtues, which, when unanimated by a sentiment of godliness, are entitled to no place whatever in the ministrations of the gospel o.f Christ. It proceeds from a most enlightened fear, lest that should be held to make up the whole of religion, which is in fact utterly devoid of the spirit of religion ; and from a true and tender ap prehension, lest, on the possession of cer tain accomplishments, which secure a fleet ing credit throughout the little hour of this world's history, deluded man should look forward to his eternity with hope, and up ward to his God with complacency, while he carries not on his forehead one vestige of the character of heaven, one lineament of the aspect of godliness. And lastly. The first class of virtues bear the character of religiousness more strongly, just because they bear that cha racter more singly. The people who are without, might, no doubt, see in every real Christian the virtues of the second class also ; but these virtues do not belong to them peculiarly and exclusively. Fnrthough it be true, that every religious man must be honest, the converse does not follow, that every honest man must be religious. And it is because the social accomplishments do not form the specific, that neither do they form the most prominent and distinguish ing marks of Christianity. They may also be recognized as features in the character of men, who utterly repudiate the whole style and doctrine of the New Testament ; and hence a very prevalent impression in society, that the faith of the gospel does not bear so powerfully and so directly on the relative virtues of human conduct. A few instances of hypocrisy amongst the more se rious professors of our faith, serve to rivet the impression, and to give it perpetuity in the world. One single example, indeed, of sanctimonious duplicity will suffice, in the judgment of many, to cover the whole of vital and orthodox Christianity with dis grace. The report of it will be borne in triumph amongst the companies of the ir- 17 religious. The man who pays no homage to sabbaths or to sacraments, will be con trasted in the open, liberal, and manly style of all his transactions, with the low cun ning of this drivelling methodistical pre tender; and the loud laugh of a multitude of scorners, will give a force and a swell to this public outcry against the whole cha racter of the sainthood. Now, this delusion on the part of the un believing world is very natural, and ought not to excite our astonishment. We are not surprized, from the reasons already ad verted to, that the truth, and the justice, and the humanity, and the moral loveliness, which do in fact belong to every new crea ture in Jesus Christ our Lord, should miss their observation ; or, at least, fail to be re cognized among the other more obvious characteristics into which believers have been translated by the faith of the gospel. But, on this very subject there is a tendency to delusion on the part of the disciples of the faith. They need to be reminded of the solemn and indispensable religiousness of the second class of virtues. They need to be told, that though these virtues do pos sess the one ingredient of being approved by men, and may, on this single account, be found to reside in the characters of those who live without God — yet, that they also possess the other ingredient of being ac ceptable unto God; and, on this latter ac count, should.be made the subjects of their most strenuous cultivation. They must not Jose sight of the one ingredient in the other ; or stigmatize, as so many fruitless and in significant moralities, those virtues which enter as component parts, into the service of Christ ; so that he who in these things serveth Christ, is both acceptable to God, and approved by men. They must not expend all their warmth on the high and peculiar doctrine of the New Testament, while they offer a cold and reluctant ad mission to the practical duties of the New Testament. The Apostle has bound the one to the other by a tie of immediate con nexion. Wherefore, lie not one to another, as ye have put off the old man and his deeds, and put on the new man, which is formed after the image of God, in righteousness and true holiness. Here the very obvious and popular accomplishment of truth is grafted on the very peculiar doctrine of re generation : and you altogether mistake the kind of transforming influence which the faith of the gospel brings along with it, if you think that uprightness of character does not emerge at the same time with godliness of character ; or that the virtues of society do not form upon the believer into as rich and varied an assemblage, as do the virtues of the sanctuary ; or that, while he puts on those graces which are singly acceptable to God, he falls behind in any of those graces 130 INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY, &C [DISC. which are both acceptable to God. and ap proved of men. Let, therefore, every pretender to Chris tianity vindicate this assertion by his own personal history in the world. Let him not lay his godliness aside, when he is done with the morning devotion of his family; but carry it abroad with him, and make it his companion and his guide through the whole business of the day ; always bearing in his heart the sentiment, that thou God seest me; and remembering, that there is not one hour that can flow, or one occasion that can cast up, where his law is not pre sent with some imperious exaction or other. It is false, that the principle of christian sanctification possesses no influence over the familiarities of civil and ordinary life. It is altogether false, t' at godliness is a vir tue of such a lofty anA monastic order, as to hold its dominion only over the solemni ties of worship, or over the solitudes of prayer and spiritual contemplation. If it be substantially a grace within us at all, it will give a direction and a colour to the whole of our path in society. There is not one conceivable transaction, amongst all the manifold varieties of human employment, which it is not fitted to animate by its spirit. There is nothing that meets us too homely to be beyond the reach of obtaining, from its influence, the stamp of something celes tial. It offers to take the whole man under its ascendency, and to subordinate all his movements ; nor does it hold the place which rightfully belongs to it, till it be vested with a presiding authority over the entire system of human affairs. And there fore it is, that the preacher is not bringing down Christianity — he is only sending it abroad over the field of its legitimate ope ration, when he goes with it to your count ing-houses, and there rebukes every selfish inclination that would carry you ever so little within the limits of fraudulency; when he enters into your chambers of agency, and there detects the character of falsehood, which lurks under all the plausibility of your multiplied and excessive charges ; when he repairs to the crowded market place, and pronounces of every bargain, over which truth, in all the strictness of quakerism, has not presided, that it is tainted with moral evil ; when he looks into your shops, and, in listening to the contest of argument between him who magnifies his article, and him who pretends to undervalue it, he calls it the contest of avarice, broken loose from the restraints of integrity. He is not, by all this, vulgarizing religion, or giving it tho hue and the character of earth- liness. He is only asserting the might and tho universality of its sole preeminence over man. And therefore it is, that if possible to solemnize his hearers to the practice of simplicity and godly sincerity in their deal ings, he would try to make the odiousness of sin stand visibly out on every shade and modification of dishonesty ; and to assure them that if there be a place in our world, where the subtle evasion, and the dexterous imposition, and the sly but gainful conceal ment, and the report which misleads an inquirer, and the gloss which tempts the unwary purchaser — are not only currently practised in the walks of merchandize, but, when not carried forward to the glare and the literality of falsehood, are beheld with general connivance; if there be a place where the sense of morality has thus fallen, and all the nicer delicacies of conscience are overborne in the keen and ambitious rivalry of men hasting to be rich, and wholly given over to tbe idolatrous service of the god of this world — then that is the place, tlie smoke of whose iniquity rises be fore Him who sitteth on the throne, in a tide of the deepest and most revolting abo mination. And here we have to complain of the public injustice that is done to Christianity when one of its ostentatious professors has acted the hypocrite, and stands in disgrace ful exposure before the eyes of the world. We advert to the readiness with which this is turned into a matter of general impeach ment, against every appearance of serious ness ; and how loud the exclamation is against the religion of all who signalize them selves ; and that, if the aspect of godliness be so very decided as to become an aspect of peculiarity, then is this peculiarity con verted into a ground of distrust and suspi cion against the bearer of it. Now, it. so happens, that in the midst of this world lying in wickedness, a man, to be a Chris tian at all, must signalize himself. Neither is he in a way of salvation, unless he be one of a very peculiar people ; nor would we precipitately consign him to discredit, even though the peculiarity be so very glaring as to provoke the charge of me- thodism. But instead of making one man's hypocrisy act as a draw-back upon the reputation of a thousand, we submit, if it would not be a fairer and more philosophi cal procedure, just to betake ono's-self to the method of induction — to make a walk ing survey Over the town, and record an inventory of all the men in il who are so very far gone as to have the voice of psalms in their family ; or as to attend the meet ings of fellowship for prayer ; or as scru pulously to abstain from "all that is ques tionable in the amusements of the world ; or as, by any other marked and visible symptom whatever, to stand out to general observation as the members of a saintly and separated society. We know, that even of such there are a few, who, if Paul were alive, would move him to weep for the re proach they bring upon his master. But /II.] INFLUENCE OF SELFISHNESS ON MERCANTILE INTERCOURSE. 131 we also know, that the blind and impe tuous world exaggerates the few into the many; inverts the process of atonement altogether, by laying the sins of one man upon the multitude ; looks at their general aspect of sanctity, and is so engrossed with this single expression of character, as to be insensible to the noble uprightness, and the tender humanity with which this sanctity is associated. And therefore it is, that we offer the assertion, and challenge all to its most thorough and searching investigation, that the Christianity of these people, which many think does nothing but cant, and profess, and run after ordinances, has aug mented their honesties and their liberalities, and that, tenfold beyond the average cha racter of society; that these are the men we oftenest meet with in the mansions of poverty— and who look with the most wakeful eye over all the sufferings and ne cessities of our species— and who open their hand most widely in behalf of the imploring and the friendless— and to whom, in spite of all their mockery, the men of the world are sure, in the negociations of business, to award the readiest confidence —and who sustain the most splendid part in all those great movements of philanthropy which bear on the general interests of man kind — and who, with their eye full upon eternity, scatter the most abundant blessings over the fleeting pilgrimage of time— and who, while they hold their conversation in heaven, do most enrich the earth we tread upon, with all those virtues which secure en joyment to families, and uphold the order and prosperity of the commonwealth. DISCOURSE III. The Power of Selfishness in promoting the Honesties of mercantile Intercourse. " And if you do good to them which do good to you, whr.t thank have ye ? for sinners also do even the same." — Lukev'i. 33. It is to be remarked of many of those duties, the performance of which confers the least distinction upon an individual, that they are at the same time the very duties, the violation of which would con fer upon him the largest measure of oblo quy and disgrace. Truth and justice do not serve to elevate a man so highly above the average morality of his species, as would generosity, or ardent friendship, or devoted and disinterested patriotism; the former are greatly more common than the latter; and, on that account, the presence of them is not so calculated to signalize the individual to whom they belong. But that is one account, also, why the absence of them would make him a more monstrous exception to the general run of character in society. And, accordingly, while it is true, that there are more men of integrity in the world, than there are men of very wide and liberal beneficence — it is also true, that one act of falsehood, or one act of dis honesty, would stamp a far more burning infamy on the name of a transgressor than any defect in those more heroic charities, and extraordinary virtues, of which hu manity is capable. So it is far more disgraceful not to be just to another, than not to be kind to him ; and, at the same time, an act of kindness may be held ill higher positive estimation than an act of justice. The one is my right —nor is there any call for the homage of a particular testimony when it is rendered. The other is additional to my right — the offering of a spontaneous good will which I had no title to exact ; and which, there fore, when rendered to me, excites in my bosom the cordiality of a warmer acknow ledgement. And yet, our Saviour, who knew what was in man, saw, that much of the apparent kindness qf nature, was re solvable into the real selfishness of nature; that much of the good done unto others, was done in the hope that these others would do something again. And, we be lieve it would be found by an able analyst of the human character, that this was the secret but substantial principle of many of the civilities and hospitalities of ordinary intercourse — that if there were no expecta tion either of a return in kind, or of a re turn in gratitude, or of a return in popu larity, many of the sweetening and cement ing virtues of a neighbourhood would be practically done away — all serving to prove, that a multitude of virtues, which, in effect, promoted the comfort and the interest of others, were tainted in principle by a latent regard to one's own interest ; and that thus being the fellowship of those who did good, either as a return for the good done unto them, or who did good in hope of such a return, it might be, in fact, what our Sa viour characterizes in the text — the fellow ship of sinners. But if to do that which is unjust, is still 132 INFLUENCE OF SELFISHNESS ON MERCANTILE INTERCOURSE. [disc more disgraceful than not to do that which is kind, it would prove more strikingly than before, how deeply sin had tainted the mor il constitution of our species — could it be shown, that the great practical restraint on the prevalence of this more disgraceful thing in sociely, is the tie of that common selfishness which actuates and characterizes all its members. It were a curious but im portant question, were it capable of being re solved — if men did not feel it their interest to be honest, how much of the actual doings of honesty would still be kept up in the world '? It is our own opinion of the nature of man, that it has its honourable feelings, and its instinctive principles of rectitude, and its constitutional love ol truth and of integrity ; and that, on the basis of these, a certain portion of uprightness would re main amongst us, without the aid of any prudence, or any calculation whatever. All this we have fully conceded ; and have al ready attempted to demonstrate, that, in spite of it, the character of man is tho roughly pervaded by the very essence of sinfulness ; because, with all the native vir tues which adorn it, there adheres to it that foulest of all spiritual deformities — uncon cern about God, and even antipathy to God. It has been argued against the orthodox doctrine of the universality of human cor ruption, that even without the sphere of the operation of the gospel, there do occur so many engaging specimens of worth and be nevolence in society. The reply is, that this may be no deduction from the doctrine whatever, but be even an aggravation of it — should the very men who exemplify so much of what is amiable, carry in their hearts an indifference to the will of that Being who thus halh formed, and thus hath embellished them. But it would be a heavy deduction indeed, not from the doctrine, but from its hostile and opposing argument, could it be shown, that the vast majority of all equitable dealing amongst men, is per formed, not on the principle of honour at all, but on the principle of selfishness — that this is tbe soil upon which the honesty of the world mainly flourishes, and is sus tained ; that, were the connexion dissolved between justice to others and our own par ticular advantage, this would go very far to banish the observation of justice from the earth; that, generally speaking, men are honest, not because they are lovers of God, and not even because they are lovers of vir tue, but because- they are lovers of their ownselves— insomuch, that if it, were pos sible to disjoin the good of self altogether from th" habit of doing what was fair, as well as from the habit of doing what was kind to the people around us, this would not merely isolate the children of men from each other, in respect of the obliga tions of beneficence, but it would arm them into an undisguised hostility against each other, in respect to their rights. Thn mere disinterested principle would set up a feeble barrier, indeed, against a desolating tide of selfishness, now set loose from the consi deration of its own advantage. The genu ine depravity of the human heart would burst forth and show itself in its true cha racters ; and the world in which we live be transformed into a scene of unblushing fraud, of open and lawless depredation. And, perhaps, after all, the best way of arriving practically at the solution of this question would be, not by a formal induc tion of particular cases, but by committing the matter to the gross and general expe rience of those who are most conversant in the affairs of business. — There is a sort of undefinable impression you all have upon this subject, on the justness of which how ever, we are disposed to lay a very consi derable stress — an impression gathered out of the mass of the recollections of a whole life — an impression founded on what you may have observed in the history of your own doings — a kind of tact that you have acquired as the fruit of your repeated in tercourse with men, and of the manifold transactions that you have had with them, and of the number of times in which you have been personally implicated with the play of human passions, and human in terests. It is our own conviction, that a well exercised merchant could cast a more intelligent glance at this question, than a well exercised metaphysician ; and there fore do we submit its decision to those of you who have hazarded most largely, and most frequently, on the faith of agents, and customers, and distant correspondents. We know the fact of a very secure and well warranted confidence in the honesty of others, being widely prevalent amongst you : and that, were it not for this, all the interchanges of trade would be suspended ; and that confidence is the very soul and life of commercial activity; and it is delightful to think, how thus a man can suffer all the wealth which belongs to him to depart from under his eye, and to traverse the mightiest oceans and continents of our world, and to pass into the custody of men whom he never saw. And it is a sublime homage, one should think, to the honourable and high-minded principles of our nature, that, under their guardianship, the adverse hemi spheres of the globe should be bound to gether in safe and profitable merchandise; and that thus one should sleep with a bo som undisturbed by jealousy, in Britain who has all, and more than all his property treasured in the warehouses of India — and that, just because there he knows there is vigilance to defend it, and activity to dis pose of it, and truth to account for it, and all those trusty virtues which ennoble the INFLUENCE OF SELFISHNESS ON MERCANTILE INTERCOURSE. 133 character of man to shield it from injury, and send it back again in an increasing tide of opulence to his door. There is no question, then, as to the fact of a very extended practical honesty, be tween man and man, in their intercourse with each other. The only question is, as to the reason of the fact. Why is it, that he whom you have trusted acquits himself of his trust with such correctness and fidel ity? Whether is his mind in so doing, most set upon your interest or upon his own ? Whether is it because he seeks your ad vantage in it, or because he finds it is his own advantage? Tell us to which of the two concerns he is most tremblingly alive — to your property, or to his own character? and whether, upon the last of these feelings, he may not be more' forcibly impelled to equitable dealing than upon the first of them? We well know, that there is room enough in his bosom for both ; but to de termine how powerfully selfishness is blen ded with the punctualities and the integrities of business, let us ask those who can speak most soundly and experimentally on the subject, what would be the result, if the ele ment of selfishness were so detached from the operations of trade, that there was no such thing as a man suffering in his pros perity, because he suffered in his good name; that there was no such thing as a desertion of custom and employment com ing upon the back of a blasted credit, and a tainted reputation; in a word, if the only security we had of man was his principles, and that his interest flourished and aug mented just as surely without his princi ples as with them? Tell us, if the hold we have of a man's own personal advantage were thus broken down, in how far the vir tues of the mercantile world would survive it? Would not the world of trade sustain as violent a derangement on this mighty hold being cut asunder, as the world of na ture would on the suspending of the law of gravitation? Would not the whole system, in fact, fall to pieces, and be dissolved? Would not men, when thus released from the magical chain of their own interest, which bound them together into a fair and seeming compact of principle, like dogs of rapine let loose upon their prey, overleap the barrier which formerly restrained them ? Does not this prove, that selfishness, after all, is the grand principle on which the brotherhood of the human race is made to hang together ; and that he who can make the wrath of man to praise him, has also, upon the selfishness of man, caused a most beauteous order of wide and useful inter course to be suspended ? But let us here stop to observe, that, while there is much in this contemplation to mag nify the wisdom of the Supreme Contriver, there is also much in it to humble man, and to convict him of the deceitfulness of that moral complacency with which he looks to his own character, and his own attainments. There is much in it to demonstrate, that his righteousness are as filthy rags ; and that the idolatry of self, however hidden in Us operation, may be detected in almost every one of them. God may combine the sepa rate interests of every individual of the hu man race, and the strenuous prosecution of these interests by each of them, into a har monious system of operation, for the good of one great and extended family. But if, on estimating the character of each indivi dual member of that family, we shall find that the mainspring of his actions is the urgency of a selfish inclination; and that to this his very virtues are subordinate: and that even the honesties which mark his con duct are chiefly, though, perhaps, insensi bly due to the selfishness which actuates and occupies his whole heart; — then, let the semblance be what it may, still the re ality of the case accords with the most mor tifying representations of the New Testa ment. The moralities of nature are but the moralities of a day, and will cease to be ap plauded when this world, the only theatre of their applause, is burnt up. They are but the blossoms of that rank efflorescence which is nourished on the soil of human corruption, and can never bring forth fruit unto immortality. The discerner of all se crets sees that they emanate from a princi ple which is at utter war with the charity that prepares for the enjoyments, and that glows in the bosoms of the celestial ; and, therefore, though highly esteemed among men, they may be in His sight an abomina tion. Let us, if possible, make this still clearer to your apprehension, by descending more minutely into particulars. There is not one memberof tbe great mercantile family, with whom there does not obtain a reciprocal in terest between himself and all those who compose the circle of his various corres pondents. He does them good ; but his eye is all the while open to the expectation of their doing him something again. They minister to him all the profits of his employ ment; but not unless he minister to them of his service, and attention, and fidelity. Insomuch, that if his credit abandon him, his prosperity will also abandon him. If he forfeit the confidence of others, he will also forfeit their custom along with it. So that, in perfect consistency with interest being the reigning idol of his soul, he may still be, in every way, as sensitive of •en croachment upon his reputation, as he would be of encroachment upon his property ; and be as vigilant, to the full, in guarding his name against the breath of calumny, or sus picion, as in guarding his estate against the inroads of a depredator. Now, this tie of 134 INFLUENCE OF SELFISHNESS ON MERCANTILE INTERCOURSE. [DISC. reciprocity, which binds him into fellowship and good faith with society at large, will sometimes, in the mere course of business, and its unlooked-for fluctuations, draw one or two individuals into a still more special intimacy with himself. There may be a lucrative partnership, in which it is the pressing necessity of each individual, that all of them, for a time at least, stick closely and steadily together. Or there may be a thriving interchange of commodities struck out, where it is the mutual interest of all who are concerned, that each take his as signed part and adhere to it. Or there may be a promising arrangement devised, which it needs concert and understanding to ef fectuate; and, for which purpose, several may enter into a skilful and well-ordered combination. We are neither saying that this is very general in the mercantile world, or that it is in the slightest degree unfair. But you must be sensible, that, amid the reelings and movements of the great trading society, the phenomenon sometimes offers itself of a groupe of individuals who have entered into some compact of mutual accommoda tion, and who, therefore, look as if they were isolated from the rest by the bond of some more strict and separate alliance. All we aim at, is to gather illustration to our prin ciple, out of the way in which the members of this associated cluster conduct themselves to each other; how such a cordiality may pass between them, as one could suppose to be the cordiality of genuine friendship ; how such an intercourse might be main tained among their families, as might look like the intercourse of unmingled affection ; how such an exuberance of mutual hospi tality might be poured forth as to recal those poetic days when avarice was unknown, and men lived in harmony together on the fruits of one common inheritance ; and how nobly disdainful each member of the combination appeared to be of such little savings, as could be easily surrendered to the general good and adjustment, of the whole concern. And all this, you will observe, so long as the con cern prospered, and it was for the interest of each to abide by it ; and the respective accounts current gladdened the heart of every individual by the exhibition of an abundant share of the common benefit to himself. Bu< then, every such system of operations comes to an end. And what we ask is, if it be at all an unlikely evolution of our nature, that the selfishness which lay in wrapt concealment, during the progress of these transactions, should now eome for ward and put out to view its cloven foot, when they draw to their termination? And as the tie of reciprocity gets looser, is it not a very possible thing, that the murmurs of something like unfair or unhandsome con duct should get louder? And that a fellow ship, hitherto carried forward in smiles, should break up in reproaches? And that the whole character of this fellowship should show itself more unequivocally as it comes nearer to its close ? And that some of its members, as they are becoming disengaged from the bond of mutual interest, should also become disengaged from the bond of those mutual delicacies and proprieties, and even honesties, which had heretofore mark ed the whole of their intercourse? — Inso much, that a matter in which all the parties looked so fair, and magnanimous, and libe ral, might at length degenerate into a con test of keen appropriation, a scramble ol downright and undisguised selfishness? But though this may happen sometimes, we are far from saying that it will hap pen generally. It could not, in fact, with out such an exposure of character, as might not merely bring a man down in the esti mation of those from whom he is now with drawing himself, but also in the estimation of that general public with whom he is still linked; and on whose opinion of him there still rests the dependence of a strong per sona! interest. To estimate precisely the whole influence of this consideration, or the degree in which honesty of character is re solvable into selfishness of character, it would be necessary to suppose, that the tie of reciprocity was dissolved, not merely be tween the individual and those with whom he had been more particularly and mort intimately associated — but that the tie of reciprocity was dissolved between the in dividual and the whole of his former ac quaintanceship in business. Now, the situation which comes nearest to this, is that of a man on the eve of bank ruptcy, and with no sure hope of so retriev ing his circumstances as again to emerge into credit, and be restored to some em ployment of gain or of confidence. If he have either honourable or religious feel ings, then character, as connected with principle, may still, in his eyes, be some thing; but character, as connected with prudence, or the calculations of interest, may now be nothing. In the dark hour of the desperation of his soul, he may feel, in fact, that he has nothing to lose; and let us now see how he will conduct himself, when thus released from that check of re putation which formerly held him. In these circumstances, if you have ever seen the man abandon himself to utter regard- lessness of all the honesties which at one time adorned him, and doing such disgrace ful things as he would have spurned at the very suggestion of, in the days of his pros perity ; and, forgetful of his former name practising all possible shifts of duplicity to prolong the credit of a tottering establish ment ; and to keep himself afloat for a few months of torture and restlessness, weaving III.] INFLUENCE OF SELFISHNESS ON MERCANTILE INTERCOURSE. 135 such a web of entanglement around his many friends and companions, as shall most surely implicate some of them in his fall; and, as the crisis approaches, plying his petty wiles how to survive the coming ruin, and to gather up of its fragments to his family. O ! how much is there here to deplore ; and who can be so ungenerous as to stalk in unrelenting triumph over the helplessness of so sad an overthrow ! But if ever such an exhibition meet your eye, while we ask you not to withhold your pity from the unfortunate, we ask you also to read in it a lesson of worthless and sunken humanity; how even its very virtues are tinctured with corruption; and that the honour, and the truth, and the equity, with which man proudly thinks his nature to be embellished, are often reared on the basis of selfishness, and lie prostrate in the dust when that basis is cut away. But other instances may be quoted, which go still more satisfactorily to prove the very extended influence of selfishness on the moral judgments of our species ; and how readily the estimate, which a man forms on the question of right and wrong, accommo dates itself to his own interest. There is a strong general reciprocity of advantage be tween the government of a country and all its inhabitants. The one party, in this relation, renders a revenue for the expenses of the state. The other party renders back again protection from injustice and vio lence. Were the means furnished by the former withheld, the benefit conferred by the latter would cease to be administered. So that, with the government, and the pub lic at large, nothing can be more strict, and more indispensable, than the tie of reciproci ty that is between them. But this is not felt, and therefore not acted upon by the separate individuals who compose that pub lic. The reciprocity does not come home with a sufficiently pointed and personal ap plication to each of them. Every man may calculate, that though he, on the strength of some dexterous evasions, were to keep back of the tribute that is due by him, the mischief that would recoil upon himself is divided with the rest of his countrymen ; and the portion of it which comes to his door would be so very small, as to be alto gether insensible. To all feeling he will just be as effectually sheltered, by the pow er and the justice of his country, whether he pay his taxes in full, or under the guise of some skilful concealment, pay them but partially ; and therefore, to every practical effect, the tie of reciprocity, between him and his sovereign, is in a great measure dis solved. Now, what is the actual adjust ment of the moral sense, and moral conduct, of the population, to this state of matters ? It is quite palpable. Subterfuges, which in private business, would be held to be dis graceful, are not held to be so disgraceful in this department of a man's personal transac tions. The cry of indignation, which would be lifted up against the falsehood or disho nesty of a man's dealings in his own neigh bourhood, is mitigated or unheard, though, in his dealings with the state, there should be the very same relaxation of principle. On this subject, there is a convenience of popu lar feeling, which, if extended to the whole of human traffic, would banish all its secu rities from the world. Giving reason to believe, that much of the good done among men, is done on the expectation of a good that will be rendered back again ; and that many of the virtues, by which the fellow ship of human beings is regulated and sus tained, still leave the imputation unredeem ed, of its being a fellowship of sinners ; and that both the practice of morality, and the demand for it, are measured by the opera tion of a self-love, which, so far from signal izing any man, or preparing him for eter nity, he holds in common with the fiercest and most degenerate of his species; and that, apart from the consideration of his own interest, simplicity and godly since rity are, to a great degree, unknown ; inso much, that though God has interposed with a law, of giving unto all their dues, and tribute to whom tribute is due— we may venture an affirmation of the vast majority of this tribute, that it is rendered for wrath's sake, and not for conscience's sake. Of so little effect is unsupported and solitary con science to stem the tide of selfishness. And it is chiefly when honesty and truth go over bearingly along with this tide, that the voice of man is lifted up to acknowledge them, and his heart becomes feelingly alive to a sense of their obligations. And let us here just ask, in what relation of criminality does he who uses a contra band article stand to him who deals in it? In precisely the same relation that a re ceiver of stolen goods stands to a thief or a depredator. There may be some who re volt at the idea of being so classified. But. if the habit we have just denounced can be fastened on men of rank and seemly repu tation, let us just humble ourselves into the admission of how little the righteous prac tice of the world has the foundation of righ teous principle to sustain it ; how feeble are the securities of rectitude, had it nothing to uphold it but its own native charms, and native obligations ; how society is held to gether, only because the grace of God can turn to account the worthless propensities of the individuals who compose it ; and how, if the virtues of fidelity, and truth, and justice, had not the prop of selfishness to rest upon, they would, with the exception of a few scattered remnants, take their de parture from the world, and leave it a prey to the anarchy of the human passions — to 136 INFLUENCE OF SELFISHNESS ON MERCANTILE INTERCOURSE. [DISC. the wild misrule of all those depravities which agitate and deform our ruined na ture. The very same exhibition of our nature may be witnessed in almost every parish of, our sister kingdom, where the people ren der a revenue to the minister of religion, and the minister renders back again a re turn, it is true — but not such a return, as, in the estimation of gross and ordinary selfish ness, is at all deemed an equivalent for the sacrifice which has been made. In this in stance, too, that law of reciprocity which reigns throughout the common transactions of merchandise, is altogether suspended ; and the consequence is, that the law of right is trampled into ashes. A tide of pub lic odium runs against the men who are outraged of their property, and a smile of general connivance rewards the successful dexterity of the men who invade it. That portion of the annual produce of our soil, which, on a foundation of legitimacy as firm as the property of the soil itself, is al lotted to a set of national functionaries — and which, but for them, would all have gone, in the shape of increased revenue, to the indolent proprietor, is altogether thrown loose from the guardianship of that great principle of reciprocity, on which we strong ly suspect that the honesties of this world are mainly supported. The national clergy of England may be considered as standing out of the pale of this guardianship ; and the consequence is, that what is most, right fully and most sacredly theirs, is abandoned to the gambol of many thousand depreda tors ; and in addition to a load of most un merited obloquy, have they had to sustain all the heartburnings of known and felt in justice ; and that intercourse between the teachers and the taught, which ought surely to be an intercourse of peace, and friend ship, and righteousness, is turned into a contest between the natural avarice of the one party, and the natural resentments of the other. It is not that we wish our sister church were swept away, for we honestly think, that the overthrow of that establish ment would be a severe blow to the Chris tianity of our land. It is not that we envy that great hierarchy the splendor of her en dowments — for better a dinner of herbs, when surrounded by the love of parishioners, than a preferment of stalled dignity, and strife therewith. It is not either that we look upon her ministers as having at all disgraced themselves by their rapacity ; for look to thc amount of the encroach ments that are made upon them, and you will see that they have carried their privi leges with the most exemplary forbearance and moderation. But from these very en croachments do we infer how lawless a hu man being will become, when emancipated from the bond of his own interest ; how much such a state of things must multiply the temptations to injustice over the face of the country ; and how desirable, there fore, that it were put an end to — not by the abolition of that venerable church, but by a fair and liberal commutation of the reve nues which support her — not by bringing any blight on the property of her ecclesias tics, but by the removal of a most devour ing blight from the worth of her popula tion — that every provocative to justice may be done away, and the frailty of human principle be no longer.leftto such a ruinous and such a withering exposure. This instance we would not have men tioned, but for the sake of adding another experimental proof to the lesson of our text ; and we now hasten onward to the lesson itself, with a few of its applications. We trust you are convinced, from what has been said, that much of the actual ho nesty of the world is due to the selfishness of the world. And then you will surely admit, that in as far as this is the actuating principle, honesty descends from its place as a rewardable, or even as an amiable vir tue, and sinks down into the character of a mere prudential virtue — which, so far from conferring any moral exaltation on him by whom it is exemplified, emanates out of a propensity that seems inseparable from the constitution of every sentient being — and by which man is, in one point, assimilated either to the most worthless of his own spe cies, or to those inferior animals among whom worth is unattainable. And let it not deafen the humbling im pression of this argument, that you are not distinctly conscious of the operation of sel fishness, as presiding at every step over the honesty of your daily and familiar transac tions ; and that the only inward checks against injustice, of which you are sensible, are the aversion of a generous indignancy towards it, and the positive discomfort you would incur by the reproaches of your own conscience. Selfishness, in fact, may have originated and alimented the whole of this virtue that belongs to you, and yet the mind incur the same discomfort by the violation of it, that it would do by the violation of any other of its established habits. And as to the generous indignancy of your feelings against all that is fraudulently and disgrace fully wrong, let us never forget, that this may be the nurtured fruit of that common selfishness which links human beings with each other into a relationship of mutual de pendence" This may be seen, in all its perfection, among the leagued and sworn banditti of the highway; who, while exe crated by society at large for the compact of iniquity info which they have entered, can maintain the most heroic fidelity to the virtues of their own brotherhood — and be, in every way, as lofty and as chivalric with INFLUENCE OF SELFISHNESS ON MERCANTILE INTERCOURSE. 137 their points of honour, as we are with ours ; and elevate as indignant a voice against the worthlessness of him who could betray the secret of their association, or break up any of the securities by which it was held to gether. And, in like manner, may we be the members of a wider combination, yet brought together by the tie of reciprocal in terest ; and all the virtues essential to the existence, or to the good of such a combi nation, may come to be idolized amongst us ; and the breath of human applause may fan them into a lustre of splendid estima tion ; and yet the good man of society on earth be, in common with all his fellows, an utter outcast from the society of heaven — with his heart altogether bereft of that alle giance to God which forms the reigning principle of his unfallen creation — and in a state of entire destitution either as to that love of the Supreme Being, or as to that disinterested love of those around us, which form the graces and the virtues of eternity. We have not affirmed that there is no such thing as a native and disinterested principle of honour among men. But we have affirmed, on a former occasion, that a sense of honour may be in the heart, and the sense of God be utterly away from it. And we affirm now, that much of the ho nest practice of the world is not due to ho nesty of principle at all, but takes its origin from a baser ingredient of our constitution altogether. How wide is the operation of selfishness on the one hand, and how limit ed is the operation of abstract principle on the other, it were difficult to determine ; and such a labyrinth to man is his own heart, that he may be utterly- unable, from his own consciousness, to answer this ques tion. But amid all the difficulties of such an analysis to himself, we ask him to think of another who is unseen by us, but who is represented to us as seeing all things. We know not in what characters this heavenly witness can be more impressively set forth, than as pondering the heart, as weighing the secrets of the heart, as fastening an at tentive and a judging eye on all the move ments of it, as treasuring up the whole of man's outward and inward history in a book of remembrance ; and as keeping it in reserve for that day when, it is said, that the secrets of all hearts shall be laid open ; and God shall bring out every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it -be evil. Your consciousness may not distinctly in form you, in how far the integrity of your habits is due to the latent operation of sel fishness, or to the more direct and obvious operation of honour. But your conscious ness may, perhaps, inform you distinctly enough, how little a share the will of God has in the way of influence on any of your doings. Your own sense and memory of what passes within you, may charge you 18 with the truth of this monstrous indictment — that you live without God in the world ; that however you may be signalized among your fellows, by that worth of character which is held in highest value and demand amongst the individuals of a mercantile so ciety, it is at least without the influence of a godly principle that you have reached the maturity of an established reputation ; that either the proud emotions of rectitude which glow within your bosom are totally untinc- tured by a feeling of homage to the Deity— or that, without any such emotions, Self is the divinity you have all along worshipped, and your very virtues are so many offer ings of reverence at her shrine, if such be, in fact, tbe nakedness of your spiritual condition, is it not high time, we ask, that you awaken out of this delusion, and shake the lying spirit of deep and heavy slumber away from you ? Is it not high time, when eternity is so fast coming on, that you ex amine your accounts with God, and seek for a settlement with that Being who will so soon meet your disembodied spirits with the question of — what have you done unto me ? — And if all the virtues which -adorn you are but the subserviences of time, and of its accommodation — if either done alto gether unto yourselves, or done without the recognition of God on the spontaneous in stigation of your own feelings — is it not high time that you lean no longer to the securities on which you have rested, and that you seek for acceptance with your Ma ker on a more firm and unalterable foun dation ? This, then, is the terminating object of all the experience that we have tried to set before you. We want to be a schoolmas ter to bring you unto Christ. We want you to open your eyes to the accordancy which obtains between the theology of the New Testament and the actual state and history of man. Above all, we want you to turn your eyes inwardly upon your selves, and there to behold a character without one trace or lineament of godli ness — there to behold a heart set upon to tally other things than those which consti tute the portion and the reward of eternity — there to behold every principle of action resolvable into the idolatry of self, or, at least into something independent of the au thority of God — there to behold how worth less in their substance are those virtues which look so imposing in their semblance and their display, and draw round them here a popularity and an applause which will-all be dissipated into nothing, when hereafter they are brought up for examina tion to the judgment seat. We want you, when the revelation of the gospel charges you with the totality and magnitude of your corruption, that you acquiesce in that charge; and that you may perceive the i: INFLUENCE OF SELFISHNESS ON MERCANTILE INTERCOURSE. [DISC trueness of it, under the disguise of all those hollow and unsubstantial accomplish ments, with which nature may deck her own fallen and degenerate children. It is easy to be amused, and interested, and in tellectually regaled by an analysis of the human character, and a survey of human society. But it is not so easy to reach the individual conscience with the lesson — we are undone. It is not so easy to strike the alarm into your hearts of the present guilt, and the future damnation. It is not so easy to send the pointed arrow of conviction into youi bosoms, where it may keep by you and pursue you like an arrow sticking fast ; or so to humble you into the conclu sion, that in the sight of God, you are an accursed thing, as that you may seek unto him who became a curse for you, and as that the preaching of his Cross might cease to be foolishness. Be assured, then, if you keep by the ground of being justified by your present works, you will perish : and though we may not have succeeded in convincing you of their worthlessness, be assured that a day is coining when such a flaw of deceit- fulness, in the principle of them all, shall be laid open, as will demonstrate the equity of your entire and everlasting condemna tion. To avert the fearfulness of that day is the message of the great atonement sounded in your ears — and the blood of Christ, cleansing from all sin, is offered to your acceptance; and if you turn away from it, you add to the guilt of a broken law the insult of a neglected gospel. But if you take the pardon of the gospel on the fooling of the gospel, then, such is the effi cacy of this great expedient, that it will reach an application of mercy farther than the eye of your own conscience ever reach ed; that it will redeem you from the guilt even of your most secret and unsuspected iniquities ; and thoroughly wash you from a taint of sinfulness, more inveterate than, in the blindness of nature, you ever thought of, or ever conceived to belong to you. But when a man becomes a believer, there are two great events which take place at this great turning point in his his tory. One of them takes place in heaven — even the expunging of his name from the book of condemnation. Another of them lakes place on earth — even the application of such a sanctifying influence to his per son, that all old things are done away with him, and all things become new with him. He is made the workmanship of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. He is not merely forgiven the sin of every one evil work of which he had aforetime been guilty, but he is created anew unto the corresponding good work. And therefore, if a Christian, will his honesty be purified from that tainl of selfishness by which the general honesty of this world is so deeply and extensively pervaded. He will not do this good thing, that any good thing may be done unlo him again. He will do it on a simple re gard to its own native and independent rectitude. He will do it because it is ho nourable, and because God wills him so to adorn the doctrine of his Saviour. All his fair dealing, and all his friendship, will be fair dealing and friendship without interest. The principle that is in him will stand in no need of aid from any such auxiliary-^ but strong in its own unborrowed re sources, will it impress a legible stamp of dignity and uprightness on the whole va riety of his transactions in the world. All men find it their advantage, by the integrity of their dealings, to prolong the existence of some gainful fellowship into which they may have entered. But with him, thc same unsullied integrity which kept this fellowship together, and sustained the pro gress of it, will abide with him through its last transactions, and dignify its full and final termination. Most men find, that, without the reverberation of any mis chief on their own heads, they could re duce beneath the point of absolute jus tice, the charges of taxation. But he has a conscience both towards God, and to wards man, which will not let him; and there is a rigid truth in all his returns, a pointed and precise accuracy in all his pay ments. When hemmed in with circum stances of difficulty, and evidently tottering to his fall, the demand of nature is, that he should ply his every artifice to secrete a provision for his family. But a Chris tian mind is incapable of artifice; and the voice of conscience within him will ever be louder than the voice of necessity ; and he will be open as day with his creditors, nor put forth his hand to that which is rightfully theirs, any more than he would put forth his hand to the perpetration of a sacrilege; and though released altogether from that tie of interest which binds a man to equity with his fellows, yet the tie of principle will remain with him in all its strength. Nor will it ever be found that he, for the sake of subsistence, will enter into fraud, seeing that, as one of the chil dren of light, he would not, to gain the whole world, lose his own soul. IV.) ESTIMATION OF THE GUILT OF DISHONESTY. 130 DISCOURSE IV. The Guilt of Dishonesty not to be estimated by the Gain of il. He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much ; and he that is unjust in the least, is unjust also in much." — Luke xvi. 10. It is the fine poetical conception of a late poetical countryman, whose fancy too often grovelled among the despicable of human character— but who, at the same time, was capable of exhibiting, either in pleasing or in proud array, both the tender and the noble of human character — when he says of the man who carried a native, unborrow ed, self-sustained rectitude in his bosom, that " his eye, even turned on empty space, beamed keen with honour." It was affirm ed, in the last discourse, that much of the ho nourable practice of the world rested on the substratum of selfishness; that society was held together in the exercise of its relative virtues, mainly, by the tie of reciprocal ad vantage; that a man's own interest bound him to all those average equities which ob tained in the neighbourhood around him ; and in which, if he proved himself to be glaringly deficient, he would be abandoned by the respect, and the confidence, and the good will of the people w1ith whom he had to do. It is a melancholy thought, how little the semblance of virtue upon earth betokens the real and substantial presence of virtuous principle among men. But on the other hand, though it be a rare, there cannot be a more dignified attitude of the soul, than when of itself it kindles with a sense of justice, and the holy flame is fed, as it were, by its own energies; than when man moves onwards in an unchang ing course of moral magnanimity, and dis dains the aid of those inferior principles, by which gross and sordid humanity is kept from all the grosser violations ; than when he rejoices in truth as his kindred and congenial element; — so, that though unpeopled of all its terrestrial accompani ments; though he saw no interest what ever to be associated with its fulfilment; though without one prospect either of fame or of emolument before him, would his eye, even when turned on emptiness itself, still retain the living lustre that had been lighted up in it, by a feeling of inward and independent reverence. It has already been observed, and that fully and frequently enough, that a great part of the homage which is rendered to integrity in the world, is due to the opera tion of selfishness. And this substantially is the reason, why the principle of the text has so very slender a hold upon the human conscience. Man is ever prone to estimate the enormity of injustice, by the degree in which he suffers from it. He brings this moral question to the standard of his own interest. A master will bear with all the lesser liberties of his servants, so long as he feels them to be harmless ; and it is not till he is awakened to the apprehension of per sonal injury, from the amount or frequency of the embezzlements, that his moral indig nation is at all sensibly awakened. And thus it is, that the maxim of our great teacher of righteousness seems to be very much unfelt, or forgotten, in society. Un faithfulness in that which is little, and un faithfulness in that which is much, are very far from being regarded, as they were by bim, under the same aspect of criminality. If there be no great hurt, it is felt that there is no great harm. The innocence of a dis honest freedom in respect of morality, is rated by its insignificance in respect of mat ter. The margin which separates the right from the wrong, is remorselessly trodden un der foot, so long as each makes only a mi nute and gentle encroachment beyond the landmark of his neighbour's territory. On this subject there is a loose and popular es timate, which is not at one with the deliver ance of the New Testament; a habit of petty invasion on the side of aggressors, which is scarcely felt by them to be at all iniquitous — and even on the part of those who are thus made free with, there is a habit of loose and careless toleration. There is, in fact, a negligence or a dor mancy of principle among men, which causes this sort of injustice to be easily practised on the one side, and as easily put up with on the other ; and, in a general slackness of observation, is this virtue, in its strictness and in its delicacy, completely overborne. It is the taint of selfishness, then, which has so marred and corrupted the moral sensibility of our world ; and the man, if such a man can be, whose " eye, even turned On empty s^ace, beams keen with honour;" and whose homage, therefore, to the virtue of justice, is altogether freed from the mix ture of unworthy and interested feelings, will long to render to her, in every instance, a faultless and a completed offering. What ever his forbearance to others, he could not suffer the slightest blot of corruption upon any doings of his own. He cannot be sa tisfied with any thing short of the very last jot and tittle of the requirements of equity being fulfilled. He not merely shares in 140 ESTIMATION OF THE GUILT OF DISHONESTY. [DISC. the revolt of the general world against such outrageous departures from the rule of right, as would carry in their train the ruin of acquaintances or the distress of families. Such is the delicacy of the principle within him, that he could not have peace under the consciousness even of the minutest and least discoverable violation. He looks fully and fearlessly at the whole account which justice has against him ; and he cannot rest, so long as there is a single article un met, or a single demand unsatisfied. If, in any transaction of his there was so much as a farthing of secret and injurious reser vation on his side, this would be to him like an accursed thing, which marred the character of the whole proceeding, and spread over it such an aspect of evil, as to offend and to disturb him. He could not bear the whisperings of his own heart, if it told him, that, in so much as by one iota of defect, he had balanced the matter un fairly between himself and the unconscious individual with wdiom he deals. It would lie a burden upon his mind to hurt and to make him unhappy, till the opportunity of explanation had come round, and he had obtained ease to his conscience, by acquit ting himself to the full of all his obligations. It is justice in the uprightness of her atti tude : it is justice in the onwardness of her path ; it is justice disdaining every advan tage that, would tempt her, by ever so little to the right or to the left ; it is justice spurn ing the littleness of each paltry enticement away from her, and maintaining herself, without deviation, in a track so purely rec tilinear, that even the most jealous and mi croscopic eye could not find in it the slight est cberration : this is the justice set forth by our great moral Teacher in the passage now submitted to you ; and by which we are told, that this virtue refuses fellowship with every degree of iniquity that is per ceptible; and that, were the very least act of unfaithfulness admitted, she would feel as if in her sanctity she had been violated, as if in her character she had sustained an over throw. In the further prosecution of this dis course, let us first attempt to elucidate the principle of our text, and then urge onward to its practical consequences — both as it re spects our general relation to God, and as it respects the particular lesson of faithful ness that may be educed from it. I. The great principle of the text is, that he who has sinned though to a small amount in respect of the fruit of his transgression- provided he has done so, by passing over a forbidden limit which was distinctly known to him, has in the act of doing so, incurred a full condemnation in respect of the prin ciple of his transgression. In one word, that the gain of it may be small, while the guilt of it may be great; that the latter ought not to be measured by the former; but that he who is unfaithful in the least, shall be dealt with in respect of the offence he has given to God, in the same way as if he had been unfaithful in much. The first reason, which we would assign in vindication of this is, that by a small act of injustice, the line which separates the right from the wrong is just as effectually broken over as by a great act of injustice. There is a tendency in gross and corporeal man to rate the criminality of injustice by the amount of its_appropriations — to reduce it to a computation of weight and measure — to count the man who has gained a double sum by his dishonesty, to be doubly more dishonest than his neighbour — to make it an affair of product rather than of princi ple; and thus to weigh the morality 0) a character in the same arithmetical balance with number or with magnitude. Now, this is not the rule of calculation on which our Saviour has proceeded in the text. He speaks to the man who is only half an inch within the limit of forbidden ground, in the very same terms by which he addresses the man who has made the furthest and the largest incursions upon it. It is true, that he is only a little way upon the wrong side of the line of demarcation. But why is he upon it at all? It was in the act of cross ing that line, and not in the act of going onwards after he had crossed it — it was then that the contest between right and wrong was entered upon, and then it was decided. That was the instant of time at which principle struck her surrender. The great pull which the man had to make, was in the act of overleaping the fence of sepa ration ; and after that was done, justice had no other barrier by which to obstruct his progress over the whole extent of the field which she had interdicted. There might be barriers of a different description. There might be still a revolting of humanity against the sufferings that would be inflicted by an act of larger fraud or depredation. There might be a dread of exposure, if the dishonesty should so swell, in point of amount, as to become more noticeable. There might, after the absolute limit be tween justice and injustice is broken, be an other limit against the extending of a man's encroachments, in a terror of discovery, or in a sense of interest, or even in the re- lentings of a kindly or a compunctious feel ing towards him who is the victim of in justice. But this is not the limit with which the question of a man's truth, or a man's honesty, has to do. These have al ready been given up. He may only be a little way within the margin of the unlaw ful territory, but still he is upon it ; and the God who finds him there will reckon with him, and deal with him accordingly. Other principles and other considerations, mav IV] ESTIMATION OF THE GUILT OF DISHONESTY. 141 restrain his progress to the very heart of the territory, but justice is not one of them. This he deliberately flung away from him, at that moment when he passed the line of circumvallation ; and, though in the neigh bourhood of that line, he may hover all his days at the petty work of picking and pur loining such fragments as he meets with, though he may never venture himself to a place of more daring or distinguished atro city, God sees of him, that, in respect of the principle of justice, at least, there is an utter unhingement. And thus it is that the Sa viour, who knew what was in man, and who, therefore, knew all the springs of that mo ral machinery by which he is actuated, pronounces of him who was unfaithful in the least, that he was unfaithful also in much. , After the transition is accomplished, the progress will follow of course, just as op portunity invites, and just as circumstances make it safe and practicable. For it is not with justice as it is with generosity, and some of the other virtues. There is not the same graduation in the former as there is in the latter. The man who, other cir cumstances being equal, gives away a dou ble sum in charity, may, with more pro priety be reckoned doubly more generous than his neighbour; than the man who, with the same equality of circumstances, only ventures on half the extent of fraudu- lency, can be reckoned only one half as unjust as his neighbour. Each has broken a clear line of demarcation. Each has trans gressed a distinct and visible limit which he knew to be forbidden. Each has knowingly forced a passage beyond his neighbour's land-mark — and that is the place where justice has laid the main force of her inter dict. As it respects the materiel of injus tice, the question revolves itself into a mere computation of quantity. As it respects the morale of injustice, the computation is upon other principles. It is upon the latter that our Saviour pronounces himself. And he gives us to understand, that a very hum ble degree of the former may indicate the latter in all its atrocity. He stands on the breach between the lawful and the unlaw ful ; and he tells us, that the man who en ters by a single footstep on the forbidden ground, immediately gathers upon his per son the full hue and character of guiltiness. He admits no extenuation of theleSser acts of dishonesty. He does not make right pass into wrong, by a gradual melting of the one into the other. He does not thus obliterate the distinctions of morality. There is no shading off at the margin of guilt, but a clear and vigorous delineation. It is not by a gentle transition that a man steps over from honesty to dishonesty. There is between them a wall rising up into heaven ; and the high authority of heaven must be stormed ere one inch of entrance can be made into the region of iniquity. The morality of the Saviour never leads him to gloss over the beginnings of crime. His object ever is, as in the text be fore us, to fortify the limit, to cast a ram part of exclusion around the whole territory of guilt, and to rear it before the eye of man in such characters of strength and sa- credness, as should make them feel that it is impregnable. The second reason, why he who is un faithful in the least has incurred the con demnation of him who is unfaithful in much, is, that the littleness of the gain, so far from giving a littleness to the guilt, is in fact a circumstance of aggravation. There is just this difference. He who has committed in justice for the sake of a less advantage, has done it on the impulse of a less temptation. He has parted with his honesty at an infe rior price ; and this circumstance may go so to equalize the estimate, as to bring it very much to one with the deliverance, in the text, of our great Teacher of righteous ness. The limitation between good and evil stood as distinctly before the notice of the small as of the great depredator ; and he has just made as direct a contravention to the first reason, when he passed over upon the wrong side of it. And he may have made little of gain by the enterprise, but this does not allay the guilt of it. Nay, by the second reason, this may serve to ag gravate the wrath of the Divinity against him. It proves how small the price is which he sets upon his eternity, and how cheaply he can bargain the favour of God away from him, and how low he rates the good of an inheritance with him, and for what a trifle he can dispose of all interest in his kingdom and in his promises. The very circum stance which gives to his character a milder transgression in the e>es of the world, makes it more odious in the judgment of the sanctuary. The more paltry il is in respect of profit, the more profane it ma)' be in respect of principle. It likens him the more to profane Esau, who sold his birthright for a mess of pottage. And thus it is, indeed, most woful to think of such a senseless and alienated world ; and how heedlessly the men of it are posting their infatuated way to destruction ; and how, for as little gain as might serve them a day, they are contracting as much guilt as will ruin them for ever ; and are profoundly asleep in the midst of such designs and such doings, as will form the valid mate rials of their entire and everlasting con demnation. It is with argument such as this that we would try to strike conviction among a very numerous class of offenders in society — those who, in the various departments of trust, or service, or agency, are ever prac- 142 ESTIMATION OF THE GUILT OF DISHONESTY. [DISC tismg, in littles, at the work of secret appro priation — those whose hands are in a state of constant defilement, by the putting of them forth to that which they ought to touch not, and taste not, and handle not — those v» ho silently number such pilferments as can pass unnoticed among the perqui sites of their office ; and who, by an excess in their charges, just so slight as to escape detection — or by a habit of purloining, just so restrained as to elude discovery, have both a conscience very much at ease in their own bosoms, and a credit very fair, and very entire, among their acquaintances around them. They grossly count upon the smallness of their transgression. But they are just going in a small way to hell. They would recoil with violent dislike from the act of a midnight depredator. It is just because terrors, and trials, and executions, have thrown around it the pomp and the circumstance of guilt. But at another bar, and on a day of more dreadful solemnity, their guilt will be made to stand out in its essential characters, and their condemna tion will be pronounced from the lips of Him who judgeth righteously. They feel that they have incurred no outrageous for feiture of character among men, and this instils a treacherous complacency into their own hearts. But the piercing eye of Him who looketh down from heaven is upon the reality of the question ; and He who ponders the secrets of every bosom, can perceive, that the man who recoils only from such a degree of injustice as is noto rious, may have no justice whatever in his character. He may have a sense of repu tation. He may have the fear of detection and disgrace. He may feel a revolt in his constitution against the magnitude of a gross and glaring violation. He may even share in all the feelings and principles of that conventional kind of morality which obtains in his neighbourhood. But, of that principle which is surrendered by the least act of unfaithfulness, he has no share what ever. He perceives no overawing sacred- ness in that boundary which separates the right from the wrong. If he only keep decently near, it is a matter of indifference to him whether he be on this or on that side of it. He can be unfaithful in that which is least. There may be other prin ciples, and other considerations to restrain him ; but certain it is, that it is not now the principle of justice which restrains him from being unfaithful in much.— This is given up; and, through a blindness to the great and important principle of our text, this virtue may, in its essential character, be as good as banished from the world. All its protections may be utterly overthrown. The line of defence is effaced by which it ought to have been firmly and scrupulously guarded. The sign-posts of intimation, which ought to warn and to scare away, are planted along the barrier ; and when, in de fiance to them, the barrier is broken, man will not be checked by any sense of honesty, at least, from expatiating over the whole of the forbidden territory. And thus may we gather from the countless peccadilloes which are so current in the various depart ments of trade, and service, and agency— from the secret freedoms in which many do indulge, without one remonstrance from their own heart — from the petty inroads that are daily practised on the confines of justice, by which its line of demarcation is trodden under foot, and it has lost the mo ral distinctness, and the moral charm, that should have kept it unviolate — from the ex ceeding multitude of such offences as are frivolous in respect of the matter of them, but most fearfully important in respect of the principle in which they originate — from the woful amount of that unseen and unrecorded guilt which escapes-the cogni zance of the human law, but on the appli cation of the touchstone in our text, may be made to stand out in characters of se verest condemnation — from instances, too numerous to repeat, but certainly too ob vious to be missed, even by the observation of charity, may we gather the frailty of human principle, and the virulence of that moral poison, which is now in such full circulation to taint and to adulterate the character of our species. Before finishing this branch of our sub ject, we may observe, that it is with this, as with many other phenomena of the human character, that we are not long in con templation upon it, without coming in sight of that great characteristic of fallen man, which meets and forces itself upon us in every view that we take of him — even the great moral disease of ungodliness. It is at the precise limit between the right and the wrong that the flaming sword of God's law is placed. It is there that " Thus saith the Lord" presents itself, in legible charac ters, to our view. It is there where the ope ration of his commandment begins; and not at any of those higher gradations, where a man's dishonesty first appals himself by the chance of its detection, or appals others by the mischief and insecurity which it brings upon social life. An extensive fraud upon the revenue, for example, un popular as this branch of justice is, would bring a man down from his place of emi nence and credit in mercantile society. That petty fraud which is associated with so many of those smaller payments, where a lie in the written acknowledgment is both given and accepted, as a way of escape from the legal imposition, circulates at large among the members of the great trading community. In the former, and in all the greater cases of injustice, there is a human IV.] ESTIMATION OF THE GUILT OF DISHONESTY. 143 restraint, and a human terror, in operation. There is disgrace and civil punishment, to scare away. There are all the sanctions of that conventional morality which is sus pended on the fear of man, and the opinion of man; and which, without so much as the recognition of a God, would naturally point its armour against every outrage that could sensibly disturb the securities and the rights of human society. But so long as the disturbance is not sensible— so long as the injustice keeps within the limits of smallness and secrecy — so long as it is safe for the individual to practise it, and, borne along on the tide of general example and connivance, he has nothing to restrain him but that distinct and inflexible word of God, which proscribes all unfaithfulness, and admits of it in no degrees, and no modi fications — then, let the almost universal sleep of conscience attest, how little of God there is in the virtue of this world ; and how much the peace and the protection of society are owing to such moralities, as the mere selfishness of man would lead him to ordain, even in a community of atheists. II. Let us now attempt to unfold a few of the practical consequences that may be drawn from the principle of the text, both in respect to our general relation with God, and in respect to the particular lesson of faithfulness which may be educed from it. 1. There cannot be a stronger possible illustration of our argument, than the very first act of retribution that occurred in the history of our species, " And God said unto Adam, Of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it. For in the day thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die. -But the woman took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her, and he did eat." What is it that invests the eating of a soli tary apple with a grandeur so momentous? How came an action in itself so minute, to be the germ of such mighty consequences ? How are we to understand that our first parents, by the doing of a single instant, not only brought death upon themselves, but shed this big and baleful disaster over all their posterity? We may not be able to answer all these questions, but we may at least learn, what a thing of danger it is, under the government of aholy and inflexi ble God, to tamper with the limits of obe dience. By the eating of that apple, a clear requirement was broken, and a distinct transition was made from loyalty to rebel lion, and an entrance was effected into the region of sin — and thus did this one act serve like the opening of a gate for a torrent of mighty mischief; and if the act itself was a trifle, it just went to aggravate its guilt — that, for such a trifle, the authority of God could be despised and trampled on. At all events, his attribute of truth stood commit ted to the fulfilment of the threatening; and the very insignificancy of the deed, which provoked the execution of it, gives a sub- limer character to the certainty of the fulfil ment. We know how much this trail, in the dealings of God with man, has been the jeer of infidelity. But in all this ridicule, there is truly nothing else than the gross ness of materialism. Had Adam, instead of plucking one single apple from the forbid den tree, been armed with the power of a malignant spirit, and spread a wanton havoc over the face of paradise, and spoiled the garden of its loveliness, and been able to mar and to deform the whole of that terrestrial creation over which God had so recently re joiced — the punishment he sustained would have looked to these arithmetical moralists, a more adequate return for the offence of which he had been guilty. They cannot see how the moral lesson rises in greatness, just in proportion to the humility of the ma terial accompaniments — and how it wraps a sublimer glory around the holiness of the Godhead — and how from the transaction, such as it is, the conclusion cometh forth more nakedly, and, therefore, more impres sively, that it is an evil and a bitter thing to sin against the Lawgiver. God said, "Let- there be light, and it was light;" and it has ever been regarded as a sublime token of' the Deity, that, from an utterance so simple, an accomplishment so quick and so mag nificent should have followed. God said, " That he who eateth of the tree in the midst of the garden should die." It appears indeed, but a little thing, that one should put forth his hand to an apple and taste of it. But a saying of God was involved in the matter — and heaven and earth must pass away, ere a saying of his can pass away ; and so the apple became decisive of the fate of a world ; and, out of the very scantiness of the occasion, did there emerge a sublimer display of truth and of holiness. The be ginning of the world was, indeed, the period of great manifestations of the Godhead ; and they all seem to accord, in style and cha racter, with each other ; and in that very history, which has called forth the profane and unthinking levity of many a scorner, may we behold as much of the majesty of principle, as in the creation of light, we be hold of the majesty of power. But this history furnishes the materials of a contemplation still more practical. If, for this one offence, Adam and his posterity have been so visited — if so rigorously and so inflexibly precise be the spirit of God's administration — if, under the economy of heaven, sin, even in the very humblest of its exhibitions, be the object of an intoler ance so jealous and so unrelenting— if the Deity be such as this transaction manifests him to be, disdainful of fellowship even with 144 ESTIMATION OF THE GUILT OF DISHONESTY. [DISC the very least iniquity, and dreadful in the certainty of all his accomplishments against it — if, for a single transgression, all the promise and all the felicity of paradise had to be broken up, and the wretched offen ders had to be turned abroad upon a world, now changed by the curse into a wilder ness, and their secure and lovely home of innocence behooved to be abandoned, and to keep them out, a flaming sword had to turn every way, and guard their reaccessto the bowers of immortality — if sin be so very hateful in the eye of unspotted holiness, that, on its very first act, and first appear ance, the wonted communion between hea ven and earth was interdicted — if that was the time at which God looked on our spe cies with an altered countenance, and one deed of disobedience proved so terribly de cisive of the fate and history of a world — what should each individual amongst us think of his own danger, whose life has been one continued habit of disobedience? If we be still in the hands of that God who laid so fell a condemnation on this one transgression, let us just think of our many transgressions, and that every hour we live multiplies the account of them ; and that, however they may vanish from our own remembrance, they are still alive in the records of a judge whose eye and whose memory never fail him. Let us transfer the lesson we have gotten of heaven's jurispru dence from the case of our first parents to our own case. Let us compare our lives with the law of God, and we shall find that our sins are past reckoning. Let us take account of the habitual posture of our souls, as a posture of dislike for the things that are above, and we shall find that our thoughts and our desires are ever running in one current of sinfulness. Let us just make the computation how often we fail in the bidden charity, and the bidden godli ness, and the bidden long suffering — all as clearly bidden as the duty that was laid on our first parents — and we shall find, that we are borne down under a mountain of ini quity; that, in the language of the Psalmist, our transgressions have gone over our heads, and, as a heavy burden, are too heavy for us; and if we be indeed under the government of Him who followed up the offence of the stolen apple by so dread ful a chastisement, then is wrath gone out unto the uttermost against every one of us. —There is something in the history of that apple which might be brought specially to bear on the ease of those small sinners who practise in secret at the work of their petty depredations. But, it also carries in it a great and a universal moral. It tells us that no sin is small. It serves a general purpose of conviction. It holds out a most alarming disclosure of the charge that is against us; and makes it manifest to the conscience of him who is awakened thereby, that, unless God himself point out a way of escape, we are indeed most hopelessly sunk in con. demnation. And, seeing that such wrath went out from the sanctuary of this un changeable God, on the one offence of our first parents, it irresistibly follows, that if we, manifold in guilt, take not ourselves to his appointed way of reconciliation — if we refuse the overtures of Him, who then so visited the one offence through which all are dead, but is now laying before us all that free gift, which is of many offences unto justification — in other words, if we will not enter into peace through the of fered Mediator, how much greater must be the wrath that abideth on us? Now, let the sinner have his conscience schooled by such a contemplation, and there will be no rest whatever for his soul till he find it in the Saviour. Let him only learn, from the dealings of God with the first Adam, what a God of holiness he him self has to deal with; and 1st him further learn, from the history of the second Adam. that to manifest himself as a God of love, another righteousness had to be brought in, in place of that from which man had fallen so utterly away. There was a faultless obedience rendered by Him, of whom it is said, that he fulfilled all righteousness. There was a magnifying of the law by one in human form, who up to the last jot and tittle of it, acquitted himself of all its obli gations. There was a pure, and lofty, and undefiled path, trodden by a holy and harmless Being, who gave not up his work upon earth, till ere he left it, he could cry out, that it was finished ; and so had wrought out for us a perfect righteousness. Now, it forms the most prominent annun ciation of the New Testament, that the re ward of this righteousness is offered unto all — so that there is not one of us who is not put by the gospel upon the alternative of being either tried by our own merits, or treated according lo the merits of Him who became sin for us, though he knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. Let the sinner just look unto himself, and look unto the Saviour. Let him advert not to his one, but to his many offences ; and that, too, in the sight of a God, who, but for one so slight and so insignificant, in inspect of the outward de scription, as the eating of a forbidden ap ple, threw off a world into banishment, and entailed a sentence of death upon all ita generations. Let him learn from this, thai for sin, even in its humblest degrees, there exists in the bosom of the Godhead no toleration ; and how shall he dare, with the degree and the frequency of his own sin, to stand any longer on a ground, where, if he remain, the fierceness of a consuming fire is so sure to overtake him? The righ IV.] ESTIMATION OF THE GUILT OF DISHONESTY. 145 teousness of Christ is without a flaw, and there he is invited to take shelter. Under the actual regimen, which God has esta blished in our world, it is indeed his only security— his refuge from the tempest, and hiding place from the storm. The only beloved Son offers to spread his own un spotted garment as a protection over him ; and, if he be rightly alive to the utter na kedness of his moral and spiritual condition he will indeed make no tarrying till he be found in Christ, and find that in him there is no condemnation. Now, it is worthy of remark, that those principles, which shut a man up unto the faith, do not take flight and abandon him, after they have served this temporary pur pose. They abide with him, and work their appropriate influence on his charac ter, and serve as the germ of a new moral creation ; and we can afterwards detect their operation in his heart and life; so, that if they were present at the formation of a saving belief, they are not less unfailingly present with every true Christian, through out the whole of his future history, as the elements of a renovated conduct. If it was sensibility to the evil of sin which helped to wean the man from himself, and led him to his Saviour, this sensibility does not fall asleep in the bosom of an awakened sinner, after Christ has given him light — but it grows with the growth, and strengthens with the strength, of his Christianity. If, at the interesting period of his transition from nature to grace, he saw, even in the very least of his offences, a deadly provo cation of the Lawgiver, he does not lose sight of this consideration in his future pro gress — nor does it barely remain with him, like one of the unproductive notions of an inert and unproductive theory. It gives rise to a fearful jealousy in his heart of the least appearance of evil ; and, with every man who has undergone a genuine process of conversion, do we behold the scrupulous avoidance of sin, in its most slender, as well as in its more aggravated forms. If it was the perfection of the character of Christ, who felt that it became him to fulfil all 'righteousness, that offered him the first solid foundation on which he could lean — then, the same character, which first drew his eye for the purpose of confidence, still continues to draw his.eye for the purpose of imitation. At the outset of faith, all the essential moralities of thought, and feeling, and conviction, are in play ; nor is there any thing in the progress of a real faith which is calculated to throw them back again into the dormancy out of which they had arisen. They break out, in fact, into more full and flourishing display on every new creature, with every new step, and new evolution, in his mental history. All the principles of the gospel serve, as it were, to 19 fan and to perpetuate his hostility against sin ; and all the powers of the gospel enable him, more and more, to fulfil the desires of his heart, and to carry his purposes of hos tility into execution. In the case of every genuine believer, who walks not after the flesh, but. after the spirit, do we behold a fulfilling of the righteousness of the law— a strenuous avoidance of sin, in its slightest possible taint or modification — a strenuous performance of duty, up to the last jot and tittle of its exactions — so, that let the un true professors of the faith do what they will in the way of antinomianism, and let the enemies of the faith say what they will about our antinomianism, the real spirit of the dispensation under which we live is such, that whosoever shall break one of the least of these commandments, and teach men so, is accounted the least — whosoever shall do and teach them is accounted the greatest. 2. Let us, therefore, urge the spirit and the practice of this lesson upon your obser vation. The place for the practice of it is the familiar and week-day scene. The principle for the spirit of it descends upon the heart, from the sublimest heights of the sanctuary of God. It is not vulgarizing Christianity to bring it down to the very humblest occupations of human life. It is, in fact, dignifying human life, by bringing it up to the level of Christianity. It may look to some a degradation of the pulpit, when the household servant is told to make her firm stand against the temp tation of open doors, and secret opportuni ties; or when the confidential agent is told to resist the slightest inclination to any un seen freedom with the property of his em ployers, or to any undiscoverable excess in the charges of his management ; or when the receiver of a humble payment is told, that the tribute which is due on every writ ten acknowledgment ought faithfully to be met, and not fictitiously to be evaded. This is not robbing religion of its sacredness, but spreading its sacredness over the face of society. It is evangelizing human life, by impregnating its minutest transactions with the spirit of the gospel. It is strengthening the wall of partition between sin and obe dience. It is the teacher of righteousness taking his stand at the outpost of that ter ritory which he is appointed to defend, and warning his hearers of the danger that ' lies in a single footstep of encroachment. It is letting them know, that it is in the act of stepping over the limit, that the sinner throws the gauntlet of his defiance against the authority of God. And though he may deceive himself with the imagination that his soul is safe, because the gain of his in justice is small, such is the God with whom he has to do, that, if it be gain to the value of a single apple, then, within the compass 146 ESTIMATION OF THE GUILT OF DISHONESTY. [disc. of so small an outward dimension, may as much guilt be enclosed as that which hath Drought death into our world, and carried it down in a descending ruin upon all its generations. It may appear a very little thing, when you are told to be honest in little matters; when the servant is told to keep her hand from every one article about which there is not an express or understood allowance on the part of her superiors; when the dealer is told to lop off the excesses of that minuter fraudulency, which is so currently prac tised in the humble walks of merchandise; when the workman is told to abstain from those petty reservations of the material of his work, for which he is said to have such snug and ample opportunity ; and when, without pronouncing on the actual extent of these transgressions, all are told to be faithful in that which is least, else, if there be truth in our text, they incur the guilt of being unfaithful in much. It maybe thought, that because such dishonesties as these are scarcely noticeable, they are therefore not worthy of notice. But it is just in the pro- Eortion of their being unnoticeable by the uman eye, that it is religious to refrain from them. These are the cases in which it will be seen, whether the controul of the omniscience of God makes up for the con troul of human observation — in which the sentiment, that thou God seest me, should carry a preponderance through all the secret places of a man's history — in which, when every earthly check of an earthly morality is withdrawn, it should be felt, that the eye of God is upon him, and that the judgment of God is in reserve for him. To him who is gifted with a true discernment of these matters, will it appear, that often, in propor tion to the smallness of the doings, is the sacredness of that principle which causes them to be done with integrity; that honesty, in little transactions, bears upon it more of the aspect of holiness, than honesty in great ones; that the man of deepest sensibility to the obligations of the law, is he who feels the quickening of moral alarm at its slightest violations; that, in the morality of grains and of scruples, there may be a greater ten derness of conscience, and a more heaven- born sanctity, than in that larger morality which flashes broadly and observably upon the world ; — and that thus, in the faithful ness of the household maid, or of the ap prentice boy, there may be the presence of a truer principle than there is in the more conspicuous transactions of human business — what they do, being done, not with eye- service— what they do, being done unto the Lord. And here we may remark, that nobleness of condition is not essential as a school for nobleness of character ; nor does man require to be high in office, ere he can gather around his person the worth and the lustre of a high minded integrity. It is delightful to think, that humble life may be just as rich in moral grace, and moral grandeur, as the loftier places of society ; that as true a dignity of principle may be earned by him who in homeliest drudgery, plies his conscientious task, as by hint who stands entrusted with the fortunes of an empire; that the poorest menial in the land, who can lift a hand un- soiled by the pilferments that are within his reach, may have achieved a victory over temptation, to the full as honourable as the proudest patriot can boast, who has spurned the bribery of courts away from him. It is cheering to know, from the heavenly jud»e himself, that he who is faithful in the least, is faithful also in much ; and that thus, among the labours of the field and of the work-shop, it is possible for the peasant to be as bright in honour as the peer, and have the chivalry of as much truth and virtue to adorn him. Arid, as this lesson is not little in respect of principle, so neither is it little in respect of influence on the order and well-being of human society. He who is unjust in the least, is, in respect of guilt, unjust also in much. An$ to reverse this proposition, as it is done in the first clause of our text — he who is faithful in that which is least, is, in respect both of righteous principle and of actual observation, faithful also in much. Who is the man to whom I would most readily confide the whole of my property? He who would most disdain to put forth an injurious hand on a single farthing of it. Who is the man from whom I would have the least dread of an}' unrighteous encroach ment ? He, all the delicacies of whose prin ciple are awakened, when he comes within sight of the limit which separates the region of justice from the region of injustice. Who is the man whom we shall never find among the greater degrees of iniquity? He who shrinks with sacred abhorrence from the lesser degrees of it. It is a true, though a homely maxim of economy, that if we take care of our small sums, our great sums will take care of themselves. And, to pass from our own things to the things of others, it is no less true, that if principle should lead us all to maintain the care of strictest honesty over our neighbour's pennies, then will his pounds lie secure from the grasp of injustice, behind the barrier of a moral impossibility. This lesson, if carried into effect among you, would so strengthen all the ramparts of se curity between man and man, as to make them utterly impassable ; and therefore, while, in the matter of it, it may look, in one view, as one of the least of the com mandments, it, in regard both of principle and effect, is, in another view of it, one ot the greatest of the commandments. And we therefore conclude with assuring you, that nothing will spread the principle of this IV J ON THE GREAT CHRISTIAN LAW OF RECIPROCITY BETWEEN MEN. 147 commandment to any great extent through- oui the mass of society, but the principle of godliness. Nothing will secure the general observation of justice amongst us, in its punctuality and in its preciseness, but such a precise Christianity as many affirm to be puritanical. In other words, the virtues of society, to be kept in a healthful and pros perous condition, must be upheld by the virtues of the sanctuary. Human law may restrain many of the grosser violations. But without religion among the people, justice will never be in extensive operation as a moral principle. A vast proportion of the species will be as unjust as the vigilance and the severities of law allow them to be. A thousand petty dishonesties, which never will, and never can be brought within the cognizance of any of our courts of adminis tration, will still continue to derange the business of human life, and to stir up all the heartburnings of suspicion and resentment among the members of human society. And it is, indeed, a triumphant reversion await ing the Christianity of the New Testament, when it shall become manifest as day, that it is her doctrine alone, which, by its search ing and sanctifying influence, can so moral ize our world — as that each may sleep secure in the lap of his neighbour's integrity, and charm of confidence, between man and man, will at length be felt in the business of every town, and in the bosom of every family. DISCOURSE V. On the great Christian Law of Reciprocity between Man and Man. "Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets." — Matthew vii. 12. There are two great classes in human society, between whom there lie certain mutual claims and obligations, which are felt by some to be of very difficult adjust ment. There are those who have requests of some kind or other to make; and there are those to whom the requests are made, and with whom there is lodged the power either to grant or to refuse them. Now, at first sight, it would appear, that the firm exercise of this power of refusal is the only barrier by which the latter class can be se cured against the indefinite encroachments >f the former ; and that, if this were remov- 3d, all the safeguards of right and property would be removed along with it. The power of refusal, on the part of those who have the right of refusal, may be abolished by an act of violence, on the part of those who have it not ; and then, when this happens in individual cases, we have the crimes of assault and robbery ; and when it happens on a more extended scale, we have anarchy and insurrection in the land. Or the power of refusal may be taken away by an au thoritative precept of religion ; and then might it still be matter of apprehension, lest our only defence against the inroads of selfishness and injustice were as good as given up, and lest the peace and interest of families should be laid open to a most fearful exposure, by the enactments of a romantic and impracticable system. Whenever this is apprehended, the temptation is strongly 'felt, either to rid ourselves of the enactments altogether, or at least to bring them down in nearer accommodation to the feelings and the conveniences of men. And Christianity, on the very first blush of it, appears to be precisely such a religion. It seems to take away all lawfulness of re sistance from the possessor, and to invest the demander with such an extent of privi lege, as would make the two classes of so ciety, to which we have just now adverted. speedily change places. And this is the true secret of the many laborious deviations that have been attempted in this branch of mo rality, on the obvious meaning of the New Testament. This is tbe secret of those many qualifying clauses, by which its most lumin ous announcements have been beset, to the utter darkening of them. This it is which explains the many sad invasions that have been made on tbe most manifest and un deniable literalities of the law and of the testimony. And our present text, among others, has received its full share of mutila tion, and of what may be called "dressing up," from the hands of commentators — it having wakened the very alarms of which we have just spoken, and called forth the very attempts to quiet and to subdue them. Surely, it has been said, we can never be required to do unto others what they have no right, and no reason, to dxpect from us. The demand must not be an extravagant one. It must lie within the limits of modera tion. It must be such as, in the estimation of every justly thinking person, is counted fair in the circumstances of the case. The principle on which our Saviour, in the text, 14S ON THE GREAT CHRISTIAN LAW OF RECIPROCITY BETWEEN MEN. [DISC. rests the obligation of doing any particular thing to others, is, that we wish others to do that thing unto us. But this is too much for an affrighted selfishness; and, for her own protection, she would put forth a de fensive sophistry upon the subject; and in place of that distinctly announced principle, on which the Bible both directs and specifies what the things are which we should do unto others, does she substitute another principle entirely — which is, merely to do unto others such things as are fair, and right, and reasonable. Now, there is one clause of this verse which would appear to lay a positive inter dict on all these qualifications. How shall we dispose of a phrase, so sweeping and universal in its import, as that of " all things whatsoever?" We cannot think that such an expression as this was inserted for no thing, by him who has told us, that " cursed is every one who taketh away from the words of this book." There is no distinction laid down between things fair, and things un fair — between things reasonable, and things unreasonable. Both are comprehended in the "all things whatsoever." The significa tion is plain and absolute, that, let the thing be what it may, if you wish others to do that thing for you, it lies imperatively upon you to do the very same thing for them also. But, at this rate, you may think that the whole system of human intercourse would go into unhingement. You may wish your next-door neighbour to present you with half his fortune. In this case, we know not how you are to escape from the conclusion, that you are bound to present him with the half of yours. Or you may wish a relative to burden himself with the expenses of all your family. It is then impossible to save you from the positive obligation, if you are equally able for it, of doing the same ser vice to the family of another. Or you may wish to engross the whole time of an ac quaintance in personal attendance upon yourself. Then, it is just your part to do the same extent if civility to another who may desire it. These are only a few specifica tions, out of die manifold varieties, whether of service 01 of donation, which are con ceivable between one man and another; nor are we awaie of any arlifice of explanation by which they can possibly be detached from the "all things whatsoever" of the verse before us. These are the literalities which we are not. at liberty to compromise —but are bound to urge, and that simply, according to the terms in which they have been conveyed to us by the great Teacher of righteousness. This may raise a sensitive dread in many a bosom. It may look like the opening of a floodgate, through which a torrent of human rapacity would" be made to set in on the fair and measured domains of property, and by which all the fences of -legality would be "overthrown. It is som6 such fearful anticipation as this which causes casuistry to ply its wily expedients, and busily to devise its many limits, and its many exceptions, to the morality of the New Testament. And yet, we think it pos sible to demonstrate of our text, that no such modifying is requisite ; and that, though ad mitted strictly and rigorously as the rule of our daily conduct, it would lead to no prac tical conclusions which are at all formidable. Iror, what is the precise circumstance which lays the obligation of this precept upon you? There may be other places in the Bible where you are required to do things for the benefit of your neighbour, whether you would wish your neighbour to do these things for your benefit or not. But this is not the requirement here. There is none other thing laid upon you in this place, than that you should do that good action in behalf of another, which you would like that other to do in behalf of yourself. If you would not like him to do it for you, then there is nothing in the com pass of this sentence now before you, that at all obligates you to do it for him. If you would not like your neighbour to make so romantic a surrender to your interest, as to offer you to the extent of half his fortune, then there is nothing in that part of the gos pel code which now engages us, that ren ders it imperative upon you to make the same offer to your neighbour. If you would positively recoil, in all the reluctance of in genuous delicacy, from the selfishness of laying on a relation the burden of the ex penses of all your family, then this is not the good office that you would have him to do unto you ; and this, therefore, is not the good office which the text prescribes you to do unto him. If you have such considera tion for another's ease, and another's con venience, that you could not take the un generous advantage of so much of his time for your accommodation, there may be other verses in the Bible which point to a greater sacrifice, on your part, for the good of others, than you would like these others to make for yours ; but, most assuredly, this is not the verse which imposes that sacrifice. If you would not that others should do these things on your account, then these things form no part of the " all things whatsoever" you would that men should do unto you ; and, therefore, they form no part of the " all things whatsoever" that you are required, by this verse, to do unto them. The bare circumstance of your positively not wishing that any such ser vices should be rendered unto you, exempts you, as far as the. single authority of this precept is concerned, from the obligation of rendering these services to others. This is the limitation to the extent of those services which are called for in the text ; and it is "•1 ON THE GREAT CHRISTIAN LAW OF RECIPROCITY BETWEEN MEN. 149 surely better, that every limitation to a commandment of God's, should be defined by God himself, than that it should be drawn from the assumptions of human fan cy, or from the fears and the feelings of human convenience. Let a man, in fact, give himself up to a strict and literal observance of the precept in this verse, and it will impress a two-fold direction upon him. It will not only guide him to certain performances of good in be half of others, but it will guide him to the regulation of his own desires of good from them. For his desires of good from others are here set up a? the measure of his per formances of good to others. The more selfish and unbounded his desires are, the larger are those performances with the ob ligation of which he is burdened. What soever he would that others should do unto him, he is bound to do unto them ; and, therefore, the more he gives way to unge nerous and extravagant wishes of service from those who are around him, the hea vier and more insupportable is the load of duty which he brings upon himself. — The commandment is quite imperative, and there is no escaping from it ; and if he, by the excess of his selfishness, should render it impracticable, then the whole punishment due to the guilt of casting aside the autho rity of this commandment, follows in that train of punishment which is annexed to selfishness. There is one way of being re lieved from such a burden. There is one way of reducing this verse to a moderate and practicable requirement; and that is, just to give up selfishness — just to stifle all ungenerous desires — just to moderate every wish of service or liberality from others, down to the standard of what is right and equitable; and then there may be other verses in the Bible by which we are called to be kind even to the evil and the unthank ful. But, most assuredly, this verse lays upon us none other thing, than that we should do such services for others as are right and equitable. The more extravagant, then, a man's wishes of accommodation from others are, the wider is the distance between him and the bidden performances of our text. The separation of him from his duty, increases at the rate of two bodies receding from each other by equal and contrary movements. The more selfish his desires of service are from others, the more feeble, on that very account, will be his desires of making any surrender of himself to them, and yet the greater is the amount of that surrender which is due. The poor man, in fact, is moving himself away from the rule ; and the rule is just moving as fast away from the man. As he sinks, in the scale of sel fishness, beneath the point of a fair and moderate expectation from others, does the rule rise, in the scale of duty, with its de mands upon him ; and thus there is render ing to him double for every unfair and un generous imposition that he would make on the kindness of those who are around him. Now, there is one way, and a very effec tual one, of getting these two ends to meet. Moderate your own desires of service from others, and you will moderate, in the same degree, all those duties of service to others which are measured by these desires. Have the delicacy to abstain from any wish of encroachment on the convenience or pro perty of another. Have the high-minded- ness to be indebted for your own support to the exertions of your own honourable industry, rather than the dastardly habit of preying on the simplicity of those around , you. Have such a keen sense of equity, and such a fine tone of independent feeling, that you could not bear to be the cause of hardship or distress to a single human creature, if you could help it. Let the same spirit be in you, which the Apostle wanted to exemplify before the eye of his disciples, when he coveted no man's gold, or silver, or apparel ; when he laboured not to be chargeable to any of them ; but wrought with his own hands, rather than be burdensome. Let this mind be in you, which was also in the Apostle of the Gen tiles ; and, then, the text before us will not come near you with a single oppressive or impracticable requirement. There may be other passages, where you are called to go beyond the strict line of justice, or1 common humanity, in behalf of your suffering bre thren. But this passage does not touch you with any such preceptive imposition : and you, by moderating your wishes from others down to what is fair and equitable, do, in fact, reduce the rule which binds you to act according to the measure of these wishes, down to a rule of precise and unde- viating equity. The operation is somewhat, like that of a governor or fly, in mechanism. This is a very happy contrivance, by which all that is defective or excessive in the motion, is confined within the limits of equability; and every tendency, in particular, to any mischievous acceleration, is restrained. The impulse given by this verse to the con duct of man among his fellows, would seem, to a superficial observer, to carry him to all the excesses of a most ruinous and quixotic benevolence. But let him only look to the skilful adaptation of the fly. Just, suppose the control of moderation and equity to be laid upon his own wishes, and there is not a single impulse given to his conduct be yond the rate of moderation and equity. You are not required here to do all things whatsoever in behalf of others, but to do all things whatsoever for them, that you would 150 ON THE GREAT CHRISTIAN LAW OF RECIPROCITY BETWEEN MEN. [DISC should be done unto yourself. This is the check by which the whole of the bidden movement is governed, and kept from Tun ing out into any hurtful excess. And such is the beautiful operation of that piece of moral mechanism that we are now employ ed in contemplating, that while it keeps down all the aspirations of selfishness, it does, in fact, restrain every extravagancy, and impress on its obedient subjects no other movement, than that of an even and inflexible justice. This rule of our Saviour's, then, pre scribes moderation to our desires of good from others, as well as generosity to our doings in behalf of others; and makes the first the measure of obligation to the se cond. It may thus be seen how easily, in a Christian society, the whole work of be nevolence could be adjusted, so as to render it possible for the givers not only to meet, but also to overpass, the wishes and expec tations of the receivers. The rich man may have a heavier obligation laid upon him by other precepts of the New-Testa ment ; but, by this precept, he is not bound to do more for the poor man, than what he himself would wish, in like circumstances, to be done for him. And let the poor man, on the other hand, wish for no more than what a Christian ought to wish for ; let him work and endure to the extent of nature's sufferance, rather than beg — and only beg, rather than that he should starve ; and in such a state of principle among men, a tide of beneficence would so go forth upon all the vacant places in society, as that there should be no room to receive it. The duty of the rich, as connected with this adminis tration, is of so direct and positive a charac ter, as to obtrude itself at once on the notice of the Christian moralist. But the poor also have a duty in it — to which we feel ourselves directed by the train of argument which we have now been prosecuting — and a duty, too, we think, of far greater impor tance even than the other, to the best inte rests of mankind. For, let us first contrast the rich man who is ungenerous in his doings, with the poor man who is ungenerous in his desires ; and see from which of the two it is, that the cause of charity receives the deadlier infliction. There is, it must be admitted, an individual to be met with occasionally, who represents the former of these two characters ; with every affection gravitating to itself, and to its sordid gratifications and interests ; bent on his own pleasure, or his own avarice— and so engrossed with these, as to have no spare feeling at all for the brethren of his common nature; with a heart obstinately shut against that most powerful of applications, the look of genuine and imploring distress— and whose very countenance speaks a surly and determined exclusion on every call that proceeds from it; who in a tumult of perpetual alarm about new cases, and new tales of suffering, and new plans of philanthropy, has at length learned to resist and to resent every one of them; and, spurning the whole of this disturbance impatiently away, to main tain a firm defensive over the close system of his own selfish luxuries, and his own snug accommodations. Such a man keeps back, it must be allowed, from the cause of charity, what he ought to have rendered it in his own person. There is a diminution of the philanthropic fund up to the extent of what benevolence would have awarded out of his individual means, and individual opportunities. The good cause is a sufferer, not by any positive blow it has sustained, but the simple negation of one friendly and fostering hand, that else might have been stretched forth to aid and patronise it. There is only so much less of direct coun tenance and support than would otherwise have been ; for, in this our age, we have no conception whatever of such an example being at all infectious. For a man to wal low in prosperity himself and be unmindful of the wretchedness that is around him, is an exhibition of altogether so ungainly a character, that it will far oftener provoke an observer to affront it by the contrast of his own generosity, than to render it the approving testimony of his imitation. So that all we have lost by the man who is ungenerous in his doings, is his own con tribution to the cause of philanthropy. And it is a loss that can be borne. The cause of this world's beneficence can do abun dantly without him. There is a ground that is yet unbroken, and there are resources which are still unexplored, that will yielda far more substantial produce to the good of humanity, than he, and thousands as weal thy as he, could render to it out of all their capabilities. But there is a far wider mischief inflicted on the cause of charity, by the poor man who is ungenerous in his desires; by him, whom every act of kindness is sure to call out to the reaction of some new demand, or new expectation; by him, on whom the hand of a giver has the effect, not of ap peasing his wants, but of inflaming his ra pacity ; by him who, trading among the sympathies of the credulous, can dexterous ly appropriate for himself a portion tenfold greater than what would have blest and brightened the aspect of many a, deserving family: Him we denounce as the worst enemy of the poor. It is he whose ravenous gripe wrests from them a far more abun dant benefaction, than is done by the most lordly and unfeeling proprietor in the land. He is the arch-oppressor of his brethren ; and the amount of the robbery which he has practised upon them, is not to be esti V.] ON THE GREAT CHRISTIAN LAW OF RECIPROCITY BETWEEN MEN. 151 mated by the alms which he has monopo lized, by the food, or the raiment, or the money, which he has diverted to himself, from the more modest sufferers around bim, he has done what is infinitely worse than turning aside the stream of charity. He has closed its floodgates. He has chilled and alienated the hearts of the wealthy, by the gall of bitterness which he has infused into this whole ministration. A few such harpies would suffice to exile a whole neighbourhood from the attentions of the benevolent, by the distrust and the jealousy wherewith they have poisoned their bosoms, and laid an arrest on all the sensibilities that else would have flowed from them. It is he who, ever on the watch and on the wing about some enter- prize of imposture, makes it his business to work and to prey on the compassionate principles of our nature; it is he who, in effect, grinds the faces of the poor, and that, with deadlier severity than even is done by the great baronial tyrant, the battlements of whose castle seem to frown, in all the pride of aristocracy, on the territory that is be fore it. There is, at all times, a kindliness of feeling ready to stream forth, with a ten fold greater liberality than ever, on the humble orders of life ; and it is he, and such as he, who have congealed it. He has raised a jaundiced medium between the rich and the poor, in virtue of which, the former eye the latter with suspicion ; and there is not a man who wears the garb, and prefers the applications of poverty, that has not suffered from the worthless impostor who has gone before him. They are, in fact, the deceit, and the indolence, and the low sordidness of a few who have made outcasts of the many, and locked against them the feelings of the wealthy in a kind of iron imprisonment. The rich man who is ungenerous in his doings, keeps back one labourer from the field of charity. But a poor man who is ungenerous in his desires, can expel a thousand labourers in disgust away from it. He sheds a cruel and ex tended blight over the fair region of phi lanthropy ; and many have abandoned it, who, but for him, would fondly have lin gered thereupon ; very many, who, but for the way in which their simplicity has been tried and trampled upon, would still have tasted the luxury of doing good unto the poor, and made it their delight, as well as their duty, to expend and expatiate among their habitations. We say not this to exculpate the rich ; for it is their part not to be weary in well doing, but to prosecute the work and the labour of love under every discouragement. Neither do we say this to the disparage ment of the poor ; for the picture we have given is of the few out of the many ; and the closer' the acquaintance with humble life becomes, will it be the more seen of what a high pitch of generosity even the very poorest are capable. They, in truth, though perhaps they are not aware of it, can contribute more to the cause of charity, by the moderation of their desires, than the rich can by the generosity of their doings. They, without, it may be, one penny to be stow, might obtain a place in the record of heaven, as the most liberal benefactors of theii species. There is nothing in the hum ble condition of life they occupy, which precludes them from all that is great or graceful in human charity. There is a way in which they may equal, and even out- peer, the wealthiest of the land, in that very virtue of which wealth alone has been con ceived to have the exclusive inheritance. There is a pervading character in humanity which the varieties of rank do not oblite rate ; and as, in virtue of the common cor ruption, the poor man may be as effectually the rapacious despoiler of his brethren, as the man of opulence above him — so, there is a common excellence attainable by both ; and through which, the poor man may, to the full, be as splendid in generosity as the rich, and yield a far more important contri bution to the peace and comfort of society. To make this plain — it is in virtue of a generous doing on the part of a rich man, when a sum of money is offered for the re lief of want; and it is in virtue of a gene rous desire on the part of a poor man, when this money is refused ; when, with the feel ing, that his necessities do not just warrant him to be yet a burden upon others, he de clines to touch the offered liberality; when, with a delicate recoil from the unlooked-for proposal, he still resolves to put it for the present away, and to find, if possible, for himself a little longer; when, standing on the very margin of dependence, he would yet like to struggle with the difficulties of his situation, and to maintain this severe but honourable conflict, till hard necessity should force him to surrender. Let the mo ney which he has thus nobly shifted from himself take some new direction to another ; and who, we ask, is the giver of it ? The first and most obvious reply is, that it is he who owned it : but, it is still more empha tically true, that it is he who has declined it. It came originally out of the rich man's abundance: but it was the noble-hearted generosity of the poor man that handed it onwards to its final destination. He did not emanate the gift ; but it is just as much that he has not absorbed it, but left it to find its full conveyance to some neighbour poorer than himself, to some family still more friendless and destitute than his own. It was given the first time out of an over flowing fulness. It is given the second time out of stinted and self-denying penury. In the world's eye, it is the proprietor who be 152 ON THE GREAT CHRISTIAN LAW OF RECIPROCITY BETWEEN MEN. [DISC. stowed the charity. But, in heaven's eye, the poor man who waived it away from himself to another is the more illustrious philanthropist of the two. The one gave it out of his affluence. The other gave it out of the sweat of his brow. He rose up early, and sat up late, that he might have it to be stow on a poorer than himself; and without once stretching forth a giver's hand to the necessities of his brethren, still is it possi ble, that by him. and such as him, may the main burden of this world's benevolence be borne. It need scarcely be remarked, that, with out supposing the offer of any sum made to a poor man who is generous in his desires, he, by simply keeping himself back from the distributions of charity, fulfils all the high functions which we have now ascribed to him. He leaves the charitable fund un touched for all that distress which is more clamorous than his own ; and we, therefore, look, not to the original givers of the mo ney, but to those who line, as it were, the margin of pauperism, and yet firmly refuse to enter it — we look upon them as the pre eminent benefactors of society, who narrow, as it were, by a wall of defence, the ground of human dependence, and are, in fact, the guides and the guardians of all that opu lence can bestow. Thus it is, that when Christianity becomes universal, the doings of the one party, and the desires of the other, will meet and overpass. The poor will wish for no more than the rich will be delighted to bestow; and the rule of our text, which every real Christian at present finds so practicable, will, when carried over the face of society, bind all the members of it into one consenting brother hood. The duty of doing good to others will then coalesce with that counterpart duty which regulates our desires of good from them ; and the work of benevolence will, at length, be prosecuted without that alloy of rapacity on the one hand, and dis trust on the other, which serves so much to fester and disturb the whole of this minis tration. To complete this adjustment, it is :n every way as necessary to lay all the in- umbent moralities on those who ask, as on those who confer; and never till the whole text, which comprehends the wishes of man as well as his actions, wield its entire au thority over the species, will the disgusts and the prejudices, which form such a bar rier between the ranks of human life, be ef fectually done away. It is not by the abo lition of rank, but, by assigning to each rank its duties, that peace, and friendship, and order, will at length be firmly established in our world. It is by the force of princi ple, and not by the force of some great po litical overthrow, that, a consummation' so delightful is to be attained. We have no cor ception whatever, that, even in millennial days, the diversities of wealth and station will at length be equalized. On looking for ward to the time when kings shall be the nursing fathers, and queens the nursing mothers of our church, we think that we can behold the perspective of as varied a distribution of place and property as before. In the pilgrimage of life, there will still be the moving procession of the few charioted in splendour on the highway, and the many pacing by their side along the line of the same journey. There will, perhaps, be a somewhat more elevated footpath for the crowd — there will be an air of greater com fort and sufficiency amongst them ; and the respectability of evident worth and goodness will sit upon the countenance of this general population. But, bating these, we look for no great change in the external aspect of society. It will only be a moral and a spi ritual change. Kings will retain their scep tres, and nobles their coronets ; but, as they float in magnificence along, will they look with benignant feeling on the humble way farers ; and the honest salutations of regard and reverence will arise to them back again ; and, should any weary passenger be ready to sink unfriended on his career, will he, at one time, be borne onwards by his fellows on the pathway, and, at another, will a shower of beneficence be made to descend from the crested equipage that overtakes him. It is Utopianism to think, that in the ages of our world which are yet to come, the outward distinctions of life will not all be upholden. But it is not Utopianism, it is Prophecy to aver, that the breath of a new spirit will go abroad over the great fa mily of mankind— so, that while, to the end of time, there shall be the high and the low in every passing generation, will the charity of kindred feelings, and of a common un derstanding, create a fellowship between them on their way, till they reach that hea ven where human love shall be perfected, and all human greatness is unknown. In various places in the New Testament, do we see the checks of spirit and delicacy laid upon all extravagant desires. Our text, while it enjoins the performance of good to others, up to the full measure of your de sires of good from them, equally enjoins the keeping down of these desires to the mea sure of your performances. If Christian dispensers had only to do with Christian recipients, the whole work of benevolence would be with ease and harmony carried on. All that was unavoidable — all that came from the hand of Providence— all that was laid upon our suffering brethren by the unlooked-for visitations of accident or disease — all that pain and misfortune. which necessarily attaches to the constitu tion of the species — all this the text most amply provides for ; and all this a Christian society would be delighted to stretch forth v.J ON THE GREAT CHRISTIAN LAW OF RECIPROCITY BETWEEN MEN. 153 their means for the purpose of alleviating or doing away. We should not have dwelt so long upon this lesson, were it not for the essential Christian principle that is involved in it. The morality of the gospel is not more strenuous on the side of the duty of giving of this world's goods when it is needed, than it is against the desire of receiving when it is not needed. It is more blessed to give than to receive, and therefore less blessed to receive than to give. For the enforcement of this principle among the poorer brethren, did Paul give up a vast portion of his apos tolical time and labour ; and that he might be an ensample to the flock of working with his own hands, rather than be burdensome, did he set himself down to the occupation of a tent-maker. That lesson is surely wor thy of engrossing one sermon of an unin spired teacher, for the sake of which an inspired Apostle of the Gentiles engrossed as much time as would have admitted the preparation and the delivery of many ser mons. But there is no more striking indi cation of the whole spirit and character of the gospel in this matter, than the example of him who is the author of it — and of whom we read these affecting words, that he came into the world not to be ministered unto, Dut to minister. It is a righteous thing in him who has of this world's goods, to minister to the necessities of others; but it is a still higher attainment of righteous ness in him who has nothing but the daily earnings of his daily work to depend upon, so to manage and to strive that he shall not need to be ministered unto. Christianity overlooks no part of human conduct ; and by providing for this in particular, does it, in fact, overtake, and that with a precept of utmost importance, the habit and condi tion of a very extended class in human so ciety. And never does the gospel so exhibit its adaptation to our species — and never does virtue stand in such characters of strength and sacredness before us — as when impreg nated with the evangelical spirit and urged by evangelical motives, it. takes its most di rect sanction from the hfe and doings of the Saviour. And he who feels as he ought, will bear with cheerfulness all that the Saviour pre scribes, when he thinks how mnch it is for him that the Saviour has borne. We speak 20 not of his poverty all the time that he lived upon earth. We speak not of those years when, a houseless wanderer in an unthank ful world, he had not where to lay his head. We speak not of the meek and uncomplain ing sufferance with which he met the many ills that oppressed the tenor of his mortal existence. But we speak of that awful burden which crushed and overwhelmed its termination. We speak of that season of the hour and the power of darkness, when it pleased the Lord to bruise him, and to make his soul an offering for sin. To esti mate aright the endurance of him who himself bore our infirmities, would we ask of any individual to recollect some deep and awful period of abandonment in his own history — when that countenance which at one time beamed and brightened upon him from above, was mantled in thickest darkness — when the iron of remorse enter ed into his soul — and, laid on a bed of tor ture, he was made to behold the evil of sin, and to taste of its bitterness. Let him look back, if he can, on this conflict of many agitations, and then figure the whole of this mental wretchedness to be borne off by the ministers of vengeance into hell, and stretched out unto eternity. And if, on the great day of expiation, a full atonement was rendered, and all that should have fallen upon us was placed upon the head of the sacrifice — let him hence compute the weight and the awfulness of those sorrows which were carried by him on whom the chastise ment of our peace was laid, and who poured out his soul unto the death for us. If ever a sinner, under such a visitation, shall again emerge into peace and joy in believing — if he ever shall again find his way to that fountain which is opened in the house of Judah — if he shall recover once more that sunshine of the soul, which, on the days that are past, disclosed to him the beauties of holiness here, and the glories of heaven hereafter — if ever he shall hear with effect, in this world, that voice from the mercy- seat, which still proclaims a welcome to the chief of sinners, and beckons him afresh to reconciliation — O ! how gladly then should he bear throughout the remainder of his days, the whole authority of the Lord who bought him ; and bind forever to his own person that yoke of the Saviour which is easy, and that burden which is light. 154 ON THE DISSIPATION OF LARGE CITIES. I DISC DISCOURSE VI. On the Dissipation of large Cities. ' Let no man deceive you with vain words ; for because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon tha children of disobedience." — Ephesians v. 6. There is one obvious respect in which the standard of morality amongst men, dif fers from that pure and universal standard which God hath set up for the obedience of his subjects. Men will not demand very urgently of each other, that, which does not very nearly, or very immediately, af fect their own'personal and particular in terest. To the violations of justice, or truth, or humanity, they will be abundant ly sensitive, because these offer a most vi sible and quickly felt encroachment on this interest. And thus it is, that the social virtues, even without any direct sanction from God at all, will ever draw a certain portion of respect and reverence around them ; and that a loud testimony of abhor rence may often be heard from the mouths of ungodiy men, against all such vices as may be classed under the general designa tion of vices of dishonesty. Now, the same thing does not hold true of another class of vices, which may be termed the vices of dissipation. These do not touch, in so visible or direct a manner, on the security of what man possesses, and of what man has the greatest value for. But man is a selfish being, and therefore it is, that the ingredient of selfishness gives a keenness to his estimation of the evil and of the enormity of the former vices, which is scarcely felt at all in any estimation he may form of the latter vices. It is very true, at the same time, that if one were to compute the whole amount of the mischief they bring upon society, it would be found that the profligacies of mere dissipation go very far to break up the peace, and enjoy ment, and even the relative virtues of the world : and that, if these profligacies were reformed, it would work a mighty aug mentation on the temporal good both of individuals and families. But the con nexion between sobriety of character, and the happiness of the community, is not so apparent, because it is more remote than the connexion which obtains between in tegrity of character, and the happiness of the community ; and man being not only a selfish, but a shortsighted being, it fol lows, that while the voice of execration may be distinctly heard against every instance of fraud or of injustice, instances of licentious ness may occur on every side of us, and be reported on the one hand with the utmost levity, and be listened to, on the other, with the most entire and complacent toleration. Here, then, is a point, in which the general morality of the world is at utter and irre concilable variance with the law of God. Here is acase, in which the voice that cometh forth from the tribunal of public opinion pronounces one thing, and the voice that cometh forth from the sanctuary of God pronounces another. When there is an agreement between these two voices, the principle on which obedience is rendered to their joint and concurring authority, may be altogether equivocal ; and, with reli gious and irreligious men, you may ob serve an equal exhibition of all the equi ties, and all the civilities of life. But when there is a discrepancy between these two voices — or when the one attaches a crimi nality to certain habits of conduct, and is not at all seconded by the testimony of the other — then do we escape the confu sion of mingled motives, and mingled an thorities. The character of the two parties emerges out of the ambiguity which in volved it. The law of God points, it must be allowed, as forcible an anathema against the man of dishonesty, as against the man of dissipation. But the chief burden of the world's anathema is laid on the head of the former ; and therefore it is, that, on the latter ground, we meet with more discri minative tests of principle, and gather more satisfying materials for the question of — who is on the side of the Lord of hosts, and who is against him ? The passage we have now submitted to you, looks hard on the votaries of dissi pation. It is like eternal truth, lifting up its own proclamation, and causing it to be heard amid the errors and the delusions of a thoughtless world. It is like the Deity himself, looking forth, as he did, from a cloud, on the Egyptians of old, and trou bling the souls of those who are lovers of pleasure, more than lovers of God. Il is like the voice of heaven, crying down the voice of human society, and sending forth a note of alarm amongst its giddy genera tions. It is like the unrolling of a portion of that book of higher jurisprudence, out of which we shall be judged on the day of our coming account, and setting before our eyes an enactment, which, if we disregard it, will turn that day into the day of our com ing condemnation. The words of man are adverted to in this solemn proclamation of God, against all unlawful and all unhal lowed enjoyments, and they are called VI.] ON THE DISSIPATION OF LARGE CITIES. 155 words of vanity. He sets aside the au thority of human opinion altogether; and, on an irrevocable record, has he stamped such an assertion of the authority that be- longeth to himself only, as serves to the end of time for an enduring memorial of his will ; and as commits the truth of the Lawgiver to the execution of a sentence of wrath against all whose souls are hardened by the deceitfulness of sin. There is, in fact, a peculiar deceitfulness in the matter before us ; and, in .this verse, are we warned against it — "Let no man de ceive you with vain words; for, because of these things, the wrath of God cometh on the children of disobedience." In the preceding verse, there is such an enumeration as serves to explain what the things are which are alluded to in the text ; and it is such an enumeration, you should remark, as goes to fasten the whole terror, and the whole threat, of the coming ven geance — not on the man who combines in his own person all the characters of ini quity which are specified, but on the man who realizes any one of these characters. It is not, you will observe, the conjunction and, but the conjunction or, which is in terposed between them. It is not as if we said, that the man who is dishonest, and licentious, and covetous, and unfeeling, shall not inherit the kingdom of God — but the man who is either dishonest, or licen tious, or covetous, or unfeeling. On the single and exclusive possession of any one of these attributes, will God deal with you as with an enemy. The plea, that we are a little thoughtless, but we have a good heart, is conclusively cut asunder by this portion of the law and of the testimony. And in a corresponding passage, in the ninth verse of the sixth chapter of Paul's first epistle to the Corinthians, the same peculiarity is observed in the enumeration of those who shall be excluded from God's favour, and have the burden of God's wrath laid on them through eternity. It is not the man who combines all the deformi ties of character which are there specified, but the man who realizes any one of the separate deformities. Some of them are the vices of dishonesty, others of them are the vices of dissipation ; and, as if aware of a deceitfulness from this cause, he, after telling us that the unrighteous shall not in herit the kingdom of God, bids us not be deceived — for that neither the licentious, nor the abominable, nor thieves, nor covet ous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor ex tortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. He who keepeth the whole law, but of- fendeth in one point, says the Apostle James, is guilty of ah. The truth is, that his dis obedience on this one point may be more de cisive of the state of his loyalty to God, than his keeping all the rest. It may be the only point on which the character of his loyalty is really brought to the trial. All his con formities to the law of God might have been rendered, because they thwarted not his own inclination ; and, therefore, would have been rendered though there had been no law at all. The single infraction may have taken place in the only case where there was a real competition between the will of the creature, and the will of the Creator ; and the event proves to which of the two the right of superiority is awarded. Alle giance to God in truth is but one principle, and may be described by one short and summary expression : and one act of dis obedience may involve in it such a total sur render of the principle, as goes to dethrone God altogether from the supremacy which belongs to him. So that the account be tween a creature and the Creator is not like an account made up of many items, where the expunging of one item would only make one small and fractional deduction from the whole sum of obedience. If you reserve but a single item from this account, and an other makes a principle of completing and rendering up the whole of it, then your cha racter varies from his not by a slight shade of difference, but stands contrasted with it in direct and diametric opposition. We perceive, that, while with him the will of God has the mastery over all his inclina tions, with you there is, at least, one incli nation which has the mastery over God; that while in his bosom there exists a single and subordinating principle of allegiance to the law, in yours there exists another prin ciple, which, on the coming round of a fit opportunity, developes itself in an act of transgression ; that, while with him God may be said to walk and to dwell in him, with you there is an evil visitant, who has taken up his abode in your heart, and lodges there either in a state of dormancy or of action, according to circumstances; that, while with him the purpose is honestly proceeded on, of doing nothing which God disapproves, with you there is a purpose not only different, but opposite, of doing something which he disapproves. On this single difference is suspended not a question of degree, but a question of kind. There are presented to us not two hues of the same colour, but two colours, just as broadly contrasted with each other as light and darkness. And such is the state of the al ternative between a partial and an unre served obedience, that while God impera tively claims the one as his due, he looks on the other as an expression of defiance against him, and against his sovereignty. It is the very same in civil government. A man renders himself an outcast by one act of disobedience. He does not need to accumulate upon himself the guilt of all the 156 ON THE DISSIPATION OF LARGE CITIES. [DISC. higher atrocities in crime, ere he forfeits his life to the injured laws of his country. By the perpetration of any of them is the whole vengeance of the state brought to bear upon his person, and sentence of death is pro nounced on a single murder, or forgery, or act of violent depredation. And let us ask you just to reflect on the tone and spirit of that man towards his God, who would palliate, for example, the vices of dissipation to which he is addicted, by alleging his utter exemption from the vices of dishonesty, to which he is not addicted. Just think of the real disposition and cha racter of his soul, who can say, "I will please God, but only when, in so doing, I also please myself; or I will do homage to his law, but just in those instances by which I honour the rights, and fulfil the expecta tions, of society; or I will be decided by his opinion of the right and the wrong, but just when the opinion of my neighbourhood iends its powerful and effective confirma tion. But in other cases, when the matter is reduced to a bare question between man and God, when he is the single party I have to do with, when his will and his wrath are the only elements which enter into the de liberation, when judgment, and eternity, and the voice of him who speaketh from heaven are the only considerations at issue — then do I feel myself at greater liberty, and I shall take my own way, and walk in the counsel of mine own heart, and after the sight of- my own eyes." O ! be assured, that when all this is laid bare on the day of reckoning, and the discerner of the heart pronounces upon it, "and such a sentence is to be given, as will make it manifest to the consciences of all assembled, that true and righteous are the judgments of God — there is many a creditable man who has passed through the world with the plaudits and the testimonies of all his fellows, and with out one other flaw upon his reputation but the very slender one of certain harmless foibles, and certain good-humoured pecu liarities, who when brought to the bar of account, will stand convicted there of having made a divinity of his own will, and spent his days in practical and habitual atheism. And this argument is not at all affected by the actual state of sinfulness and infirmity into which we have fallen. It is true, even of saints on earth, that they commit sin. But to be overtaken in a fault is one thing ; to commit that fault with the deliberate con sent of the mind is another. There is in the bosom of every true Christian a strenuous principle of resistance to sin, and it belongs to the very essence of the principle that it is resistance to all sin. It admits of no vo luntary indulgence to one sin more than to another. Such an indulgence would not only change the character of what may be tailed the elementary principle of regene ration, but would destroy it altogether. The man who has entered on a course of Christian discipleship, carries on an un sparing and universal war with all iniquity. He has chosen Christ for his alone master, and he struggles against the ascendency of every other. It is his sustained and habitual exertion in following after him. to forsake all ; so that if his performances were as complete as his endeavour, you would not merely see a conformity to some of the precepts, but a conformity to the whole law of God. At all events, the endeavour is an honest one, and so far successful, that sin has not the dominion ; and sure we are, that, in such a state of things, the vices of dissipation can have no existence. These vices can be more effectually shunned, and *iore effectually surmounted, for example, than the infirmities of an unhappy temper. So that, if dissipation still attaches to the character, and appears in the conduct of any individual, we know not a more decisive evidence of the state of that individual as being one of the many who crowd the broad way that leadeth to destruction. We look no further to make out our estimate of his present condition as being that of a rebel, and of his future prospect as being that of spending an eternity in hell. There is no halting between two opinions in this matter. The man who enters a career of dissipation throws down the gauntlet of defiance to his God. The man who persists in this career keeps on the ground of hostility against him. Let us now endeavour to trace the origin, the progress, and the effects of a life of dis sipation. First, then, it may be said of a very great number of young men, on their entrance into the business of the world, that they have not been enough fortified against its se ducing influences by their previous educa tion at home. Generally speaking, they come out from the habitation of their pa rents unarmed and unprepared for the con test which awaits them. If the spirit of this world's morality reign in their own fa mily, then it cannot be, that their introduc tion into a more public scene of life will be very strictly guarded against those vices on which the world placidly smiles, or at least regards with silent toleration. They may have been told, in early boyhood, of the in famy of a lie. They may have had the vir tues of punctuality, and of economy, and of regular attention to business, pressed upon their observation. They may have heard a uniform testimony on the side of good be haviour, up to the standard of such current moralities as obtain in their neighbourhood ; and this, we are ready to admit, may in clude in it a testimony against all such ex cesses of dissipation as would unfit ethem for the prosecution of this world's interests. VI.] ON THE DISSIPATION OF LARGE CITIES. 157 But let us ask, whether there are not pa rents, who, after they have carried the work of discipline thus far, forbear to carry it any farther ; who, while they would mourn over it as a family trial should any son of theirs fall a victim to excessive dissipation, yet are willing to tolerate the lesser degrees of it ; who, instead of deciding the question on the alternative of his heaven or his hell, are satisfied with such a measure of sobriety as will save him from ruin and disgrace in this life ; who, if they can can only secure this, have no great objection to the moderate share he may take in this world's conform ities; who feel, that in this matter there is a necessity and a power of example against which it is vain to struggle, and which must be acquiesced in ; who deceive themselves with the fancied impossibility of stopping the evil in question — and say, that business must be gone through; and that, in the prosecution of it, exposures must be made ; and that, for the success of it, a certain de gree of accommodation to others must be observed; and seeing that it is so mighty an object for one to widen the extent of his connexions, he must neither be very retired nor very peculiar — nor must his hours of companionship be too jealously watched or inquired into — nor must we take him too strictly to task about engagements, and ac quaintances, and expenditure — nor must we forget, that while sobriety has its time and its season in one period of life, indulgence has its season in another ; and we may fetch from the recollected follies of our own youth, a lesson of connivance for the pre sent occasion; and altogether there is no help for it ; and it appears to us, that abso lutely and totally to secure him from ever entering upon scenes of dissipation, you must absolutely and totally withdraw him from the world, and surrender all his pros pects of advancement, and give up the ob ject of such a provision for our families as we feel to be a first and most important concern with us. " Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness," says the Bible, "and all other things shall be added unto you." This is the promise which the faith of a Christian pa rent will rest upon ; and in the face of every hazard to the worldly interests of his off spring, will he bring them up in the strict nur ture and admonition of the-Lord ; and he will loudly protest against iniquity, in all its de grees and in all its modific?\ons ; and while the power of discipline emains with him, will it ever be exerte^ on the side of pure, faultless, undevia*' ,g obedience ; and he will tolerate no e" ception whatever ; and he will brave all that looks formidable in singu larity, and all that looks menacing in sepa ration from the custom and countenance of the world ; and feeling that his main con cern is to secure for himself and for his fa mily a place in the city which hath founda tions, will he spurn all the maxims and all the plausibilities of a contagious neighbour hood away from him. He knows the price of his Christianity, and it is that he must break off conformity with the world— nor for any paltry advantage which it has to offer, will he compromise the eternity of his children. And let us tell the parents of an other spirit and principle, that they are as good as incurring the guilt of a human sa crifice; that they are offering up their chil dren at the shrine of an idol ; that they are parties in provoking the wrath of God against them here; and on the day when that wrath is to be revealed, shall they hear not only the moanings of their despair but the outcries of their bitterest execration. On that day, the glance of reproach from their own neglected offspring will throw a deeper shade of wretchedness over the dark and boundless futurity that lies before them. And if, at the time when prophets rung the tidings of God's displeasure against the peo ple of Israel it was denounced as the foulest of all their abominations that they caused their children to pass through the fire unto Moloch — know, ye parents, who in placing your children on some road to gainful em ployment, have placed them without a sigh in the midst of depravity, so near and so surrounding, that, without a miracle, they must perish, you have done an act of idola try to the god of this world ; you have com manded your household after you to wor ship him as the great divinity of their lives ; and you have caused your children to make their approaches unto his presence — and, in so doing, to pass through the fire of such temptations as have destroyed them. We do not wish to offer you an over charged picture on this melancholy subject. What we now say is not applicable to all. Even in the most corrupt and crowded of our cities, parents are to be found, who no bly dare the surrender of every vain and flattering illusion, rather than surrender the Christianity of their children. And what is still more affecting, over the face of the country do we meet with such parents, who look on this world as a passage to another, and on all the members of their household as fellow-travellers to eternity along with them ; and who, in the true spirit of be lievers, feel the salvation of their children to be, indeed, the burden of their best and dearest interest ; and who, by prayer, and precept, and example, have strenuously la boured with their souls, from the earliest light of their understanding ; and have taught them to tremble at the way of evil doers, and to have no fellowship with those who keep not the commandments of God — nor is there a day more sorrowful in the annals of this pious family, than when the course of time has brought them onwards 158 ON THE DISSIPATION OF LARGE CITIES. [DISC. to the departure of their eldest boy — and he must bid adieu to his native home, with all the peace, and all the simplicity which abound in it — and as he eyes in fancy the distant town whither he is going, does he shrink as from the thought of an unknown wilderness — and it is his firm purpose to keep aloof from the dangers and the profli gacies which deform it — and, should sinners offer to entice him, not to consent, and never, never to forget the lessons of a fa ther's vigilance, the tenderness of a mother's prayers. Let us now, in the next place, pass from that state of things which obtains among the young at their outset into the world, and take a look of that state of things which obtains after they have got fairly introduced into it— when the children 6f the ungodly, and the children of the religious, meet on one common arena- -when business asso ciates them togethei in one chamber, and the omnipotence of custom lays it upon them all to meet together at periodic inter vals, and join in the same parties, and the same entertainments — when the yearly im portation of youths from the country falls in with that assimilating mass of corrup tion which has got so firm and so rooted an establishment in the town — when the frail and unsheltered delicacies of the timid boy have to stand a rude and a boisterous contest with the hardier depravity of those who have gone before him — when ridicule, and example, and the vain words of a de lusive sophistry, which palliates in his hear ing the enormity of vice, are all brought to bear upon his scruples, and to stifle the re morse he might feel when he casts his prin ciple and his purity away from him — when, placed as he is in a land of strangers, he finds, that the tenure of acquaintanceship, with nearly all around him, is, that he ren der himself up in a conformity to their doings— when a voice, like the voice of protecting friendship, bids him to the feast; and a welcome, like the welcome of honest kindness, hails his accession to the society; and a spirit, like the spirit of exhilarating joy, animates the whole scene of hospitality before him ; and hours of rapture roll suc cessively away on the wings of merriment, jocularity, and song ; and after the homage of many libations has been rendered to honour, and fellowship, and patriotism, im purity is at length proclaimed in full and open cry, as one presiding divinity, at the board of their social entertainment. And now it remains to compute the gene ral result of a process, which we assert of the vast majority of our young, on their way to manhood, that they have to under go. The result, is, that the vast majority are initiated into all the practices, and describe the full career of dissipation. Those who have imbibed from their fathers tbe spirit of this world's morality, are not sensibly arrested in this career, either by the opposition of their own friends, or by the voice of their own conscience. Those who have imbibed an opposite spirit, and have brought it into competition with an evil world, and have at length yielded, have done so, we may well suppose, with many a sigh, and many a struggle, and many a look of remembrance on those former years when they were taught to lisp the prayer of infancy, and were trained in a mansion of piety to a reverence for God, and for all his ways; and, even still, will a parent's part ing advice haunt his memory, and a letter from the good old man revive the sensibilities which at one time guarded and adorned him; and, at times, will the transient gleam of remorse lighten up its agony within him ; and when he contrasts the profaneness and depravity of his present companions, with the sacredness of all he ever heard or saw in his father's dwelling, it will almost feel as if conscience were again to resume her power, and the revisiting spirit of God to call him back again from the paths of wick edness ; and on his restless bed will the images of guilt conspire to disturb him, and the terrors of punishment offer to scare him away; and many will be the dreary and dissatisfied intervals when he shall be forced to acknowledge that in bartering his soul for the pleasures of sin, he has bartered the peace and enjoyment of the world along with it. But, alas ! the entanglements of companionship have got hold of him ; and the inveteracy of habit tyrannizes over all his purposes ; and the stated opportunity again comes round ; and the loud laugh of his partners in guilt chases, for another sea son, all his despondency away from him, and the infatuation gathers upon him every month; and a hardening process goes on within his heart ; and the deceitfulness of sin grows apace ; and he al length becomes one of the sturdiest and most unrelenting of her votaries; and he, in his turn, strength ens the conspiracy that is formed against the morals of a new generation ; and all the ingenuous delicacies of other days are ob literated ; and he contracts a temperament of knowing, hackneyed, unfeeling depra vity ; and thus the mischief is transmit ted from one year to another, and keeps up the guilty history of every place of crowd ed population. And let us hen. speak one word to those seniors in depravity those men who give to the corruption of ac^ 'aintances, who are younger than themseU s, their counte nance, their agency ; and s\ ho can initiate them without a sigh in the mysteries of guilt, and care not though a parent's hope should wither and expire under the conta gion of their ruffian example. It is only upon their own conversion that we can VI.] ON THE DISSIPATION OF LARGE CITIES. 159 speak to them the pardon of the gospel. It is only if they themselves are washed, and sanctified, and justified, that we can warrant their personal deliverance from the wrath that is to come. But under all the conceal ment which rests on the futurities of God's administration, we know that there are de grees of suffering in hell— and that while some are beaten with few stripes, others are beaten with many. And surely, if they who turn many to righteousness shall shine as the stars for ever and ever, we may be well assured that they who patronize the cause of iniquity — they who can beckon others to that way which leadeth on to the chambers of death — they who can aid and witness, without a sigh, the extinction of youthful modesty — surely, it may well be said of such, that on them a darker frown will fall from the judgment-seat, and through eternity will they have to bear the pains of a fiercer indignation. Having thus looked to the commence ment of a course of dissipation, and to its progress, let us now, in the third place, look to its usual termination. We speak not at present of the coming death, and of the coming judgment, but of the change which takes place on many a votary of licen tiousness, when he becomes what the world calls a reformed man ; and puts on the de cencies of a sober and domestic establish ment ; and bids adieu to the pursuits and the profligacies of youth, not because he has repented of them, but because he has outlived them. You all perceive how this may be done without one movement of the heart, or of the understanding, towards God — that it is done by many, though duty to him be not in all their thoughts — that the change, in this case, is not from the idol of pleasure unto God, but only from one idol to another — and that, after the whole of this boasted transformation, we may still behold the same body of sin and of death, and only a new complexion thrown over it. There may be the putting on of sobriety, but there is no putting on of godliness. It is a common and easy transition to pass from one kind of disobedience to another, but, it is not so easy to give up that re belliousness of the heart which lies at the root of all disobedience. It may be easy, after the wonted course of dissipation is ended, to hold out another aspect altogether in the eye of acquaintances ; but it is not so easy to recover that shock, and that overthrow, which the religious principle sustains, when a man first enters the world, and surrenders himself to the power of its enticements. Such were some of you, says the Apostle, but ye are washed, and sanc tified, and justified. Our reformed man knows not the meaning of such a process ; and, most assuredly, has not at all realized it in the history of his own person. We will not say what new object he is running after. It may be wealth, or ambition, oi philosophy; but it is nothing connected with the interest of his soul. It bears no refer ence whatever to the concerns of that great relationship which obtains between the creature and the Creator. The man has withdrawn, and perhaps for ever, from the scenes of dissipation, and has betaken him self to another way — but still it is his own way. It is not the will or the way of God that he is yet caring for. Such a man may bid adieu to profligacy in his own person. But he lifts up the light of his countenance on the profligacy of others. He gives it the whole weight and authority of his con nivance. He wields, we will say it, such an instrumentality of seduction over the young, as, though not so alarming, is far more dan gerous than the undisguised attempts of those who are the immediate agents of cor ruption. The formal and deliberate conspi racy of those who club together, at stated terms of companionship, may be all seen, and watched, and guarded against. But how shall we pursue this conspiracy into its other ramifications? How shall we be able to neutralize that insinuating poison which distils from the lips of grave and re spectable citizens? How shall we be able to dissipate that gloss which is thrown by the smile of elders and superiors over the sins of forbidden indulgence? How can we disarm the bewitching sophistry which lies in all these evident tokens of compla cency, on the part of advanced and reput able men ? How is it possible to trace the i progress of this sore evil, throughout all the business and intercourse of society? How can we stem the influence of evil communications, when the friend, and the patron, and the man who has cheered and signalized us by his polite invitations, turns his own family-table into a nursery of li centiousness ? How can we but despair of ever witnessing on earth a pure and a holy generation, when even parents will utter their polluting levities in the hearing of their own children ; and vice, and humour, and gaiety, are all indiscriminately blended into one conversation ; and a loud laugh, from the initiated and the uninitiated in profli gacy, is ever ready to flatter and to regale the man who can thus prostitute his powers of entertainment? 0 ! for an arm of strength to demolish this firm and far spread com pact of iniquity ; and for the power of some such piercing and prophetic voice. as might convince our reformed men of the baleful influence they cast behind them on the morals of the succeeding genera tion. We, at the same time, have our eye per fectly open to that great external improve ment which has taken place, of late years, in the manners of society. There is not the 160 ON THE DISSIPATION OF LARGE CITIES. | DISC same grossness of conversation. There is not the same impatience for the withdraw- ment of him, who, asked to grace the outset of an assembled party, is" compelled, at a certain step in the process of conviviality, by the obligations of professional decency, to retire from it. There is not so frequent an exaction of this as one of the established proprieties of social or of fashionable life. And if such an exaction was ever laid by the omnipotence of custom on a minister of Christianity, it is such an exaction as ought never, never, to be complied with. It is not for him to lend the sanction of his presence to a meeting with which he could not sit to its final termination. It is not for him to stand associated, for a single hour, with an assem blage of men who begin with hypocrisy, and end with downright blackguardism. It is not for him to watch the progress of the coming ribaldry, and to hit the well selected moment when talk, and turbulence, and bois terous merriment, are on the eve of bursting forth upon the company, and carrying them forward to the full acme and uproar of their enjoyment. It is quite in vain to say, that he has only sanctified one part of such an en tertainment. He has as good as given his connivance to the whole of it, and left be hind him a discharge in full of all its abom inations; and, therefore, be they who they may, whether they rank ariiong the proudest aristocracy of our land, or are charioted in splendour along, as the wealthiest of the citizens, it is his part to keep as purely and indignantly aloof from such society as this, as he would from the vilest and most de basing associations of profligacy. And now the important question comes to De put; what is the likeliest way of setting up a barrier against this desolating torrent of corruption, into which there enter so many elements of power and strength, that to the general eye, it looks altogether irre sistible? It is easier to give a negative, than an affirmative answer to this question. And, therefore, it shall be our first remark, that the mischief never will be effectually combatted by any expedient separate from the growth and the transmission of personal Christianity throughout the land. If no addition be made to the stock of religious principle in a country, then the profligacy of a country will make its obstinate stand against all the mechanism of the most skil ful, and plausible, and well looking contriv ances. It must not be disguised from you, that it does not lie within the compass either of prisons or penitentiaries to work any sensible abatement on the wickedness of our existing generation. The operation must be of a preventive, rather than of a corrective tendency. It must be brought to bear upon boyhood ; and be kept up through that whole period of random exposures through which it has to run, on its way to an established condition in society ; and a high tone ol moral purity must be infused into the bosom of many individuals; and their agency will effect through the channels of family and social connexion, what never can be effected by any framework of artificial regulations, so long as the spirit and character of society remain what they are. In other words, the progress of reformation will never be sensi bly carried forward beyond the progress of personal Christianity in the world ; and, therefore, the question resolves itself into the likeliest method of adding to the num ber of Christian parents who may fortify the principles of their children at their first outset in life — of adding to the number of Christian young men, who might nobly dare to be singular, and to perform the an gelic office of guardians and advisers to those who are younger than themselves— of adding to the number of Christians in middle and advanced life, who might, as far as in them lies, alter the general feeling and countenance of society; and blunt the force of that tacit but most seductive testimony, which has done so much to throw a pallia tive veil over the guilt of a life of dissipation. Such a question cannot be entered upon, at present, in all its bearings, and in all its generality. And we must, therefore, simply satisfy ourselves with the object, that as we have attempted already to approach the in difference of parents, and to reproach the unfeeling depravity of those young men who scatter their pestilential levities around the whole circle of their companionship, we may now shortly attempt to lay upon the men of middle and advanced life, in general society, their share of responsibility for the morals of the rising generation. For the promotion of this great cause, it is not at all necessary to school them into any nice or exquisite contrivances. Could we only give them a desire towards it, and a sense of obligation, they would soon find their own way to the right exercise of their own in fluence in forwarding the interests of purity and virtue among the young. Could we only affect their consciences on this point, there would be almost no necessity what ever to guide or enlighten their understand ing. Could we only get them to be Chris tians, and to carry their Christianity into their business, they would then feel them selves invested with a guardianship; and that time, and pains, and attention, ought to be given to the fulfilment of its concerns. It is quite in vain to ask, as if there was any mystery, or any helplessness about it, "What can they do?" For, is it not the fact, most palpably obvious, that much can be done even by the mere power of ex ample? Or might not the master of any trading establishment send the pervading influence of his own principles among some, at least, of the servants and auxiliaries who VII.] VITIATING INFLUENCE OF HIGHER UPON LOWER ORDERS. 161 belong to it? Or can he, in no degree what ever, so select those who are admitted, as to ward off much contamination from the branches of his employ? Or might not he so deal out his encouragement to the de serving, as to confirm them in all their pur poses of sobriety? Or might not he inter pose the shield of his countenance and his testimony between a struggling youth and the ridicule of his acquaintances? Or, by the friendly conversation of half an hour, might not he strengthen within him every principle of virtuous resistance? By these, and by a thousand other expedients, which will readily suggest themselves to him who has the good will, might not a healing water be sent forth through the most corrupted of all our establishments ; and it be made safe for the unguarded young to officiate in its chambers ; and it be made possible to enter upon the business of the world without en tering on such a scene of temptation, as to render almost inevitable the vice of the world, and its impiety, and its final and everlasting condemnation? Would Chris tians only be open and intrepid, and carry their religion into their merchandize ; and furnish us with a single hundred of such houses in this city, where the care and cha racter of the master formed a guarantee for the sobriety of all his dependents, it would be like the clearing out of a piece of culti vated ground in the midst of a frightful wil derness; and parents would know whither they could repair with confidence for the settlement of their offspring ; and we should behold, what is mightily to be desired, a line of broad and visible demarcation between the church and the world ; and an interest so precious as the immortality of children, would no longer be left to the play of such fortuitous elements, as operated at random throughout the confused mass of a mingled and indiscriminate society. And thus, the pieties of a father's house might bear to be transplanted even into the scenes of ordi nary business ; and instead of withering, as they do at present, under a contagion which spreads in every direction, and fills up the whole face of the community, they might flourish in that moral region which was oc cupied by a peculiar people, and which they had reclaimed from a world that lieth in wickedness. DISCOURSE VII. On the vitiating Influence of the higher upon the lower Orders of Society. " Then said he unto the disciples, It is impossible but that offences will come; but wo unto him through whom they come ! It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he cast into the sea, than that he should offend one of these little ones.'' — Luke xvii. 1, 2. To offend another, according to the com mon acceptation of the words, is to dis please him. — Now, this is not its accepta tion in the verse before us, nor in several other verses of the New Testament. It were coming nearer to the scriptural meaning of the term, had we, instead of offence and offending, adopted the terms, scandal and scandalizing. But the full sig nification of the phrase to offend another, is to cause him to fall from the faith and obedience of the gospel. It may be such a falling away as that a man recovers him self — like the disciples, who were all of fended in Christ, and forsook him ; and, after a season of separation, were at length re-established in their discipleship. — Or it may be such a falling away as that there is no recovery — like those in the gospel of John, who, offended by the sayings of our Saviour, went back, and walked no more with him. If you put such a stumbling block in the way of a neighbour, who is walking on a course of christian disciple ship, as to make him fall, you offend him. It is in this sense that our Saviour uses 21 the word, when he speaks of your own right hand, or your own right eye, offend ing you. They may do so, by giving you an occasion to fall. — And what is here trans lated offend, is, in the first epistle to the Corinthians, translated to make to offend; where Paul says, " If meat make my bro ther to offend, I -will eat no more flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend." The little ones to whom our Saviour al ludes, in this passage, he elsewhere more fully particularises, by telling us, that they are those who believe in him. There is no call here for entering into any controversy about the doctrine of perseverance. It is not necessary, either for the purpose of explaining, or of giving force to the practi cal lesson of the text now submitted to you. We happen to be as much satisfied with the doctrine, that he who hath a real faith in the gospel of Christ will never fall away, as we are satisfied with the truth of any identical proposition. If a professing disciple do, in fact, fall away, this is a phenomenon which might be traced to 162 VITIATING INFLUENCE OF HIGHER UPON LOWER ORDERS. [DISC. an essential defect of principle at the first ; which proves, in fact, that he made the mistake of one principle for another ; and that, while he thought he had the faith, it was not that very faith of the New Tes tament which is unto salvation. There might have been the semblance of a work of grace without its reality. Such a work, if genuinely begun, will be carried on wards even unto perfection. But this is a point on which it is not at all necessary, at present, to dogmatize. We are led, by the text, to expatiate on the guilt of that one man who has Wrecked the interest of an other man's eternity. Now, it may be very true, that if the second has actually en tered within the strait gate, it is not in the power of the first, with all his artifices, and all his temptations, to draw him out again. But instead of having entered the gate,1 he may only be on the road that leads to it ; and it is enough, amid the uncertain ties which, in this life, hang over the ques tion of — who are really believers, and who are not? that it is not known in which of these two conditions the little one is ; and that, therefore, to seduce him from obe dience to the will of Christ, may, in fact, be to arrest his progress towards Christ, and to draw him back unto the perdition of his soul. The whole guilt of the text may be realized by him who keeps back another from the church, where he might have heard, and heard with acceptance, that word of life which he has not yet accepted ; or by him, whose influence or whose ex ample detains, in the entanglement of any one sin, the acquaintance who is meditating an outset on the path of decided Christiani ty — seeing, that every such outset will land in disappointment those who, in the act of following after Christ, do not forsake all ; or by him who tampers with the con science of an apparently zealous and con firmed disciple, so as to seduce him into some habitual sin, either of neglect or of performance — seeing, that the individual who but for this seduction might have cleaved fully unto the Lord, and turned out a prosperous and decided Christian, has been led to put a good conscience away from him — and so, by making ship wreck of his faith, has proved to the world, that it was not the faith which could ob tain the victory. It is true, that it is not possible to seduce the elect. But even this suggestion, perverse and unjust as it would be in its application, is not generally pre sent to the mind of him who is guilty of the attempt to seduce, or of the act which carries a seducing influence along with it. The guilt with which he is chargeable, is that of an indifference to the spiritual and everlasting fate of others. He is wilfully the occasion of causing those who are the little ones, or, for any thing he knows, might have been the little ones of Christ, to fall ; and it is against him that our Saviour, in the text, lifts not a cool, but an impas sioned testimony. It is of him that he utters one of the most severe and solemn denunciations of the gospel. If this text were thoroughly pursued into its manifold applications, it would be found to lay a weight of fearful responsi bility upon us all. We are here called upon not to work out our own salvation, but to compute the reflex influence of all our works, and of all our ways, on the principles of others. And when one thinks of the mischief which this influence might spread around it, even from Christians of chiefest reputation: when one thinks of the readiness of man to take shelter in the example of an acknowledged superior; when one thinks that some inconsistency of ours might seduce another into such an imitation as overbears the reproaches of his own conscience, and as, by vitiating the singleness of his eye, makes the whole of his body, instead of being full of light, to be full of darkness ; when one takes the lesson along with him into the various con ditions of life he may be called by Provi dence to occupy, and thinks, that if, either as a parent surrounded by bis family, or as • a master by the members of his establish ment, or as a citizen by the many observers of his neighbourhood around him, he shall either speak such words, or do such ac tions, or administer his affairs in such a way as is unworthy of his high and im mortal destination, that then a taint of cor ruption is sure to descend from such an exhibition, upon the immortals who are on every side of him ; when one thinks of himself as the source and the centre of a contagion which might bring a blight upon the graces and the prospects of other souls besides his own — surely this is enough to supply him with a reason why, in work ing out his own personal salvation, he should do it with fear, and with watchful ness, and with much trembling. But we are now upon the ground of a higher and more delicate conscientiousness, than is generally to be met with. Whereas, our object, at present, is to expose certain of the grosser offencos which abound in so ciety, and which spi ead a most dangerous and ensnaring influence among the indi viduals who compose it. To this we have been insensibly led, by the topics of that dis course which we addressed to you on a for mer occasion ; and when it fell in our way to animadvert on the magnitude of that man's guilt, who, either by his example, or his connivance, or his direct and formal tuition, can speed the entrance of the yet unpractised young on a career of dissipa tion.. And whether he be a parent, who, trenched in this world's maxims, can, with- VII.J VITIATING INFLUENCE OF HIGHER UPON LOWER ORDERS. 163 out a struggle, and without a sigh, leave his helpless offspring to take their random and unprotected way through this world's con formities ; or whether he be one of those seniors in depravity, who can cheer on his more youthful companion to a surrender of all those scruples, and all those delicacies, which have hitherto adorned him ; or whe ther he be a more aged citizen, who, having run the wonted course of intemperance, can cast an approving eye on the corruption throughout all its stages, and give a tenfold force to all its allurements, by setting up the authority of grave and reformed manhood upon its side ; in each of these characters do we see an offence that is pregnant with deadliest mischief to the principles of the rising generation : and while we are told by our text, that, for such offences, there exists some deep and mysterious necessity — inso much, that it is impossible but that offences must come — yet let us not forget to urge on every one sharer in this work of moral con tamination, that never does the meek and gentle Saviour speak in terms more threat ening or more reproachful, than when he speaks of the enormity of such misconduct. There cannot, in truth, be a grosser outrage committed on the order of God's administra tion, than that which he is in the habit of inflicting. There cannot, surely, be a directer act of rebellion, than that which multiplies the adherents of its own cause, and which swells the hosts of the rebellious. There cannot be made to rest a feller condemna tion on the head of iniquity, than that which is sealed by the blood of its own victims, and its own proselytes. Nor should we wonder when that is said of such an agent for ini quity which is said of the betrayer of our Lord. It were better for him that he had not been born. It were better for him, now that he is born, could he be committed back again to deep annihilation. Rather than that he should offend one of these little ones, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the sea. This is one case of such offences as are adverted to in the text. Another and still more specific is beginning, we understand, to be exemplified in our own city, though it has not attained to the height or to the fre quency at which it occurs in a neighbouring metropolis. We allude to the doing of week day business upon the Sabbath. We allude to that violence which is rudely offered to the feelings and the associations of sacred ness, by those exactions that an ungodly master lays at times on his youthful de pendents — when those hours which they wont to spend in church, they are called upon to spend in the counting-house — when that day, which ought to be a day of piety, is turned into a day of posting and of pen manship — when the rules of the decalogue are set aside, and utterly superseded by the rules of the great trading establishment; and every thing is made to give way to the hur rying emergency of orders, and clearances, and the demands of instant correspondence. Such is the magnitude of this stumbling- block, that many is the young man who has here fallen to rise no more — that, at this point of departure, he has so widened his distance from God, as never, in fact, to re turn to him — that, in this distressing contest between principle and necessity, the final blow has been given to his religious princi ples — that the master whom he serves, and under whom he earns his provision for time, has here wrested the whole interests of his eternity away from him — that, from this moment, there gathers upon his soul the complexion of a hardier and more deter mined impiety — and conscience once stifled now speaks to him with a feebler voice — and the world obtains a firmer lodgement in his heart — and, renouncing all his original tenderness about Sabbath, and Sabbath em ployments, he can now, with the thorough unconcern of a fixed and familiarised prose lyte, keep equal pace by his fellows through out every scene of profanation — and he who wont to tremble and recoil from the free doms of irreligion with the sensibility of a little one, may soon become the most dar ingly rebellious of them all — and that Sab bath which he has now learned, at one time, to give to business, he at another, gives to unhallowed enjoyments — and it is turned into a day of visits and excursions, given up to pleasure, and enlivened by all the mirth and extravagance of holiday — and, when sacrament is proclaimed from the city pul pits, he, the apt, the well trained disciple of his corrupt and corrupting superior, is the readiest to plan the amusements of the com ing opportunity, and among the very fore most in the ranks of emigration — and though he may look back, at times, to the Sabbath of his Father's pious house, yet the retro spect is always becoming dimmer, and at length it ceases to disturb him — and thus the alienation widens every year, till, wholly given over to impiety, he lives without God in the world. And were we asked to state the dimen sions of that iniquity which stalks regard- lessly, and at large, over the ruin of youth ful principles— were we asked to find a place in the catalogue of guilt for a crime, the atrocity of which is only equalled, we un derstand, by its frequency — were we called to characterise the man who, so far from attempting one counteracting influence against the profligacy of his dependents, issues, from the chair of authority on which he sits, a commandment, in the direct face of a commandment from God — the man who has chartered impiety in articles of agreement, and has vested himself with a property in that time which only belongs to 164 VITIATING INFLUENCE OF HIGHER UPON LOWER ORDERS. [DISC. the Lord of the Sabbath — were we asked to look to the man who could thus overbear the last remnants of remorse in a struggling and unpractised bosom, and glitter in all the ensigns of a prosperity that is reared on the violated consciences of those who are be neath him — 0! were the question put, to whom shall we liken such a man? or what is the likeness to which we can compare him ? we would say, that the guilt of him who trafficked on the highway, or trafficked on that outraged coast, from whose weeping families children were inseparably torn, was far outmeasured by the guilt which could thus frustrate a father's fondest prayers, and trample under foot the hopes and the pre parations of eternity. There is another way whereby in the em ploy of a careless and unprincipled master, it is impossible but that offences must come. You know just as well as we do, that there are chicaneries in business; and, so long as we forbear stating the precise extent of them, there is not an individual among you who has a title to construe the assertion into an affronting charge of criminality against himself. But you surely know as well as we, that the mercantile profession, conducted, as it often is, with the purest integrity, and laying no resistless necessity whatever for the surrender of principle on any of its members; and dignified by some of the noblest exhibitions of untainted honour, and devoted friendship, and magnificent gene rosity, that have ever been recorded of our nature ; — you know as well as we, that it was utterly extravagant, and in the face of all observation, to affirm, that each, and every one of its numerous competitors, stood clearly and totally exempted from the sins of an undue selfishness. And, accordingly, there are certain commodious falsehoods occasionally practised in this department of human affairs. There are, for example, cer tain dexterousand gainful evasions, whereby the payers of tribute are enabled, at times, to make their escape from the eagle eye of the exactors of tribute. There are even cer tain contests of ingenuity between individual traders, where in the higgling of a very keen and anxious negociation, each of them is tempted in talking of offers and prices, and the reports of fluctuations in home and foreign markets, to say the things which are not. You must assuredly know, that, these, and such as these, then, have introduced a certain quantity of what may be called shuf fling, into the communications of the trad ing world — insomuch, that the simplicity of yea, yea, and nay, nay, is in some degree exploded; there is a kind of understood tole ration established for certain modes of ex pression, which could not, we are much afraid, stand the rigid scrutiny of the great day ; and there is an abatement of confidence between man and man, implying, we doubt, such a proportionate abatement of truth, as goes to extend most fearfully the condemna tion that is due to all liars, who shall have their part in the lake that burnetii with fire and brimstone. And who can compute the effect of all this on the young and yet un practised observer? Who does not see, that it must go to reduce the tone of his princi ples; and to involve him in many a delicate struggle between the morality b'e has learned from his catechism, and the morality he sees in the counting-house; and to obliterate, in his mind, the distinctions between right and wrong; and, at length, to reconcile his con science to a sin, which, like everjr other, deserves the wrath and the curse of God; and to make him tamper with a direct com mandment, in such a way, as that falsehoods and frauds might be nothing more in his estimation, than the peccadilloes of an in nocent compliance with the current prac tices and moralitiesof the world ? Here then is a point, at which the way of those who conform to this world, diverges from the way of those peculiar people who are re deemed from all iniquity, and are thorough ly furnished unto all good works. Here is a grievous occasion to fall. Here is a com petition between the service of Cod and the service of Mammon. Here is the exhibition of another offence, and the bringing forward of another temptation, to those who are en tering on the business of the world, little adverted to, we fear, by those who live in utter carelessness of their own souls, and never spend a thought or a sigh about the immortality of others— but, most distinctly singled out by the text as a crime of fore most magnitude in the eye of Him who judgeth righteously. And before we "quit the subject of such offences as take place in ordinary trade, let* us just advert to one example of it — not so much for the frequency of its occurrence, as for the way that it stands connected in principle with a very general, and, we be lieve, a very mischievous offence, that takes place in domestic society. It is neither, you will observe, the avarice nor the sel fishness of our nature, which forms the only obstruction in the way of one man dealing plainly with another. There is another obstruction, founded on a far more pleasing and amiable principle — even on that deli cacy of feeling, in virtue of which, one man cannot bear to wound or to mortify another. It would require, for instance, a very rare, and, certainly, not a very enviable degree of hardihood, to tell another, without pain, that you did not think him worthy of being trusted. And yet, in the doings of mer chandise, this is the very trial of delicacy which sometimes offers itself. The man with whom you stand committed to as great an extent as you count, to be adv:»»- ble, would like, perhaps, to try your conn VII.] VITIATING INFLUENCE OF HIGHER UPON LOWER ORDERS. 165 dence in him, and his own credit with you, a little farther ; and he comes back upon you with a fresh order ; and you secretly have no desire to link any more of your property with his speculation ; and the dif ficulty is, how to get the application in question disposed of; and you feel that by far the pleasantest way, to all the parties concerned, would be, to make him believe that you refuse the application, not because you will not comply, but because you can not — for that you have no more of the ar ticle he wants from you upon hand. And it would only be putting your own soul to hazard, did you personally, and by your self, make this communication : but you select, perhaps, as the organ of it, some agent, or underling of your establishment, who knows it to be false ; and to avoid the soreness of a personal encounter with the man whom you are to disappoint, you de volve the whole business of this lying apol ogy upon others ; and thus do you continue to shift this oppressive burden away from you — or, in other words, to save your own delicacy, you count not, and you care not, about another's damnation. Now, what we call upon you to mark, is the perfect identity of principle between this case of making a brother to offend, and another case which obtains, we have heard, to a very great extent, among the most gen teel and opulent of our city families. In this case, you put a lie into the mouth of a dependent, and that, for the purpose of protecting your substance from such an application as might expose it to hazard or diminution. In the second case, you put a lie into the mouth of a dependent, and that, for the purpose of protecting your time from such an encroachment as you would not feel to be convenient or agreeable. And, in both cases, you are led to hold out this offence by a certain delicacy of temperament, in vir- .ue of which, you can neither give a man plainly to understand, that you are not wil ling to trust him, nor can you give him to understand that you count his company to be an interruption. But, in both the one and the other example, look to the little account that is made of a brother's or of a sister's eternity ; behold the guilty task that is thus unmercifully laid upon one who is shortly to appear before the judgment-seat of Christ ; think of the entanglement which is thus made to beset the path of a creature who is unperishable. That, at the shrine of Mammon, such a bloody sacrifice should be rendered by some of his unrelenting vo taries, is not to be wondered at ; but that the shrine of elegance and fashion should be bathed in blood— that soft and sentimen tal ladyship should put forth her hand to such an enormity— that she who can sigh sp gently, and shed her graceful tear over the sufferings of others, should thus be ac cessary to the second and more awful death of her own domestics — that one who looks the mildest and the loveliest of human be ings, should exact obedience to a mandate which carries wrath, and tribulation, and anguish, in its train — O ! how it should confirm every Christian in his defiance to the authority of fashion, and lead him to sp.urn at all its folly, and at all its worth lessness. And it is quite in vain to say, that the ser vant whom you thus employ as the deputy ' of your falsehood, can possibly execute the commission without the conscience being at all tainted or defiled by it ; that a simple cottage maid can so sophisticate the matter as, without any violence to her originau principles, to utter the language of what she assuredly knows to be a downright lie; that she, humble and untutored soul, can sustain no injury when thus made to tam per with the plain English of these realms ; that she can at all satisfy herself, how, by the prescribed utterance of " not at home," she is not pronouncing such words as are substantially untrue, but merely using them in another and perfectly understood mean ing — and which, according to their modern translation, denote, that the person of whom she is thus speaking, instead of being away from home, is secretly lurking in one of the most secure and intimate of its recepta cles. You may try to darken and trans form this piece of casuistry as you will ; and work up your own minds into the peace able conviction that it is all right, and as it should be. But be very certain, that where the moral sense of your domestic is not al ready overthrown, there is, at least one bo som within which you have raised a war of doubts and difficulties ; and where, if the victory be on your side, it will be on the side of him who is the great enemy of righ teousness. There is, at least, one person along the line of this conveyance of deceit, who condemneth herself in that which she alloweth ; who, in the language of Paul, es teeming the practice to be unclean, to her will it be unclean ; who will perform hertask with the offence of her own conscience; and to whom, therefore, it will indeed be evil : who cannot render obedience in this matter to her earthly superior, but by an act, in which she does not stand clear and unconscious of guilt before God ; and with whom, therefore, the sad consequence of what we can call nothing else than a bar barous combination against the principles and the prospects of the lower orders, is — that as she has not cleaved fully unto the Lord, and has not kept by the service of the one master, and has not forsaken all at His bidding, she cannot be the disciple of Christ. The aphorism, that he who offendeth in 166 VITIATING INFLUENCE OF HIGHER UPON LOWER ORDERS. [DISC. one point is guilty of all, tells us something more than of the way in which God ad judges condemnation to the disobedient. It also tells us of the way in which one in dividual act of sinfulness operates upon our moral nature. It is altogether an erroneous view of the commandments, to look upon them as so many observances to which we are bound by as many distinct and inde pendent ties of obligation — insomuch, that the transgression of one of them may be brought about by the dissolution of one separate tie, and may leave all the others, with as entire a constraining influence and authority as before. The truth is, that the commandments ought rather to be looked upon as branching out from one great and general tie of obligation ; and that there is no such thing as loosening the hold of one of them upon the conscience, but by the unfastening of that tie which binds them all upon the conscience. So that if one mem ber in the system of practical righteousness be made to suffer, all the other members suffer along with it ; and if one decision of the moral sense be thwarted, the organ of the moral sense is permanently impaired, and a leaven of iniquity infused into all its other decisions ; and if one suggestion of this inward monitor be stifled, a general shock is given to his authority over the whole man ; and if one of the least com mandments of the law is left unfulfilled, the law itself is brought down from its rightful ascendency; and thus it is, that one act of disobedience may be the commencement and the token of a systematic ana universal rebelliousness of the heart against God. It is this which gives such a wide-wasting ma lignity to each of the separate offences on which we have now expatiated. It is this which so multiplies the means and the pos sibilities of corruption in the world. It is tht>s that, at every one point in the inter course of human society, there may be struck out a fountain of poisonous emana tion on all who approach it; and think not, therefore, that under each of the examples we have given, we were only contending for the preservation of one single feature in the character of him who stands exposed to this world's offences. We felt it, in fact, to be a contest for his eternity ; and that thc case involved in it his general condition with God ; and that he who leads the young into a course of dissipation — or that he who tampers with their impressions of sabbath sacredness— or that he who, either in the walks of business, or in the services of the family, makes them the agents of deceitful ness— or that he, in short, who tempts them to transgress in any one thing, has, in fact, "poured such a pervading taint into their moral constitution, as to spoil or corrupt them in all things; and that thus, upon one solitary occasion, or by the exhibition of one particular offence, a mischief may be dont equivalent to the total destruction of a hu man soul, or to the blotting out of its pros pects for immortality. And let us just ask a master or a mistress, who can thus make free with the moral principle of their servants in one instance, how they can look for pure or correct prin ciple from them in other instances? What right have they to complain of unfaithful ness against themselves, who have delibe rately seduced another into a habit of un faithfulness against God ? Are they so ut terly unskilled in the mysteries of our na ture, as not to perceive, that if a man gather hardihood enough to break the Sabbath in opposition to his own conscience, this very hardihood will avail him to the breaking of other obligations? — that he whom, for their advantage, they have so exercised, as to fill his conscience with offence towards his God, will not scruple, for his own advan tage, so to exercise himself, as to fill his conscience with offence towards hismaster? — that the servant whom you have taught to lie, has gotten such rudiments of educa tion at your hand, as that, without any fur ther help, he can now teach himself to pur loin? — and yet nothing more frequent than loud and angry complainings against the treachery of servants ; as if, in the general wreck of their other principles, a principle ' of consideration for the good and interest of their employer — and who, at the same time, has been their seducer — was to survive in all its power, and all its sensibility. It is just such a retribution as was to be looked for. It is a recoil upon their own heads of the mischief which they themselves have originated. It is the temporal part of the punishment which they have to bear for the sin of our text, but not the whole of it; far the better for them that both person and property were cast into the sea, than that they should stand the reckoning of that day, when called to give an account of the souls that they have murdered, and the blood of so mighty a destruction is required at their hands. The evil against which we have just pro tested, is an outrage of far greater enormity than tyrant or oppressor can inflict, in the prosecution of his worst designs against the political rights and liberties of the common wealth. The very semblance of such de signs will summon every patriot to his post of observation ; and, from a thousand watch- towers of alarm, will the outcry of freedom in danger be heard throughout the land. But there is a conspiracy of a far-more ma lignant influence upon the destinies of the species that is now going on ; and which seems to call forth no indignant spirit, and to bring no generous exclamation along with it. Throughout all the recesses of private and domestic history, there is an VII-.] VITIATING INFLUENCE OF HIGHER UPON LOWER ORDERS. 167 ascendency of rank and station against which no stern republican is ever heard to lift his voice— though it be an ascendency so exercised, as to be of most noxious ope ration to the dearest hopes and best interests of humanity. There is a cruel combination of the great against the majesty of the peo ple — we mean the majesty of the people's worth. There is a haughty unconcern about an inheritance, which, by an unalienable right, should be theirs — we mean their fu ture and everlasting inheritance. There is a deadly invasion made on their rights — we mean their rights of conscience ; and, in this our land of boasted privileges, are the low trampled upon by the high — we mean trampled into all the degradation of guilt and worthlessness. They are utterly bereft of that homage which ought to be rendered to the dignity of their immortal nature ; and to minister to the avarice of an imperious master, or to spare the sickly delicacy of the fashionables in our land, are the truth and the piety of our population, and all the virtues of their eternity, most unfeelingly plucked away from them. It belongs to others to fight the battle of their privileges in time. But who that looks with a calculating eye on their duration that never ends, can repress an alarm of a higher order ? It belongs to others generously to struggle for the place and the adjustment of the lower orders in the great vessel of the state. But, surely, the question of their place in eternity is of mightier concern than how they are to sit and be accommodated in that pathway vehicle which takes them to their everlasting habitations. Christianity is, in one sense, the greatest of all levellers. It looks to the elements, and not to the circumstantials of humanity; and regarding as altogether superficial and temporary the distinctions of this fleeting pilgrimage, it fastens on those points of as similation which liken the king upon the throne to the very humblest of his subject population. They are alike in the naked ness of their birth. They are alike in the sureness of their decay. They are alike in the agonies of their dissolution. And after the one is tombed in sepulchral magnifi cence, and the other is laid in his sod-wrapt grave, are they most fearfully alike in the corruption to which they moulder. But it is with the immortal nature of each that Christianity has to do ; and, in both the one and the other, does it behold a nature alike forfeited by guilt, and alike capable of being restored by the grace of an offered salva tion. And never do the pomp and the cir cumstance of externals appear more humi liating, than when, looking onwards to the day of resurrection, we behold the sovereign standing without his crown, and trembling, with the subject by his side, at the bar of heaven's majesty. There the master and the servant will be brought to their reckon ing together; and when the one is tried upon the guilt and the malignant influence of his Sabbath companies — and is charged with the profane and careless habit of his household establishment — and is reminded how he kept both himself and his domes tics from the solemn ordinance — and is made to perceive the fearful extent of the moral and spiritual mischief which he has wrought as the irreligious head of an irreligious fa mily — and how, among other things he, un der a system of fashionable hypocrisy, so tampered with another's principles as to de file his conscience, and to destroy him — O ! how tremendously will the little brief au thority in which he now plays his fantastic tricks, turn to his own condemnation; for, than thus abuse his authority, it were bet ter for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the sea. And how comes it, we ask, that any mas ter is armed with a power so destructive over the immortals who are around him ? God has given him no such power: The state has not given it to him. There is no law, either human or divine, by which he can enforce any order upon his servants to an act of falsehood, or to an act of impiety. Should any such act of authority be at tempted on the part of the master, it should be followed up on the part of the servant by an. act of disobedience. Should your master or mistress bid you say not at home, when you know that they are at home, it is your duty to refuse compliance with such an order: and if it be asked, how can this matter be adjusted after such a violent and alarming innovation on the laws of fashion able intercourse, we answer, just by the sim ple substitution of truth for falsehood — just by prescribing the utterance of, engaged, which is a fact, instead of the utterance of, not at home, which is a lie — just by holding the principles of your servant to be of higher account than the false delicacies of your ac quaintance — just by a bold and vigorous re currence to the simplicity of nature — just by determinedly doing what is right, though the example of a whole host were against you ; and by giving impulse to the current of example, when it happens to be moving in a proper direction. And here we are happy to say that fashion has of late been making a capricious and accidental move ment on the side of principle — and to be blunt, and open, and manly, is now on the fair way to be fashionable — and a temper of a homelier quality is beginning to infuse itself into the luxuriousness, and the effemi nacy, and the palling and excessive complai sance of genteel society — and the staple of cultivated manners is improving in firmness, and frankness, and honesty, and may, at length, by the aid of a principle of Chris- 168 VITIATING INFLUENCE OF HIGHER UPON LOWER ORDERS. [DISC. tian rectitude, be so interwoven with the cardinal virtues, as to present a different texture altogether from the soft and silken degeneracy of modern days. And that we may not appear the cham pions of an insurrection against the autho rity of masters, let us further say, that while it is the duty of clerk or apprentice to refuse the doing of weekday work on the Sab bath, and while it is the duty of servants to refuse the utteranceofaprescribed falsehood, and while it is the duty of every dependent, in the service of his master, to serve him only in the Lord — yet this very principle, tending as it may to a rare and occasional act of disobedience, is also the principle which renders every seivant who adheres to it a perfect treasure of fidelity, and at tachment, and general obedience. This is the way in which to obtain a credit for his refusal, and to stamp upon it a noble con sistency. In this way he will, even to the mind of an ungodly master, make up for all his particularities : and should he be what, if a Christian, he will be ; should he be, at all times, the most alert in service, and the most patient of provocation, and the most cordial in affection, and the most scrupulously honest in the charge and cus tody of all that is committed to him — then let the post of drudgery at which he toils be humble as it may, the contrast between the meanness of his office and the dignity of his character will only heighten the re verence that is due to principle, and make it more illustrious. His scruples may, at first, be the topics of displeasure, and after wards the topics of occasional levity ; but, in spite of himself, will his employer be at length constrained to look upon them with respectful toleration. The servant will be to the master a living epistle of Christ, and he may read there what he has not yet per ceived in the letter of the New Testament. He may read, in the person of his own do mestic, the power and the truth of Chris tianity. He may positively stand in awe of his own hired servant — and, regarding his bosom as a sanctuary of worth which it were monstrous to violate, will he feel, when tempted t,o offer one command of impiety, that he cannot, that he dare not. And before we conclude, let us, if possi ble, try to rebuke the wealthy out of their unfeeling indifference to the souls of the poor, by the example of the Saviour. Let those who look on the immortality of the poor as beneath their concern, only look unto Christ — to him who, for the sake of the poorest of us all, became poor himself, that we, through his poverty, might be made rich. Let them think how the prin ciple of all these offences which we have been attempting to expose, is in the direct face of that principle which prompted, at first, and which still presides over, the whole of the gospel dispensation. Let them learn a higher reverence for the eternity of those beneath them, by thinking of him, who, to purchase an inheritance for the poor, and to provide them with the bless ings of a preached gospel, unrobed him of all his greatness; and descended himself to the lot and labours of poverty ; and toiled to the beginning of his public ministry, at the work of a carpenter ; and submitted to all the horrors of a death which was aggra vated by the burden of a world's atone ment, and made inconceivably severe by their being infused into it all the bitter of expiation. Think, O think, when some petty design of avarice or vanity would lead you to forget the imperishable souls of those who are beneath you, that you are setting yourselves in diametric opposition to that which lieth nearest to the heart of the Sa viour ; that you are countervailing the whole tendency of his redemption ; that you are thwarting the very object of that enterprise for which all heaven is represented as in motion — and angels are with wonder look ing on — and God the Father laid an ap pointment on the Son of his love — and he. the august personage in whom the mag nificent train of prophecy, from the begin ning of the world, has its theme and its fulfilment, at length c-ame amongst us, in shrouded majesty, and was led to the cross, like a lamb for the slaughter, and bowed his head in agony, and gave up the ghost. And here let us address one word more to the masters and mistresses of families. By adopting the reformations to which we have been urging you, you may do good to the cause of Christianity, and )ret not ad vance, by a single hair-breadth, the Chris tianity of your own souls. It is not by this one reformation, or indeed, by any given number of reformations, that you are saved. It is by believing in Christ that men are saved. You may escape, it is sure, a higher degree of punishment, but you will not escape damnation. You may do good to the souls of your servants, by a rigid observance -of the lesson of this day. But we seek the good of your own souls, also, and we pro nounce upon them that they are in a state of death, till one great act be performed, and one act, too, which does not consist of any number of particular acts, or particular reformations. What shall I do to be saved ? Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved. And he who believeth not, the wrath of God abideth on him. Do this. if you want to make the great and impor tant transition for yourselves. Do this if you want your own name to be blotted out of the book of condemnation. If you seek to have your own persons justified before God, submit to the righteousness of God — even that righteousness which ib through the faith of Christ, and is unto aD 9III.] ON THE LOVE OF MONEY. 169 and upon all who believe. This is the turn ing point of your acceptance with the Law giver. And at this step, also, in the history of your souls, will there be applied to you a power of motive, and will you be en dowed with an obedient sensibility to the influence of motive, which will make it the turning point of a new heart and a new character. The particular reformation that we have now been urging will be one of a crowd of other reformations; and, in the spirit of him who pleased not himself, but gave up his life for others, will you forego all the desires of selfishness and vanity, and look not merely to your own things, but also to the things of others. DISCOURSE VIII. On the Love of Money. " If I have made gold my hope, or have said to the fine gold, Thou art my confidence ; If I rejoiced because my wealth was great, and because mine hand had gotten much : If I beheld the sun when it shined or the moon walking in brightness ; and my heart hath been secretly enticed, or my mouth hath kissed my hand ; this also were an iniquity to be punished by the judge ; for I should have denied the God that is above." — Job xxxi. 24 — 28. What is worthy of remark in this pas sage is, that a certain affection only known among the votaries of Paganism, should be classed under the same character and have the same condemnation with an affec tion, not only known, but allowed, nay cherished into habitual supremacy, all over Christendom. How universal is it among those who are in pursuit of wealth, to make gold their hope, and among those who are in possession of wealth, to make fine gold their confidence ? Yet we are here told that this is virtually as complete a re nunciation of God as to practise some of the worst charms of idolatry. And it might perhaps serve to unsettle the vanity of those who, unsuspicious of the disease that is in their hearts, are wholy given over to this world, and wholly without alarm in their anticipations of another,— could we con vince them that the most reigning and re sistless desire by which they are actuated, stamps the same perversity on them, in the sight of God, as he sees to be in those who are worshippers of the sun in the firma ment, or are offering incense to the moon, as the queen of heaven. We recoil from an idolater, as from one who labours under a great moral derange ment, in suffering his regards to be carried away from the true God to an idol. But, is it not just the same derangement, on the part of man, that he should love any cre ated good, and in the enjoyment of it lose sight of the Creator — that he should delight himself with the use and the possession of a gift, and be unaffected by the circum stance of its having been put into his hands by a giver — that thoroughly absorbed with the present and the sensible gratification, there should be no room left for the move ments of duty or regard to the Being who furnished him with the materials, and en- 22 dowed him with the organs, of every grati fication, — that he should thus lavish all his desires on the surrounding materialism, and fetch from it all his delights, while the thought of him who formed it is habitually absent from his heart — that in the play of those attractions that subsist between him and the various objects in the neigh bourhood of his person, there should be the same want of reference to God, as there is in the play of those attractions which sub sist between a piece of unconscious matter and the other matter that is around it — that all the influences which operate upon the human will should emanate from so many various points in the mechanism of what is formed, but that no practical or ascendant influence should come down upon it from the presiding and the preserv ing Deity ? Why, if such be man, he could not be otherwise, though there were no Deity. The part he sustains in the world is the very same that it would have been had the world sprung into being of itself, or without an originating mind had main tained its being from eternity. He just puts forth the evolutions of his own nature, as one of the component individuals in a vast independent system of nature, made up of many parts and many individuals. In hun gering for what is agreeable to his senses, or recoiling from what is bitter or unsuit able to them, he does so without thinking of God, or borrowing any impulse to his own will from any thing he knows or be lieves to be the will of God. Religion has just as little to do with those daily move ments of his which are voluntary, as it has to do with the growth of his body, which is involuntary ; or, as it has to do, in other words, with the progress and the pheno mena of vegetation. With a mind that ought to know God, and a conscience that 170 ON THE LOVE OF MONEY. [DISW. ought to award to him the supreme juris diction, he lives as effectually without him as if he had no mind and no conscience ; and, bating a few transient visitations of thought, and a few regularities of outward and mechanical observation, do we behold man running, and willing, and preparing, and enjoying, just as if there was no other portion than the creature — just as if the world, and its visible elements, formed the all with which he had to do. I wish to impress upon you the distinc tion that there is between the love of mo ney, and the love of what money pur chases. Either of these affections may equally displace God from the heart. But there is a malignity and an inveteracy of atheism in the former which does not be long to the latter, and in virtue of which it may be seen that the love of money is, in deed, the root of all evil. When we indulge the love of that which is purchased by money, the materials of gratification and the organs of gratification are present with each other — just as in the enjoyments of the inferior animals, and just as in all the simple and immediate en joyments of man; such as the tasting of food, or the smelling of a flower. There is an adaptation of the senses to certain external objects, and there is a pleasure arising out of that adaptation, and it is a pleasure which may be felt by man, along with a right and a full infusion of godli ness. The primitive Christians, for exam ple, ate their meat with gladness and sin gleness of heart, praising God. But, in the case of every unconverted man, the plea sure has no such accompaniment. He car ries in his heart no recognition of that hand, by the opening of which it is, that the means and the materials of enjoyment are placed within his reach. The matter of the enjoyment is all with which he is conversant. The Author of the enjoyment is unheeded. The avidity with which he rushes onward to any of the direct gratifi cations of nature, bears a resemblance to the avidity with which one of the lower creation rushes to its food, or to its water, or to the open field, where it gambols in all the wantonness of freedom, and finds a high-breathed joy in the very strength and velocity of its movements. And the atheism of the former, who has a mind for the sense and knowledge of his Creator, is often as entire as the atheism of the latter, who has it not. Man, who ought to look to the primary cause of all his blessings, because he is capable of seeing thus far, is often as blind to God, in the midst of en- ioyment, as the animal who is not capable of seeing him. He can trace the stream to its fountain ; but still he drinks of the stream with as much greediness of plea sure, and as little recognition of its source, as the animal beneath h'n. In other words, his atheism, while tasting the bounties of Providence, is just as complete, as is tne atheism of the inferior animals. But theirs proceeds from their incapacity of knowing God. His proceeds from his not liking to retain God in his knowledge. He may come under the power of godliness, if he would. But he chooses rather that the power of sensuality should lord it over him, and his whole man is engrossed with the objects of sensuality. But a man differs from an animal in be ing something more than a sensitive being. He is also a reflective being. He has the power of thought, and inference, and anti cipation, to signalize him above the beasts of the field, or of the forest ; and yet will it be found, in the case of every natural man, that the exercise of those powers, so far from having carried him nearer, has only widened his departure from God, and given a more deliberate and wilful charac ter to his atheism, than if he had been with out them altogether. In virtue of the powers of a mind which belong to him, he can carry his thoughts beyond the present desires and the pre sent gratification. He can calculate on the visitations of future desire, and on the means of its gratification. He cannot only follow out the impulse of hunger that is now upon him ; he can look onwards to the successive and recurring impulses of hunger which await him, and he can de vise expedients for relieving it. Out of that great stream of supply, which comes direct from Heaven to earth, for the sustenance of all its living generations, he can draw off and appropriate a separate rill of convey ance, and direct it into a reservoir for him self. He can enlarge the capacity, or he can strengthen the embankments of this reservoir. By doing the one, he augments his proportion of this common tide of wealth which circulates through the world, and by doing the other, he augments his security for holding it in perpetual posses sion. The animal who drinks out of the stream thinks not whence it issues. But man thinks of the reservoir which yields to him his portion of it. And he looks no further. He thinks not that to fill it, there must be a great and original fountain, out of which there issueth a mighty flood of abundance for the purpose of distribution among all the tribes and families of the world. He stops short at the secondary and artificial fabric which he himself hath formed, and out of which, as from a spring, he draws his own peculiar enjoyments ; and never thinks either of his own pecu liar supply, fluctuating with the variations of the primary spring, or of connecting these variations with the will of the great but unseen director of all things. It is true, VIII.] ON THE LOVE OF MONEY. 171 that if this main and originating fountain be, at any time, less copious in its emis sion, he will have less to draw fr,m it to his own reservoir; and in that very pro portion will his share of the bounties of Providence be reduced. But still it is to the well, or receptacle, of his own striking out that he looks, as his main security for the relief of nature's wants, and the abun dant supply of nature's enjoyments. ' It is upon his own work that he depends in this matter, and not on the work or the will of him who is the author of nature; who giveth rain from heaven, and fruitful sea sons, and filleth every heart with food and gladness. And thus it is, that the reason of man, and the retrospective power of man, still fail to carry him, by an ascend ing process to the First Cause. He stops at the instrumental cause, which, by his own wisdom and his own power, he has put into operation. In a word, the man's understanding is over-run with atheism, as well as his desires. The intellectual as well as the sensitive part of his constitution seems to be infected with it. When, like the instinctive and unreflecting animal, he engages in the act of direct enjoyment, he is like it, too, in its atheism. When he rises above the animal, and, in the exercise of his higher and larger faculties, he en gages in the act of providing for enjoyment, he still carries his atheism along with him. A sum of money is, in all its functions, equivalent to such a reservoir. Take one year with another, and the annual con sumption of the world cannot exceed the annual produce which issues from the storehouse of him who is the great and the bountiful Provider of all its families. The money that is in any man's possession re presents the share which he can appro priate to himself of this produce. If it be a large sum it is like a capacious reservoir on the bank of the river of abundance. If it be laid out on firm and stable securities, still it is like a firmly embanked reservoir. The man who toils to increase his money is like a man who toils to enlarge the ca pacity of his reservoir. The man who sus pects a flaw in his securities, or who appre hends, in the report of failures and fluctua tions, that his money is all to flow away from him, is like a man who apprehends a flaw in the embankments of his reservoir. Meanwhile, in all the care that is thus expended, either on the money or on the magazine, the originating source, out of which there is imparted to the one all its real worth, or there is imparted to the other all its real fulness, is scarcely ever thought of. Let God turn the earth into a barren desert, and the money ceases to be con vertible to any purpose of enjoyment ; or let him lock up that magazine of great and general supply, out of which he showers abundance among our habitations, and ah the subordinate magazines formed beside the wonted stream of liberality, would re main empty. But all this is forgotten hy the vast majority of our unthoughtful and un reflecting species. The patience of God is still unexhausted ; and the seasons still roll in kindly succession over the heads of an ungrateful generation ; and that period, when the machinery of our present sys tem shall stop and be taken to pieces has not yet arrived ; and that Spirit, who will not always strive with the children of men, is still prolonging his experiment on the powers and perversities of our moral na ture ; and still suspending the edict of dis solution, by which this earth and these heavens are at length to pass away. So that the sun still shines upon us; faid the clouds still drop upon us ; and the earth still puts forth the bloom and the beauty of its luxuriance ; and all the ministers of heaven's liberality still walk their annual round, and scatter plenty over the face of an alienated world; and the whole of na ture continues as smiling in promise, and as sure in fulfilment, as in the days of our forefathers ; and out of her large and uni versal granary is there, in every returning year, as rich a conveyance of aliment as be fore, to the populous family in whose be half it is opened. But it is the business of many among that population, each to erect his own separate granary, and to replenish it out of the general store, and to feed him self and his dependants out of it. And he is right in so doing. But he is not right in looking to his own peculiar receptacle, as if it were the first and the emanating fountain of all his enjoyments. He is not right in thus idolising the work of his own hands — awarding no glory and no confi dence to him in wdiose hands is the key of that great storehouse, out of which every lesser storehouse of man derives its fulness. He is not right, in labouring after the money which purchaseth all things, to avert the earnestness of his regard from the Being who provides all things. He is not right, in thus building his security on that which is subordinate, unheeding and unmindful of him who is supreme. It is not right, that silver, and gold, though un- shaped into statuary, should still be doing, in this enlightened land, what the images of Paganism once did. It is not right, that they should thus supplant the deference which is owing to the God and the governor of all things — or that each man amongst us should in the secret homage of trust and satisfaction which he renders to his bills, and his deposits, and his deeds of property and possession, endow these various arti cles with the same moral ascendency over his heart, as the household gods of anti quity had over the idolaters of antiquity — 172 ON THE LOVE OF MONEY. DISC. making them as effectually usurp the place of the Divinity, and dethrone the one Monarch of heaven and earth from that pre-eminence of trust and of affection that, belongs to him. He who makes a god of his pleasure, renders to this idol the homage of his senses. He who makes a god of his wealth, renders to this idol the homage of his mind ; and he, therefore, of the two, is the more hopeless and determined idolater. The former is goaded on to his idolatry, b)' the power of appetite. The latter cul tivates his with wilful and deliberate per severance; consecrates his very highest powers to its service ; embarks in it, not with the heat of passion, but with the coolness of steady and calculating princi ple; fully gives up his reason and his time, and all the faculties of his understanding, as well as all the desires of his heart, to the great object of a fortune in this world; makes the acquirement of gain the settled aim, and the prosecution of that aim the settled habit of his existence; sits the whole day long at the post of his ardent and unremitting devotions ; and, as he la bours at the desk of his counting-house, has his soul just as effectually seduced from the living God to an object distinct from him, and contrary to him, as if the ledger over which he was bending was a book of mystical characters, written in ho nour of some golden idol placed before him, and with a view to render this idol propitious to himself and to his family. Baal and Moloch were not more substan tially the gods of rebellious Israel, than Mammon is the god of all his affections. To the fortune he has reared, or is rearing, for himself and his descendants, he ascribes all the power and all the independence of a divinity. With the wealth he has gotten by his own hands, does he feel himself as independent of God, as the Pagan does, who, happy in the fancied protection of an image made with his own hands, suffers no disturbance to his quiet, from any thought of the real but the unknown Deity. His confidence is in his treasure, and not in God. It is there that he places all his safety and all his sufficiency. It is not on the Supreme Being, conceived in the light of a real and a personal agent, that he places his dependence. It is on a mute and material statue of his own erection. It is wealth, which stands to him in the place of God — to which he awards the credit of all his enjoyments — which he looks to as the emanating fountain of all his present sufficiency — from which he gathers his fondest expectations of all the bright and fancied blessedness that is yet before him — on which he rests as the firm est and stablest foundation of all that the heart can wish or thc eye can long after, both for himself and for his children. It matters not for him, that all his enjoyment comes from a primary fountain, and that his wealth is only an intermediate reservoir. It matters not to him, that, if God were to set a seal upon the upper storehouse in heaven, or to blast and to burn up all the fruitfulness of earth, he would reduce, to the worthlessness of dross, all the silver and the gold that abound in it. Still the gold and the silver are his gods. His own fountain is between him and the foun tain of original supply. His wealth is be tween him and God. Its various lodging places, whether in the bank, or in the place of registration, or in the depository of wills and title deeds — these are the sanctuaries of his secret worship — these are the high- places of his adoration ; and never did the devout Israelite look with more intentness towards Mount Zion, and with his face towards Jerusalem, than he does to his wealth, as to the mountain and strong hold of his security. Nor could the Supreme be more effectually deposed from the ho mage of trust and gratitude than he ac tually is, though this wealth were recalled from its various investments; and turned into one mass of gold ; and cast into a piece of molten statuary; and enshrined on a pedestal, around which all his house hold might assemble, and make it the ob ject of their family devotions ; and plied every hour of every day with all the fooleries of a senseless and degrading Pa ganism. It is thus, that God may keep up the charge of idolatry against us, even after all its images have been overthrown. It is thus that dissuasives from idolatry are still addressed, in the New Testament, to the pu pils of a new and better dispensation ; that little children are warned against idols ; and all of us are warned to flee from covetous- ness, which is idolatry. To look no further than to fortune as the dispenser of all the enjoyments which mo ney can purchase, is to make that for tune stand in the place of God. It is to make sense shut out faith, and to rob the King eternal and invisible of that supre macy, to which all the blessings of human exislence, and all the varieties of human condition, ought, in every instance, and in every particular, to be referred. But, as we have already remarked, the love of mo ney is one affection, and the love of what is purchased by money is another. It was at first, we have no doubt, loved for the sake of the good things which it enabled its pos sessor to acquire. But whether, as the re sult of associations in the mind, so rapid as to escape the notice of our own conscious ness — or as the fruit of an infection running by the sympathy among all men busily en gaged in the prosecution of wealth, as the supreme good of their being — certain it is. VIII.] that money, originally pursued for the sake of other things, comes at length to be prized for its own sake. And, perhaps, there is no one circumstance which serves more to liken the love of money to the most irrational of the heathen idolatries, than that it at length passes into the love of money for itself; and acquires a most enduring power over the human affections, separately altogether from the power of purchase and of command which belongs to it, over the proper and ori ginal objects of human desire. The first thing which set man agoing in the pursuit of wealth, was that, through it, as an inter vening medium, he found his way to other enjoyments; and it proves him, as we have observed, capable of a higher reach of an ticipation than the beast of the field, or the fowls of the air, that he is thus able to cal culate, and to foresee, and to build up a provision for the wants of futurity. But, mark how soon this boasted distinction of his faculties is overthrown, and how near to each other lie the dignity and the debase ment of the human understanding. If it evinced a loftier mind in man than in the inferior animals, that he invented money, and by the acquisition of it can both secure abundance for himself, and transmit this abundance to the future generations of his family — what have we to offer, in vindica tion of this intellectual eminence, when we witness how soon it is, that the pursuit of wealth ceases to be rational ? How, instead of being prosecuted as an instrument, either for the purchase of ease, or the purchase of enjoyment, both the ease and enjoyment of a whole life are rendered up as sacrifices at its shrine? How, from being sought after as a minister of gratification to the appetites of nature, it at length brings nature into bondage, and robs her of all her simple de lights, and pours the infusion of wormwood into the currency of her feelings? — making that man sad who ought to be cheerful, and that man who ought to rejoice in his pre sent abundance, filling him either with the cares of an ambition which never will be satisfied, or with the apprehensions of a dis tress which, in all its pictured and exagge rated evils, will never be realised. And it is wonderful, it is passing wonderful, that wealth, which derives all that is true and sterling in its worth from its subserviency to other advantages, should, apart from all thought about this subserviency, be made the object of such fervent and fatiguing devotion. Insomuch, that never did Indian devotee inflict upon himself a severer agony at the footstool of his Paganism, than those devotees of wealth who, for its acquire ment as their ultimate object, will forego all the uses for which alone it is valuable- will give up all that is genuine or tranquil in the pleasures of life ; and will pierce them selves through with many sorrows; and ON THE LOVE OF MONEY. 173 will undergo all the fiercer tortures of the mind ; and, instead of employing what they have, to smooth their passage through the world, will, upon the hazardous sea of ad venture, turn the whole of this passage into a storm — thus exalting wealth from a ser vant unto a lord, who in return for the ho mage that he obtains from his worshippers, exercises them, like Rehoboam his subjects of old, not with whips but with scorpions — with consuming anxiety, with never-sated desire, with brooding apprehension, and its frequent and ever-flitting spectres, and the endless jealousies of competition with men as intently devoted, and as emulous of a high place in the temple of their common idolatry, as themselves. And, without going to the higher exhibitions of this propensity, in all its rage and in all its restlessness, we have only to mark its workings on the walk of even and every-day citizenship; and there see, how, in the hearts even of its most commonplace votaries, wealth is fol lowed after for its own sake ; how, unasso- ciated with all for which reason pronounces it to be of estimation, but, in virtue of some mysterious and undefinable charm, ope rating not on any principle of the judgment, but on the utter perversity of judgment, mo ney has come to be of higher account than all that is purchased by money, and has at tained a rank co-ordinate with that which our Saviour assigns to the life and to the body of man, in being reckoned more than meat and more than raiment. Thus making that which is subordinate to be primary, and that which is primary subordinate; transferring, by a kind of fascination, the affections away from wealth in use, to wealth in idle and unemployed possession — insomuch, that the most welcome intelli gence you could give to the proprietor of many a snug deposit, in some place of se cure and progressive accumulation, would be, that he should never require any part either of it or of its accumulation back again for the purpose of expenditure — and that, to the end of his life, every new year should witness another unimpaired addition to the bulk or the aggrandizement of his idol. And it would just heighten his enjoy ment could he be told, with prophetic cer tainty, that this process of undisturbed aug mentation would go on with his children's children, to the last age of the world ; that the economy of each succeeding race of descendants would leave the sum with its interest untouched, and the place of its sanc tuary unviolated ; and, that through a series of indefinite generations, would the magni tude ever grow, and the lustre ever brighten, of that household god which he had erected for his own senseless adoration, and be queathed as an object of as senseless adora tion to his family. We have the authority of that word which .74 ON THE LOVE OF MONEY. [DISC. nas been pronounced a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart, that it, cannot have two masters, or that there is not room in it for two great and ascendent affections. The engrossing power of one such affection is expressly affirmed of the love for Mammon, or the love for money thus named and characterised as an idol. Or, in other words, if the love, of money be in the heart, the love of God is not. there. If a man be trusting in uncertain riches, he is not trusting in the living God, who giveth us all things richly to enjoy. If his heart be set upon covetousness, it is set upon an object of idolatry. The true divinity is moved away from his place, and, worse than atheism, which would only leave it empty, has the love of wealth raised another di vinity upon his throne. So that covetous ness offers a more daring and positive ag gression on the right and territory of the Godhead, than even infidelity. The latter would only desolate the sanctuary of hea ven ; the former would set up an abomi- natiou in the midst of it. It not only strips God of love and of confidence, which are his prerogatives, but it transfers them to another. And little does the man who is proud in honour, but, at the same time, proud and peering in ambition — little does he think, that, though acquitted in the eye of all his fellows, there still remains an atrocity of a deeper character than even that of atheism, with which he is chargeable. Let him just take an account of his mind, amid the labours of his merchandise, and he will find that the living God has no ascendency there; but that wealth, just as much as if personified into life, and agency, and power, wields over him all the ascend ency of God. Where his treasure is, his heart is also ; and, linking as he does his main hope with its increase, and his main fear with its fluctuations and its failures, he has effectually dethroned the Supreme from his heart, and deified an usurper in his room, as if fortune had been embo died into a goddess, and he were in the habit of repairing, with a crowd of other worshippers, to her temple. She, in fact, is the dispenser of that which he chiefly prizes in existence. A smile from her is worth all the promises of the Eternal, and her threatening frown more dreadful to the imagination than all his terrors. And the disease is as near to universal as it is virulent. Wealth is the goddess whom all the world worshippeth. There is many a city in our empire, of which, with an eye of apostolical discernment, it may be seen that it is almost wholly given over to idolatry. If a man look no higher than to his money for his enjoyments, then money is his god. It is the god of his dependence, and the god upon whom his heart is staid. Or if apart from other enjoyments, it by some magical power of its own, has gotten the ascendency, then still it is followed after as the supreme good ; and there is an actual supplanting of the living God. He is rob bed of the gratitude that we owe him for our daily sustenance; for, instead of receiv ing it as if it came direct out of his hand, we receive it as if it came from the hand of a secondary agent, to whom we ascribe all the stability and independence of God. This wealth, in fact, obscures to us the character of God, as the real though unseen Author of our various blessings ; and as if by a mate rial intervention does it hide from the per ception of nature, the hand which feeds, and clothes, and maintains us in life, and in all the comforts and necessaries of life. It just has the effect of thickening still more that impalpable veil which lies between God and the eye of the senses. We lose all dis cernment of him as the giver of our com forts; and coming, as they appear to do, from that wealth which our fancies have raised into a living personification, does this idol stand before us, not as a deputy but as a substitute for that Being, with whom it is that we really have to do. All this goes both to widen and to fortify that disruption which has taken place between God and the world. It adds the power of one great master idol to the seducing influence of all the lesser idolatries. "When the liking and the confidence of men are towards money, there is no direct intercourse, either by the one or the other of these affections towards God ; and, in proportion as he sends forth his desires, and rests his security on the former, in that very proportion does he re nounce God as his hope, and God as his dependence. And to advert, for one moment, to the misery of this affection, as well as to its sinfulness. He, over whom it reigns, feels a worthlessness in his present wealth, after it is gotten ; and when to this we add the restlessness of a yet unsated appetite, lord ing it over all his convictions, and panting far more ; when, to the dullness of his ac tual satisfaction in all the riches that he has, we add his still unquenched, and, in deed, unquenchable desire for the riches that he has not; when we reflect that as, in the pursuit of wealth, he widens the circle of his operations, so he lengthens out the line of his open and hazardous exposure, and multiplies, along the extent of it, those vulnerable points from which another and another dart of anxiety may enter into his heart; when he feels himself as if floating on an ocean of contingency, on which, per haps, he is only borne up by the breath of a credit that is fictitious, and which, liable to burst every moment, may leave him to sink under the weight of his overladen spe culation; when suspended on the doubtful result of his bold and uncertain adventure, VIII.] ON THE LOVE OF MONEY. 175 ne dreads the tidings of disaster in every arrival, and lives in a continual agony of feeling, kept up by the crowd and turmoil of his manifold distractions, and so overspread ing the whole compass of his thoughts, as to leave not one narrow space for the thought of eternity ;— will any beholder just look to the mind of this unhappy man, thus lost and bewildered and thrown into a general unceasing frenzy, made out of many fears and many agitations, and not to say, that the bird of the air, which sends forth its un reflecting song, and lives on the fortuitous bounty of Providence, is not higher in the scale of enjoyment than he? And how much more, then, the quiet Christian beside him, who, in possession of food and rai ment has that godliness with contentment which is great gain — who, with the peace of heaven in his heart, and the glories of heaven in his eye, has found out the true philosophy of existence; has sought a por tion where alone a portion can be found, and, in bidding away from his mind the love of money, has bidden away all the cross and all the carefulness along with it. Death will soon break up every swelling enterprise of ambition, and put upon it a most cruel and degrading mockery. And it is, indeed, an affecting sight, to behold the workings of this world's infatuation among so many of our fellow mortals nearing and nearing every day to eternity, and yet, in stead of taking heed to that which is before them, mistaking their temporary vehicle for their abiding home — and spending all their time and all their thought upon its accom modations. It is all the doing of our great adversary, thus to invest the trifles of a day in such characters of greatness and dura bility ; and it is, indeed, one of the most formidable of his wiles. And whatever may be the instrument of reclaiming men from this delusion, it certainly is not any argu ment either about the shortness of life, or the certainty and awfulness of its approach ing termination. On this point man is ca pable of a stout-hearted resistance, even to ocular demonstration ; nor do we know a more striking evidence of the bereavement which must have passed upon the human faculties, than to see how, in despite of arithmetic, — how, in despite of manifold experience, — how, in 'despite of all his ga thering wrinkles, and all his growing infir mities, — how, in despite of the ever-lessen ing distance between him and his sepulchre, and of all the tokens of preparation for the onset of the last messenger, with which, in the shape of weakness, and breathlessness, and dimness of eyes, he is visited ; will the feeble and asthmatic man still shake his silver locks in all the glee and transport oi which he is capable, when he hears of his gainful adventures, and his new accumula tions. Nor can we tell how near he must get to his grave, or how far on he must ad vance in the process of dying, ere gain cease to delight, and the idol of wealth cease to be dear to him. But when we see that the topic is trade and its profits, which lights up his faded eye with the glow of its chiefest ecstacy, we are as much satisfied that he leaves the world with all his trea sure there, and all the desires of his heart there, as if acting what is told of the miser's death-bed, he made his bills and his parch ments of security the companions of his bosom, and the last movements of his life were a fearful, tenacious, determined grasp, of what to him formed the all for which life was valuable. A SERMON, PREACHED IN ST. ANDREW'S CHURCH EDINBURGH, BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR THE RELIEF OF THE DESTITUTE SICK, APRIL 18, 1813. " Blessed is he that considereth the poor ; the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble." — Psalm xii. 1. There is an evident want of congeniality between the wisdom of this world, and the wisdom of the Christian. The term " wis dom," carries my reverence along with it. It brings before me a grave and respectable character, whose rationality predominates over the inferior principles of his constitu tion, and to whom I willingly yield that peculiar homage which the enlightened, and the judicious, and the manly, are sure to exact from a surrounding neighbounhood. Now, so long as this wisdom has for its ob ject some secular advantage, I yield it an unqualified reverence. It is a reverence which all understand, and all sympathize with. If, in private life, a man be wise in the management of his farm, or his fortune, or his family; or if, in public life, he have wisdom to steer an empire through all its difficulties, and to carry it to aggrandize ment and renown — the respect which I feel for such wisdom as this, is most cordial and entire, and supported by the universal ac knowledgment of all whom I call to attend to it. Let me now suppose that this wisdom has changed its object— that the man whom I am representing to exemplify this respecta ble attribute, instead of being wise for time, is wise fur eternity — that he labours by the faith and sanctification of the gospel for tin- perishable honours — that, instead of listen ing to him with admiration at his sagacity, as he talks of business, or politics, or agri culture, we are compelled to listen to him talking of the hope within the veil, and of Christ being the power of God, and the wis dom of God, unto salvation. What becomes of your respect for him now? Are there not some of you who are quite sensible that this respect is greatly impaired, since the wis dom of the man has taken so unaccountable a change in its object and in its direction? The truth is, that the greater part of the world feel no respect at all for a wisdom which they do not comprehend. They may love the innocence of a decidedly religious character, but they feel no sublime or com manding sentiment of veneration for its wis dom. All the truth of the Bible, and all the grandeur of eternity, will not redeem it from a certain degree of contempt. Terms which lower, undervalue, and degrade, suggest themselves to the mind; and strongly dis pose it to throw a mean and disagreeable colouring over the man who, silting loose to the objects of the world, has become alto gether a Christian. It is needless to ex patiate; but what I have seen myself, and what must have fallen under the observa tion of many whom I address, carry in them the testimony of experience to the assertion of the Apostle, " that the things of the Spirit of God are foolishness to the natural man, neither can he know them, for they are spiritually discerned." Now, what I have said of the respectable attribute of wisdom, is applicable, with al most no variation, to another attribute of the human character, to which I would assign the gentler epithet of "lovely." The attri bute to which I allude, is that of benevo lence. This is the burden of every poet's song, and every eloquent and interesting enthusiast gives it his testimony. I speak not of the. enthusiasm of methodists and de votees — I speak of that enthusiasm of fine sentiment which embellishes the pages of elegant literature, and is addressed to all her sighing and amiable votaries, in the various CHARITY SERMON. 177 forms of novel, and poetry, and dramatic entertainment. You would think if any thing could bring the Christian at one with the world around him, it would be this; and that in the ardent benevolence which figures in novels, and sparkles in poetry, there would be an entire congeniality with the benevolence of the gospel. I venture to say, however, that there never existed a stronger repulsion between two contending senti ments, than between the benevolence of the Christian, and the benevolence which is the theme of elegant literature— that the one, with all its accompaniments of tears, and sensibilities, and interesting cottages, is nei ther felt nor understood by the Christian as such ; and the other, with its work and la bours of love — its enduring hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ, and its living not to itself, but to the will of Him who died for us, and who rose again, is not only not understood, but positively nauseated, by the poetical amateur. But the contrast does not stop here. The benevolence of the gospel is not only at an tipodes with the visionary sons and daugh ters of poetry, but it even varies in some of its most distinguishing features with the ex perimental benevolence of real and familiar hfe. The fantastic benevolence of poetry is now indeed pretty well exploded ; and, in the more popular works of the age, there is a benevolence of a far truer and more sub stantial kind substituted in its place — the benevolence which you meet with among men of business and observation — the be nevolence which bustles and finds employ ment among the most public and ordinary scenes, and which seeks for objects, not where the flower blows loveliest, and the stream, with its gentle murmurs, falls sweet est on the ear, but finds them in his every day walks — goes in quest of them through the heart of the great city, and is not afraid to meet them in its most putrid lanes and loathsome receptacles. Now, it must be acknowledged, that this benevolence is of a far more respectable kind than that poetic sensibility, which is of no use, because it admits of no applica tion. Yet I am not afraid to say, that, re spectable as it is, it does not come up to the benevolence of the Christian, and is at vari ance, in some of its most capital ingredients, with the morality of the gospel. It is well, and very well, as far as it goes ; and that Christian is wanting to the will of his mas ter who refuses to share and go along with it. The Christian will do all this, but he would like to do more ; and it is at the pre cise point where he proposes to do more, that he finds himself abandoned by the co operation and good wishes of those who had hitherto supported him. The Christian goes as far as the votary of this useful be nevolence, but then he would like to go fur- 23 ther, and this is the point at which he is mortified to find that his old coadjutors re fuse to go along with him ; and that instead of being strengthened by their assistance, he has their contempt and their ridicule; or, at all events, their total want of sympa thy, to contend with. The truth is, that the benevolence I allude to, with all its respectable air of business and good sense, is altogether a secular be nevolence. Through all the extent of its operations, it carries in it no reference to the eternal duration of its object. Time, and the accommodations of time, form all its subject and all its exercise. It labours, and often with success, to provide for its object a warm and well-sheltered tenement, but it looks not beyond the few little years when the earthly house of this tabernacle shall be dissolved — when the soul shall be driven from its perishable tenement, and the only benevolence it will acknowledge or care for, will be the benevolence of those who have directed it to a building not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. This, then, is the point at which the benevolence of the gospel separates from that worldly benevo lence, to which, as far as it goes, I offer my cheerful and unmingled testimony. The one minds earthly things, tlie other has its conversation in heaven. Even when the immediate object of both is the same, you will generally perceive an evident distinc tion in the principle. Individuals, for exam ple, may co-operate, and will often meet in the same room, be members of the same so ciety, and go hand in hand cordially toge ther for the education of the poor. But the forming habits of virtuous industry, and good members of society, which are the sole consideration in the heart of the worldly philanthropist, are but mere accessions in the heart of the Christian. The main im pulse of his benevolence lies in furnishing the poor with the means of enjoying that bread of life which came down from hea ven, and in introducing them to the know ledge of those scriptures which are the power of God unto salvation to every one who believeth. Now, it is so far a blessing to the world that there is a co-operation in the immediate object. But what I contend for, is, that there is a total want of conge niality in the principle — that the moment you strip the institution of its temporal ad vantages, and make it repose on the naked grandeur of eternity, it is fallen from, or laughed at as one of the chimeras of fanati cism, and left to the despised efforts of those whom they esteem to be unaccountable peo ple, who subscribe for missions, and squan der their money on Bible societies. Strange effect, you would think, of eternity, to de grade the object with which it is connected ! But so it is. The blaze of glory, which is thrown around the martyrdom of a patriot 178 CHARITY SERMON. or a philosopher, is refused to the martyr dom of a Christian. When a statesman dies, who lifted his intrepid voice for the liberty of the species, we hear of nothing but of the shrines and the monuments of immortality. Put into his place one of those sturdy re formers, who, unmoved by councils and inquisitions, stood up for the religious liber ties of the world ; and it is no sooner done, than the full tide of congenial sympathy and admiration is at once arrested. We have all heard of the benevolent apostleship of Howard, and what Christian will be behind his fellows with his applauding testimony ? But will they, on the other hand, share his enthusiasm when he tells them of the apos tleship of Paul, who, in the sublimer sense of the term, accomplished the liberty of the captive, and brought them that sat in dark ness out of the prison-house? Will they share in the holy benevolence of the apos tle when he pours out his ardent effusions in behalf of his countrymen ? They were at that time on the eve of the crudest suffer ings. The whole vengeance of the Roman power was mustering to bear upon them. The siege and destruction of their city form one of the most dreadful tragedies in the history of war. Yet Paul seems to have had another object in his eye. It was their souls and their eternity which engrossed him. Can you sympathise with him in this prin ciple, or join in kindred benevolence with him, when he says, that " my heart's desire and prayer for Israel is that they might be saved ?" But to bring my list of examples to a close, the most remarkable of them all may be collected from the history of the present attempts which are now making to carry the knowledge of divine revelation into the Pagan and uncivilized countries of the world. Now, it may be my ignorance, but I am certainly not aware of the fact, that without a book of religious faith — without religion, in fact, being the errand and occa sion, we have never been able in modern imes so far to compel the attentions and to subdue the habits of savages, as to throw in among them the use and possession of a written language. Certain it is, however, at all events, that this very greatest step in the process of converting a wild man of the woods into a humanized member of society, has been accomplished by christian mis sionaries. They have put into the hands of barbarians this mighty instrument of a written language, and they have taught them how to use it* They have formed ?As, for instance, Mr. John Elliot, and the Moravian brethren among the Indians of New England and Pennsylvania ; the Moravians of South America ; Mr. Hans Egedc, and the Mo ravians in Greenland; the latter in Labradore, an orthography for wandering and untu. tored savages.. They have given a shape and a name to their barbarous articulations; and the children of men, who lived on the prey of the wilderness, are now forming in village schools to the arts and the decencies of cultivated life. Now, I am not involving you in the controversy whether civilization should precede Christianity, or Christianity should precede civilization. It is not to what has been said on the subject, but to what has been done, that we are pointing your attention. We appeal to the fact ; and as an illustration of the principle we have been attempting to lay before you, we call upon you to mark the feelings, and the countenance, and the language, of the mere academic moralist, when you put into his hand the authentic and proper document where the fact is recorded — we mean a mis sionary report, or a missionary magazine. We know that there are men who have so much of the firm nerve and hardihood of philosophy about them, as not to be repelled from the truth in whatever shape, or from whatever quarter it comes to them. But there are others of a humbler cast who have transferred their homage from the omnipo tence of truth, to the omnipotence of a name ; who, because missionaries, while they are accomplishing the civilization, are labour ing also for the eternity of savages, have lifted up the cry of fanaticism against them — who, because missionaries revere the word of God, and utter themselves in the language of the New Testament, nauseate every word that comes from them as over run with the flavour and phraseology of methodism — who are determined, in short, to abominate all that is missionary, and suf fer the very sound of the epithet to fill their minds with an overwhelming association of repugnance, and prejudice, and disgust. We would not have counted this so re markable an example, had it not been that missionaries are accomplishing the very object on which the advocates for civiliza tion love to expatiate. They are working for the temporal good far more effectually than any adventurer in the cause ever did before; but mark the want of congeniality between the benevolence of this world, and thn benevolence of the Christian ; they incur contempt, because they are working for the spiritual and eternal good also. Nor do the earthly blessings which they scatter so among the Eskimaux ; the missionaries of Ota- heite, and other South Sea islands; and Mr. Brunton, under the patronage of the Society for Missions to Africa and the East, who reduced the language of the Susoos, a nation on the coast of Africa, to writing and grammatical form, and printed in it a spelling-book, vocabulary, catechism, an 1 some tracts. Other instances besides might be given. CHARITY SERMON. 179 abundantly in their way, redeem from scorn the purer and the nobler principle which inspires them. These observations seem to be an appli cable introduction to the subject before us. I call your attention to the way in which the Bible enjoins us to take up the care of the poor. It does not say, in the text before us, Commiserate the poor ; for, if it said no more than this, it would leave their neces sities to be provided for by the random ebul litions of an impetuous and unreflecting sympathy. It provides them with a better security than the mere feeling of compas sion—a feeling which, however useful for the purpose of excitement, must be con trolled and regulated. Feeling is but a faint and fluctuating security. Fancy may mis lead it. The sober realities of life may dis gust it. Disappointment may extinguish it. Ingratitude may embitter it. Deceit, with its counterfeit representations, may allure it to the wrong object. At all events, Time is the little circle within which it in general expatiates. It needs the impression of sen sible objects to sustain it ; nor can it enter with zeal or with vivacity into the wants of the abstract and invisible soul. The Bible, then, instead of leaving the relief of the poor to the mere instinct of sympathy, makes it a subject for consideration — Blessed is he that considereth the poor — a grave and prosaic exercise I do allow, and which makes no figure in those high wrought descriptions, where the exquisite tale of benevolence is made up of all the sensibilities of tenderness on the one hand, and of all the ecstacies of gratitude on the other. The Bible rescues the cause from the mischief to which a heedless or un thinking sensibility would expose it. It brings it under the cognizance of a higher faculty — a faculty of steadier operation than to be weary in well-doing, and of sturdier endurance than to give it up in disgust. It calls you to consider the poor. It makes the virtue of relieving them a matter of computation as well as of sentiment ; and in so doing, it puts you beyond the reach of the various delusions by which you are at one time led to prefer the in dulgence of pity to the substantial interest of its object ; at another, are led to retire chagrined and disappointed from the scene of duty, because you have not met with the gratitude or the honesty that you laid your account with ; at another, are led to expend all your anxieties upon the accommodation of time, and to overlook eternity. It is the office of consideration to save you from all these fallacies. Under its tutorage, at tention to the wants of the poor ripens into principle. I want, my brethren, to press its advantages upon you, for I can in no other way recommend the society whose claims I am appointed to lay before you, so effectually to your patronage. My time will only permit me to lay before you a few of their advantages, and I shall therefore confine myself to two leading particulars. I. The man who considers the poor, in stead of slumbering over the emotions of a useless sensibility, among those imaginary beings whom poetry and romance have laid before him in all the elegance of fic titious history, will bestow the labour and the attention of actual business among' the poor of the real and the living world. Be nevolence is the burden of every romantic tale, and of every poet's song. It is dressed out in all the fairy enchantments of imagery and eloquence. All is beauty to the eye and music to the ear. Nothing seen but pictures of felicity, and nothing heard but the soft whispers of gratitude and affection. The reader is carried along by this soft and delightful representation of virtue. He ac companies his hero through all the fancied varieties of his history. He goes along with him to the cottage of poverty and disease, surrounded, as we may suppose, with all the charms of rural obscurity, and where the murmurs of an adjoining rivulet accord with the finer and more benevolent sensi bilities of the mind. He enters this en chanting retirement, and meets with a pic ture of distress, adorned in all the elegance of fiction. Perhaps a father laid on a bed of languishing, and supported by the la bours of a pious and affectionate family, where kindness breathes in every word, and anxiety sits upon every countenance — where the industry of his children struggles in vain to supply the cordials which his po verty denies him — where nature sinks every hour, and all feel a gloomy foreboding. which they strive to conceal, and tremble to evpress. The hero of romance enters, and the glance of his benevolent eye en lightens this darkest recess of misery. He turns him to the bed of languishing, tells the sick man that there is still hope, and smiles comfort on his despairing children. Day after day he repeats his kindness and his charity. They hail his approach as the footsteps of an angel of mercy. The father lives to bless his deliverer. The family re ward his benevolence by the homage of an affectionate gratitude ; and, in the piety of their evening prayer, offer up thanks to the God of heaven, for opening the hearts of the rich to kindly and beneficent attentions. The reader weeps with delight. The visions of paradise play before his fancy. His tears flow, and his heart dissolves in all the lux ury of tenderness. Now, we do not deny that the members of the Destitute Sick Society may at times have met with some such delightful scene to soothe and encourage them. But put the question to any of their visitors, and he will not fail to tell you, that if they had 180 CHARITY SERMON. never moved but when they had something like this to excite and to gratify their hearts, they would seldom have moved at all; and their usefulness to the poor would have been reduced to a very humble frac tion of what they have actually done for them. What is this but to say, that it is the business of a religious instructor to give you, not the elegant, but the true reprasen- tation of benevolence — to represent it not so much as a luxurious indulgence to the finer sensibilities of the mind, but according to the sober declaration of Scripture, as a work and as a labour — as a business in which you must encounter vexation, op position, and fatigue; where you are not always to meet with that elegance, which allures the fancy, or with that humble and retired adversity, which interests the more tender propensities of the heart; but as a business where reluctance must often be overcome by a sense of duty, and where, though oppressed at every step, by envy, disgust, and disappointment, you are bound to persevere, in obedience to the law of God, and the sober instigation of principle. Tbe benevolence of the gospel lies in ac tions. The benevolence of our fictitious writers, in a kind of high-wrought delicacy of feeling and sentiment. The one dissi pates all its fervour in sighs and tears, and idle aspirations — the other reserves its strength for efforts and execution. The one regards it as a luxurious enjoyment for the heart — the other, as a work and busi ness for the hand. The one sits in indo lence, and broods, in visionary rapture, over its schemes of ideal philanthropy — the other steps abroad, and enlightens by its presence, the dark and pestilential hovels of disease. The one wastes away in empty ejaculation — the other gives time and trou ble to the work of beneficence — gives edu cation to the orphan — provides clothes for the naked, and lays food on the table of the hungry. The one is indolent and ca pricious, and often does mischief by the occasional overflowings of a whimsical and ill-directed charity — the other is vigilant and discerning, and takes care lest his dis tributions be injudicious, and the effort of benevolence be misapplied. The one is soothed with the luxury of feeling, and re clines in easy and indolent satisfaction — the other shakes off the deceitful languor of contemplation and solitude, and delights in a scene of activity. — Remember, that virtue, in general, is not to feel, but to do ; not merely to conceive a purpose, but to carry that purpose into execution ; not merely to be overpowered by the impression of a sen timent, but to practise what it loves, and to imitate what it admires. To be benevolent in speculation, is often to be selfish in action and in reality. The vanity and the indolence of man delude him into a thousand inconsistencies. He professes to love the name and the sem blance of virtue, but the labour of exertion and of self-denial terrifies him from at tempting it. The emotions of kindness are delightful to his bosom, but then they are little better than a selfish indulgence — they terminate in his own enjoyment — they are a mere refinement of luxury. His eye melt? over the picture of fictitious distress while not a tear is left for the actual starva tion and misery with which he is sur rounded. It is easy to indulge the imagina tions of a visionary heart in going over a scene of fancied affliction, because here there is no sloth to overcome — no avari cious propensity to control — no offensive or disgusting circumstance to allay the un- mingled impression of sympathy which a soft and elegant picture is calculated to awaken. It is not so easy to be benevolent in action and in reality, because here there is fatigue to undergo — there is time and money to give — there is the mortifying spectacle of vice, and folly, and ingratitude, to encounter. We like to give you the fair picture of love to man, because to throw over it false and fictitious embellishments, is injurious to its cause. These elevate the fancy by romantic visions which can never be realized. They embitter the heart by the most severe and mortifying disappoint ments, and often force us to retire in dis gust from what heaven has intended to be the theatre of our discipline and prepara tion. Take the representation of the Bible. Benevolence is a work and a labour. It often calls for the severest efforts of vigi lance and industry — a habit of action not to be acquired in the school of fine sentiment, but in the walks of business, in the dark and dismal receptacles of misery — in the hospitals of disease — in the putrid lanes of great cities, where poverty dwells in lank and ragged wretchedness, agonized with pain, faint with hunger, and shivering in a frail and unsheltered tenement. You are not to conceive yourself a real lover ol your species, and entitled to the praise or the reward of benevolence, be cause you weep over a fictitious represen tation of human misery. A man may weep in the indolence of a studious and contem plative retirement; he may breathe all the tender aspirations of humanity ; but what avails all this warm and diffusive benevo lence, if it is never exerted— if it never rise to execution— if it never carry him to the accomplishment of a single benevolent purpose— if it shrink from activity, and sicken at the pain of fatigue ? It is easy, indeed, to come forward with the cant and hypocrisy of fine sentiment— to have a heart trained to the emotions of benevo lence, while the hand refuses the labours of discharging its offices— to weep for CHARITY SERMON. 181 amusement, and to have nothing to spare for human suffering but the tribute of an indolent and unmeaning sympathy. Many of you must be acquainted with that cor ruption of Christian doctrine, which has been termed Antinomianism. It professes the -highest reverence for the Supreme Being, while it refuses obedience to the lessons of his authority. It professes the highest gratitude for the sufferings of Christ, while it refuses that course of life and action, which he demands of his fol lowers. It professes to adore the tremen dous Majesty of heaven, and to weep in shame and in sorrow over the sinfulness of degraded humanity, while every day it insults Heaven by the enormity of its mis deeds, and evinces the insincerity of its wilful perseverance in the practice of ini quity. This Antinomianism is generally condemned ; and none reprobate it more than the votaries of fine sentiment — your men of taste and elegant literature— your epicures of feeling, who riot in all the lux ury of theatrical emotion, and who, in their admiration of what is tender, and beautiful, and cultivated, have always turned with disgust from the doctrines of a sour and illiberal theology. We may say to such, as Nathan to David, " Thou art the man." Theirs is to all intents and purposes Anti nomianism — and an Antinomianism of a far more dangerous and deceitful kind, than the Antinomianism of a spurious and pre tended orthodoxy. In the Antinomianism of religion, there is nothing to fascinate or de ceive you. It wears an air of repulsive bigotry, more fitted to awaken disgust than to gain the admiration of proselytes. There is a glaring deformity in its aspect, which alarms you at the very outset, and is an outrage to that natural morality which, dark and corrupted as it is, is still strong enough to lift its loud remonstrance against it. But in the Antinomianism of high wrought sen timent, there is a deception far more insinu ating. It steals upon you under the sem blance of virtue. It is supported by the delusive colouring of imagination and poetry. It has all the graces and embel lishments of literature to recommend it. Vanity is soothed, and conscience lulls itself to repose in this dream of feeling and of indolence. Let us dismiss these lying vanities, and regulate our lives by the truth and sober ness of the New Testament. Benevolence is not in word and in tongue, but in deed and in truth. It is a business with men as they are, and with human life as drawn by the rough hand of experience. It is a duty whicn you must perforin at the call of prin ciple, though there be no voice of eloquence to give splendour to your exertions, and no music or poetry to lead your willing foot steps through the bowers of enchantment. It is not the impulse of high and ecstatic emotion. It is an exertion of principle. You must go to the poor man's cottage, though no verdure flourish around it, and no rivulet be nigh to delight you by the gentleness of its murmurs. If you look for the romantic simplicity of fiction you will be disappoint ed : but it is your duty to persevere, in spite of every discouragement. Benevolence is not merely a feeling, but a principle ; not a dream of rapture for the fancy to indulge in, but a business for the hand to execute. It must now be obvious to all of you. that it is not enough that you give money, and add your name to the contributors of cha rity — you must give it with judgment. You must give your time and your attention. You must descend to the trouble of examina tion. You must rise from the repose of con templation, and make yourself acquainted with the objects of your benevolent exer cises. Will he husband your charity with care, or will he squander it away in idle ness and dissipation ? Will he satisfy him self with the brutal luxury of the moment, and neglect the supply of his more substan tial necessities, or suffer his children to be trained in ignorance and depravity ? Will charity corrupt him by laziness ? What is his peculiar necessity ? Is it the want of health or the want of employment? Is it the pressure of a numerous family? Does he need medicine to administer to the dis eases of his children ? Does he need fuel or raiment to protect them from the incle mency of winter ? Does he need money to satisfy the yearly demands of his land lord, or to purchase books, and to pay for the education of his offspring ? To give money is not to do all the work and labour of benevolence. You must go to the poor man's bed. You must lend your hand to the work of assistance. You must examine his accounts. You must try to re cover those debts which are due to his fa mily. You must try to recover those wages which are detained by the injustice or the rapacity of his master. You must employ your mediation with his superiors. You must represent to them the necessities of his situation. You must solicit their assist ance, and awaken their feelings to the tale of his calamity. This is benevolence hi its plain, and sober, and substantial reality, though eloquence may have withheld its imagery, and poetry may have denied its graces and its embellishments. This is true and unsophisticated goodness. It may be recorded in no earthly documents ; but if done under the influence of christian prin ciple — in a word, done unto Jesus, it is writ ten in the book of heaven, and will give a new lustre to that crown to which his disciples look forward in time, and will wear through eternity. You have all heard of the division of la 182 HARITY SERMON. bour, and I wish you to understand, that the advantage of this principle may be felt as much in the operations of charity, as in the operations of trade and manufactures. The work of beneficence does not lie in the one act of giving money; there must be the act of attendance; there must be the act of in quiry; there must be the act of judicious application. But I can conceive that an individual may be so deficient in the varied experience and attention which a work so extensive demands, that he may retire in disgust-and discouragement from the practice of charity altogether. The in stitution of a Society, such as this, saves this individual to the cause. It takes upon itself all the subsequent acts in the work and labour of love, and restricts his part to the mere act of giving money. It fills the middle space between the dispensers and the recipients of charity. The habits of many who now hear me, may disqualify them for the work of examination. They may have no time for it ; they may live at a distance from the objects; they may nei ther know how to introduce, nor how to conduct themselves in the management of all the details ; their want of practice and of experience may disable thern for the work of repelling imposition; they should try to gain the necessary habits; it is right that every individual among us, should each, in his own sphere, consider the poor, and qualify themselves for a judicious and discriminating charity. But, in the mean tune, the Society for the Relief of the Des titute Sick, is an instrument ready made to our hands. Avail yourselves of this in strument immediately, as, by the easiest part of the exercise of charity, which is to give money, you carry home to the poor all the benefits of its most difficult exercises. The experience which you want, the mem bers of this laudable Society are in posses sion of. By the work and observation of years, a stock of practical wisdom is now accumulated among thern. They have been long inured to all that is loathsome and dis couraging in this good work, and they have nerve, and hardihood, and principle tu front it. They are every way qualified to be the carriers of your bounty, for it is a path they have long travelled in. Give the money, and these conscientious men will soon bring it into contact with the right objects. They know the way through all the obscurities of this metropolis, an'd they they can bring the offerings of your charity to people whom you will never see, and into houses which you will never enter. It is not easy to con ceive, far less to compute the extent of hu man misery ; but these men can give you experience for it. They can show you their registers of the sick and of the dying ; they are familiar with disease in all its varieties of faintness, and breathlessness, and pain.— Sad union ! they are called to witness it in conjunction with poverty ; and well do they know that there is an eloquence in the im ploring looks of these helpless poor, which no description can set before you. Oh ! my brethren, figure to yourselves the calamity in all its soreness, and measure your bounty by the actual greatness of the claims, and not by the feebleness of their advocate. I have trespassed upon your patience; but, at the hazard of carrying my address to a length that is unusual, I must still say more. Nor would I ever forgive myself if I neglected to set the eternity of the poor in all its importance before you. This is the second point of consideration to which I wish to direct you. The man who con siders the poor will give his chief anxiety to the wants of their eternity. It must be evident to all of you that this anxiety is little felt. I do not appeal for the evidence of this to the selfish part of mankind — there we are not to expect it. I go to those who are really benevolent — who have a wish to make others happy, and who take trouble in so doing ; and it is a striking observation, how little the salvation of these others is the object of that benevolence which makes them so amiable. It will be found that in and by far the greater number of instances, this principle is all consumed on the ac commodations of time, and the necessities of the body. It is the meat which feeds them — the garment which covers them— the house which shelters them — the money which purchases all things; these, I say, are what form the chief topics of benevo lent anxieties. Now, we do not mean to dis courage this principle. We cannot afford it; there is too little of it; and if forms too refreshing an exception to that general sel fishness which runs throughout the haunts of business and ambition, for us to say any thing against it. We are not cold-blooded enough to refuse our delighted concurrence to an exertion so amiable in its principle, and so pleasing in the warm and comfort able spectacle which it lays before us. The poor, it is true, ought never to forget, that it is to their own industry, and to the wis dom and economy of their own manage ment, that they are to look for the elements of subsistence — that if idleness and prodi gality shall lay hold of the mass of our population, no benevolence, however un bounded, can ever repair a mischief so irre coverable — that if they will not labour for themselves, it is not in the power of the ( rich to create a sufficiency for them ; and that though every heart were opened, and every purse emptied in the cause, it would absolutely go for nothing towards forming a well-fed, a well-lodged, or a well condi tioned peasantry. Still, however, there are cases which no foresight could prevent, and no industry could provide for — where the CHARITY SERMON. 183 Wow falls heavy and unexpected on some devoted son or daughter of misfortune, and where, though thoughtlessness and folly may have had their share, benevolence, not very nice in its calculations, will feel the overpowering claim of actual, helpless, and imploring misery. Now, I again offer my cheerful testimony to such benevolence as this ; I count it delightful to see it singling out. its object ; and sustaining it against the cruel pressure of age and of indigence ; and when I enter a cottage where I see a warmer fire-side, or more substantial provision, than the visible means can account for, I say that the landscape, in all its summer glories, does not offer an object so gratifying, as when referred to the vicinity of the great man's house, and the people who live in it, and am told that I will find my explanation Mere. Kind and amiable people ! your benevolence is most lovely in its display, but oh ! it is perishable in its consequences. Does it never occur to you that in a few years this favourite will die — and that he will go to the place where neither cold nor hunger will reach him, but that a mighty interest remains, of which both of us may know the certainty, though neither you nor I can calculate the extent. Your benevo lence is too short. — It does not shoo1 far enough a-head. — It is like regaling a child with a sweetmeat or a toy, and then aban doning the happy, unreflecting infant to exposure. You make the poor old man happy with your crumbs and your frag ments, but he is an infant on the mighty range of infinite duration; and will you leave the soul, which has the infinity to go through, to its chance? How comes it that the grave should throw so impenetrable a shroud over the realities of eternity ? How comes it that heaven, and hell, and judg ment, should be treated as so many nonen tities, and that there should be as little real and operative sympathy felt for the soul which lives forever, as for the body after it is dead, or for the dust into which it mould ers? Eternity is longer than time; the arithmetic, my brethren, is all one side upon this question; and the wisdom which calcu lates, and guides itself by calculation, gives its weighty and respectable support to what may be called the benevolence of faith. Now, if there be one employment more fitted than another to awaken this benevo lence, it is the peculiar employment of that Society for which I am now pleading. I would have anticipated such benevolence from the situation they occupy, and the in formation before the public bears testimony to the fact. The truth is, that the diseases of he body may be looked upon as so many outlets through which the soul finds its way to eternity. Now, it is at these outlets that the members of this Society have stationed themselves. This is the interesting point of survey at which they stand, and from which they command a look of both worlds. They have placed themselves in the avenues which lead from time to eternity, and they have often to witness the awful transition of a soul hovering at the entrance — strug gling its way through the valley of the shadow of death, and at last breaking loose from the confines of all that is visible. Do you think it likely that men with such spec tacles before them, will withstand the sense of eternity? No, my brethren, they cannot, they have not. ¦ Eternity, I rejoice to an nounce to you. is not forgotten by them ; and with their care for the diseases of the body, they are neither blind nor indifferent to the fact, that the soul is diseased also. We know it well. There is an indolent and superficial theology, which turns its eyes from the danger, and feels no pressing call for the application of the remedy — which reposes more in its own vague and self- assumed conceptions of the mercy of God, than in the firm and consistent representa tions of the New Testament — which over looks the existence of disease altogether, and therefore feels no alarm, and exerts no urgency in the business — which, in the face of all the truths and all the severities that are uttered in the word of God, leaves the soul to its chance ; or, in other words, by neglecting to administer every thing spe cific for the salvation of the soul, leaves it to perish. We do not want to involve you in con troversies ; we only ask you to open the New Testament, and attend to the obvious meaning of a word which occurs frequently in its pages — we mean the word saved. The term surely implies, that the present state of the thing to be saved is a lost and an undone state. If a tree be in a health ful state from its infancy, you never apply the term saved to it, though you see its beautiful foliage, its flourishing blossoms, its abundant produce, and its progressive ascent through all the varieties incidental to a sound and a prosperous tree. But if it were diseased in its infancy, and ready to perish, and if it were restored by man agement and artificial applications, then you would say of this tree that it was saved; and the very term implies some previous state of uselessness and corruption. What, then, are we to make of the .frequent occur rence of this term in the New Testament, as applied to a human being ? If men come into this world pure and innocent, and have nothing more to do but to put forth the powers with which nature has endowed them, and so rise through the progressive stages of virtue and excellence, to tne re wards of immortality, you would not say of these men that they were saved, when they were translated to these rewards. These rewards of man are the natural 184 CHARITY SERMON. effects of his obedience, and the term saved is not at all applicable to such a supposi tion. But the God of the Bible says differ ently. If a man obtain heaven at all, it is by being saved. He is in a diseased state, and it is by the healing application of the blood of the Son of God, that he is restored from that state. The very title applied to him proves the same thing. He is called our Saviour. The deliverance which he effects is called our salvation. The men whom he doth deliver are called the saved. Doth not this imply some previous state of disease and helplessness? And from the frequent and incidental occurrence of this term, may we not gather an additional tes timony to the truth of what is elsewhere more expressly revealed to us, that we are lost by nature, and that to obtain recovery, we must be found in Him who came to seek and to save that which was lost. He that believeth on the Son of God shall be saved, but he that believeth not, the wrath of God abideth on him. We know that there are some who loathe this representation ; but this is just another example of the substantial interests of the poor being sacrificed to mismanagement and delusion. It is to be hoped that there are many who have looked the disease fairly in the face, and are ready to reach forward the remedy adapted to relieve it. We should have no call to attend to the spiritual in terests of men, if they could safely be left lo themselves, and to the spontaneous ope ration of those powers with which it is sup posed that nature has endowed them. But this is not the state of the case. We come into the world with the principles of sin and condemnation within us ; and, in the con genial atmosphere of this world's example, these ripen fast for the execution of the sentence. During the period of this short but interesting passage to another world, the remedy is in the gospel held out to all, and the freedom and universality of its in vitations, while it opens assured admission to all who will, must aggravate the weight and severity of the sentence to those who will not ; and upon them the dreadful en ergy of that saying will be accomplished, — , " How shall they escape if they neglect so great a salvation ?" We know part of your labours for the eternity of the poor. We know that you have brought the Bible into contact with many a soul. And we are sure that this is «uiting the remedy to the disease ; for the Bible contains those words which are the power of God through faith unto salvation, to every one who believes them. To this established instrument for work ing faith in the heart, add the instrument of hearing. When you give the Bible, ac company the gift with the living energy of a human voice — let prayer, and advice, and explanation, be brought to act upon them ; and let the warm and deeply fell earnestness of your hearts, discharge itself upon theirs in the impressive tones of sin cerity, and friendship, and good will. This is going substantially to work. It is, if I may use the expression, bringing the right element to bear upon the case before you ; and be assured, every treatment of a con vinced and guilty mind is superficial and ruinous, which does not lead it to the Sa viour, and bring before it his sacrifice and atonement, and the influences of that spirit bestowed through his obedience on all who believe on Him. While in the full vigour of health we may count it enough to take up with something short of this. But — striking testimony to evangelical truth ! go to the awful reality of a human soul on the eve of its departure from the body, and you will find that all those vapid sentimentalities which partake not of the substantial doctrine of the New Testament, are good for nothing. Hold up your face, my brethren, for the truth and simplicity of the Bible. Be not ashamed of ilk phraseology. It is the right instru ment to handle in the great work of calling a human soul out of darkness into marvel lous light. Stand firm and secure on the impregnable principle, that this is the word of God, and that all taste, and imagination, and science, must give way before its over bearing authority. Walk in the footsteps of your Saviour, in the twofold office of caring for the diseases of the body, and ad ministering to the wants of the soul ; and though you may fail in the former — though the patient may never arise and walk, yet, by the blessing of Heaven upon your fer vent and effectual endeavours, the latter ob ject may be gained — the soul may be light ened of all its anxieties, the whole burden of its diseases may be swept away — it may be of good cheer, because its sins are forgiven — and the right direction maybe impressed upon it, which will carry it forward in pro gress to a happy eternity. Death may not be averted, but death maybe disarmed. It may be stript of its terrors, and instead of a devouring enemy, it may be hailed as a messenger of triumph. THOUGHTS ON UNIVERSAL PEACE. A SERMON, DELIVERED ON THURSDAY, JANUARY 18, 1816, THE DAY OF NATIONAL THANKSGIVING FOR THE RESTORATION OF PEACE. " Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.'' — Isaiah ii. 4. There are a great many passages in Scripture which warrant the expectation that a time is coming, when an end shall be put to war — when its abominations and its cruelties shall be banished from the face of the earth — when those restless elements of ambition and jealousy which have so long kept the species in a state of unceasing commotion, and are ever and anon sending another and another wave over the field of this world's politics, shall at length be hushed into a placid and ever-during calm ; and many and delightful are the images which the Bible employs, as guided by the light of prophecy, it carries us forward to those millennial days, when the reign of peace shall be established, and the wide charity of the gospel, which is confined by no limits, and owns no distinctions, shall embosom the whole human race within the ample grasp of one harmonious and uni versal family. But before I proceed, let me attempt to do away a delusion which exists on the subject of prophecy. Its fulfilments are all certain, say many, and we have therefore nothing to do, but to wait for them in pas sive and indolent expectation. The truth of God stands in no dependence on human aid to vindicate the immutability of all his announcements; and the power of God stands in no need of the feeble exertions of man to hasten the accomplishment of any of his purposes. Let us therefore sit down quietly in the attitude of spectators — let us leave the Divinity to do his own work in his own way, and mark, by the progress of a history over which we have no control, the evolution of his designs, and the march of his wise and beneficent administration. Now, it is very true, that the Divinity will do his own work in his own way, but if he choose to tell us that that way is not without the instrumentality of men, but by their instrumentality, might not this sitting down into the mere attitude of spectators, turn out to be a most perverse and disobe dient conclusion ? It is true, that his pur pose will obtain its fulfilment, whether we 24 shall offer or not to help it forward by our co-operation. But if the object is to be brought about, and if, in virtue of the same sovereignty by which he determined upon the object, he has also determined on the way which leads to it, and that that way shall be by the acting of human principle, and the putting forth of human exertion, then, let us keep back our co-operation as we may, God will raise up the hearts of others to that which we abstain from ; and they, admitted into the high honour of be ing fellow-workers with God, may do ho mage to the truth of his prophecy, while we, perhaps, may unconsciously do dread ful homage to the truth of another warning, and another prophecy : " I work a work in your days which you shall not believe, though a man declare it unto you. Behold, ye despisers, and wonder and perish." Now this is the very way in which pro phecies have been actually fulfilled. The return of the people of Israel to their own land, was an event predicted by inspiration, and was brought about by the stirring up of the spirit of Cyrus, who felt himself charged with the duty of building a house to God at Jerusalem. The pouring out of the Spirit on the day of Pentecost was fore told by the Saviour ere he left the world, and was accomplished upon men who as sembled themselves together at the place to which they wer'e commanded to repair ; and there they waited, and they prayed. The rapid propagation of Christianity in those days was known by the human agents of this propagation, to be made sure by the word of prophecy ; but the way in which it was actually made sure, was by the strenuous exertions, the unexampled hero ism, the holy devotedness and zeal of mar tyrs, and apostles, and evangelists. And even now, my brethren, while no profess ing Christian can deny that their faith is to be one day the faith of all countries ; but while many of them idly sit and wait the time of God putting forth some mysterious and unheard of agency, to bring about the universal diffusion, there are men who have 186 THOUGHTS on peace. betaken themselves to the obvious expedient of going abroad among the nations, and teaching them; and though derided by an undeserving world, they seem to be the very men pointed out by the Bible, who are going to and fro increasing the know ledge of its doctrines, and who will be the honoured instruments of carrying into ef fect the most splendid of all its anticipa tions. Now, the same holds true, I apprehend, of the prophecy in my text. The abolition of war will be the effect not of any sudden or resistless visitation from heaven on the character of men — not of any mystical in fluence working with all the omnipotence of a charm on the passive hearts of those who are the subjects of it — not of any blind or overruling fatality which will come upon the earth at some distant period of its his tory, and about which, we, of the present day, have nothing to do but to look silently on, without concern, and without co-ope ration. The prophecy of a peace as uni versal as the spread of the human race, and as enduring as -the moon in the firmament, will meet its accomplishment, ay, and at that very time which is already fixed by Him who seeth the end of all things from the beginning thereof. But it will be brought about by the activity of men. It will be done by the philanthropy of thinking and intelligent Christians. The conversion of the Jews — the spread of the gospel light among the regions of idolatry — these are distinct subjects of prophecy, on which the faithful of the land are now acting, and to the fulfilment of which they are giving their zeal and1 their energy. I conceive the pro phecy which relates to the final abolition of war will be taken up in the same manner, and the subject will be brought to the test of christian principle, and many will unite to spread a growing sense of its follies and its enormities, over the countries of the world— and the public will be enlightened, not by the factious and turbulent declama tions of a party, but by the mild dissemina tion of gospel sentiment through the land — and the prophecy contained in this book will pass into effect and accomplishment, by no other influence than the influence of its ordinary lessons on the hearts and con sciences of individuals — and the measure will first be carried in one country, not by the unhallowed violence of discontent, but by the control of general opinion, expressed on the part of a people, who, if Christian in their repugnance to war, will be equally Christian in all the loyalties, and subjections, and meek unresisting virtues of the New Testament — and the sacred fire of good-will to the children of men will spread itself through all climes, and through all lati tudes — and thus by scriptural truth con veyed with power from one people to an- 1 other, and aking its ample round among all the tribes and families of the earth, shall we arrive at the magnificent result of peace throughout all its provinces, and security in all its dwelling-places. In the further prosecution of this dis course, I shall, first, expatiate a little on the evils of war. In the second place, I shall direct your attention to the obstacles which stand in the way of its extinction, and which threaten to retard for a time the accomplishment of the prophecy I have now selected for your < consideration. And, in the third place, I shall endeavour to point out, what can only be done at present in a hurried and superficial man ner, some of the expedients by which these obstacles may be done away. I. I shall expatiate a little on the evils of war. The mere existence of the prophecy in my text, is a sentence of condemnation upon war, and stamps a criminality on its very forehead. So soon as Christianity shall gain a full ascendency in the world, from that moment war is to disappear. We have heard that there is something noble in the art of war; that there is something generous in the ardour of that fine chivalric spirit which kindles in the hour of alarm, and rushes with delight among the thickest scenes of danger and of enterprise ;— th at man is never more proudly arrayed, than when, elevated by a contempt for death, he puts on his intrepid front, and looks serene, while the arrows of destruction are flying on every side of him : — that expunge war, and you expunge some of the brightest names in the catalogue of human virtue, and demolish that theatre on which have been displayed some of the sublimest ener gies of the human character. It is thus that war has been invested with a most perni cious splendour, and men have offered to justify it as a blessing and an ornament to society, and attempts have been made to throw a kind of imposing morality around it ; and one might, almost be reconciled to the whole train of its calamities and its hor rors, did he not believe his Bible, and learn from its information, that in the days of perfect righteousness, there will be no war ; — that so soon as the character of man has had the last finish of Christian principle thrown over it, from that moment all the instruments of war will be thrown aside, and all its lessons will be forgotten : that therefore what are called the virtues of war, are no virtues at all, or that a better and a Worthier scene will he provided for their exercise; but in short, that at the com mencement of that blissful era, when the reign of heaven shall be established, war will take its departure from the world with all the other plagues and atrocities of the species. THiUOHrS ON TEACE. 187 But apart altogether from this testimony to the evil of war, let us just take a direct look of it, and see whether we can find its character engraved on the aspect it bears to the eye of an attentive observer. The stoutest heart of this assembly would recoil, were he who owns it, to behold the de struction of a single individual by some deed of violence. Were the man who at this moment stands before you in the full play and energy of health, to be in another moment laid by some deadly aim a lifeless corpse at your" feet, there is not one of you who would not prove how strong are the relentings of nature at a spectacle so hide ous as death. There are some of you who would be haunted for whole days by the image of horror you had witnessed — who would feel the weight of a most oppressive sensation upon your heart, which nothing but time could wear away — who would be so pursued by it as to be unfit for business or for enjoyment — who would think of it through the day, and it would spread a gloomy disquietude over your waking mo ments — who would dream of it at night, and it would turn that bed which you courted as a retreat from the torments of an ever-meddling memory, into a scene of restlessness. But generally the death of violence is not instantaneous, and there is often a sad and dreary interval between its final consumma tion, and the infliction of the blow which causes it. The winged messenger of de struction has not found its direct avenue to that spot, where the principle of life is situ ated — and the soul, finding obstacles to its immediate egress, has to struggle it for hours, ere it can make its weary way through the winding avenues of that te nement, which has been torn open by a brother's hand. O ! my brother, if there be something appalling in the suddenness of death, think not that when gradual in its advances, you will alleviate the horrors of this sickening contemplation, by viewing it in a milder form. O ! tell me, if there be any relentings of pity in your bosom, how could you endure it, to behold the agonies of the dying man — as goaded by pain, he grasps the cold ground in convulsive energy, or faint with the loss of blood, his pulse ebbs low, and the gathering pale ness spreads itself over his countenance ; or wrapping himself round in despair, he can only mark by a few feeble quiverings, that life still lurks and lingers in his lacerated body ; or lifting up a faded eye, he casts on ) ou a look of imploring helplessness, for that succour which no sympathy can yield him. It may be painful to dwell on such a representation ; but this is the way in which the cause of humanity is served. The eye of the sentimentalist turns away from its sufferings, and he passes by on the other side, lest he hear that pleading voice, which is armed with a tone of remon strance so vigorous as to disturb him. He cannot bear thus to pause, in imagination, on the distressing picture of one individual, but multiply it ten thousand times ; say, how much of all this distress has been heaped together upon a single field ; give us the arithmetic of this accumulated wretchedness, and lay it before us with all the accuracy of an official computation — and strange to tell, not one sigh is lifted up among the crowd of eager listeners, as they stand on tiptoe, and catch every syllable of utterance, which is read to them out of the registers of death. O ! say, what mystic spell is that, which so blinds us to the suffer ings of our brethren ; which deafens to our ear the voice of bleeding humanity, when it is aggravated by the shriek of dying thou sands; which makes the very magnitude of the slaughter, throw a softening disguise over its cruelties, and its horrors ; which causes us to eye with indifference, the field Chat is crowded with the most revolting abominations, and arrests that sigh, which each individual would singly have drawn from us, by the report of the many who have fallen, and breathed their last in agony along with them. I am not saying that the burden of all this criminality rests upon the head of the immediate combatants. It lies somewhere; but who can deny that a soldier may be a Christian, and that from the bloody field on which his body is laid, his soul may wing its ascending way to the shores of a peaceful eternity? But when I think that the Christians, even of the great world, form but a very little flock, and that an army is not a propitious soil for the growth of chris tian principle — when I think on the cha racter of one such army, that had been led on for years by a ruffian ambition, and been inured to scenes of barbarity, and had gathered a most ferocious hardihood of soul, from the many enterprises of violence to which an unprincipled commander had carried them — when I follow them to the field of battle, and further think, that on both sides of an exasperated contest — the gentleness of Christianity can have no place in almost any bosom ; but that nearly every heart is lighted up with fury, and breathes a vindictive purpose against a brother of the species, I cannot but reckon it among the most fearful of the calamities of war — that while the work of death is thickening along its ranks, so many disembodied spirits should pass into the presence of Him who sitteth upon the throne, in such a posture, and with such a preparation. I have no time, and assuredly as little taste, for expatiating on a topic so melan choly, nor can I afford at present, to set be fore you a vivid picture of the other mise- 188 THOUGHTS ON PEACE. ries which war carries in its train — how it desolates every country through which it rolls, and spreads violation and alarm among its villages — how, at its approach, every home pours forth its trembling fugi tives — how all the rights of property, and all the provisions of justice must give way before its devouring exactions — how, when Sabbath comes, no Sabbath charm comes along with it — and for the sound of the church bell, which wont to spread its music over some fine landscape of nature, and summon rustic worshippers to the house of prayer — nothing is heard but the death- ful vollies of the battle, and the maddening outcry of infuriated men — how, as the fruit of victory, an unprincipled licentiousness, which no discipline can restrain, is suffered to walk at large among the people — and all that is pure, and reverend, and holy, in the virtue of families, is cruelly trampled on, and held in the bitterest derision. Oh ! my brethren, were we to pursue those details, which no pen ever attempts, and no chronicle perpetuates, we should be tempted to ask, what that is which civiliza tion has done for the character of the species ? It has thrown a few paltry embel lishments over the surface of human affairs, and for the order of society, it has reared the defences of law around the rights and the property of the individuals who com pose it. But let war, legalized as you may, and ushered into the field with all the pa rade of forms and manifestos — let this war only have its season, and be suffered to overleap these artificial defences, and you will soon see how much the security of the commonwealth is due to positive restric tions, and how little of it is due to a natural senseof justice among men. Iknow well, that the plausibilities of human character which abound in every modern and enlightened society, have been mustered up to oppose the doctrine of the Bible, on the woful de pravity of our race. But out of the history of war, I can gather for this doctrine the evi dence of experiment. It tells me, that man when left to himself, and let loose among his fellows, to walk after the counsel of his own heart, and in the sight of his own eyes, will soon discover how thin that tinsel is, which the boasted hand of civilization has thrown over him. And we have only to blow thc trumpet of war, and proclaim to man the hour of his opportunity, that his character may show itself in its essential elements — and that we may see how many, in this our moral and enlightened day, would spring forward, as to a jubilee of delight, and prowl like the wild men of the woods, amidst scenes of rapacity, and cruelty, and violence. II. But let me hasten away from this part of the subject, and in the second place, lirect your attention to those obstacles which stand in the way of the extinction of war, and which threaten to retard, for a time, the accomplishment of the pro phecy I have now selected for your consi deration. Is this the time, it may be asked, to com plain of obstacles to the extinction of war, when peace has been given to the nations, and we are assembled to celebrate its tri umphs? Is this day of high and solemn gratulation, to be turned to such forebod ings as these? The whole of Europe is now at rest from the tempest which con vulsed it— and a solemn treaty with all its adjustments, and all its guarantees, pro mises a firm perpetuity to the repose of the world. We have long fought for a hap pier order of things, and at length we have established it — and the hard-earned bequest, we hand down to posterity as a rich inherit ance, won by the labours and the suffer ings of the present generation. That gi gantic ambition which stalked in triumph over the firmest and the oldest of our mo narchies, is now laid — and can never again burst forth from the confinement of its prison-hold to waken a new uproar, and to send forth new troubles over the face of a desolated world. Now, in reply to this, let it be observed that every interval of repose is precious; every breathing time from the work of vio lence is to be rejoiced in by the friends of humanity; every agreement among the powers of the earth, by which a temporary respite can be gotten from the calamities of war, is so much reclaimed from the amount of those miseries that afflict the world, and of those crimes, the cry of which ascendeth unto heaven, and bringeth down the judgments of God on this dark and rebellious province of his creation. I trust, that on this day, gratitude to Him who alone can still the tumults of the peo ple, will be the sentiment of every heart; and I trust, that none who now hear me, will refuse to evince his gratitude to the Author of the New Testament, by their obedience to one of the most distinct and undoubted of its lessons ; I mean the lesson of a reverential and submissive loyalty. I cannot pass an impartial eye over this re cord of God's will, without perceiving the utter repugnance that there is between the spirit of Christianity, and the factious, tur bulent, unquenchable, and ever-meddling spirit of political disaffection. I will not compromise, by the surrender of a single jot or tittle, the integrity of that precep tive code which my Saviour hath left be hind him for the obedience of his disciples. I will not detach the very minutest of its features, from the fine picture of morality that Christ hath bequeathed, both by com mandment and example, to adorn the na ture he condescended to wear — and sure I THOUGHTS ON PEACE. 189 am that the man who has drunk in the en tire spirit of the gospel— who, reposing himself on the faith of its promised immor tality, can maintain an elevated calm amid all the fluctuations of this world's interest —whose exclusive ambition is to be the unexcepted pupil of pure, and spiritual, and self-denying Christianity— sure I am that such a man will honour the king and all who are in authority — and be subject unto them for the sake of conscience— and render unto them all their dues — and not withhold a single fraction of the tribute they impose upon him— and be the best of subjects, just because he is the best of Christians— resisting none of the ordi nances of God, and living a quiet and a peaceable life in all godliness and honesty. But it gives me pleasure to advance a further testimony in behalf of that govern ment with which it has pleased God, who appointeth to all men the bounds of their habitation, to bless that portion of the globe that we occupy. I count it such a govern ment, that I not only owe it the loyalty of my principles — but I also owe it the loyalty of my affections. I could not lightly part with my devotion to that government which the other year opened the door to the Christianization of India — I shall never withhold the tribute of my reverence from that government which put an end to the atrocities of the Slave Trade — I shall never forget the triumph, which, in that proud est day of Britain's glory, the cause of hu manity gained within the walls of our en lightened Parliament. Let my right hand forget her cunning, ere I forget "that coun try of my birth, where, in defiance to all the clamours of mercantile alarm, every calculation of interest was given to the wind, and braving every hazard, she nobly resolved to shake off the whole burden of infamy, which lay upon her. I shall never forget, that how to complete the object in behalf of which she has so honourably led the ,way, she has walked the whole round of civilized society, and knocked at the door of every government in Europe, and lifted her imploring voice for injured Africa, and plead with the mightiest monarchs of the world, the cause of her outraged shores, and her distracted families. I can neither shut my heart nor my eyes to the fact, that at this moment she is stretching forth the protection of her naval arm, and shielding, to the uttermost of her vigour, that coast where an inhuman avarice is still plying its guilty devices, and aiming to perpetuate among an unoffending people, a trade of cruelty, with all the horrid train of its ter rors and abominations. Were such a govern ment as this to be swept from its base, either by the violence of foreign hostility, or by the hands of her own misled and in fatuated children — I should never cease to deplore it as the deadliest interruption, which ever had been given to the interests of human virtue, and lo the march of hu man improvement. O ! how it should swell every heart, not with pride, but with gra titude, to think that the land of our fathers, with all the iniquities which abound in it, with all the profligacy which spreads along our streets, and all the profaneness that is heard among our companies — to think that this our land, overspread as it is with the appalling characters of guilt, is still the securest asylum of worth and liber ty — that this is the land, from which the most copious emanations of Christianity are going forth to all the quarters of the world — that this is the land, which teems from one end to the other of it with the most splendid designs and enterprises for the good of the species — that this is the land, where public principle is most felt, and public objects are most prosecuted, and the fine impulse of a public spirit is most ready to carry its generous people beyond the limits of a selfish and contract ed patriotism. Yes, and when the heart of the philanthropist is sinking within him at the gloomy spectacle of those crimes and atrocities, which still deform the his tory of man, I know not a single earthly expedient more fitted to brighten and sus tain him, than to turn his eye to the coun try in which he lives — and there see the most enlightened government in the world acting as the organ of its most moral and intelligent population. It is not against the government of my country, therefore, that I direct my ob servations — but against that nature of man, in the infirmities of which we all share, and the evil of which no government can ex tinguish. We have carried a new political arrangement, and we experience the result of it, a temporary calm — but we have not yet carried our way to the citadel of hu man passions. The elements of war are hushed for a season — but these elements are not destroyed. They still rankle in many an unsubdued heart — and I am too well taught by the history of the past, and the experience of its restless variations, not to believe that they will burst forth again in thunder over the face of society. No, my brethren, it will only be when diffused and vital Christianity comes upon the earth, that an enduring peace will come along with it. The prophecy of my text will obtain its fulfilment — but not till the fulfil ment of the verses which go before it ;— not till the influence of the gospel has found its way to the human bosom, and plucked out of it the elementary principles of war; — not till the law of love shall spread its melting and all-subduing efficacy, among the children of one common nature: not till ambition be dethroned from its mas- 190 THOUGHTS ON PEACE. tery over the affections of the inner man ; — not till the guilty splendours of war shall cease to captivate its admirers, and spread the blaze of a deceitful heroism over the wholesale butchery of the species ; — not till national pride be humbled, and man shall learn, that if it be individually the duty of each of us in honour to prefer one another; then let these individuals combine as they may, and form societies as numerous and extensive as they may, and each of these be swelled out to the dimensions of an em pire, still, that mutual condescension and forbearance remain the unalterable chris tian duties of these empires to each other; — not till man learn to revere his brother as man,. whatever portion of the globe he occupies, and all the jealousies and prefer ences of a contracted patriotism be given to the wind ; — not till war shall cease to be prosecuted as a trade, and the charm of all that interest which is linked with its con tinuance, shall cease to beguile men in the peaceful walks of merchandise, into a bar barous longing after war ; not, in one word, till pride, and jealousy, and interest, and all that is opposite to the law of God and the charity of the gospel, shall be for ever eradicated from the character of those who possess an effectual control over the public and political movements of the species ; — not till all this be brought about, and there is not another agent in the whole compass of nature that can bring it about but the gospel of Christ, carried home by the all- subduing power of the Spirit to the con sciences of men; — then, and not till then, my brethren, will peace come to take up its perennial abode with us, and its bless ed advent on earth be hailed by one shout of joyful acclamation throughout all its fa milies ; then, and not till then, will the sacred principle of good will to men circu late as free as the air of heaven among all countries — and the sun looking out from the firmament, will behold one fine aspect of harmony throughout the wide extent of a regenerated world. It will only be in the last days, " when it shall come to pass, that the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills, and all nations shall flow into it: And many people shall go, and say, Come ye, and let. us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob ; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths: for out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem ; and he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people;" then and not til] then, " they shall beat their swords into plough-shares, and their spears into ] runing-hooks. Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more." The above rapid sketch glances at the chief obstacles to the extinction of war, and in what remains of this discourse, I shall dwell a little more particularly on as many of them as my time will allow me, finding it impossible to exhaust so wide a topic, within the limits of the public services of one day. , The first great obstacle, then, to the ex tinction of war, is the way in which the heart of man is carried off from its barbari ties and its horrors, by the splendour ol its deceitful accompaniments. There is a feeling of the sublime in contemplating the shock of armies, just as there is in contem plating the devouring energy of a tempest, and this so elevates and engrosses the whole man, that his eye is blind to the tears of bereaved parents, and his ear is deaf to the piteous moan of the dying, and the shriek of their desolated families. There is a grace fulness in the picture of a youthful warrior burning for distinction on the field, and lured by this generous aspiration to the deepest of the animated throng, where, in the fell work of death, the opposing sons of valour struggle for a remembrance and a name ; and this side of the picture is so much the exclusive object of our regard, as lo dis guise from our view the mangled carcases of the fallen, and the writhing agonies of the hundreds and the hundreds more who have been laid on the cold ground, where they are left to languish and to die. There no eye pities them. No sister is there to weep over them. There no gentle hand is present to ease the dying posture, or bind up the wounds, which, in the maddening fury of the combat, have been given and received by the children of one common father. There death spreads its pale ensigns over every countenance, and when night comes on, and darkness around them, how many a despairing wretch must take up with the bloody field as the untended bed of his last sufferings, without one friend to bear the message of tenderness to his distant home, without one companion to close his eyes. I avow it. On every side of me I see causes at work which go to spread a most delusive colouring over war, and to remove its shocking barbarities to the back ground of our contemplations altogether. I see it in the history which tells me of the superb ap pearance of the troops, and the brilliancy of their successive charges. I see it in the poetry which lends the magic of its numbers to the narrative of blood, and transports its many admirers, as by its images, and its figures, and its nodding plumes of chivalry, it throws its treacherous embellishments over a scene of legalized slaughter. I see it in the music which represents the progress of the battle ; and where, after being inspired by the trumpet-notes of preparation, the whole beauty and tenderness of a drawing- THOUGHTS ON PEACE. 191 room are seen to bend over the sentimental entertainment; nor do I hear the utterance of a single sigh to interrupt the death-tones of the thickening contest, and the moans of the wounded men as they fade away upon the ear, and sink into lifeless silence. All, all goes to prove what strange and half- sighted creatures we are. Were it not so, war could never have been seen in any other aspect than thatof unmingled hate- fulness ; and I can look to nothing but to the progress of christian sentiment upon earth, to arrest the strong current of its popular and prevailing partiality for war. Then only will an imperious sense of duty lay the check of severe principle, on all the subordinate tastes and faculties of our nature. Then will glory be reduced to its right estimate, and the wakeful benevolence of the gospel chas ing away every spell, will be turned by the treachery of no delusion whatever, from its simple but sublime enterprises for the good of the species. Then the reign of truth and quietness will be ushered into the world, and war, cruel, atrocious, unrelenting war, will be stript of its many and its bewildering fascinations. But again, another obstacle to the extinc tion of war, is a sentiment which seems to be universally gone into, that the rules and promises of the gospel which apply to a single individual, do not apply to a nation of individuals. Just think of the mighty effect it would have on the politics of the world, were this sentiment to be practically deposed from its wonted authority over the counsels and the doings of nations, in their transactions with each other. If forbearance be the virtue of an individual, forbearance is also the virtue of a nation. If it be incum bent on men in honour to prefer each other, it is incumbent on the very largest societies of men, through the constituted organ of their government to do the same. If it be the glory of a man to defer his anger, and to pass over a transgression, that nation mistakes its glory which is so feelingly alive to the slightest insult, and musters up its threats and its armaments upon the faintest shadow of a provocation. If it be the mag nanimity of an injured man to abstain from vengeance, and if by so doing, he heaps coals of fire upon the head of his enemy, then that is the magnanimous nation, which, re coiling from violence and from blood, will do no more than send its christian embassy, and prefer its mild and impressive remon strance; and that is the disgraced nation which will refuse the impressiveness of the moral appeal that has been made to it. — O ! my brethren, there must be the breathing of a different spirit to circulate round the globe, ere its christianized nations resign the jealousies which now front them to each other in the scowling attitude of defiance; nd much is to do with the people of every land, ere the propnesied influence of the gospel shall bring its virtuous, and its paci fying controul to bear with effect on the counsels and governments of the world. I find that I must be drawing to a close, and that I must forbear entering into seyeral topics on which I meant at one time to ex patiate. I wished, in particular, to have laid it fully before you how the extinction of war, though it should withdraw one of those scenes on which man earns the glory of in trepidity ; yet it would leave other, and bet ter, and nobler scenes, for the display and the exercise of this respectable attribute. I wished also to explain to you, that however much I admired the general spirit of Qua kerism, on the subject of war; yet that I was not prepared to go all the length of its prin ciples, when that war was strictly defensive. It strikes me, that war is to be abolished by the abolition of its aggressive spirit among the different nations of the world. The text seems to tell me that this is the order of prophecy upon the subject; and that it is when nation shall cease to lift up its sword against nation; or, in other words, when one nation shall cease to move, for the purpose of attacking another, that military science will be no longer in demand, and that the people of the earth will learn the art of war no more I should also have stated, that on this ground, I refrained from pronouncing on the justice or necessity of any one war in which this countryhasever been involved. I have no doubt that many of those who supported our former wars, looked on seve ral of them as wars for existence; but on this matter I carefully abstain from the ut terance of a single sentiment; for in so doing, I should feel myself to be descending from the generalities of christian principle, and employing that pulpit as the vehicle of a questionable policy, which ought never to be prostituted either to the unworthy object of sending forth the incense of human flat tery to any one administration, or of regal ing the factious, and turbulent, and disloyal passions of any party. I should next, if I had time, offer such observations as were suggested by my own views of political science, on the multitude of vulnerable points by which this country is surrounded, in the shape of numerous and distant de pendencies, and which, however much they may tend to foster the warlike politics of our government, are, in truth, so little worth the expense of a war, that should all of them be wrested away from us, they would leave the people of our empire as great, and as wealthy, and as competent to every purpose of home security as ever. Lastly, I might have whispered my inclination, for a little more of the Chinese policy being imported into Europe, not for the purpose of restrain ing a liberal intercourse between its different countries, but for the purpose of quieting in 192 THOUGHTS ON PEACE. each its restless spirit of alarm, about every foreign movement in the politics and designs of other nations; because, sure I am, that were each great empire of the world to lay it down as the maxim of its most scrupulous observance, not to meddle till it was med dled with, each would feel in such a maxim both its safety and its triumph; — for such are the mighty resources of defensive war, that though the whole transportable force of Europe were to land upon our borders, the result of the experiment would be such, that it should never be repeated — the rally ing population of Britain could sweep them all from the face of its territory, and a whole myriad of invaders would melt away under the power of such a government as ours, trenched behind the loyalty of her defen ders, and strong, as she deserves to be, in the love and in the confidence of all her children. I would not have touched on any of the lessons of political economy, did they not lead me, by a single step, to a christian les son, which I count it my incumbent duty to press upon the attention of you all. Any sudden change in the state of the demand, must throw the commercial world into a temporary derangement. And whether the change be from war to peace, or from peace to war, this effect is sure to accompany it. Now for upwards of twenty years, the direc tion of our trade has been accommodated to a war system, and when this system is put an end to, I do not say what amount of the distress will light upon this neighbourhood, but we may be sure that all the alarm of falling markets, and ruined speculation, will spread an impressive gloom over many of the manufacturing districts of the land. Now, let my title to address you on other grounds, be as questionable as it may, I feel no hesitation whatever in announcing it, as your most imperative duty, that no outcry of impatience or discontent from you, shall embarrass the pacific policy of his majesty's government. They have conferred a great blessing on the country, in conferring on it peace, and it is your part resignedly to weather the languid or disasterous months which may come along with it. The interest of trade is an old argument that has been set up in resistance to the dearest and most substantial interests of humanity. When Paul wanted to bring Christianity into Ephesus, he raised a storm of opposi tion around him, from a quarter which, I dare say, he was not counting on. There happened to be some shrine manufactories in that place, and as the success of the Apostle would infallibly have reduced the demand for that article, forth came the de cisive argument of, Sirs, by this craft we have our wealth, and should this Paul turn away the people from the worship of gods made with hands, thereby much damage would accrue to our trade. Why, my bre thren, if this argument is to be admitted, there is not one conceivable benefit that can be offered for the acceptance of the species. Would it not be well if all the men of read ing in the country were to be diverted from the poison which lurks in many a mischiev ous publication — and should this blessed re formation be effected, are there none to be found who would feel that much damage had accrued to their trade? Would it not be well, if those wretched sons of pleasure, before whom if they repent not, there lieth all the dreariness of an unprovided eternity — would it not be well, that they were re claimed from the maddening intoxication which speeds them on in the career of dis obedience — and on this event, too, would there be none to complain that much damage had accrued to their trade? Is it not well, that the infamy of the slave trade has been swept from the page of British history? and yet do not many of you remember how long the measure lay suspended, and that about twenty annual flotillas, burdened with the load of human wretchedness, were wafted across the Atlantic, while Parliament was deafened and overborne by unceasing clam ours about the much damage that would accrue to the trade? And now, is it not well that peace has once more been given to the nations? and are you to follow up this goodly train of examples, by a single whis per of discontent about the much damage that will accrue to your trade? No, my bre thren, I will not let down a single inch of the christian requirement that lies upon you. Should a sweeping tide of bankruptcy set in upon the land, and reduce every individual who now hears me, to the very humblest condition in society, God stands pledged to give food and raiment to all who depend upon him ; — and it is not fair to make others bleed, that you may roll in affluence; — it is not fair to desolate thousands of families, that yours may be upheld in luxury and splendour — and your best, and noblest, and kindest part is, to throw yourselves on the promises of God, and he will hide you and your little ones in the secret of his pavilion till these calamities be overpast. III. I trust it is evident from all that has been said, how it is only by the extension of christian principle among the people of the earth, that the atrocities of war will at length be swept away from it ; and that each of us in hastening the commencement of that blissful period, in his own sphere, is doing all that in him lies to bring his own heart, and the hearts of others, under the supreme influence of this principle. It is public opinion, which in the long run go verns the world ; and while I look with confidence to a gradual revolution in the state of public opinion from the omnipo tence of gospel truth working its silent, but THOUGHTS ON PEACE. 193 effectual way, through the families of man kind—yet I will not deny that much maybe done to accelerate the advent of perpetual and universal peace, by a distinct body of men embarking their every talent, and their every acquirement in the prosecution of this, as a distinct object. This was the way in which, a few years ago, the British public were gained over to the cause of Africa. This is the way in which some of the other prophecies of the Bible are at this moment hastening to their accomplish ment ; and it is this way, I apprehend, that the prophecy of my text may be indebted for its speedier fulfilment to the agency of men selecting this as the assigned field on which their philanthropy shall expatiate. Were each individual member of such a scheme to prosecute his own walk, and come forward with his own peculiar con tribution, the fruit of the united labours of all would be one of the finest collections of christian eloquence, and of enlightened mo rals, and of sound political philosophy, that ever was presented to the world. I could not fasten on another cause more fitted to call forth such a variety of talent, and to rally around it so many of the generous and accomplished sons of humanity, and to give each of them a devotedness, and a power far beyond whatever could be sent into the hearts of enthusiasts, by the mere impulse of literary ambition. Let one take up the question of war in its principle, and make the full weight of his moral severity rest upon it, and upon all its abominations. Let another take up the question of war in its consequences, and bring his every power of graphical descrip tion to the task of presenting an awakened public with an impressive detail of its cruel- 25 ties and its horrors. Let another neutralize the poetry of war, and dismantle it of all those bewitching splendours, which the hand of misguided genius has thrown over it. Let another teach the world a truer, and more magnanimous path to national glory, than any country of the world has yet walked in. Let another tell with irresisti ble argument, how the christian ethics of a nation is at one with the christian ethics of its humblest individual. Let another bring all the resources of his political science to unfold the vast energies of defensive war, and show, that instead of that ceaseless jealousy and disquietude, which are ever keeping alive the flame of hostility among the nations, each may wait in prepared se curity, till the first footstep of an invader shall be the signal for mustering around the standard ol its outraged rights, all the steel, and spirit, and patriotism of the country. Let another pour the light of mo dern speculation into the mysteries of trade and prove that not a single war has been undertaken for any of its objects, where the millions and the millions more which were lavished on the cause, have not all been cheated away from us by the phantom of an imaginary interest. This may look to many like the Utopianism of a romantic anticipation — but I shall never despair of the cause of truth addressed to a christian public, when the clear light of principle can be brought to every one of its positions, and when its practical and conclusive es tablishment forms one of the most distinct of Heaven's prophecies — " that men shall beat their swords into plough-shares, and their spears into pruning-hooks — and that nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn the art of war any more." THE DUTY OF GIVING AN IMMEDIATE DILIGENCE TO THE BUSINESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. BEING AN ADDRESS TO THE INHABITANTS OF THE PARISH OF KILMANY. When one writes a letter to an intimate, and a much loved friend, he never thinks of the graces of the composition. He unbosoms himself in a style of perfect freeness and sim plicity. He gives way to the kindly affec tions of his heart, and though there may be many touches of tenderness in his perform ance, it is not because he aims at touches of any kind, but because all the tenderness that is written, is the genuine and the artless transcript of all the tenderness that is felt. Now conceive for a moment, that he wrote his letter under the consciousness that it was to be broadly exhibited before the eye of the public, this would immediately ope rate as a heavy restraint upon him. A man would much rather pour the expression of his friendship into the private ear of him who was the object of it, than he would do it under the full stare of a numerous com pany. And I, my brethren, could my time have allowed it, would much rather have written my earnest and longing aspiration for the welfare of you all by a private letter to each individual, than by this general Address, which necessarily exposes to the wide theatre of the public all that I feel, and all that I utter on the subject of my affec tionate regard for you. It were better, then, for the exercise to which I have now set myself, that I shut out all idea of the public ; and never, with in the whole recollection of my life, was I less disposed to foster that idea. It may be observed, that the blow of some great and calamitous visitation brings a kind of insensibility along with it. I ought not to lament my withdrawment from you as a calamity, but it has had all the effect of a calamity upon me. I am removed from those objects which habitually interested my heart, and, for a time, it refuses to be interested in other objects. I am placed at a distance from that scene to which I was most alive, and I feel a deadness to every other scene. The people who are now around me, carry an unquestionable kind ness in their bosoms, and vie with one an other in the expression of it. I can easily perceive that there exists abundantly among them all the constituents of a highly inter esting neighbourhood, and it may look cold and ungrateful in me that I am not interest ed. But it takes a time before the heart can attune itself to the varieties of a new situa tion. It is ever recurring to the more fa miliar scenes of other days. The present ministers no enjoyment, and in looking to the past the painful circumstance is, that while the fancy will not be kept from stray ing to that neighbourhood which exercises over it all the power of a much-loved home, the idea that it is home no longer comes with dread reality upon the mind, and turns the whole to bitterness. With a heart thus occupied, I do not feel that the admission of the public into our conference will be any great restraint upon me. I shall speak to you as if they were not present, and I do not conceive that they can take a great interest in what I say, be cause I have no time for the full and ex plicit statement of principles. I have this advantage with you that I do not. have with others, that with you I can afford to be less explicit. I presume upon your recollec tions of what I have, for some time, been in the habit of addressing to you, and flat ter myself that you may enter into a train of observation which to others may appear dark, and abrupt, and unconnected. In penning this short Address, I follow the im pulse of my regard for you. You will re ceive it with indulgence, as a memorial from one who loves you, who is e1 er with you in heart, though not. in person ; who DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 195 classes among the dearest of his recollec tions, the tranquil enjoyments he has had in your neighbourhood ; who carries upon his memory the faithful image of its fields and of its families ; and whose prayers for you all is, that you may so grow in the fruits of our common faith, as to be made meet for that unfading inheritance where sorrow and separation are alike unknown. Were I to sit down for the purpose of drawing out a list of all the actions which may be called sinful, it would be long be fore I could complete the enumeration. Nay, I can conceive, that by adding one peculiarity after another, the variety may be so lengthened out as to make the attempt impossible. Lying, and stealing, and break ing the Sabbath, and speaking evil one of an other, these are all so many sinful actions ; but circumstances may be conceived which make one kind of lying different fom an other, and one kind of theft different from another, and one kind of evil speaking different from another, and in this way the number of sinful actions may be greatly swelled out ; and should we attempt to take the amount, they may be like the host which no man could number, and every sinner, realizing one of these varieties, may wear his own peculiar complexion, and have a something about him, which marks him out, and signalizes him from all the other sinners by whom he is surrounded. Yet, amid all this variety of visible as pect, there is one summary expression to which all sin may be reduced. There is one principle which, if it always existed in the heart, and were always acted upon in the life, would entirely destroy the exis tence of sin, and the very essence of sin lies in the want of this one principle. Sin is a want of conformity to the will of God ; and were a desire to do the will of God at all times the overruling principle of the heart and conduct, there would be no sin. It is this want of homage to him and to his authority, which gives to sin its essential character. The evil things coming out of the heart, which is the residence of this evil principle, may be exceedingly various, and may impart a very different complexion to different individuals. This complexion may be more or less displeasing to the outward eye. The evil speaker may look to us more hateful than the voluptuary, the man of cruelty than the man of profaneness, the breaker of his word than the breaker of the Sabbath. I believe it will generally be found, that the sin which inflicts the more visible and immediate harm upon men, is, in the eye of men, the more hateful sin. There is a readiness to execrate falsehood, and calumny, and oppression ; and along with this readiness there is an indulgence for the good-humoured failings of him who is the slave of luxury, and makes a god of his pleasure, and spends his days in all the thoughtlessness of one who walks in the counsel of his own heart, and in the sight of his own eyes, provided that his love of society leads him to share with others the enjoyment of all these gratifications, and his wealth enables him, and his moral honesty inclines him, to defray the expense of them. Behold, then, one frequent source of de lusion. He whose sins are less hateful to the world than those of others, wraps up himself in a kind of security. I wrong no man. I have a heart that can be moved by the impulses of compassion. I carry in my bosom a lively sentiment of indignation at the tale of perfidy or violence ; and surely I may feel a satisfaction which others have no title to feel, who are guilty of that from which my nature recoils with a generous abhorrence. He forgets all the while, that sin, in its essential character, may have as full and firm a possession of his heart, as of the man's with whom he is comparing himself: that there may be an entire dis- ownal and forgetfulness of God; that not one particle of reverence, or of acknowledg ment, may be given to the Being with whom he has to do ; that whatever he may be in the eye of his neighbour, in the eye of him who seeth not as man seeth, he is guilty ; that, walking just as he would have done though there had been no divine government whatever, he is a rebel to that government ; and that amid all the com placency of his own feelings, and all the applause and good liking of his acquaint ances, he wears all the deformity of rebel liousness in the eye of every spiritual being, who looks at the state of his heart, and passes judgment upon him by those very principles which are to try him at the great day when the secrets of all hearts shall be laid open. If this were kept in view, it would lead to a more enlightened estimate of the cha racter of man, than man in the thought lessness and unconcern of his natural state ever forms. It would lead us to see, that under all the hues and varieties of charac ter, diversified as they are by constitutional taste, and the power of circumstances, there lurks one deep and universal disease, and that is the disease of a mind labouring un der alienation from God, and without, any practical sense of what is due to him. You will all admit it to be true, that the heart of a man may be under the full operation of this deadly poison, while the man himself has a constitutional taste for the pleasures of social intercourse. You see nothing un likely or impossible in this combination. Now I want you to go along with me, when I carry my assertion still further ; and sure I am that experience bears me out when I say, that the heart of a man may be under 196 DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. the full operation of a dislike or indiffer ence to God, while the man himself has a constitutional abhorrence at cruelty, a constitutional repugnance to fraud, a con stitutional antipathy to what is uncour- tcous in manners, or harsh and unfeeling in conversation, a constitutional gentleness of character ; or, to sum up the whole in one clause, a man may be free from many things which give him a moral hatefulness in the eye of others, and he may have many things which throw a moral loveli ness around him, and the soul be under the entire dominion of that carelessness about God, which gives to sin its essential cha racter. And upon him, even upon him, graceful and engaging as he may be by the lustre of his many accomplishments, the saying of the Bible does not fail of being realised, that " the heart of man is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked ; who can know it?" And thus it is, that our great and ulti mate aim in the reformation of a sinner, is the reformation of his heart. There may be many reformations short of this, and in which many are disposed to rest with de ceitful complacency. I can conceive, that the man who formerly stole may steal no more, not because he is now sanctified, and feels the obligation of religious princi ple, but because he is now translated into better circumstances, and by the power of example, has contracted that tone of ho nourable feeling which exists among the upper classes of society. Here, then, is a reformation of the conduct, while the heart, in respect of that which constitutes its ex ceeding sinfulness, is no better than before. The old leaven of ungodliness may over spread its every desire, and its every affec tion ; and while the outer man has been washed of one of its visible deformities, the inner man may still persist in Its unmind- fulness of God ; and the pollution of this greatest and vilest of all moral turpitude, may adhere to it as obstinately as ever. Now, it appears to me, that these views, true in themselves, and deserving to be carried along with us through every inch of our religions progress, have often been practically misapplied. I can conceive an inquirer under the influence of these views, to fall into such a process of reflection as the following': 'If the outer conduct be of no estimation in the sight of God, unless it stand connected with the actings of a holy principle in the heart, let us begin with the heart, and from the establishment of a holy principle there, purity of conduct will fol low as an effect of course. Let us beware of laying an early stress upon the doings of the outer man, lest we and others should have our eye turned from the reformation of the inner man, as the main and almost the exclusive object of a Christian's ambi tion. Let us be fearful how we urge such and such visible reformations, either upon ourselves or those around us, lest they be made to stand in the place of that grand renewing process, by which the soul, dead in trespasses and sins, is' made alive unto God. Let us labour to impress the neces sity of this process, and seeing the utter inability of man to change his own heart, let us turn his eye from any exertions of his own, to that fulness which is in Christ Jesus, through whom alone he can obtain the forgiveness of all his sins, and such a measure of power resting upon him, as carries along with it all the purifying in fluences of a spiritual reformation. In the mean time, let us take care how we speak about good works. Let the very mention of them put us into the defensive attitude of coldness and suspicion ; and instead of giving our earnestness or our energy to them, let us press upon ourselves and others the exercises of that faith, by which alone we are made the workmanship of God, and created unto such good works as he hath ordained that we should walk in them.' Now, there is a great deal of truth through out the whole of this train of sentiment; but truth contemplated under such an as pect, and turned to such a purpose, as has the effect of putting an inquirer into a prac tical attitude, which appears to me to be unscriptural and wrong. I would not have him keep his hand for a single moment from the doing of that which is obviously right. I would not have him to refrain from grappling immediately with every one sin which is within the reach of his exertions. I would not have him to incur the delay of one instant in ceasing to do that which is evil ; and I conceive that it is not till this is begun that he will learn to do that which is well. It ought not to re strain the energy of his immediate doing, that he is told how doings are of no ac count, unless they are the doings of one who has gone through a previous regenera tion. This ought not to keep him from doing. It should only lead him to com bine with the prescribed doing, an earnest aspiring after a cleaner heart, and a better spirit than he yet finds himself to have. It is very true, that a man may do an out wardly good thing, and rest in what he has done. But it is as true, that a man may do the outwardly good thing he is bidden do, and, instead of resting, may look forward with diligent striving, and earnest, humble prayer, to some greater things than this. Now, this last my brethren, is the att'tude I want to put you into. Let the thief give up his stealing at this moment. Let the drunkard give up his intemperance. Let the evil speaker give up his calumnies. Let the doer of all that is obviously wrong break off his sins, and turn him to the DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 197 doing of all that is obviously right. Let no one thing, not even the speculations of orthodoxy,* be suffered to stand a barrier against your entrance into the field of im mediate exertion. I raise the very first blow of my trumpet against the visible ini quities which I see to be in you, and if there be any one obviously right thing you have hitherto neglected, I will not consume one particle of time before I call upon you to do it. It is quite in vain to say that all this is not called for, or that I am now spending my strength and your time in combating an error which has no practical existence. You must be quite familiarised with the melancholy spectacle of a zealous professor mourning over the sinfulness of his heart, and, at the same time putting forth his hand, without one sigh of remorse, to what is sinful in ordinary conduct. Have you never witnessed one, who could speak evil of his neighbour, and was at the same time trenching among what he thought the spe culations of orthodoxy, and made the utter corruption of the soul of man one of these speculations ? Is it not enough to say that he is a mere speculative Christian ? for the »ery same thing may be detected in the practice of one who feels a real longing to be delivered from the power of that sin, which he grieves has such an entire do minion over him. And yet, strange to tell, there is many an obvious and every-day sin, which is not watched against, which is not struggled against, and the commission of which gives no uneasiness whatever. The man is, as it were, so much occupied with the sinfulness of his heart, that he neither feels nor attends to the sinfulness of his con duct. He wants to go methodically to work. He wants to begin at the beginning, and he forms his estimate of what the beginning is upon the arrangements of human specula tions. It sounds very plausibly, that as out of the heart are the issues of life, the work of an inquiring Christian must begin there; but the mischief I complain of is, that in the first prosecution of this work, months or years may be consumed ere the purified fountain send forth its streams, or the re pentance he is aspiring after tell on the plain and palpable doings of his ordinary conduct. Hence, my brethren, the morti fying exhibition of great zeal, and much talk, and diligent canvassing and conversing about the abstract principles of the chris- * Sorry should I be, if a term expressive of right notions on the most interesting of all subjects, were used by me with a levity at all calculated to beget an indifference to the soundness of your re ligious opinion, or to divert your most earnest at tention from those inquiries, which have for their object the true will, and the true way of God for the salvation of mere tian faith, combined with what is visible in the christian practice, being at a dead stand, and not one inch of sensible progress being made in any one thing which the eye can witness, or. the hand can lay a tangible hold upon. The man is otherwise employed. He is busy with the first principles of the subject. He still goes on with his wonted peevishness within doors, and his wonted dishonesties without doors. He has not yet come to these matters. He is taken up with laying and labouring at the foundation. The heart is the great subject of his anxiety; and in the busy exercise of mourning, and confessing, and praying, and studying the right management of his heart, he may take up months or years before he come to the deformities of his outward and ordinary conduct. I will venture to go farther, my brethren, and assert, that if this be the track he is on, it will be a great chance if he ever come to them at all. To the end of his days he may be a talking, and inquiring, and speculating, and I doubt not, along with all this, a church-going and ordinance-loving Christian. But I am much afraid that he is, practically speaking, not in the way to the solid attainments of a Christian, whose light shines before men. All that meets the eye of daily observers, may have undergone no change whatever, and the life of the poor man may be nothing better than the dream of a delusive and bewildering speculation. Now, it is very true that, agreeably to the remarks with which I prefaced this argu ment, the great and ultimate aim of all re formation is to reform the heart, and to bring it into such a state of principle and desire, that God may be glorified in soul and in spirit, as well as in body. This is the point that is ever to be sought after, and ever to be pressed forward to. "Under a sense of his deficiencies from this point, a true Christian will read diligently, that he may learn the gospel method of arriving at it. He will pray diligently that the clean heart may be created, and the right spirit may be renewed within him. The earnestness of his attention to this matter will shut him up more and more into the faith of that perfect sacrifice, which his short-comings from a holy and heart-searching law will ever re mind him of, as the firm and the only ground of his acceptance with God. The same ho nest reliance on the divine testimony, which leads him to close with the doctrine of the atonement, and to rejoice in it, will also lead him to close with the doctrine of sanctifica tion, and diligently to aspire after it. Now, in the business of so aspiring after this ob ject, it is not enough that he read diligently in the Word ; it is not enough that he pray diligently for the Spirit. These are two in gredients in the business of seeking after his object, but they are not the only ones ; and what I lament is, that a fear about the 198 DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. entireness of his orthodoxy leads many a zealous inquirer to look coldly and askance at another ingredient in this business. He should, not only read diligently, and pray diligently, but he should do diligently every one right thing that is within his reach, and that he finds himself to have strength for. Any one author who talks of the insig nificance of doings, in such a way as practi cally to restrain an inquirer from vigorously and immediately entering upon the perform ance of them, misleads that inquirer from the scriptural method, by which we are di rected to a greater measure of light and of holiness than we are yet in possession of. He detaches one essential ingredient from the business of seeking. He may set the spirit of his reader a roaming over some field of airy speculation ; but he works no such salutary effect upon his spirit, as evinces itself by any one visible or substan tial reformation. I have often and often attempted to press this lesson upon you, my brethren; and I bear you testimony, that, while a resistance to practical preaching has been imputed to the zealous professors of orthodoxy, you listened with patience, and I trust not without fruit, when address ing you as if you had just begun to stir yourselves in the matter of your salvation, I ranked it among my preliminary instruc tions, that you should cease from the evil of your doings ; that you should give up all that you know to be wrong in your ordi nary conduct ; that the thief should restrain himself from stealing, the liar from false hood, the evil speaker from backbiting, the slothful labourer in the field from eye-ser vice, the faithless housemaid in the family from all purloining and all idleness. The subterfuges of hypocrisy are endless ; and if it can find one in a system of theo logy, it will be as glad of it from that quar ter 0.0 from any other. Some there are who deafen the ¦ impressions of all these direct and immediate admonitions, by saying, that before all these doings are insisted on, we must lay well and labour well at the foun dation of faith in Christ, without whom we can do nothing. The truth, that with out Christ we can do nothing, is unquestion able ; but it would take many a paragraph to expose its want of application to the use that is thus made of it. But to cut short this plea of indolence for delaying the pain ful work of surrendering all that is vicious in conduct ; let me put it to youf common sense whether a thief would not, and could not give up stealing for a week, if he had the reward of a fortune waiting him at the end of it; whether, upon the same reward, an evil speaker could not, for the same time, impose a restraint upon his lips, and the slothful servant become a most pains-taking and diligent worker, and the liar maintain an undeviating truth throughout all his con versations. Each of these would find him self to have strength for these things, were the inducement of a certain temporal re ward held out, or the dread of a certain temporal punishment were made to hang over him Now, for the temporal punish ment, I substitute the call of, " Flee from the coming wrath." Let this call have the effect it should have, and the effect it actually does have, on many who are not warped by a misleading speculation, and it will make them stir up such strength as they possess, and give up, indeed, much of their actual misconduct. This effect it had in the days of John the Baptist. People, on his call, gave up their violence and their extor tions, and the evil of many of their doings, and were thus put into what God in his wisdom counted a fit state of preparation for the Saviour. If there was any thing in the revelation of the Gospel calculated to supersede this call of. "Cease you from the evil of your doings," then I could under stand the indifference, or the positive hos tility of zealous pretenders to the work of addressing practical exhortation to inquirers at the very outset of their progress. But so far from being superseded by any thing that the Gospel lays before us, the Author, and the first preachers of the Gospel, just took up the lesson of John, and at the very commencement of their ministry did they urge it upon people to turn them from the evil of their doings. Repent and believe the Gospel, says our Saviour. Repent and turn unto God, and do works meet for repent ance, says the apostle Paul. And there must be something wrong, my brethren, if you resist me urging it upon you, to give up at this moment, even though it should be the first moment of your concern about salvation, to give up all that is obviously wrong ; to turn you to all that is obviously right; to grapple with every sin you can la)' your hand upon ; and if it be true, in point of experience and common sense, that many a misdeed may be put away from you on the allurement of some temporal reward ; then if you have faith in the reality of eternal th ings, the hope of an escape from the coming wrath may and will tell imme diately upon you, and we shall see among you a stir, and a diligence, and a doing, and a visible reformation. It is a great matter to chase away all mys ticism from the path by which a sinner is led unto God ; and it is to be lamented that many a speculation of many a respected di vine, has the effect of throwing a darkening cloud of perplexity over the very entrance of this path. I tell you a very plain thing, and, if it be true, it is surely of importance that you should know it, when I tell you, that if you are a servant, and are visited with a desire after salvation, then a faithful performance of your daily task is a step DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 199 without which the object you aim at is un attainable. If you are a son, a more punc tual fulfilment of your parent's bidding is another step. If you are a neighbour, a more civil and obliging deportment to those around you is another step. If you are a dealer, the adoption of a just weight and a just measure is another step. There are some w.ho, afraid of your attempting to get acceptance with God by the merit of your own doings, would not venture to urge all this at the outset, lest they should lead you to rest on a delusive ground of confidence. They would try to get a perfect and a clear understanding of the right ground of ac ceptance established, previous to the use of any such urgency; and then, upon this principle being well laid within you, they might take the liberty of telling you your duty. Their fearfulness upon this point forms a very striking contrast to the free, and unembarrassed, and energetic manner, in which the Bible, both of the Old and New Testament, calls on every man who comes within the reach of a hearing, to cease from all sin, and turn him to all righteousness. In following its example, let us be fearless of all consequences. It may not suit the artificial processes of some of our systems, nor fall in with the order Of their well-weighed and carefully arranged articles, to tell at the very outset of those obvious reformations which I am now pressing upon you. But sure I am, that an apostle would have felt no difiiculty on the subject ; nor whatever the visible sin which deformed you, or whatever the visible act of obedience in which you were deficient, would he have been restrained from giving his immediate energy to the work of calling on you to abstain from the one and to do the other. The disciples of John could not have such a clear view of the ground of accept ance before God, as an enlightened disciple of the apostles. Yet the want of this clear view did not prevent them from being right subjects for John's preparatory instructions. And what were these instructions? Sol diers were called on to give up their vio lence, and publicans their exactions, and rich men the confinement of their own wealth to their own gratification ; and will any man hesitate for a moment to decide whether those who turned away from the directions of the forerunner, or those who followed them, were in the likeliest state for receiving light and improvement from the subsequent teaching of the Sa viour? But there is one difference between them and us. The whole of Christ's teaching, as put down in the word of God, is already before us. Now what precise effect should this have upon the nature of an initiatory address to sinners? The right answer to this question will confirm, or it will demo lish the whole of our preceding argument. The alone ground of acceptance, is the righteousness of Christ imputed to all who believe. This truth deserves to be taken up, and urged immediately in the hearing of all who are within the reach of the preacher's voice. Till this truth be re ceived, there should be no rest to the sin ner, there is no reconciliation with God, nor will he attain that consummation of holi ness, without which there can be no meet- ness for the enjoyment of heaven. Bu some are readier to receive this truth than others. The reforming publicans and har lots of John were in a state of greater readi ness to receive this truth, than either the Pharisees, or those publicans and harlots who, unmindful of John, still persisted in their iniquities. And who will be in greater readiness to receive this truth in the present day ? Will it be the obstinate and deter minate doers of all that is sinful, and that too in the face of a call, that they should do works meet for repentance ? Or will it be those who, under the influence of this call, do what the disciples of John did before them, turn them from the evil of their ma nifest iniquities, and so give proof of their earnestness in the way of salvation ? It is true that, along with such a call, we might now urge a truth which even John could not. But are we to suspend the call of doing works meet for repentance, till this truth be urged and established in the mind of the hearer ? Surely, if God thought it wise to ply sinners with a call to turn them from the evil of their ways, before he fully revealed to them the evangelical ground of their acceptance, we may count it scriptural and safe to ply them with this call al the same time that we state to them the evan gelical ground of their acceptance. It is true, that the statement may not be comprehended all at once. It may be years before it is listened to by the careless, before it is rested in by the desponding, before the comfort of it is at all felt or appropriated by the doubting and melancholy inquirer. Now what I contend for is, that during this in terval of time, these people may and ought to be urged with the call of departing from their iniquities. This very call was brought to bear on the disciples of John, before the ground of their acceptance was fully made known to them ; and it might be brought to bear on sinners now, even though it should be before the ground of their acceptance be fully understood by them. The effect of this preparatory instruction in these days, was to fit John's disciples for the subse quent revelation of Christ and his apostles. It is true that we are in possession of that doctrine which they only had the prospect of. But it accords with -experience, that this doctrine might be addressed without 200 DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. effect for years to men inquiring after sal vation. The doctrine of justification by the righteousness of Christ, might be announced in all its force, and in all its simplicity, to men who hold out against it; and you would surely say of them, that the way of the Lord had not been prepared to their minds, nor his paths made straight. Now we read of such a preparation set agoing in behalf of men to whom this do.ctrine had not yet been revealed. Will this prepara tion be altogether ineffectual in behalf of men, by whom this doctrine is not yet un derstood ? Surely it is quite evident, that in the days of John, men who, in obedience to his call, were struggling with their sins, were in a likelier way for receiving those larger measures of truth, which were after ward revealed, than they who, in the face of that call, were obstinately and presump tuously retaining them. Suffer us to avail ourselves of the same advantage now. You, my brethren, who, in obedience to the calls that have been sounded in your hearing, are struggling with your sins, are in a likelier way for receiving those larger measures of truth which are now revealed, than those of you who feel no earnestness, and are making no endeavours upon the subject. While, therefore, I announce to you, in the most distinct terms, that you will not be saved unless you are found in the righteous ness of Christ, this will not restrain me at the very same time from doing what John did. You know how his disciples were prepared for the baptism of the Holy Ghost, who guides unto all truth ; and while I do not think that any one point of time is too early for offering Christ to you, in all the benefits of his sacrifice, in all the imputed merits of his perfect righteousness, in all the privileges which he has proclaimed and purchased for believers; all I contend for is, that neither is there any point of time too early for letting you know, that all sin must be abandoned, for calling on you to enter into the work of struggling with all sin im mediately, for warning you, that while you persist in those sinful actions which you might give up, and would give up, were a temporal inducement held out to you, I have no evidence of your receiving benefit i rom the word of salvation that I am sound ing in your ears. There is surely room for telling sinners more than one thing, in the course of the very earliest lesson that is laid before them. It is an exclusive deference to the one point, and the one principle, and the bringing of every thing else into a forced subordination upon it, which has enfeebled many an attempt to turn sinners to Christ from their iniquities. I can surely tell a man, that unless he is walking in a particular line, he will not reach the object he is aiming at; and I can tell him at the same time, that neither will he reach it, unless he have his eyes open, and he look upon the object. On these two unquestionable truths, I bid him both walk and look at the same time, and at the same time he can do both. In the same manner I may tell a man, that unless he give up stealing he shall not reach hea ven; and I may also tell him, that unless he accept, by faith, Christ as his alone Sa viour, he shall not reach heaven. On these two truths I found two practical directions; and I must be convinced, that the doing of the one hinders the doing of the other, ere I desist from that which the first teachers of Christianity did before me, — proclaim Christ, and within the compass of the same breathing, call on men to do works meet for repentance. 4 In the order of time, the practical in structions of John went before the full an nouncement of the doctrines of salvation. I do not think, however, that this order is authoritative upon us; but far less do I think that our full possession of the doc trine of salvation confers any authority upon us for reversing the historical process of the New Testament. I bring all thc truths which the teachers of these days ad dressed to the sinners among whom they labour, to bear immediately upon you sin ners now. And while I call upon you to turn from the evil of your ways, I also warn you of the danger of putting away from you the offered Saviour, or refusing all youi confidence in that name than which there • is no other given under heaven whereby men can be saved. If by faith be meant the embracing of one doctrine, then I can understand how some might be alarmed lest an outset so practical should depose faith from the pre cedency which belongs to it. But if by faith be meant a reliance upon the whole testimony of Scripture, then the precedency of faith is not at all broken in upon. If, on the call of " Flee from the coming wrath," I get you to struggle it with your more pal pable iniquities, I see in that, very struggle the operation of a faith in the divine testi mony about the realities of an invisible world, and I have reason to bless God that he has wrought in you what I am sure no argument and no vehemence of mine could, without the power of his Spirit, ever hs/e accomplished. Those of you who have thus evinced one exercise of faith, I look upon as more hopeful subjects for another exer cise, than those of you who remain trenched in obstinacy and unconcern. And when I tell the former, that nothing will get them acceptance with God, but the mediation of Christ offered to all who come, it will be to them, and not to the latter, that I should look for an earnest desire after the offered Saviour. When I tell them that they affront God by not receiving the record which he gives of his Son, it will be to them and DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 201 not to the others, that I shall look for a submissive and thankful acquiescence in the whole of his salvation ; and thus passing with the docility of little children from one lesson of the Bible to another ; these are the people who, working because God so bids them, will count that a man is not justified by the works of the law, because God so tells them; these are the people who, not offended by what Christ told them at the outset, that he who cometh unto him must forsake all, will evince their willingness to forsake all, by turning from their iniquities, and coming unto Christ ; these are the peo ple who, while they do what they may with their hands, will think that while their heart is not directed to the love of God, they have done nothing ; and counting it a faith ful saying, that without Christ they can do nothing, they will take to him as their sanc- tifier as well as their Saviour, and having received him as the Lord their righteous ness, will ever repair to him and keep by him as the Lord their strength. While I urge upon you the doing of every obviously right thing, you will not conceive of me that I want you to rest in this doing. I trust that my introductory paragraphs may convince you how much of this doing may be gone through, and yet the mighty object of the obedience of the willing heart might be unreached and unaccomplished. Not to urge the doing, lest you should rest, would be to deviate from scriptural example. And again, to urge the doing, and leave you to rest, would be also to deviate from scriptural example. John the Baptist urged the doing of many things, and his faithful disciples set themselves to the performance of what he bade them do. They entered immediately on the field of active and diligent service. But did they stop short ? No ; out of the very preach ing of their master did they obtain a cau tion against resting ; and the same submis sive deference to his authority, in virtue of which they were set a working, led them also, along with their working at the things which he set them to, to look forward to greater things than these. He told ihem expressly, that all his preaching was as no thing to the preaching of one who was to come after him. They were diligent with present things, but be assured that they combined with this diligence the attitude of looking forward to greater things. Is this the attitude of men who place their repose and their dependance upon the per formances on hand ? Was it not the atti tude of men walking in the way revealed by a messenger from heaven, to the object which this messenger pointed out to them ? I call on you to commence at this moment an immediate struggle with all sin, and an immediate striving after all righteousness; but I would not be completing even the 26 lesson of John, and far less would I be bringing forward the counsel of God, as made known to us in his subsequent reve lation, were I to say any thing which led you to stop short at those visible reforma tions, which formed the great burden of John's practical addresses to his country men ; and therefore along with your do ing, and most diligently doing all that is within your reach, I call on you to pray, and most fervently and faithfully to pray for that larger baptism of the Holy Ghost, by which your hearts may be cleansed from all their corruptions, and you be en abled to render unto God all the purity of a spiritual obedience. I cannot expatiate within the limits of this short address on the texts both of the Old and New Testament, which serve to establish, that the right attitude of a return ing sinner is what I have sometimes called in your hearing, the compound attitude of service and expectation. But I shall re peat a few of these texts, that they may suggest what you have been in the habit of hearing from me upon this subject. " And Samuel spake to all the house of Is rael, saying, if ye do return unto the Lord with all your hearts, then put away the strange gods and Ashtaroth from among you, and prepare your hearts unto the Lord, and serve him only, and he will de liver you out of the hand of the Philistines. Then the children of Israel did put away Baalim and Ashtaroth, and served the Lord alone." " They will not frame their doings to turn unto the Lord." " Thus saith the Lord, keep ye judgment and do justice, for my salvation is near to come, and my righ teousness to be revealed. Blessed is the man that doeth this, and the son of man that layeth hold on it, that keepeth the Sabbath from polluting it, and keepeth his hand from doing evil." " Deal thy bread to the hungry, and bring the poor that are cast out into thy house. When thou seest the naked, cover him, and hide not thy self from thine own flesh. Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine health shall spring forth speedily, and thy righteousness shall go before thee ; the glory of the Lord shall be thy rereward." " He that hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me, and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Fa ther, and I will love him, and will manifest myself unto him." " For whosoever hath, ' to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance ; but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath." " Whosoever, therefore, shall break one of these least commandments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven; but whosoever shall do and teach them, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven." 202 DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. ' And we are witnesses of these things ; and so is also the Holy Ghost, whom God hath given to them that obey him." "Trust in the Lord and do good." But danger presses on us in every direc tion ; and in the work of dividing the word of truth, many, and very many, are the ob stacles which lie in the way of our doing it rightly. When a minister gives his strength to one particular lesson, it often carries in it the appearance of his neglect ing all the rest, and throwing into the back ground other lessons of equal im portance. It might require the ministra tions of many years to do away this ap pearance. Sure I am, that I despair of doing it away within the limits of this short address to any but yourselves. You know all that I have urged upon the ground of your acceptance with God; upon the freeness of that offer which is by Christ Jesus; upon the honest invitations which every where abound in the Gospel, that all who will, may take hold of it ; upon the necessity of being found by God not in your own righteousness, but in the righ teousness which is of Christ ; upon the helplessness of man, and how all the strag glings of his own unaided strength can never carry him to the length of a spiritual obedience ; upon the darkness and enmity of his mind about the things of God, and how this can never be dissolved, till he who by nature stands afar off is brought near by the blood of the atonement, and he receives that repentance and that remis sion of sins, which Christ is exalted a Prince and a Saviour to dispense to all who believe in him. These are offers and doc trines which might be addressed, and ought to be addressed immediately to all. But the call I have been urging upon you through the whole of this pamphlet, of " Cease ye from your manifest transgressions," should be addressed along with them. Now, here lies the difficulty with many a sincere lover of the truth as it is in Jesus. He feels a backwardness in urging this call, lest it should some how or other impair the freeness of the offer, or encroach upon the singleness of that which is stated to be our alone meritorious ground of acceptance before God. In reply to this, let it be well observed, that though the offer be at all times free, it, is not at all times listened to ; and though the only ground of acceptance be that righteousness of Christ which is unto all them and upon all them that be lieve, yet some are in likelier circumstances for being brought to this belief than others. There is one class of hearers who are in a greater state of readiness for being impress ed by the Gospel than another, — and I fear that all the use has not been made of this principle, which Scripture and experience warrant us to do. Every attempt to work man into a readiness for receiving the offer has been discouraged, as if it carried in it a reflection against the freeness of the offer itself. The obedient disciples of John were more prepared for the doctrines of grace, than the careless hearers of this prophet; but their obedience did not confer any claim of merit upon them, it only made them more disposed to receive the good tidings of that salvation which was alto gether of grace. A despiser of ordinances is put into a likelier situation for receiving the free offer of the Gospel, by being pre vailed upon to attend a church where this offer is urged upon his acceptance. His attendance does not impair the freeness of the offer. Yet where is the man so warp ed by a misleading speculation, as to deny that the doing of this previous to his union with Christ, and preparatory to that union. may be the very mean of the free offer be ing received. Again, it is the lesson both of experience and of the Bible, that the young are likelier subjects for religious instruc tion than the old. The free offer may and ought to be addressed to both these classes ; but generally speaking, it is in point of fact more productive of good when ad dressed to the first class than the second. And we do not say that youth confers any meritorious title to salvation, nor do we make any reflection on the freeness of the offer, when we urge it upon the young, lest they should get old, and it have less chance of being laid before them with ac ceptance. We make no reflection upon the offer as to its character of freeness, but we proceed upon the obvious fact, that, free as it is, it is not so readily listened to or laid hold of by the second class of hearers as by the first. And, lastly, when addressing sinners now, all of them might and ought to be plied with the free offer of salvation at the very outset. But if it be true, that those of them who wilfully persist in those misdoings, which they could give up on the inducement of a temporal reward, will not, in point of fact, be so impressed by the offer, or be so disposed to accept of it, as those who (on the call of — " Flee from the coming wrath;") and on being told, that, unless they repent they shall perish ; and on being made to know, what our Saviour made inquirers know at the very starting point of their progress as his disciples, that he who followeth after him must forsake all,) have begun to break off their sins, and to put the evil of their doings away from them : then we are not stripping the offer of its attribute of perfect freeness, but we are only doing what God in his wisdom did two thousand years ago ; we are, under Him, preparing souls for the reception of this offer, when along with the business of proposing it, which we cannot do too early, we bring the urgency of an immediate call DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 203 to bear on the children of iniquity, that they should cease to do evil and learn to do well. The publicans and harlots entered into the kingdom of God before the Pharisees, and yet the latter were free from the out ward transgressions of the former. Now, the fear which restrains many from lifting the immediate call of—" Ceaseye from your transgressions," is, lest it should put those who obey the call into the state of Pharisees ; and there is a secret, though not avowed, impression in their minds, that it were bet ter for their hearers to remain in the state of publicans and harlots, and in this state to have the offer of Christ and all his benefits set before them. But mark well, that it was not the publicans and harlots who per sisted in their iniquities, but they who counted John to be a prophet, and in obe dience to his call, were putting their iniqui ties away from them, who had the advan tage of the Pharisees. None will surely say, that those of them who continued as they were, were put into a state of prepara tion for the Saviour by the preaching of John. Some will be afraid to say, that those of them who gave up their iniquities at the bidding of John, were put into a state of preparation, lest it should encourage a pharisaical confidence in our own doings. But mark the distinction between these and the Pharisees : The Pharisees might be as free as the reforming publicans and harlots, of those visible transgressions which cha racterized them ; but on this they rested their confidence, and put the offered Sa viour away from them. The publicans and harlots, so far from resting their confidence on the degree of reformation which they had accomplished, were prompted to this reformation by the hope of the coming Sa viour. They connected with all their do ings the expectation of greater things. They waited for the kingdom of God that was at hand ; and the preaching of John, under the influence of which they had put away from them many of their misdeeds, could never lead them to stop short at this degree of amendment, when the very same John told them of one who was to come af ter him, in comparison of whom he and all his sermons were as nothing. The Saviour did come, and he said of those publicans and harlots who believed and repented at the preaching of John, that they entered the kingdom of heaven before the Phari sees. They had not earned that kingdom by their doings, but they were in a fitter and readier state for receiving the tidings of it. The gospel came to them on the footing of a free and unmerited offer; and on this footing it should be proposed to all. But it is not on this footing that it will be accepted by all. Not by men who, free from many glaring and visible iniquities, rest on the decency of their own character ; — not by men who, deformed by these ini quities, still wilfully and obstinately persist in them ; but by men who, earnest in their inquiries after salvation, and who, made to know, as they ought to be at the very out set of their inquiries, that it is a salvation from sin as well as from punishment, have given up the practice of their outward ini quities, as the first fruit and evidence of their earnestness. Let me, therefore, in addition to the les son I have already urged upon you, warn you against a pharisaical confidence in your own doings. While, on the one hand, I tell you that none are truly seeking who have not begun to do ; I, on the other hand, tell you, that none have truly found who have not taken up with Christ as the end of the law for righteousness. Let Jesus Christ, the same to-day, yesterday, and for ever, be the end of your conversation. Never take rest till you have found it in him. You never will have a well-grounded comfort in your intercourse with God, till you have learned the way of going to the throne of his grace in fellowship with Christ as your ap pointed Mediator ; — you never will rejoice in hope of the coming glory, till your peace be made with God through Jesus Christ our Lord ; you never will be sure of par don, till you rest in the forgiveness of your sins as coming to you through the redemp tion which is in his blood. And what is more, addressing you as a people who have received a practical impulse to the obe dience of the commandments, never forget, that, while the reformation of your first and earliest stages in the christian life went no farther than to the amendment of your more obvious and visible deficiencies, this refor mation, to be completed, must bring the soul and spirit, as well as the body, under a subserviency to the glory of God ; and it never can be completed but by the shed ding abroad of that spirit which is daily poured on the daily prayers of believers : and I call upon you always to look up to God through the channel of Christ's ap pointed mediatorship, that you may receive through this same channel a constant and ever increasing supply of the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Ghost. I call upon you to be up and doing ; but I call upon you with the very same breath, not to rest satisfied with any dark, or con fused notions about your way of acceptance with God ; and let it be your earnest and never-ceasing object to be found in that way. While you have the commandments and keep them, look at the same time for the promised manifestations. To be indif ferent whether you have a clear understand ing of the righteousness of Christ, is the same as thinking it not worth your while 204 DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. to inquire into that which God thought it worth his while to give up his Son unto the death that he might accomplish. It is to affront God, by letting him speak while you refuse to listen or attend to him. Have a care, lest it be an insulting sentiment on your part, as to the worth of your polluted services, and that, sinful as they are, and defective as they are, they are good enough for God. Lean not on such a bruised reed ; but let Christ, in all the perfection of that righteousness, which is unto all them and upon all them that believe, be the alone rock of your confidence. Your feet will never get on a sure place till they be estab lished on that foundation than which there is no other ; and to delay a single moment in your attempts to reach it, and to find rest upon it, after it is so broadly announced to you, is to incur the aggravated guilt of those who neglect the great salvation, and who make God a liar, by suspending their belief of that record which he hath given of his Son, — "And this is the record that God hath given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son." Again I call upon you to be up and doing ; and I call upon you to accept of Christ as your alone Saviour : but 1 call upon you, at the same time, to look to the Whole ex tent of his salvation. " You hath he quick ened, having forgiven you all trespasses." There is the forgiveness of all that has been dead, and sinful, and alienated within you : but there is also a quickening, and a reform ing, and a putting within you a near and a lively sense of God, so as that you may henceforth serve him with newness of heart, and walk before him in all newness of life and of conversation. Your hearts will be enlarged, so as that you may run the way of all the commandments. O, how it puts to flight all pharisaical confidence in the present exercises of obedience, when one casts an enlightened eye over the whole extent of the Christian race, and thinks of the mighty extent of those attainments which were exemplified by the disciples of the New Testament ! The service which I now yield, and is perhaps offered up in the spirit of bondage, must be offered up in the spirit of adoption. It must be the obe dience of a child, who yields the willing homage of his affections to his reconciled father. It must be thc obedience of the heart : and O how far is a slavish perform ance of the bidden task, from the consent of the inner man to the law of that God ^ whom he delights to honour ! This love to 1 him, and delight in him, occupy the fore most place in the list of the bidden require ments. If I love the creature more than the Creator, I trample on the authority of the first and greatest of the commandments ; and what an mposing exhibition of so briety, and jus ice, and almsgiving, and reli gious decency, may be presented in the character and doings of him whose conver sation is not in heaven, who minds earthly things, who loves his wealth more than God, who likes his ease and comfort on this side of time more than all his prospects on the other side of it, and who, therefore, though he may never have looked upon himself to be any thing else than a fair Christian, is looked upon by every spiritual being as a rebel to his God, with the prin ciple of rebellion firmly seated in his most vital part, even in his heart, turned in cold ness and alienation away from him. But if God be looked upon by you as a Father with whom you are reconciled through the blood of sprinkling, it will not be so with you. Now, this is what he calls you to do. He gives you a warrant to choose him as your God. He offers him self to your acceptance, and beseeches all to whom the word of salvation is sent, to be reconciled to Him. It is indeed a won derful change in the state of a heart, when, giving up its coldness and indifference to God, (and I call upon every careless and unawakened man to tell me, upon his ho nesty, whether this be not the actual state of his heart,) it surrenders itself to him with the warm and the willing tribute of all its affections. Now, there is not one power, within the compass of nature, that can bring about this change. It does not lie with man to give up the radical iniquity of an alienated heart ; the Ethiopian may as soon change his skin, and the leopard his spots. But what cannot be done by him, is done to him, when he accepts of the Gos pel. The promises of Christ are abundant ly peformed upon all who trust in him. Through him is the dispensation of forgive ness, and with him is the dispensation of the all-powerful and all-subduing Spirit. While, then, with the very first mention of his name, I call on you to cease your hand from doing evil, surely there is nothing in the call that can lead you to stop at any one point of obedience, when I, at the same time, tell you of the mighty change that must be accomplished, ere you are meet for the inheritance of the saints. You must be made the workmanship of God ; you must be born again ; you must be made to feel your dependance on the power of the renewing Spirit; and that power must come down upon you, and keep by you, and by his ever-needed supplies must form the habitual answer to your habitual and believing prayers. I have now got upon ground on which many will refuse to go along with me. I can get their testimony to the spectacle cf a reforming people, putting the visible ini quities of stealing, and lying, and evil speaking, and drunkenness, away from them ; but from the moment we come to DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 205 ihe only principle which confers any value on *hese visible expressions, even the wil ling homage of the heart to God, and to his law in all its spirituality and extent ; and from the moment that we come to the only expedient by which such a principle c».n ever obtain an establishment within us, (and we challenge them to attempt the establishment of this principle in any other way,) even the operation of that spirit which is given to those who accept of Christ as he is laid before us in the Gospel ; then, and at that moment, are we looked upon as having entered within the borders of fanaticism ; and, while they lavish their superficial admiration on the flowers of virtue, do they refuse the patience of their attention to the root from which they spring, or to the nourishment which main tains them. And here I cannot but record the effect of an actual though undesigned experiment, which I prosecuted for upwards of twelve years among you. For the greater part of that time, I could expatiate on the meanness of dishonesty, on the villainy of falsehood, on the despicable arts of calumny, — in a word, upon all those deformities of charac ter, which awaken the natural indignation of the human heart against the pests and the disturbers of human society. Now could I, upon the strength of these warm expostulations, have got the thief to give up his stealing, and the evil speaker his censoriousness, and the liar his deviations from truth, I should have felt all the repose of ,one who had gotten his ultimate object. It never occurred to me that all this might have been done, and yet every soul of every hearer have remained in full alienation from God ; and that even could I have established in the bosom of one who stole, such a prin ciple of abhorrence at the meanness of dis honesty, that he was prevailed upon to steal no more, he might still have retained a heart as completely unturned to God, and as to tally unpossessed by a principle of love to Him, as before. In a word, though I might have made him a more upright and honour able man, I might have left him as destitute of the essence of religious principle as ever. But the interesting fact is, that during the whole of that period in which I made no attempt against the natural enmity of the mind to God, while I was inattentive to the way in which this enmity is dissolved, even by the free offer on the one hand, and the believing acceptance on the other, of the gospel salvation; while Christ, through whose blood the sinner, who by nature stands afar off, is brought near to the hea venly Lawgiver whom he has offended, was scarcely ever spoken of, or spoken of in such a way, as stripped him of all the im portance of his character and his offices, even at this time I certainly did press the reformations of honour, and truth, and in tegrity among my people; but I never once heard of any such reformations having been effected among them. If there was any thing at all brought about in this way, it was more than ever I got any account of, I am not sensible, that all the vehemence with which I urged the virtues and the proprieties of social life, had the weight of a feather on the moral habits of my parishioners. And it was not till I got impressed by the utter alienation of the heart in all its desires and affections from God ; it was not till recon ciliation to Him became the distinct and the prominent object of my ministerial exer tions; it was not till I took the scriptural way of laying the method of reconciliation before them ; it was not till the free offer of forgiveness through the blood of Christ . was urged upon their acceptance, and the Holy Spirit given through the channel of Christ's mediatorship to all who ask him, was set before them as the unceasing object of their dependance and their prayers; it was not, in one word, till the contemplations of my people were turned to these great and essential elements in the business of a soul providing for its interest with God and the concerns of its eternity, that I ever heard of any of those subordinate reformations which I aforetime made the earnest and the zealous, but I am afraid at the same time, the ultimate object of my earlier ministra tions. Ye servants, whose scrupulous fidel ity has now attracted the notice, and drawn forth in my hearing a delightful testimony from your masters, what mischief you would have done, had your zeal for doctrines and sacraments been accompanied by tile sloth and the remissness, and what, in the pre vailing tone of moral relaxation, is counted the allowable purloining of your earlier days ! But a sense of your heavenly Mas ter's eye has brought another influence to bear upon you ; and while you are thus striving to adorn the doctrine of God your Saviour in all things, you may, poor as you are, reclaim the great ones of the land to the acknowledgment of the faith. You have at least taught me, that to preach Christ is the only effective way of preaching morality in all its branches ; and out of your humble cottages have I gathered a lesson, which I pray God I may be enabled to carry with all its simplicity into a wider theatre, and to bring with all the power of its subduing efficacy upon the vices of a more crowded population. And here it gives me pleasure to observe, that, earnest as I have been for a plain and practical outset, the very first obedience of John's disciples was connected with a be lief in the announcement of a common Sa viour. This principle was present with them, and had its influence on the earliest movements of their repentance. Faith in. 206 DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. Christ had at that time but an obscure dawn ing in their minds; but they did not wait for its full and its finished splendour, till they should begin the work of keeping the com mandments. To this infant faith there cor responded a certain degree of obedience, ancl this obedience grew more enlightened, more spiritual, more allied with the purity of the heart, and the movements of the inner man, just as faith obtained its brighter and larger accessions in the course of the subsequent revelations. The disciple of John keeping himself free from extortion and adultery, was a very different man from the Pharisee, who was neither an extortioner nor an adulterer. The mind of the Phari see rested on his present performances ; the mind of the disciple was filled with the ex pectation of a higher Teacher, and he look ed forward to him, and was in the attitude .if readiness to listen and believe, and obey. Many of them were transferred from the forerunner to the Saviour, and they com panied with him during his abode in the world, and were found with one accord in one place on the day of Pentecost, and shared in the influences of that Comforter, whom Christ promised to send down upon his disciples on earth, from the place to which he had ascended in heaven ; and thus it is that the same men who started with the preaching of John at the work of put ting their obvious and palpable transgres sions away from them, were met afterwards at the distance of years living the life of faith in Christ, and growing in meetness for a spiritual inheritance, by growing in all the graces and accomplishments of a spiritual obedience. There was a faith in Christ, which presided over the very first steps of their practical career; but it is wor thy of being remarked, that they did not wait in indolence till this faith should re ceive its further augmentations. Upon this faith, humble as it was at its commence ment, their teacher exacted a corresponding obedience, and this obedience, so far from being suspended till what was lacking in their faith should be perfected, was the very path which conducted them to larger mani festations. Now, is not faith a growing prin ciple at this hour? Is not the faith of an incipient Christian different in its strength, and in the largeness of its contemplations, from the faith of him who, by reason of use, has had his senses well exercised to dis cern both the good and the evil ? I am wil ling to concede it, for it accords with all my experience on the subject, that some an ticipation, however faint, of the benefit to be derived from an offered Saviour ; some apprehension, however indistinct, of the mercy of God in Christ Jesus : some hope, inspired by the peculiar doctrines of the Gospel, and which nothing but the preach- 'ng of that Gospel in all its peculiarity will ever awaken in the mind, — that these are the principles which preside over the very first movements of a sinner, casting away from him his transgressions, and returning unto God. But let us not throw any impediment in the way of these first movements. Let us have a practical outset. Let us not be afraid of giving an immediate character of exer tion to the very infancy of a Christian's career. To wait in slavish adherence to system, till the principle of faith be depo sited with all the tenacity of a settled as surance in the mind, or the brilliancy of a finished light be thrown around it, would be to act in the face of scriptural example. Let the gospel be preached in all its free ness at the very outset ; but let us never forget, that to every varying degree of faith in the mind of the hearer there goes an obedience along with it ; that to forsake the evil of his ways can never be pressed too early upon his observance ; that this, and every subsequent degree of obe dience, is the prescribed path to clearer manifestations ;* and that, to attempt the establishment of a perfect faith by the single work of expounding the truth, is to strike out a spark of our own kindling — it is to do the thing in our own way — it is to throw aside the use of scriptural expedients, and to substitute the mere possession of a dogma, for thatprinciple which, growingpro- gressively within us, animates and sustains the whole course of a humble, and diligent, and assiduous, and painstaking Christian. Whence the fact, that the deriders and the enemies of evangelical truth set them selves forward as the exclusive advocates of morality? It is because many of its friends have not ventured to show so bold and so immediate a front on this subject as they ought to have done. They are posi tively afraid of placing morality on the fore-ground of their speculations. They do not like it to be so prominently brought for ward at the commencement of their in structions. They have it, ay, and in a purer and holier form than its more osten tatious advocates ; but they have thrown a doctrinal barrier around it, which hides it from the general observation. Would it not be better to drag it from this conceal ment — to bring it out to more immediate view — to place it in large and visible cha racters on the very threshold of our sub ject ; and if our Saviour told his country men, at the very outset of their disciple- ship, that they who followed after him must forsake all, is there any thing to prevent us from battling it at the very outset of our ministrations, with all that is glaringly and' obviously wrong ? Much should be done to chase away the very general delusion which John, xiv. 21. Acts, v. 32. DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 207 exists among the people of this country; that the preachers of faith are not the preachers of morality. If there be any thing in the arrangements of a favourite system which are at all calculated to foster this delusion, these arrangements should just be broke in upon. Obedience should be written upon every signal ; and depar ture from all iniquity, should be made to float, in a bright and legible inscription, upon all our standards. I call on you, my brethren, to abound in those good deeds, by which, if done in the body, Christ will be magnified in your bo dies. I call on you for a prompt vindica tion of the truth as it is in Jesus, by your example and your lives. Lei me hear of your being the most equitable masters, and the most faithful servants, and the most up right members of society, and the most watchful parents, and the most dutiful chil dren. Never forget, that the object of the Saviour is to redeem you from all iniquity, and that every act of wilful indulgence, in any one species of iniquity, is a refusal to go along with him. Do maintain to the eye of by-standers the conspicuous front of a reforming, and conscientious, and ever-do ing people. Meet the charge of those who are strangers to the power of the truth, by the noblest of all refutations — by the graces and accomplishments of a life given in faithful and entire dedication to the will of the Saviour. Let the remembrance of what he gave for you, ever stir you up to the sense of what you should give him back again ; and while others talk of good works, in such a way as to depose Christ from his pre-eminence, do you perform these good works through Christ, by the power of his grace working in you mightily. And think not that you have attained, or are already perfect. Have your eye ever directed to the perfect righteousness of Christ, as the only ground of your accep-, tance with God, and as the only exam ple you should never cease to aspire after. Rest not in any one measure of attainment. Think not that you should stop short till you are righteous, even as he is glorious. Take unto you the whole armour of God, that you be fitted for the contest, and prove that you are indeed born again by the anointing which you have received, being an anoint ing which remaineth. May the very God of peace sanctify you wholly. May he shed abroad his love in your hearts. And may the Spirit which I call on you to pray for, in the faith of Him who is entrusted with the dispensation of it, impel you to all dili gence, that you may be found of Him, at his coming, without spot, and blameless. I shall conclude this very hurried and im perfect Address, with the last words of my last sermon to you. " It is not enough that you receive Christ for the single object of forgiveness, or as a Priest who has wrought out an atonement for you ; for Christ offers himself in more capacities than this one, and you do not receive him- truly, unless you receive him just as he offers himself. Again it is not enough that you receive Christ only as a Priest and a Prophet ; for all that he teaches will be to you a dead letter, unless you are qualified to understand and to obey it ; and if you think that you are qualified by na ture, you in fact, refuse his teaching, at the very time that you profess him to be your teacher, for he says, ' without me ye can do nothing.' You must receive him for strength, as well as for forgiveness and direc tion, or, in other words, you must submit to him as your King, not merely to rule over you by his law, but to rule in you by his Spirit. You must live -in constant de- pendance on the influences of his grace, and if you do so, you never will stop short at any one point of obedience ; but, know ing that the grace of God is all-powerful, you will suffer no difficulties to slop your progress ; you will suffer no paltry limit of what unaided human nature can do, to bound your ambition after the glories of a purer and a better character than an earth ly principle can accomplish ; j'ou will enter a career, of which you at this moment see not the end ; you will try an ascent, of which the lofty eminence is hid in the darkness of futurity; the chilling sentiment, that no higher obedience is expected of me than what I can yield, will have no influence upon you ; for the mighty stretch of attain ment that you look forward to, is not what I can do, but what Christ ean do in me ; and, with the all-subduing instrument of his grace to help you through every diffi culty, and to carry you in triumph over every opposition, you will press forward conquering and to conquer ; and, while the world knoweth not the power of those great and animating hopes which sustain you, you will be making daily progress in a field of discipline and acquirement which they have never entered ; and in patience and forgiveness, and gentleness and cha rity, and the love of God and the love of your neighbour, which is like unto the love of God, you will prove that a work of grace is going on in your hearts, even that work by which the image you lost at the fall is repaired and brought back again, the em pire of sin within you is overthrown, the subjection of your hearts to what is visible and earthly is exchanged for the power of the unseen world over its every affection, and you be filled with such a faith, and such a love, and such a superiority to perishable things, as will shed a glory over the whole of your daily walk, and give to every one of your doings the high charac ter of a candidate for eternity. 208 DUTY OF DILIGENCE IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. "Christ is offered to all of you for for giveness. The man who takes him for this single object must be looking at him with an eye half shut upon the revelation he makes of himself. Look at him with an open and a steadfast eye, and then I will call you a true believer ; and sure I am, that if you do so, you cannot avoid seeing him in the earnestness of his desire that you should give up all sin, and enter from this moment into all obedience. True, and most true, my brethren, that faith will save you; but it must be a whole faith in a whole Bible. True, and most true, that they who keep the commandments of Jesus shall enter into life ; but you are not to shrink from any one of these commandments, or to say because they are so much above the power of human ity, that you must give up the task of attempting them. True, and most true, that he who trusteth to his obedience as a saviour, is shifting his confidence from the alone foundation it can rest upon. Christ is your Saviour ; and when I call upon you to rejoice in that reconciliation which is through him, I call upon you not to leave him for a single moment, when you engage in the work of doing those things which if left undone, will exclude us from the king dom of heaven. Take him along with you into all your services. Let the sentiment ever be upon you, that what I am now doing I may do in my own strength to the satisfaction of man, but I must have the power of Christ resting upon the perform ance, if I wish to do it in the way that is acceptable to God. Let this be your habi tual sentiment, and then the supposed op position between faith and works vanishes into nothing. The life of a believer is made up of good works ; and faith is the ani mating and the power-working principle of every one of them. The spirit of Christ actuates and sustains the whole course of your obedience. You walk not away from him, but in the language of the text, you ' walk in him,' (Col. ii. 6.) and as there is not one of your doings in which he does not feel a concern, and prescribe a duty for you, so there is not one of them in which his grace is not in readiness to put the right principle into your heart, and lo bring it out into your conduct, and to make your walk accord with your profession, so as to let the world see upon you without, the power and the efficacy of the sentiment within ; and thus, while Christ has the whole merit of your forgiveness, he has the whole merit of your sanctification also, and the humble and deeply-felt consciousness of ' nevertheless not me, but the grace of God that is in me,' restores to Jesus Christ all the credit and all the glory which belong to him, by making him your only, and your perfect, and your entire, and your altoge ther Saviour. " Choose him, then, my brethren, choose him as the Captain of your salvation Let him enter into your hearts by faith, and let him dwell continually there. Cultivate a daily intercourse and a growing acquaint ance with him. 0, you are in safe com pany, indeed, when your fellowship is with him ! The shield of his protecting medi- atorship is ever between you and the jus tice of God ; and out of his fullness there goeth a constant stream, to nourish, and to animate, and to strengthen every believer. Why should the shifting of human instru ments so oppress and so discourage you, when he is your willing friend ; when he is ever present, and is at all times in readi ness ; when he, the same to-day, yesterday, and for ever, is to be met with in every place; and while his disciples here, giving way to the power of sight, are sorrowful, and in great heaviness, because they are to move at a distance from one another, he, my brethren, he has his eye upon all neigh bourhoods and all countries, and will at length gather his disciples into one eternal family. With such a Master, let us quit ourselves like men. With the magnifi cence of eternity before us, let time, with its fluctuations, dwindle into its own little ness. If God is pleased to spare me, I trust I shall often meet with you in person, even on this side of the grave ; but if not, let us often meet in prayer at the mercy-seat of God. While we occupy different places on earth, let our mutual intercessions for each other go to one place in heaven. Lei the Saviour put our supplications into one censer; and be assured, my brethren, that after tbe dear and the much-loved scenery of this peaceful vale has disappeared from my eye, the people who live in it shall re tain a warm and an ever-during place in my memory; — and this mortal body must be stretched on the bed of death, ere the heart which now animates it can resign its exercise of longing after you, and praying for' you, that you may so receive Christ Jesus, and so walk in him, and so hold fast the things you have gotten, and so prove that the labour I have had among you has not been in vain; that when the sound of the last trumpet awakens us, these eyes, which are now bathed in tears, may open upon a scene of eternal blessedness, and we, my brethren, whom the providence of God has withdrawn for a little while from cne another, may on that day be found side by side at the right hand of the everlasting throne." APPENDIX. Since the present edition of this work was put- .mg to press, I have seen a review of it by the Christian Instructor, and the following are the im mediate observations which the perusal of this re view has suggested. I meant no attack on any body of clergy, and I have made no attack ujion them. The people whom I addressed were the main object on which my attention rested ; and any thing I have said in the style of animadversion, was chiefly, if not exclu sively, with a reference to that perverseness which I think I have witnessed in the conceptions and habits of private Christians. I have alluded, no doubt, to a method of treat ment on the part of some of the teachers of Chris tianity, and which I believe to be both inefficient and unscriptural. But have I at all asserted the extent to which this method prevails 7 Have I ven tured to fasten an imputation upon any marked or general body of Christian ministers ? It was no object of mine to set forth or to signalize my own peculiarity in this matter ; and if I rightly under stand who the men are whom the reviewer has in his eye when he speaks of the evangelical clergy, then does he represent me as dealing out my cen sures against those whom I honestly believe to be the instrumental cause of nearly all the vital and substantial Christianity in the land. Again, is it not possible for a man to have an Awakened and tender sense of the sinfulness ol one sin, and to have a very slender and inadequate sense of the sinfulness of another? Might not the first circumstance beget in his mind an honest and a general desire to be delivered from sin ; and miglU not the second circumstance account for the fact, that with this mourning for sin in the gross, he should put forth his hand without scruple to the commission of what is actually sinful ? I do not know a more familiar exhibition of this, than of a man who would be visited with remorse were he to 27 walk in the fields on a Sabbath day at the time of divine service, and the very same man indulging without remorse Ms propensity to throw ridicule or discredit on an absent character. His actual re morse on the commission of all that he feels to be sinful, might lead a man to mourn over sin in the general ; but surely this general direction of his can nave no such necessary influence, as the reviewer contends for, in the way of leading him to renounce what he does not feel to be sinful. But this is what he should be made to feel ; and it may be done in two ways — either in the didactic way, by a formal announcement that, the deed in question is con trary to the law of God ; or in the imperative way, by bidding him cease from the doing of it, — a way no less effective and scriptural than the former, and brought to bear in the New Testament upon men at the earliest conceivable stage of their progress from sin unto righteousness. I share most cordially in opinion with the re viewer, that he might extend his observations greatly beyond the length of the original pamphlet, were he to say all that might be said on the topics brought forward in it. I believe that it would re quire the compass of an extended volume to meet every objection, and to turn the argument in every possible way. I did not anticipate all the notice that has been taken of this performance, and am fearful lest it should defeat the intended effect on the hearts of a plain people. With this feeling I close the discussion for the present; and my desire is, that in all I may afterwards say upon this sub ject, I may be preserved from that tone of contro versy, which I feel to be hurtful to the practical influence of every truth it accompanies ; and which, 1 fear, may have in so far infected my former com munications, as to make it more fitted to arouse the speculative tendencies of the mind, and provoke to an intellectual warfare, than to tell on the conscience and on the doings of an earnest inquirer. THE INFLUENCE OF BIBLE SOCIETIES, TEMPORAL NECESSITIES OF THE POOR. ARGUMENT. 1. The Objection stated. 2. The Radical Answer to it. 3. But the Objection is not true in point of fact. 4. A former act of charity does not exempt from the obligation of a new act, if it can be afforded. 5. Estimate of the encroachment made by the Bible Society upon the funds of the country. 6. A Subscriber to the Bible Society does not give less to the Poor on that account. 7. Evidence for the truth of this assertion. 8. And explanation of its principle. (1.) The ability for other acts of charity nearly as entire as before. 9. (2.) And the disposition greater. 10. Poverty is better kept under by a preventive, than by a positive treatment. 11. Exemplified in Scotland. 13. The Bible Society has a strong preventive operation. 13. And therefore promotes the secular interests of the Poor. 14. The argument carried down to the case of Penny Societies. 15. Difficulty in the exposi tion of the argument. 16. The effects of a charitable endowment in a parish pernicious to the Poor. 17. By inducing a dependance upon it. IS. And stripping them of their industrious habits. 19. The effects of a Bible Association are in an opposite direction to those of a charitable endowment. 20. And it stands completely free of all the objections to which a tax is liable. 21. A Bible Association gives dignity to the Poor. 22. And a delicate reluctance to pauperism. 23. The shame of pauperism is the best defence against it. 24. How a Bible Association augments this feeling. 25. By dignifying the Poor. 26. And adding to the influence of Bible Principles. 27. Exemplified in the humblest situa tion. 28. The progress of these Associations in the country. 29. Compared with other Associations for the relief of temporal necessities. 30. The more salutary influence of Bible Associations. 31. And how they counteract the pernicious influence of other charities. 32. It is best to confide the secular relief of the Poor to individual benevolence. 33. And a Bible Association both augments and en lightens this principle. 1. Without entering into the positive claims of the Bible Society upon the gene rosity of the public, I shall endeavour to do away an objection which meets us at the very outset of every attempt to raise a sub scription, or to found an institution in its favour. The secular necessities of the poor are brought into competition with it, and every shilling given to the Bible Society is represented as an encroachment upon that fund which was before allocated to the re lief of poverty. 2. Admitting the fact stated in the objec tion to be true, we have an answer in readi ness for it. If the Bible Society accomplish its professed object, which is, to make those who were before ignorant of the Bible bet ter acquainted with it, then the advantage given more than atones for the loss sus tained. We stand upon the high ground, that eternity is longer than time, and the unfading enjoyments of the one a boon more valuable than the perishable enjoy ments of the other. Money is sometimes expended for the idle purpose of amusing the poor by the gratuitous exhibition of a spectacle or show. It is a far wiser distribu tion of the money when it is transferred from this object to the higher and more useful objects of feeding those among them who are hungry, clothing those among them who are naked, and paying for medicine or attendance to those among them who are sick. We make bold to say, that if money for the purpose could be got from no other quarter, it would be a wiser distribution still to withdraw it from the objects last men tioned to the supreme object of paying for the knowledge of religion to those among them who are ignorant ; and, at the hazard of being execrated by many, we do not hesitate to affirm, that it is better for the poor to be worse fed and worse clothed, than that they should be left ignorant of those Scriptures, which are able to make them wise unto salvation through the faith that is in Christ Jesus. 3. But the statement contained in the ob jection is not true. It seems to go upon the supposition, that the fund for relieving the temporal wants of the poor is the only fund which exists in the country; and that when any new object of benevolence is started, there is no other fund to which we can re- 3?n INFLUENCE OF BIBLE SOCIETIES. 211 pair for the requisite expenses. But there are other funds in the country. There is a prodigious fund for the maintenance of go vernment, nor do we wish that fund to be encroached upon by a single farthing. There is a fund out of which the people of the land are provided in the necessaries of life: and before we incur the odium of trenching upon necessaries, let us first inquire, if there be no other fund in existence. Go, then, to all who are elevated above the class of mere labourers, ana you will find in their pos session a fund, out of which they are pro vided with what are commonly called the superfluities of life. We do not dispute their right to these superfluities, nor do we deny the quantity of pleasure which lies in the enjoyment of them. We only state the ex istence of such a fund, and that by a trifling act of self-denial on the part of those who possess it, we could obtain all that we are pleading for. It is a little hard, that the com petition should be struck between the fund of the Bible Society and the fund for reliev ing the temporal wants of the poor, while the far larger and more transferable fund for superfluities is left out of consideration entirely, and suffered to remain an untouch ed and unimpaired quantity. In this way, the odium of hostility to the poor is fastened upon those who are labouring for their most substantial interests, while a set of men who neglect the immortality of the poor, and would leave their souls to perish, are suf fered to sheer off with the credit of all the finer sympathies of our nature. 4. To whom much is given, of tbem much will be required. Whatever be your former liberalities in another direction, when a new and a likely direction of benevolence is pointed out, the question still comes back upon you, What have you to spare? If there be a remainder left, it is by the extent of this remainder that you will be judged ; and it is not right to set tbe claims of the Bible Society against the secular necessities of the poor, while means so ample are left, that the true way of instituting the compe lition is to set these claims against some personal gratification which it is in your power to abandon. Have a care, lest with the language of philanthropy in your mouth, you shall be found guilty of the crudest indifference to the true welfare of the spe cies, and lest the Discerner of your heart shall perceive how it prefers some sordid indulgence of its own to the dearest interests of those around you. 5. But let me not put to hazard the pros perity of our cause, by resting it on a standard of charity far too elevated for the general practice of the times. Let us now drop our abstract reasoning upon the re spective funds, and eome to an actual spe cification of their quantities. The truth is, that the fund for the Bible Society is so very small, that it is not entitled to make its appearance in any abstract argument whatever, and were it not to do away even the shadow of an objection, we would have been ashamed to have thrown the argument into the language of general discussion. What shall we think of the objection when told, that the whole yearly revenue of the Bible Society, as derived from the contribu tions of those who support it, does not amount to a half-penny per month from each householder in Britain and Ireland? Can this be considered as a serious invasion upon any one fund allotted to other desti nations, and shall the most splendid and promising enterprise that ever benevolence was engaged in, be arrested upon an objec tion so fanciful? We do not want lo oppress any individual by the extravagance of our demands. It is not in great sums, but in the combination of littles, that our strength lies. It is the power of combination which resolves the mystery. Great has been the progress and activity of the Bible Society since its first institution. All we want is, that this rate of activity be kept up and ex tended. The above statement will convince the reader, that there is ample room for the extension. The whole fund for the secular wants of the poor may be left untouched, and as to tho fund for luxuries, the revenue of the Bible Society may be augmented a hundred-fold before this fund is sensibly encroached upon. The veriest crumbs and sweepings of extravagance would suffice us ; and it will be long, and very long, be fore any invasion of ours upon this fund shall give rise to any perceivable abridge ment of luxury, or have the weight of a straw upon the general style and establish ment of families. 6. But there is still another way of meet ing the objection. Let us come immediately to a question upon the point of fact. Does a man, on becoming a subscriber to the Bible Society, give less to the secular wants of the poor than he did formerly? It is true, there is a difiiculty in the way of ob taining an answer to this question. He who knows best what answer to give will be the last to proclaim it. In as far as the subscribers themselves are concerned, we must leave the answer to their own expe rience, and sure we are that that experience will not be against us. But it is not from this quarter that we can expect to ob tain the wished for information. The be nevolence of an individual does not stand out to the eye of the public. The know ledge of its operations is confined to the little neighbourhood within which it expa tiates. It is often kept from the poor them selves, and then the information we are in quest of is shut up with the giver in the si lent consciousness of his bosom, and with God in the book of his remembrance. 212 INFLUENCE OF BIBLE SOCIETIES. 7. But much good has been done of late years by the combined exertions of indi viduals ; and benevolence, when operating in this way, is necessarily exposed to pub lic observation. Subscriptions have been started for almost every one object which benevolence can devise, and the published lists may furnish us w*ith data for a par tial solution of the proposed question. In point of fact, then, those who subscribe for a religious object, subscribe with the greatest readiness and liberality for the re lief of human affliction, under all the vari ous forms in which it pleads for sympathy. This is quite notorious. The human mind, by singling out the eternity of others as the main object of its benevolence, does not withdraw itself from the care of sustaining them on the way which leads to eternity. It exerts an act of preference, but not an act of exclusion. A friend of mine has been indebted to an active and beneficent patron, for a lucrative situation in a distant country, but he wants money to pay his travelling expenses. I commit every reader to his own experience of human nature, when I rest with him the assertion, that if real kindness lay at the bottom of this act of pa tronage, the patron himself is the likeliest quarter from which the assistance wijl come. The man who signalizes himself by his re ligious charities, is not the last but the first man to whom I would apply in behalf of the sick and the destitute. The two prin ciples are not inconsistent. They give sup port and nourishment to each other, or rather they are exertions of the same prin ciple. This will appear in full display on the day of judgment ; and even in this dark and undiscerning world, enough of evidence is before us upon which the benevolence of the Christian stands nobly vindicated, and from which it may be shown, that, while its chief care is for the immortality of others, it casts a wide and a wakeful eye over all the necessities and sufferings of the species. 8. Nor have we far to look for the ex planation. The two elements which com bine to form an act of charity, are the abi lity and the disposition, and the question simply resolves itself into this, " In how far these elements will survive a donation to the Bible Society, so as to leave the other charities unimpaired by it, ?" It is certainly conceivable, that an individual may give every spare farthing of his income to this institution. Tn this case, there is a total extinction of the, first element. But in point of fact, this is never done, or done so rarely as not to be admitted into any general ar gument. With by far the greater number of subscribers, the ability is not sensibly en croached unon. There is no visible re trenchment in the superfluities of life. A very slight and partial change in the direc tion of that fund, which is familiarly known by the name of pocket-money, can, gene rally speaking, provide for the whole amount of the donation in question. There are a thousand floating and incidental ex penses, which can be given up without almost the feeling of a sacrifice, and the di version of a few of them to the charity we are pleading for, leaves the ability of the giver to all sense as entire as before. 9. But the second element is subject to other laws, and the formal calculations of arithmetic do not apply to it. The dispo sition is not like the ability, a given quan tity, which suffers an abstraction by every new exercise. The effect of a donation upon the purse of a giver, is not the same with the moral influence of that donation upon his heart. Yet the two are assimi lated by our antagonists, and the pedantry of computation carries them to results which are in the face of all experience. It is not so easy to awaken the benevolent principle out of its sleep, as, when once awakened in behalf of one object, to excite and to inter est it in behalf of another. When the bar of selfishness is broken down, and the flood gates of the heart are once opened, the stream of beneficence can be turned into a thousand directions. It is true, that there can be no beneficence without wealth, as there can be no stream without water. It is conceivable that the opening of the flood gates may give rise to no flow, as the open ing of a poor man's heart to the distresses of those around him may give rise to no act of almsgiving. But we have already proved the abundance of wealth. [Sec. 8.] It is the selfishness of the inaccessible heart which forms the mighty barrier, and if this could be done away, a thousand fertilizing streams would issue from it. Now, this is what the Bible Society, in many instances, has accomplished. It has unlocked the avenue to many a heart, which was before inaccessible. It has come upon them with all the energy of a popular and prevailing impulse. It has created in them a new taste and a new principle. It has opened the fountain, and we are sure that, in every dis trict of the land where a Bible Association exists, the general principle of benevolence is more active and more expanding than ever. 10. And after all, what is the best me thod of providing for the secular necessi ties of the poor? Is it by labouring tc meet the necessity after it has occurred, or by labouring to establish a principle and a habit which would go far to prevent its ex istence 1 If you wish to get rid of a noxious stream, you may first, try to intercept it by throwing across a barrier ; but in this way, you only spread the pestilential water over a greater extent of ground, and when the basin is filled, a stream as copious as be fore is formed out of its overflow. The INFLUENCE OF BIBLE SOCIETIES. 213 most effectual method, were it possible to carry it into accomplishment, would be to dry up the source. The parallel in a great measure holds. If you wish to extinguish poverty, combat with it in its first elements. If you confine your beneficence to the re lief of actual poverty, you do nothing. Dry up, if possible, the spring of poverty, for every attempt to intercept the running stream has totally failed. The education and the religious principle of Scotland have not annihilated pauperism, but they have restrained it to a degree that is almost in credible to our neighbours of the South. They keep down the mischief in its princi ple. They impart a sobriety and a right sentiment of independence to the character of our peasantry. They operate as a check upon profligacy and idleness. The main tenance of parish schools is a burden upon the landed property of Scotland, but it is a cheap defence against the poor rates, a bur den far heavier, and which is aggravating perpetually. The writer of the paper knows of a parish in Fife, the average mainten ance of whose poor is defrayed by twenty- four pounds sterling a year, and of a parish, of the same population, in Somersetshire, where the annual assessments come to thirteen hundred pounds sterling. The pre ventive regimen of the one country does more than the positive applications of the other. In England, they have suffered po verty to rise to all the virulence of a form ed and obstinate disease. But they may as well think of arresting the destructive pro gress of a torrent by throwing across an embankment, as think that the mere posi tive administration of relief, will put a stop to the accumulating mischiefs of poverty. 11. The exemption of Scotland from the miseries of pauperism is due to the educa tion which their people receive at schools, and to the Bible which their scholarship gives them access to. The man who sub scribes to the divine authority of this sim ple saying, " If any would not work nei ther should be eat," possesses, in the good treasure of his own heart, a far more effec tual security against the hardships of indi gence, than the man who is trained, by the legal provisions of his country, to sit in slothful dependence upon the liberalities of those around him. It is easy to be elo quent in the praise of those liberalities, but the truth is, that they may be carried to the mischievous extent of forming a de praved and beggarly population. The hun • gry expectations of the poor will ever keep pace with the assessments of the wealthy, and their eye will be averted from the ex ertion of their own industry, as the only right source of comfort and independence. It is quite in vain to think, that positive relief will ever do away the wrelcnedness of poverty. Carry the relief beyond a certain limit, and I you foster the diseased principle which gives birth to poverty. On this subject, the people of England feel themselves to be in a state of almost inextricable helplessness, and they are not without their fears of some mighty convulsion, which must come upon them with all the energy of a tempest, before this devouring mischief can be swept away from the face of their community. 12. If any thing can avert this calamity from England, it will be the education of their peasantry, and this is a cause to which the Bible Society is contributing its full share of influence. A zeal for the circula tion of the Bible, is inseparable from a zeal for extending among the people the capa city of reading it ; and it is not to be con ceived, that the very same individual can be eager for the introduction of this volume into our cottages, and sit inactive under the galling reflection, that it is still a sealed book to many thousands of the occupiers. Accordingly we find, that the two concerns are keeping pace with one another. The Bible Society does not overstep the simpli city of its assigned object: but the mem bers of that Society receive an impulse from the cause, which carries them to pro mote the education of the poor, either by their individual exertions, or by giving their support to the Society for Schools. The two Societies move in concert. Each contributes an essential element in the busi ness of enlightening the people. The one furnishes the book of knowledge, and the other furnishes the key to it. This division of employment, as in every other instance, facilitates the work, and renders it more ef fective. But it does not hinder the same indi vidual from giving his countenance to both ; and sure I am, that the man whose feelings have been already warmed, and whose purse has been already drawn in behalf of the one, is a likelier subject for an application in behalf of the other, than he whose money is still un touched, but whose heart is untouched also. 13. It will be seen, then, that the Bible Society is not barely defensible, but may be plead for upon that very ground on which its enemies have raised their opposition to it. Its immediate object is neither to feed the hungry nor to clothe the naked, but in every country under the benefit of its ex ertions, there will be less hunger to feed, and less nakedness to clothe. It does not cure actual poverty, but it anticipates event ful poverty. It aims its decisive thrust at the heart and principle of the mischief, and instead of suffering it to form into the obstinacy of an inextirpable disease, it smothers and destroys it in the infancy of its first elements. The love which worketh no ill to his neighbour will not suffer the true Christian to live in idleness upon an other's bounty; and he will do as Paul did before him, he will labour with his hands 214 INFLUENCE OF BIBLE SOCIETIES. rather than be burdensome. Could we re form the improvident habits of the people, and pour the healthful infusion of Scrip ture principle into their hearts, it would reduce the existing poverty of the land to a very humble fraction of its present extent. We make bold to say, that in ordinary times there is not one-tenth of the pauper ism of England due to unavoidable misfor tune. It has grown out of a vicious and impolitic system, and the millions which are raised every' year have only served to nourish and extend it. Now, the Bible So ciety is a prime agent in the work of coun teracting this disorder. Its mode of pro ceeding carries in it all the cheapness and all thc superior efficacy of a preventive operation. With a revenue not equal to the poor-rates of many a county, it is do ing more even for the secular interests of the poor than all the charities of England united ; and while a palling and injudicious sympathy is pouring out its complaints against it, it is sowing the seeds of charac ter and independence, and rearing for fu ture days the spectacle of a thriving, sub stantial, and well-conditioned peasantry. 14. I have hitherto been supposing, that the rich only are the givers, but I now call on the poor to be sharers in this work of charity. It is true, that of these poor there are some who depend on charity for their subsistence, and these have no right to give what they receive from others. And there are some who have not arrived at this state of dependence, but are on the very verge of it. Let us keep back no part of the truth from them, " If any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." There are others again, and these I apprehend form by far the most numerous class of society, who can maintain themselves in humble, but honest independence, who can spare a little and not feel it, who can do what Paul ad-- vises,* lay aside their penny a week as God hath prospered them, who can share that blessedness which the Saviour spoke of when he said, It was more blessed to give than to receive ; who, though they cannot equal their rich neighbours in the amount of their donation, cnn bestow their some thing, and can, at all events, carry in their bosom a heart as warm to the cause, and call down as precious a blessing from the God who witnesses it. The Bible Society is opposed on the ground of its diverting a portion of relief from ihe secular necessi ties of the poor, even when the rich only are called upon to support it. When the application for support is brought down to the poor themselves, and instead of the recipients, it is proposed to make them the * 1 Corinthians xvi. 2. dispensers of charity, we may lay our ac count with the opposition being still more clamorous. — We undertake to prove, that this opposition is founded on a fallacy, and that, by interesting the great mass of a pa rish in the Bible Society, and assembling them into a penny association for the sup port of it, you raise a defence against the extension of pauperism. 15. We feel a difficulty in this undertak ing, not from any uncertainty which hangs over the principle, but from the difficulty of bringing forward a plain and popular exhi bition of it. However familiar the princi ple may be to a student of political science, it carries in it an air of paradox to the mul titude, and it were « ell if this air of paradox were the only obstacle to its reception. But to the children of poesy and fine sentiment, the principle in question carries in it an air of barbarity also, and all the rigour of a pure and impregnable argument has not been able to protect the conclusions of Malthus from their clamorous indignation. There is a kind of hurrying sensibility about them which allows neither time nor temper for listening to any calculation on the subject, and there is not a more striking vanity under the sun, than that the substantial in terests of the poor have suffered less from the malignant and the unfeeling, than from those who give without wisdom, and who feel without consideration ; Blessed is he that irnsely doth The poor man's case consider. 16. Let me put the case of two parishes, in the one of which there is a known and public endowment, out of which an annual sum is furnished for the maintenance of the poor ; and that, in the other there is no such endowment. At the outset, the poor of the first parish may be kept in greater comfort than the poor of the second ; but it is the lesson of all experience, that no annual sum, however great, will be able to keep them permanently in greater comfort. The cer tain effect of an established provision for the poor is a relaxation of their economical habits, and an increased number of improvi dent marriages. When their claim to a provision is known, that claim is always counted upon, and it were well, if to flatter their natural indolence, they did not carry the calculation beyond the actual benefit they can ever receive. But this is what they always do. AVhen a public charity is known and counted upon, the relaxation of frugal and provident habits is carried to such an ex tent, asnot only to absorb the whole produce of the charity, but to leave new wants unpro vided for, and the effect of the benevolent in stitution is just to create a population more wretched and more clamorous than ever. 17. In the second parish, the economical habits of the people are kept unimpaired, INFLUENCE OF BIBLE SOCIETIES. 215 and just because their economy is forced to take a higher aim, and to persevere in it. The aim of the first people is to provide for themselves a part of their maintenance : The aim of the second people is to provide for themselves their whole maintenance. We do not deny, that even among the latter we will meet with distress and poverty, just such distress and such poverty as are to be found in the average of Scottish parishes. This finds its alleviation in private benevo lence. To alleviate poverty is all that can be done for it ; to extinguish it, we fear is hopeless. Sure we are, that the known and regular provisions of England will never extinguish it, and that, in respect of the poor themselves, the second parish is under a better system than the first. The poor- rates are liable to many exceptions, but there is none of them more decisive with him who cares for the eternity of the poor, than the temptation they hold out to positive guilt, the guilt of not working with their own hands, and so becoming burdensome to others.* 18. Let us conceive a political change in the circumstances of the country, and that the public charity of the first parish fell among the ruin of other institutions. Then its malignant influence would be felt in all its extent ; and it would be seen, that it, in fact, had impoverished those whom it professed to sustain, that it had stript them of a possession far more valuable than all it had ever given, that it had stripped them of industrious habits, and left those whom its influence never reached, wealthier in the resources of their own superior industry, than the artificial provisions of an unwise and meddling benevolence could ever make them. 19. The comparison between these two parishes paves the way for another compari son. Let me now put the case of a third parish, where a Bible Association is insti tuted, and where the simple regulation of a penny a week, throws it open to the bulk of the people. What effect has this upon their economical habits ? It just throws them at a greater distance from the thrift- lessness which prevails in the first parish, and leads them to strike' a higher aim in the way of economy than the people of the second. The general aim of economy in humble life, is to keep even with the world ; but it is known to every man at all familiar with that class of society, that the great majority may strike their aim a little higher, and in point of fact, have it in their power to redeem an annual sum from the mere squanderings of mismanagement and care lessness. The unwise provisions in the pa rish have had the effect of sinking the in come of the poor below their habits of * Acts xx. 35. 1 Tim. v. 8. expenditure, and they are brought, perma nently and irrecoverably brought into a state of pauperism. In the second parish, the income, generally speaking, is even with the habits of expenditure. In the third, the income is above the habits of expenditure, and above it by the annual sum contributed to the Bible Society. The circumstance of being members to such a Society, throws them at a greater distance from pauperism than if they had not been members of it. 20. The effect on the economical habits of the people would just be the same in whatever way the stated annual sum was obtained from them, even though a com pulsory tax were the instrument of raising it.* This assimilation of our plan to a tax may give rise to a world of impetuous de clamation, but let it ever be remembered, that the institution of a Bible Society gives you the whole benefit of such a tax without its odiousness. It brings up their economy to a higher pitch, but it does so, not in the way which they resist, but in the way which they choose. The single circumstance of its being a voluntary act, forms the defence and the answer to all the clamours of an affected sympathy. You take from the poor. No ! they give. You take beyond their abil ity. Of this they are the best judges. You abridge their comforts. No ! there is a com fort in the exercise of charity ; there is a comfort in the act of lending a hand to a noble enterprise; there is a comfort in the contemplation of its progress; there is a comfort in rendering a service to a friend, and when that friend is the Saviour, and that service the circulation of the message he left behind him, it is a comfort which many of the poor are ambitious to share in. Leave them to judge of their comfort, and if in point of fact, they do give their penny a week to a Bible Society, it just speaks them to have more comfort in this way of spending it than in any other which occurs to them. 21. Perhaps it does not occur to those friends of the poor while they are sitting in judgment on their circumstances and feel ings, how unjustly and how unworthily they think of them. They do not conceive how truth and benevolence can be at all objects to them, and suppose, that after they have got the meat to feed, the house to shelter, the raiment to cover them, there is nothing else that they will bestow a penny upon. They may not be able to express their feelings on a suspicion so ungenerous, but I shall do it for them ; " We have souls as well as you, and precious to our hearts is the Saviour who died for them. It is true * I must here suppose the sum to be a stated one, and a feeling of security on the part of the people, that the tax shall not be subject to varia tion at the caprice of an arbitrary government. 216 INFLUENCE OF BIBLE SOCIETIES. we have our distresses, but these have bound us more firmly to our Bibles, and it is the desire of our hearts, that a gift so precious, should be sent to the poor of other coun tries. The word of God is our hope and our rejoicing ; we desire that it may be theirs aiso, that the wandering savage may know it and be glad, and the poor negro, under the lash of his master, may be told of a Master in heaven who is full of pity, and full of kindness. Do you think that sym pathy for such as these is your peculiar at tribute? Know that our hearts are made of the same materials with your own, that we can feel as well as you, and out of the earnings of a hard and honest industry, we shall give an offering to the cause; nor shall we cease our exertions till the message of salvation be carried round the globe, and made known to the countless mdlions who live in guilt, and who die in darkness." 22. And here it is obvious that a superior habit of economy is not the only defence which the Bible Society raises against pau perism. The smallness of the sum contri buted may give a littleness to this argu ment, but not, let it be remembered, without giving an equal littleness to the objection of those who declaim against the institution, on the ground of its oppressiveness to the poor contributors. The great defence which such a Society establishes against pauper ism, is the superior tone of dignity and in dependence which it imparts to the charac ter of him who supports it. He stands on the high ground of being a dispenser of charity ; and before he can submit to be come a recipient of charity, he must let himself farther down than a poor man in ordinary circumstances. To him the transi tion will be more violent, and the value of this principle will be acknowledged by all •who perceive that it is reluctance on the part of the poor man to become a pauper, which forms the might}' barrier against the extension of pauperism. A man by becom ing the member of a benevolent association, puts himself into the situation of a giver. He stands at a greater distance than before from the situation of a receiver. He has a wider interval to traverse before he can reach this point. He will feel it a greater degradation, and to save himself from it, he will put forth all his powers of frugality and exertion. The idea of restraining pau perism by external administrations, seems now to be generally abandoned. But could we thus enter into the hearts of the poor, wre could get in at the root of the mischief, and by fixing there a habit of economy and independence, more would be done for them, than by all thc liberalities of all the opulent. 23. In those districts of Scotland where poor-rates are unknown, the descending avenue which leads to pauperism is power fully guarded by the stigma which attaches to it. Remove this stigma, and our cottages, now rich in the possession of contentment and industry, would resign their habits, and crowd into the avenue by thousands. The shame of descending, is the powerful stimu lus which urges them to contest it manfully with the difficulties of their situation, and which bears them through in all the pride of honest independence. Talk of this to the people of the South, and it sounds in their ears like an Arcadian story. But there is not a clergyman among us who has not witnessed the operation of the principle in all its fineness, and in all its moral delicacy; and surely a testimony is due to those vil lage heroes who so nobly struggle with the difficulties of pauperism, that they may shun and surmount its degradation. 24. A Bible Association gives additional vigour and buoyancy to this elevated prin ciple. The trifle 'which it exacts from its contributor is in truth never missed by him, but it puts him in the high attitude of a giver, and every feeling which it inspires. is on the side of independence and delicacy. Go over each of these feelings separately, and you find that they are all fitted to for tify his dislike at the shame and dependence of pauperism. There is a consciousness of importance which unavoidably attaches to the share he has taken in the support and direction of a public charity. There is the expanding effect of the information which comes to him through the medium of the cir culated reports, which lays before hi in the mighty progressof an institution reaching to all countries, and embracing in its ample grasp, the men of all latitudes and all lan guages, which deeply interests him in the ob ject, and perpetuates his desire of promoting it. A man with his heart so occupied, and his attention so directed, is not capable of a vo luntary descent to pauperism. He has in fact become a more cultivated and intellectual being than formerly. His mind gathers an enlargement from the wide and animating contemplations which are set before him, and we appeal to the reflection of every reader, if such a man will descend as rea dily to a dependence on the charity of others, as he whose mind is void of informa tion, and wdiose feelings are void of dignity. 25. In such associations, the rich and the poor meet together. They share in one ob ject, and are united by the sympathy of one feeling and of one interest. We have not to look far into human nature to be con vinced of the happy and the harmonizing influence which this must have upon so ciety, and how, in the glow of one common cordiality, all asperity and discontent must give way to the kindlier principles of our nature. The days have been, when the 'very name of an association carried terror and suspicion along with it. — In a Bible Asso- INFLUENCE OF BIBLE SOCIETIES. 217 ciation there is nothing which our rulers need to be afraid of, and they may rest as sured, that the moral influence of such in stitutions is all on the side of peace and loyalty. But to confine myself to the pre sent argument. Who does not see that they exalt the general tone and character of our people, that they bring them nearer to the dignity of superior and cultivated life, and that therefore, though their direct aim is not to mitigate poverty, they go a certain way to dry up the most abundant of its sources. 26. Let me add, that the direct influence of the Bible principles is inseparable from a zeal for the circulation of the Bible. It is not to be conceived, that anxiety for sending it to others can exist, while there is no reverence for it among ourselves, and we appeal to those districts where such as sociations have been formed, if a more visi ble attention to the Bible, and a more se rious impression of its authority, is not the consequence of them. Now, the lessons of this Bible are all on the side of industry. They tell us that it is more blessed to give than to receive, and that therefore, a man who, by his own voluntary idleness, is brought under the necessity of receiving, has disinherited himself of a blessing. The poor must have bread, but the Bible com mands and exhorts, that wherever it (s pos sible, that bread should be their own, and that all who are able should make it their own by working for it.* No precept can be devised which bears more directly on the source of pauperism. The minister who, in his faithful exposition of the Bible, urged this precept successfully upon his people, would do much to extinguish pauperism among them. It is true that he does not always urge successfully ; but surely if suc cess is to be more looked for in one quarter than in another, it is among the pious and intelligent peasantry whom he has assem bled around him, whom he has formed into a little society for the circulation of the Bi ble, and whose feelings he has interested in this purest and worthiest of causes. 27. Nor is the operation of this principle confined to tbe actual contributor. We have no doubt that it has been beautifully exemplified even among those who, unable to give their penny a week, either stand on the very verge of pauperism, or have got within its limits. They are unable to give any thing of their own, but they may be able at the same time to forego the wonted allowance which they received from ano ther, or a part of it. The refusals of the poor to take an offered charity, or the whole amount of the offer, are quite familiar to a Scottish clergyman ; and the plea on which they set the refusal, that it would be * 2 Thessalonians iii. 12. 28 taking from others who are even needier than ihey, entitles them, when honestly ad vanced, to all the praise of benevolence. A spirit of pious attachment to the Bible would prompt a refusal of the same kind. You have other and higher claims upon you ; you have the spiritual necessities of the world to provide for, and that you may be the more able to make the provision, leave me to the frugality of my own ma nagement. In this way the principle de scends, and carries its healthful influence into the very regions of pauperism. It is the only principle competent to its extirpa tion. The obvious expedient of a positive supply to meet the wants of existing pover ty, has failed, and the poor-rates of Eng land will ever be a standing testimony to the utter inefficiency of this expedient, which, instead of killing the disease, has rooted and confirmed it. Try the other expedient then. The remedy against the extension of pauperism does not lie in the liberalities of the rich. It. lies in the hearts and habits of the poor. Plant in their bo soms a principle of independence. Give a higher tone of delicacy to their characters. Teach them to recoil from pauperism as a degradation. The degradation may, at times, be unavoidable ; but the thing which gives such an alarming extent to the mis chief, is the debasing influence of poor-rates, whereby, in the vast majority of instances, the degradation is voluntary. But if there be an exalting influence in Bible Associa tions to counteract this, if they foster a right spirit of importance; above all, if they se cure a readier submission to the lessons of the volume which they are designed to cir culate, who does not see, that, in proportion as they are multiplied and extended over the face of the country, they carry along with them the most effectual regimen for, preventing the extension of poverty. 28. And here it may be asked, if it be at all likely that these Associations will ex tend to such a degree as to have a sensible influence upon the habits of the country ? Nothing more likely. A single individual of influence in each parish, would make the system universal. In point of fact, it is making progress every month, and such is the wonderful spirit of exertion which is now abroad, that in a few years every little district of the land may become tbe seat of a Bible Society. We are now upon the dawn of very high anticipations, and the whole some effect upon the habits and principles of the people at home, is not the least of them. That part of the controversy which relates to the direct merits of the Bible So ciety may be looked upon as already ex hausted ;* and could the objection, founded j * See Dealtry's pamphlets. Letter from the I late Dr. Murray, professor of Hebrew in the Uni 218 INFLUENCE OF BIBLE SOCIETIES. on its interference with the relief of the poor, be annihilated, or still more, could it be con verted into a positive argument in its behalf. we are not aware of a single remaining plea upon which a rational or benevolent man can refuse his concurrence to it. 29. And the plea of conceived injury to the poor deserves to be attended to. It wears an amiable complexion, and we believe, that in some instances, a real sympathy with their distresses, lies at the bottom of it. Let sympathy be guided by consideration. It is the part of a Christian to hail benevo lence in all its forms ; but when a plan is started for the relief of the destitute, is he to be the victim of a popular and sentimen tal indignation, because he ventures to take up the question whether the plan be really an effective one? We know that in various towns of Scotland you meet with two dis tinct Penny Societies, one a Bible Associa tion, the other for the relief of the indigent. It is to be regretted that there should ever be any jealousy between them, but we be lieve, that agreeably to what we have al ready said, it will often be found that the one suggested the other, and that the 'sup porters of the former, are the most zealous, and active, and useful friends of the latter. We cannot, however, suppress the fact, that there is now a growing apprehension lest the growth of the latter Societies should break down the delicacies of the lower or ders, and pave the way for a permanent introduction of poor-rates. There is a pretty general impression, that the system may be carried too far, and the uncertainty as to the precise limit has given the feeling to many who have embarked with enthu siasm, that they are now engaged in a tick lish and questionable undertaking. I do not attempt either to confirm or to refute ¦ this impression, but I count it a piece of justice to the associations I am pleading for, to assert, that they stand completely free of every such exception. The Bible Society is making steady advances towards the attainment of its object, and the sure effect of multiplying its subscribers istocon- duct it in a shorter time to the end of its la bours. A Society for the relief of tempo ral necessities is grasping at an object that is completely unattainable, and the mischief is, that the more known, and the more ex tensive, and the more able it becomes, it is sure to be more counted on, and at last, to create more poverty than it provides for. The Bible Society aims at making every versity of Edinburgh, lo Dr. Charles Stuart. Steinkoff's Tour on the Continent. Edinburgh Review, vol. xix. p. 39; and above all, the reports and summaries of the institution itself, where you will meet with a cloud of testimonies from Mora vians, Missionaries, Roman Catholics, the Literati of our chief European towns, and men of piety and public spirit in all quarters of the world. land a land of Bibles, and this aim it wil t ac complish after it has translated the Bible into all languages, and distributed a sample large enough to create a native and univer sal demand for them* After the people of the world have acquired such a taste for the Bible, and such a sense of its value as to pur chase it for themselves, the Society termi nates its career, and instead of the corrup tions and abuses which other charities scat ter in their way, it leaves the poor to whom it gives, more enlightened, and the poor from whom it takes, more elevated than it found them. 30. ' Charity,' says Shakspeare, 'is twice blest. It blesses him who gives, and him who takes.' This is far from being univer sally true. There is a blessing annexed to the heart which deviseth liberal things. Perhaps the founder of the English poor- rates acquired this blessing, but the indo lence and depravity which they have been the instruments of spreading over the face of the country, are incalculable. If we wish to see the assertion of the poet realised in its full extent, go to such a charity as we are now pleading for, where the very exer cise of giving on the one hand, and the in struction received on the "other, have the effect of narrowing the limits of pauperism, by creating a more virtuous 'and. dignified population. 31. There is poverty to be met with in every land, and we are ready to admit, that a certain proportion of it is due to unavoid able misfortune. But it is no less true, that in those countries where there is a known and established provision for the necessitiesof the poor, the greater proportion of the poverty which exists in them is due to the debasing influence of a public charity on the habits of the people. The institution we are pleading for, counteracts this influence. It does not annihilate all poverty, but it tends to annihilate the greater part of it. It ar rests the progress of the many who were making a voluntary descent to pauperism, and it leaves none to be provided for but the few who have honestly struggled against their distresses, and have struggled in vain. 32. And how shall they be provided for? You may erect a public institution. This, in fact, is the same with erecting a signa) of invitation, and the voluntary and self- created poor will rush in, to the exclusion of those modest and unobtrusive poor who are the genuine objects of charity. This is the never failing mischief of a known and established provision,! and it has been sadly * But this native demand never will be created without the exertion of Missionaries, and the above reasoning applies, in its most important parts, to Missionary Associations. See Appendix. t We must here Acept all those institutions, the object of winch is to provide for involuntary distress, such as hospitals, and dispensaries, and APPENDIX. 219 exemplified in England. The only method of doing away the mischief is to confide the relief of the poor to individual benevo lence. This draws no dependence along with it. It is not counted upon like a pub lic and proclaimed charity. It brings the claims of the poor under the discriminating eye of a neighbour, who will make a differ ence between a case of genuine helplessness, and a case of idleness or misconduct. It turns the tide of benevolence into its true channel, and it will ever be found, that un der its operation, the poverty of misfortune is better seen to, and the poverty of im providence and guilt is more effectually prevented. 33. My concluding observation then is, that the extension of Bible Societies, while it counteracts, in various directions, the mischief of poor-rates, augments that prin ciple of individual benevolence which is the best substitute for poor-rates. You add to the stock of individual benevolence, by add ing to the number of benevolent individuals, and this is the genuine effect of a Bible As sociation. Or, you add to the stock of in dividual benevolence in a country, by add ing to the intensity of the benevolent prin ciple, and this is the undoubted tendency of a Bible Association .* And what is of mighty importance in this argument, a Bi ble Association not only awakens the be nevolent ¦principle, but it enlightens it. It establishes an intercourse between the va rious orders of society, and on no former occasion in the history of this country, have the rich and the poor come so often to gether upon a footing of good will. The kindly influence of this is incalculable. It brings the poor under the eye of their richer neighbours. The visits and inquiries con nected with the objects of the Bible Society, bring them into contact with one another. The rich come to be more skilled in the wants and difficulties of the poor, and by entering their houses, and joining with them in conversation, they not only acquire a benevolence towards them, but they ga ther that knowledge which is so essential to guide and enlighten their benevolence. APPENDIX. It is evident, that the above reasoning applies, in its chief parts, to benevolent Associations, in stituted for any other religious purpose. It is not necessary to restrict the argument to the case of Bible Associations. I should be sorry if the Bible Society were to engross the religious benevo lence of the public, and if, in the multiplication of its auxiliaries over the face of the country, it were to occupy the whole ground, and leave no room for the great and important claims of other institutions. Of this I conceive that there is little danger. The revenue of each of these Societies is founded upon voluntary contributions, and what is volun tary may be withdrawn or transferred to other ob jects. I mav give both to a Bible and a Mission ary Society, or if I carl only afford to give to one, I may select either, according to my impression of their respective claims. In this way a vigilant and discerning public will suit its benevolence to the urgency of the case, and it is evident, that each institution can employ the same methods for ob taining patronage and support. Each can, and does bring forward a yearly statement of its claims and necessities. Each has the same access to the public through the medium of the pulpit or the press. Each can send its advocates over the face of the country, and every individual, forming his asylums for the lunatic or the blind. A man may resign himself to idleness, and become wilfully poor, that he may eat of the public bread, but he will not become wilfully sick or maimed that he may receive medicines from a dispensary, or undergo an operation in a hospital. * Sec. 9. own estimate of their respective claims, will ap portion his benevolence accordingly. Now what is done by an individual, may be done by every such Association as I am now pleading for. Its members may sit in judgment on the various schemes of utility which are now in operation, and though originally formed as an auxiliary to the Bible Society, it may keep itself open to other calls, and occasionally give of its funds to Missionaries, or Moravians, or the So ciety for Gaelic Schools, or the African Institu tion, or to the Jewish, and Baptist, and Hibernian, and Lancasterian Societies. In point of fact, the subordinate Associations of the country are tending towards this arrange ment, and it is a highly beneficial arrangement. It carries in it a most salutary control over all these various institutions, each labouring to maintain itself in reputation with the public, and to secure the countenance of this great Patron. Indolence and corruption may lay hold of an endowed cha rity, but when the charity depends upon public favour, a few glaring examples of mismanagement would annihilate it. During a few of the first years of the Bible So ciety, the members of other Societies were alarmed at the rapid extension of its popularity, and ex pressed their fears lest it should engross all the attention and benevolence of the religious public. But the reverse has happened, and a principle made use of in the body of this pamphlet may be well illustrated by the history of this matter. [Sec. 9.J The Bible Society has drawn a great yearly sum of money from the public, and the first im pression was, that it would exhaust the fund foi religious charities. But while it drew money from 220 APPENDIX. the hand, it sent a fresh and powerful excitement of Christian benevolence into the heart, and under the influence of this creative principle, the fund has extended to such a degree, as not only to meet the demands of the new Society, but to yield a more abundant revenue to the older Societies than ever. We believe that the excitement goes much farther than this, and that many a deed of ordinary charity could be traced to the impulse of the cause we are pleading for. We hazard the assertion, that many thousands of those who contribute to the Bible Society, find in themselves a greater readiness to every good work, since the period of their connexion with it, and that in the wholesome channel of individual benevolence, more hunger is fed, and more nakedness clothed throughout the land, than at any period anterior to the tormation of our Religious Societies. The alarm grounded upon the tendency of these Societies with their vast revenues, to im poverish the country, is ridiculous. If ever their total revenue shall amount to a sum which can make it worthy of consideration to an enlightened economist at all, it may be proved that it trenches upon no national interest whatever, that it leaves population and public revenue on precisely the same footing of extent and prosperity in which it found them, and that it interferes with no one ob ject which patriot or politician needs to care for. In the mean time it may suffice to state, that the income of all the Bible and Missionary Societies in the island, would not do more than defray the an nual maintenance of one ship of the line. When put by the side of the millions which are lavished without a sigh on the enterprises of war, it is nothing; and shall this veriest trifle be grudged to the advancement of a cause, which, when car ried to its accomplishment, will put an end to war, and banish all its passions and atrocities from the world? I should be sorry if Penny Associations were to bind themselves down to the support of the Bible Society. I should like to see them exercising a judgment over the numerous claims which are now before the public, and giving occasionally of their funds to other religious institutions. The effect of this very exercise would be to create a liberal and well-informed peasantry, to open a wider sphere to their contemplations, and to raise the standard not merely of piety but of general intel ligence among them. The diminution of pau perism is only part of the general effect which the multiplication of these Societies will bring about in the country ; and if my limits allowed me, I might expatiate on their certain influence in raising the tone and character of the British population A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE SOCIETY IN SCOTLAND, FOB PROPAGATIIVG CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE. (INCORPORATED BY ROYAL CHARTER,) AT THEIR ANNIVERSARY MEETING, IN THE HIGH CHURCH OF EDINBURGH, ON THURSDAY, JUNE 2, 1814. ' And Nathaniel said unto him, Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth ? Philip saith unto him, Come and see." — John i. 46. The principle of association, however useful in the main, has a blinding and mis leading effect in many instances. Give it a wide enough field of induction to work upon, and it will carry you to a right con clusion upon any one case or question that comes before you. But the evil is, that it often carries you forward with as much confidence upon a limited, as upon an en larged field of experience, and the man of narrow views will, upon a few paltry indi vidual recollections, be as obstinate in the assertion of his own maxim, and as boldly come forward with his own sweeping gene rality, as if the whole range, of nature and observation had been submitted to him. To aggravate the mischief, the opinion thus formed upon the specialities of his own limited experience, obtains a holding and a tenacity in his mind, which dispose him to resist all the future facts and in stances that come before him. Thus it is that the opinion becomes a prejudice ; and that no statement, however true, or how ever impressive, will be able to dislodge it. You may accumulate facts upon facts, but the opinion he has already formed, has ac quired a certain right of pre-occupancy over him. It is the law of the mind which like the similar law of society, often carries it over the original principles of justice, and it is this which gives so strong a positive influence to error, and makes its overflow so very slow and laborious an operation. I know not the origin of the prejudice re specting the town of Nazareth ;' or what it was that gave rise to an aphorism of such sweeping universality, as that no good thing could come out of it. Perhaps in two, three, or more instances, individuals may have come out of it who threw a discredit over the place of their nativity by the profligacy of their actions. Hence an association be tween the very name of the town, and the villainy of its inhabitants. The association forms into an opinion. The opinion is em bodied into a proverb, and is transmitted in the shape of a hereditary prejudice to future generations. It is likely enough, that many instances could have been appealed to, of people from the town of Nazareth, who gave evidence in their characters and lives against the prejudice in question. But it is not enough that evidence be offered by the one party. It must be attended to by the other. The disposition to resist it must be got over. The love of truth and justice must prevail over that indolence which likes to repose, without disturbance, in its present convictions; and over that malignity which, I fear, makes a dark and hostile impression of others, too congenial to many hearts. Certain it is, that when the strongest possible demonstration was offered in the person of him who was the finest example of the good and fair, it was found that the inveteracy of the prejudice could withstand it ; and it is to be feared that with the question, " Can any good come out of Nazareth ?" there were many in that day who shut their eyes and their affections against him. Thus it was that the very name of a town fastened an association of prejudice upon all its inhabitants. But this is only one ex ample out of the many. A sect may be thrown into discredit by a very few of its individual specimens, and the same associa tion be fastened upon all its members. A society may be thrown into discredit by the failure of one or two of its undertakings, and this will be enough to entail suspicion and ridicule upon all its future operations. 222 MISSIONARY SERMON. A system may be thrown into discredit by the fanaticism and folly of some of its ad vocates, and it may be long before it emerges from the contempt of a precipitate and unthinking public, ever ready to follow the impulse of her former reoollections ; it may be long before it is reclaimed from ob scurity by the eloquence of future defend ers ; and there may be the struggle and the perseverance of many years before the ex isting association, with all its train of ob loquies, and disgusts, and prejudices, shall be overthrown. A lover of truth is thus placed on the right field for the exercise of his principles. It is the field of his faith and of his pa tience, and in which he is called to a manly encounter with the enemies of his cause. He may have much to bear, and little but the mere force of principle to uphold him. But what a noble exhibition of mind, when this force is enough for it; when, though unsupported by the sympathy of other minds, it can rest on the truth and righ- teousness'of its own principle ; when it can select its object from among the thousand entanglements of error, and keep by it amidst all the clamours of hostility and contempt; when all the terrors of disgrace cannot alarm it; when all the levities of ridicule cannot shame it; when all the scowl of opposition cannot overwhelm it. There are some very fine examples of such a contest, and of such a triumph, in the history of philosophy. In the progress of speculation, the doctrine, of the occult qualities fell into disrepute, and every thing that could be associated with such a doctrine was disgraced and borne down by the authority of the reigning school. When Sir Isaac Newton's Theory of Gravitation was announced to the world, if it had not the persecution of violence, it had at least the persecution of contempt to struggle with. It had the sound of an occult prin ciple, and it was charged with all the bi gotry and mysticism of the schoolmen. This kept it for a time from the chairs and universities of Europe, and for years a kind of obscure and ignoble sectarianism was annexed to that name, which has been carried down on such a tide of glory to distant ages. Let us think of this, when philosophers bring their names and their authority to bear upon us, when they pour contempt on the truth which we love, and on the system which we defend; and as they fasten their epithets upon us, let us take comfort in thinking that we are under the very ordeal through which philosophy her self had to pass, before she achieved the most splendid of her victories. Sure I am, that the philosophers of that age could not have a more impetuous con tempt for the occult principle, which they conceived to lie in the doctrine of gravita tion, that many of our present philoso phers have for the equally occult principle which they conceive to lie in the all-sub duing efficacy of the christian faith over every mind which embraces it. Each of these two doctrines is mighty in its preten sions. The one, asserts a principle to be now in operation, and which, reigning over the material world, gives harmony to all its movements. The other, asserts a prin ciple which it wants to put into operation, to apply to all minds, to carry round the globe, and to visit with its influence all the accessible dominions of the moral world. Mighty anticipation ! It promises to rectify all disorder, to extirpate all vice, to dry up the source of all those sins, and suffer ings, and sorrows, which have spread such dismal and unseemly ravages over the face of society, to turn every soul from Satan unto God; or, in other words, to annihilate that disturbing force which has jarred the harmony of the moral world, and make all its parts tend obediently to the Deity as its centre and its origin. But how can this principle be put into operation ? How shall it be brought into contact with a soul at the distance of a thousand miles from the place in which we are now standing? I know no other con ceivable way than sending a messenger in possession of the principle himself, and able to convey it into the mind of another by his powers of communication. The precept of " Go and preach the Gospel unto every creature," would obtain a very partial obedience indeed, if there was no actual moving of the preacher from one place or neighbourhood to another. Were he to stand still he might preach to some creatures ; he might get a smaller or a larger number to assemble around him, and it is to be hoped from the stationary pul pits of a christian country the preaching of the word has been made to bear with efficacy on the souls of multitudes. But in reference to the vast majority of the world, that may still be said which was said by an apostle in the infant state of our reli gion, how shall they hear without a preach er, and how shall they preach except they be sent? It is the single circumstance of being sent, which forms the peculiarity so much contended for by one part of the British public, and so much resisted by the other. The preacher who is so sent is, in good Latin, termed a Missionary ,¦ and such is the magical power which lies in the very sound of this hateful and obnoxious term, that it is no sooner uttered than a thousand associations of dislike and prejudice start into existence. And yet you would think it very strange : the term itself is perfectly correct in point of etymology. Many of those who are so clamorous in their hos tility against it, feel no contempt for the MISSIONARY SERMON. 223 mere act of preaching, sit with all decency and apparent seriousness under it, and have a becoming respect for the character of a preacher. Convert the preacher into a Mis sionary, and all you have done is merely to graft upon the man's preaching the circum stance of locomotion. How comes it that the talent, and the eloquence, and the prin ciple, which appeared so respectable in your eyes, so long as they stood still, lose all their respectablility so soon as they be gin to move? It is certainly conceivable, that the personal qualities which bear with salutary influence upon the human beings of one place, may pass unimpaired and have the same salutary influence upon the human beings of another. But this is a missionary process, and though unable to bring forward any substantial exception against the thing, they cannot get the bet ter of the disgust excited by the term. They cannot release their understanding from the influence of its old associations, and these philosophers are repelled from truth, and frightened out of the way which leads to it, by the bugbear of a name. The precept is, " Go and preach the gos pel to every creature under heaven." The people I allude to have no particular quar rel with the preach; but they have a mor tal antipathy to the go — and should even their own admired preacher offer to go himself, or help to send others, he becomes a missionary, or the advocate of a mission ; and the question of my text is set up in re sistance to the whole scheme, " Can any good thing come out of it ?" I never felt myself in more favourable circumstances for giving an answer to the question, than I do at this moment, sur rounded as I am by the members of a So ciety, which has been labouring for up wards of a century in the field of mission ary exertion. It need no longer be taken up or treated as a speculative question. The question of the text may, in reference to the subject now before us, be met imme diately by the answer of the text, " Come and see." We call upon you to look to a set of actual performances, to examine the record of past doings, and like good philo sophers as you are, to make the sober de positions of history carry it over the reve ries of imagination and prejudice. We deal in proofs, not in promises ; in practice, not in profession; in experience, and not in experiment. The Society whose cause I am now appointed to plead in your hear ing, is to all intents and purposes a Mis sionary Society. It has a claim to all the honour, and must just submit to all the disgrace which such a title carries along with it. It has been in the habit for many years of hiring preachers and teachers, and may be convicted times without num ber, of the act of sending them to a dis tance. What the precise distance is I do not understand to be of any signification to the argument; but even though it should, I fear that in the article of distance, our Society has at times been as extravagant as many of her neighbours. Her labours have been met with in other quarters of the world. They have been found among the haunts of savages. They have dealt with men in the very infancy of social im provement, and their zeal for proselytism has far outstript that sober preparatory management, which is so much contended for. Why, they have carried the Gospel message into climes on which Europe had never impressed a single trace of her boast ed civilization. They have tried the spe cies in the first stages of its rudeness and ferocity, nor did they keep back the offer of the Saviour from their souls, till art and industry had performed a sufficient part, and were made to administer in fuller abundance to the wants of their bodies. This process, which has been so much in sisted upon, they did not wait for. They preached and they prayed at the very out set, and they put into exercise all the wea pons of their spiritual ministry. In a word, they have done all the fanatical and of fensive things which have been charged upon other missionaries. If there be folly in such enterprises as these, our Society has the accumulated follies of a whole cen tury upon her forehead. She is among the vilest of the vile, and the same overwhelm ing ridicule which has thrown the mantle of ignominy over other Societies, will lay all her honours and pretensions in the dust. We are not afraid of linking the claims of our Society with the general merits of the Missionary cause. With this cause she stands or falls. When the spirit of Mis sionary enterprise is afloat in the country. she will not be neglected among the mul tiplicity of other objects. She will not suffer from the number or the activity of kindred Societies. They who conceive alarm upon this ground, have not calculated upon the productive powers of benevolence. They have not meditated deeply upon the opera tion of this principle, nor do they conceive how a general impulse given to the Mis sionary spirit, may work the two fold effect of multiplying the number of Societies, and of providing for each of them more abun dantly than ever. The fact is undeniable. In this corner of the empire there is an impetuous and over bearing contempt for every thing connected with the name of Missionary. The cause has been outraged by a thousand inde cencies. Every thing like the coolness of the philosophical spirit has been banished from one side of the controversy, and all the epithets of disgrace, which a perverted ingenuity could devise, have been unspa- 224 MISSIONARY SERMON. ringly lavished on the noblest benefactors of the species. We have reason to believe that this opposition is not so extensive, nor so virulent in England. It is due to certain provincial associations, and may be ac counted for. It is most a Scottish pecu liarity; and while, with our neighbours in the South, it is looked upon as a liberal and enlightened cause ; as a branch of that very principle which abplished the Slave Trade of Africa ; as one of the wisest, and likeliest. experiments, which in this age of benevo lent enterprise, is now making for the in terests of the world; as a scheme ennobled by the patronage of royalty; supported by the contributions of opulence ; sanctified by the prayers and the wishes of philanthropy ; assisted by men of the first science, and the first scholarship ; carrying into execution by as hardy adventurers as ever trod the desert in quest of novelty; and enriching grammar, geography, and natural know ledge, by the discoveries they are making every year, as to the statistics of all countries, and the peculiarities of all languages ; while, I say, such are the dignified associations thrown around the Missionary cause in England ; in this country I am sorry to say a very different set of collaterals is annexed to it. A great proportion of our nobility, gentry, and clergy, look upon it as a very low and drivelling concern ; as a visionary enterprize, and that no good thing can come out of it ; as a mere dreg of sectarian ism, and which none but sectarians, or men who should have been sectarians, have any relish or respect for. The torrent of pre judice runs strongly against it, and the very name of Missionary excites the most nau seous antipathy in the hearts of many, who, in other departments, approve themselves to he able, and candid, and reflecting in quirers. We have no doubt that in the course of years all this will pass away. But reason and experience are slow in their operation ; and, in the mean time, we count it fair to neutralize, if possible, one prejudice by an other; to school down a Scottish antipathy by a Scottish predilection, and to take shel ter from the contempt that is now so wan tonly pouring on the best of causes under the respected name of a Society, which has earned by the services of a hundred years, the fairest claims on the gratitude and vene ration of all our countrymen. Come, and see the effect of her Missionary exertions. It is palpable and near at hand. It lies within the compass of many a summer tour; and tell me, ye children of fancy, who expatiate with a delighted eye over the wilds of our mountain scenery, if it be not a dearer and worthier exercise still, to contemplate the habits of her once ragged and wandering population. What would they have been at this moment, had schools, and Bibles, and Ministers, been kept back from them? and had the men of a century ago been deterred by the flippancies of the present age, from the work of planting chapels and seminaries in that neglected land ? The ferocity of their ancestors would havecomedown unsoftened and unsubdued to the existing generation. The darkening spirit of hostility would still have lowered upon us from the North ; and these plains, now so peaceful and so happy, would have lain open to the fury of merci less invaders. O, ye soft and sentimental travellers, who wander so securely over this romantic land, you are right to choose the season when the angry elements of nature are asleep. But what is it that has charmed to their long repose the more dreadful ele ments of human passion and human injus tice? What is it that has quelled the bois terous spirit of her natives? — and while her torrents roar as fiercely, and her mountain brows look as grimly as ever, what is that which has thrown so softening an influence over the minds and manners of her living population? I know not that there are several causes; but sure I am, that the civilizing influence of our Society has had an important share. If it be true that our country is indebted to her Schools and her Bibles for the most in telligent and virtuous peasantry in Europe, let it never be forgotten that the Schools in the establishment of our Society are nearly equal to one-third of all the parishes in Scot land; that these schools are chiefly to be met with in the Highland district; that they bear as great a proportion to the Highland population, as all our parochial seminaries do to all our population ; or, in other words, had the local convenience for the attendance of scholars been as great as in other parts of the country, the apparatus set a going by our Society, for the education of the High land peasantry, would have been as effective as the boasted provision of the legislature, for the whole of Scotland.* * This want of local convenience for the, attend ance of scholars, is the chief difficulty which our Society has to struggle with. The number of scholars bears to the population the proportion stated in the text ; but think of the broad surface of a thinly peopled country, intersected with deep bays, and crossed in every direction by the natural barriers of lakes and mountains. There are only two ways in which education can be carried over the face of a country so peculiarly formed. The first way is, by the multiplication of stationary points, from which learning may emanate among the children in distinct neighbourhoods. The se cond way is, by the operation of circulating schools, which describe at intervals the blank spaces that are placed beyond the reach of stationary schools. In the present situation of the Highlands, both of these methods are putting into operation ; and both are entitled to the support and patronage of the public. But without wishing to withdraw a single farthmg from the latter of these methods, no one MISSIONARY SERMON. 225 I pass over the attempts of our Society to introduce the knowledge of the arts and the habits of useful industry among them. 1 will deny that the former, if it could be put into operation, is the most effectual, for the full and the egular education of the Highlanders. A fixed .school, operating at all seasons, will do more for its neighbourhood than can be done by a moveable apparatus set up only at intervals, and transferring itself at the end of a few months to other scenes, and to other neighbourhoods. Let us aim, there fore, at the multiplication of the fixed points; but a mighty sum will be necessary before such a sys tem is completed; and in the meantime, let not the population of the intermediate spaces be abandoned. Let the cheapest and readiest expedient that offers for their education be adopted, and let the public hold forth a liberal hand to the society for circulat ing schools. But what is to hinder us to combine with this, the gradual extension of the system of fixed and regular education 1 The parochial schools furnish us with so many fixed points. The Society I am now pleading for, furnish us so many more. The very existence of the Gaelic Society, is a proof both of the extent and multiplicity of those intermediate spaces, over which they are operating with so much efficiency. Now the precise ground upon which we lay claim to the support of the public, is, that we want to scatter a few more stationary schools over these intermediate spaces — not to supersede the labours of the other Society; for the period of time at which this can be possibly accomplished, is still at an indefinite distance from us — but by narrowing the ground of their opera tion, to enable them to do more complete justice to the mighty remainder, on which they have every prospect of expatiating for years and generations to come ; to make the task more commensurate to their means, and enable them to circulate, with greater frequency and effect, over those remoter tracts, which we have as yet no immediate prospect of reaching. Who would not give all jealousy to the wind, when they see how beautifully situated the opera tions of these two distinct societies are to one an- otherl Circulate, with all possible activity, among the interjacent spaces on the one hand, but do not give up the prospect of permanent establishments m these spaces on the other. The last is the pro vince of our Society, and is advanced as our distinct claim upon tbe generosity of the public. We lay claim to this generosity; and what is more, we stand in need of it. It is not true that we do not teach the Gaelic to our Highland scholars. The in structions given to every Schoolmaster, and the Reports of the committees of Presbyteries, upon the examination of scholars, form a distinct refuta tion to the impression which has got abroad upon this subject. Strange that this Society should be charged with a hostility to Gaelic education, to whose exertion and whose patronage the High lands of Scotland are indebted for the existence of the Gaelic Bible. On the other hand, it is not true that our funds are so ample as to make us inde pendent of any appeals that can be made to the generosity of the public. Our expenditure is at this moment pressing upon our resources. We have done much. There are hundreds of Schools regu larly supported by us; but we appeal to the very existence of other Societies for the fact, that we have still much to do. We appeal to the press of applications for more Schools, and more School masters, and more salaries. These applications 29 have not room for every thing. And to re claim, if possible, the prejudices of those who I fear have little sympathy with the wants of the ever-during soul, I have been lingering all the while upon the inferior ground of temporal advantage. But I may detain you for hours upon this ground, and after all I have said about a more peaceful neighbourhood, and a more civilized pea santry, I may positively have said nothing upon the essential merits of the cause. I can conceive the wish of his present Ma jesty, that every one in his dominions may be able to read the Bible, to meet an echo in every bosom. But why? Because the very habit of reading implies a more intel ligent people, and must stand associated in every mind with habits of order, and com fort, and decency. But separate these from the religious principle, and what are they? At the very best they are the virtues of a life; their office is to scatter a few fleeting joys over a short and uncertain pilgrimage, and to deck a temporary scene with bless ings, which are to perish and be forgotten. No I In our attempts to carry into effect the principle of being all things to all men, let us never exalt that which is subordinate; let us never give up our reckoning upon eternity, or be ashamed to own it as our sentiment, that though schools were to mul tiply, though Missionaries were to labour, and all the decencies and accomplishments of social life were to follow in their train, the great object, would still be unattained, so long as the things of the Holy Spirit were unrelished and undiscerned among them, and they wanted that knowledge of God and of Jesus Christ, which is life everlasting. This is the ground upon vvhich every Chris tian will rest the vindication of every Mis sionary enterprise ; and this is the ground upon which he may expect to be abandoned by the infidel, who laughs at piety; or the lukewarm be! iever, who dreads to be laughed at for the extravagance to which he carries it. The Christian is not for giving up the social virtues; but the open enemy and the cold friend of the gospel are for giving up piety; and while they garnish all that is right and amiable in humanity, with the unsubstantial praises of their eloquence, they pour contempt upon that very principle which forms our best security for the ex istence of virtue in the world. We say no thing that can degrade the social virtues in the estimation of men; but by making them part of religion, we exalt them above all that poet or moralist can do for them. We give them God for their object, and for their end the grandeur of eternity. No ! It is not come upon us every year, and the painful necessity we are under of refusing many of them, proves to a demonstration, that the want of pecuniary aid is the only limit to the usefulness of our exertions. 226 MISSIONARY SERMON. the Christian who is the enemy of social virtue; it is he who sighs in all the eestacy of sentiment over it, at the very time that he is digging away its foundation, and wreaking on that piety which is its princi ple, the cruelty of his scorn. It is very well in its place to urge the civilizing influence of a Missionary Society. But this is not the main object of such an in stitution. It is not the end. It is only the accompaniment. It is a never-failing colla teral, and may be used as a lawful instru ment in fighting the battles of the Mission ary cause. It is right enough to contest it with our enemies at every one point of advantage ; and for this purpose to descend, if necessary, to the very ground on which they have posted themselves. But, when so engaged, let us never forget the main elements of our business; for there is a danger, that when turning the eye of our antagonist to the lovely picture of peace, and industry and cultivation, raised by many a Christian Missionary, among the wilds of heathenism, we turn it away from the very marrow and substance of our un dertaking; the great aim of which is to preach Christ to sinners, and to rear human souls to a beauteous and never-fading im mortality. The wish of our pious and patriotic king, that every man in his dominions might be able to read the Bible, has circulated through the land. It has been commented upon with eloquence; and we doubt not, that something like the glow of a virtuous sensibility has been awakened by it. But let us never forget that in the breasts of many, all this may be little better than a mere theatrical emotion. Give me the man who is in the daily habit of opening his Bible, who willingly puts himself into the attitude of a little child when he reads it, and casts an unshrinking eye over its in formation and its testimony. This is the way of giving effect and consistency to their boasted admiration of the royal sentiment. The mere admiration in itself indicates no thing. It may be as little connected with the sturdiness of principle as the finery of any poetical delusion. O ! it is easy to combine a vague and general testimony to the Bible, with a disgusted feeling of anti pathy to the methodism of its actual con tents ; and thousands can profess to make it their rallying point, who pour contempt upon its doctrines, and give the lie to the faithfulness of its sayings. Let us put you to the trial. The Bible tells us, that " he who believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him." It calls upon us "to preach the gospel to every creature," that every creature may believe it ; for he who so "believeth shall not perish, but have everlasting life." Such is the mighty dif ference between believing and not believ ing. It makes all the difference between hell and heaven. He who believeth. hath passed from death even unto life; and the errand of the Missionary is to carry these overtures to the men of all languages, and all countries ; that he may prevail upon them to make this transition. Some reject his overtures, and to them the gospel is the savour of death unto death. Others em brace them, and to them the gospel is the savour of life unto life. Whatever be his reception, he counts it his duty and his bu siness to preach the gospel ; and if he get some to hear, and others to forbear, he just fares as the Apostles did before him. Now, my brethren, have we got among the sub stantial realities of the Missionary cause. We have carried you forward from the ac cessaries to the radical elements of the bu siness ; and if you, offended at the hardness of these sayings, feel as if now we had got within the confines of methodism ; then know that this feeling arose in your minds at the very moment that we got within the four corners of the Bible ; and your fancied admiration of this book, however exquisite ly felt, or eloquently uttered, is nothing bet ter than the wretched flummery of a sickly and deceitful imagination. Our venerable Society has given the sanction of her example to the best and the dearest objects of Missionaries. Like others she has kept a wakeful eye over ah that could contribute to the interests of the species. She has given encouragement to art and to industry, but she has never been diverted from the religion of a people as the chief aim of all her undertakings. To this end she has multiplied schools, and made the reading of the Scriptures the main ac quirement of her scholars. The Bible is her school-book, and it is to her that the Highlands of Scotland owe the transla tion of the sacred record into their own tongue. She sends preachers as well as teachers among them. As she has made the reading of the word a practicable ac quirement, so she has made the hearing of the word an accessible privilege. In short, she has set up what may be called a chris tian apparatus in many districts, which the Legislature of the country had left un provided for. She is filling up the blanks which, among the scattered and extended parishes of the North, occur so frequently over the broad surface of a thinly peopled country. She has come in contact with those remoter groups and hamlets, which the influence of the Establishment did not reach. And she has multiplied her en dowments at such a rate, that very many people have got christian instruction in its different branches as nearly, and as effec tively to bear upon them, as in the more favoured districts of the land. MISSIONARY SERMON. 227 When a wealthy native of a Highland parish, penetrated with a feeling of the wants of his neighbours, erects a chapel, or endows a seminary among them, his bene volence is felt and acknowledged by all ; and I am not aware of a single association which can disturb our moral estimate of such a proceeding, or restrain the fulness of that testimony which is due to it. But should an individual, at a distance from the parish in question, do the same thing ; should he, with no natural claim upon him, and without the stimulus of any of those affections, which the mere circumstance of vicinity is fitted to inspire ; should he, I say, merely upon a moving representation of their necessities, devote his wealth to the same cause ; what influence ought this to have upon our estimate of his character ? Why, in all fairness, it should just lead us to infer a stronger degree of the principle of philanthropy, a principle which in his case was unaided by any local influence whatever, and which urged him to exer tion, and to sacrifice, in the face of an obsta cle which the other had not to contend with — the obstacle of distance. Now, what one individual may be conceived to do for one parish, a number of individuals may do for a number of parishes. They may form into a society, and combine their energies and their means for the benefit of the whole country, and should that country lie at a distance, the only way in which it affects our estimate of their exertions, is by lead ing us to see in them a stronger principle of attachment to the species, and a more de termined zeal for the object of their bene volence, in spite of the additional difficulties with which it is encumbered. Now the principle does not stop here. In the instance before us, it has been car ried from the metropolis of Scotland to the distance of her Northern extremities. But tell me, why it might not be carried round the globe. This very Society has carried it over the Atlantic, and the very apparatus which she has planted in the Highlands and islands of our country, she has set a going more than once in the wilds of America. The very discipline which she has applied to her own population, she has brought to bear on human beings in other quarters of the world. She has wrought with the same instruments upon the same materials, and as in sound philosophy it ought to have been expected, she has obtained the same result — a christian people rejoicing in the faith of Jesus, and ripening for heaven, by a daily progress upon earth in the graces and accomplishments of the gospel. I have yet to learn what that is which should make the same teaching, and the same Bible, ap plicable to one part of the species, and not applicable to another. I am not aware of a single principle in the philosophy of man, which points to such a distinction ; nor do I know a single category in the science of human nature, which can assist me in draw ing the landmark between those to whom Christianity may be given, and those who are unworthy or unfit for the participation of its blessings. I have been among illiterate peasantry, and I have marked how apt they were in their narrow field of observation, to cherish a kind of malignant contempt for the men of another shire, or another coun try. I have heard of barbarians, and of their insolent disdain for foreigners. I have read of Jews, and of their unsocial and ex cluding prejudices. But I always looked upon these as the jealousies of ignorance, which science and observation had the effect of doing away, and that the accom plished traveller, liberalized by frequent in tercourse with the men of other countries, saw through the vanity of all these preju dices, and disowned them. What the man of liberal philosophy is in sentiment, the Missionary is in practice. He sees in every man a partaker of his own nature, and a brother of his own species. He contem plates the human mind in the generality of its great elements. He enters upon the wide field of benevolence, and disdains those geographical barriers, by which little men would shut out one half of the species from the kind offices of the other. His business is with man, and let his localities be what they may, enough for his large and noble heart, that he is bone of the same bone. To get at him, he will shun no danger, he will shrink from no privation, he will spare himself no fatigue, he will brave every ele ment of heaven, he will hazard the extremi ties of every clime, he will cross seas, and work his persevering way through the briers and thickets of the wilderness. In perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by the heathen, in weariness and painful- ness, he seeks after him. The cast and the colour are nothing to the comprehensive eye of a Missionary. His is the broad prin ciple of good will to the children of men. His doings are with the species, and over looking all the accidents of climate, or of country, enough for him, if the indivi dual he is in quest of be a man — a brother of the same nature — with a body which a few years will bring to the grave, and a spirit that returns to the Cod who gave it. But this man of large and liberal princi ples is a Missionary ; and this is enough to put to flight all admiration of him, and of his doings. I forbear to expatiate ; but sure I am that certain philosophers of the day, and certain fanatics of the day, should be made to change places ; if those only are the genuine philosophers who keep to the prin ciples m spite of names, and those only the genuine fanatics who are ruled by names in stead of principles. 228 MISSIONARY SERMON. The Society for propagating Christian knowledge in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, has every claim upon a reli gious public ; and I trust that those claims will not be forgotten among the multiplicity of laudable and important objects, which are now afloat in this age of benevolent enterprise. She has all the experience and respectability and tried usefulness of age ; may she have none of the infirmities of age. May she have nothing either of the rust or the indolence of an establishment about her. Resting on the consciousness of her own righteous and strongly supported cause ; may she look on the operations of other societies with complacency, and be jealous of none of them. She confers with them upon their common objects ; she as sists them with her experience, and when, struggling with difficulties, they make theii appeal to the generosity of the chris tian world, she nobly leads the way, and imparts to them with liberal hand, out of her own revenue. She has conferred last ing obligations upon the Missionary cause. She spreads over it the shelter of her vene rable name, and by the answer of " Come and see," to those who ask if any good thing can come out of it, she gives a prac tical refutation to the reasonings of all its adversaries. She redeems the best of causes from the unmerited contempt under which it labours, and she will be repaid. The re ligious public will not be backward to own the obligation. We are aware of the pre valence of the Missionary spirit, and of the many useful directions in which it is now operating. But we are not afraid of the public being carried away from us. We know that there is room for all, that there are funds for all ; and our policy is not, to repress, but to excite the Mission ary spirit, and then there will be a heart : "or all. A SERMON, DELIVERED IN THE TRON CHURCH, GLASGOW, ON WEDNESDAY, NOV. 19, 18H. THE DAY OF THE FUNERAL OF HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF WALES. ADVERTISEMENT. The following Sermon is the fruit of a very hurried and unlooked-for exer tion — and never was there any publication brought forward under circumstances of greater reluctancy, and with a more honest feeling of unpreparedness, on the part of the author. The truth is, that he was at a great distance from home, when the urgency of the public demand for his personal appearance on the nine teenth of November, reached him, and that so late, that he had no other resource than to write for the pulpit during the intervals, and after the exhaustion of a very rapid and fatiguing journey. It is true that he might revise. But to revise such a composition, would be to re-make it ; and he has chosen rather to bring it forward, and that as nearly as possible, in the literal terms of its delivery. But, it may be asked, if so unfit for the public eye, why make it public ? It may be thought by many, that the avowal is not a wise one. But wisdom ought never to be held in reverence separately from truth ; and it would be disguising the real motive, were it concealed, that a very perverse misconception which has gone abroad respecting one passage of the Sermon, and which has found its way into many of the newspapers, is the real and impelling cause of the step that has been taken ; and that, had it not been for the spread of such a misconception, there never would have been obtruded on the public, a performance written on a call of urgent necessity, and most assuredly without the slightest anticipation of authorship. But, it may be said, does not such a measure as this bring the pulpit into a state of the most degrading subordination to the diurnal press, since there is not a single sermon which cannot be so reported, as, without the literality of direct falsehood, to convey through the whole country, all the injuries of a substantial misrepre sentation ; and if a minister should condescend publicly to notice every such ran dom and ephemeral statement, he might thereby incessantly involve himself in the most helpless and harassing of all controversy ? Now, in opposition to this, let it be observed, that a person placed in this diffi cult and disagreeable predicament, may advert for once to such a provocation, and that for the express purpose, that he may never have to do it again. He may count it enough to make one decisive exposure of the injustice which can be done in this way to a public instructor, and then hold himself acquitted of every similar attempt in all time coming. He thereby raises a sort of abiding or monumental antidote, which may serve to neutralize the mischief of any future attack, or fu ture insinuation. By this one act, though he may not silence the obloquies of the daily press, he has at least purchased for himself the privilege of standing unmoved by all the mistakes, or by all the malignities which may proceed from it. Yet, it is no more than justice to a numerous and very important class of writers, te state it as our conviction of the great majority of them, that they feel the dig- 230 sermon on the death of the princess charlotte. nity and responsibility of their office, and hold it to be the highest point of pro fessional honour, ever to maintain the most gentlemanly avoidance of all that is calculated to wound the feelings of an unoffending individual. There is one temptation, however, to which the editors of this department of literature are peculiarly liable, which may be briefly adverted to, and the influ ence of which, may be observed to extend even to a higher class of journalists. There is an eagernesss to transmute every thing into metal of their own peculiar currency — there is an extreme avidity to lay hold of every utterance, and to send it abroad, tinged with the colouring of their own party — there is a ravenous de sire of approbation, extending itself to every possible occurrence, and to every one individual whom they would like to enlist under the banners of their own parti sanship, which, for their own credit, they would be more careful to repress, did they perceive with sufficient force, and sufficient distinctness, that it makes them look more like desperadoes of a sinking cause, than the liberal and honest ex pounders of public politics and literature, which claim so respectable a portion of the intelligence of the country. The writer of this sermon has only to add, that he does not know how a sorer imputation could have been devised against the heart and the principles of a clergy man, than that, on the tender and hallowed day of a nation's repose from all the sordidness and all the irritations of party, he should have made the pulpit a vehicle of invective against any administration ; or that, after mingling his tears with those of his people, over the untimely death of one so dear to us. he should have found room for any thing else than those lessons of general Christianity, by which an unsparing reproof is ministered to impiety, in whatever quarter it may be found — even that impiety which wears the very same features, and offers itself injhe very same aspect, under all administrations. SERMON. " For when thy judgments are in the earth, the inhabitants of the world will learn righteousness." Isaiah xxvi. 9. I am sorry that I shall not be able to ex tend the application of this text beyond its more direct and immediate bearing on that event on which we are now met to mingle our regrets, and our sensibilities, and our prayers — that, occupied as we all are with the mournful circumstance that has bereft our country of one of its brightest anticipa tions, I shall not be able to clear my way to the accomplishment of what is, strictly speaking, the congregational object of an address from the pulpit, which ought, in every possible case, to be an address to the conscience — that, therefore, instead of the concerns of personal Christianity, which, under my present text, I might, if I had space for it, press home upon the attention of my hearers, I shall be under the necessi ty of restricting myself to that more partial application of the text which relates to the matters of public Christianity. It is upon this account, as well as upon others, that I rejoice in the present appointment, for the improvement of that sad and sudden visita tion, which has so desolated the hearts and the hopes of a whole people. I therefore feel more freedom in coming forward with such remarks as, to the eyes of many, may wear a more public and even political com plexion, than is altogether suited to the ministrations of the Sabbath. And yet I cannot but advert, and that in such terms of reproof us I think to be most truly appli cable, to another set of men, whose taste for preaching is very much confined to these great and national occasions — who, habitu ally absent from church on the Sabbath, are yet observed, and that most prominently, to come together in eager and clustering at tendance, on some interesting case of pathos or of politics — who in this way obtrude upon the general notice, their loyalty to an earthly sovereign, while, in reference to their Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, they scandalize all that is Christian in the general feeling, by their manifest contempt for him and for his ordinances — who look for the ready compliance of ministers, in all that can gra tify their inclinations for pageantry, while for the real, effective, and only important business of ministers, they have just as little reverence as if it were all a matter of hollow and insignificant parade. It is right to share in the triumphs of successful, and to shed SERMON ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. 231 the tears of afflicted, patriotism. But it is also right to estimate according to its true character, the patriotism of those who are never known to offer one homage to Chris tianity, except when it is associated with the affairs of state, or with the wishes, and the commands, and the expectations of statesmen. But the frivolous and altogether despica ble taste of the men to whom I am alluding, must be entirely separated from such an oc casion as the present. For, in truth, there never was an occasion of such magnitude, and at the same time of such peculiarity. There never was an occasion on which a matter of deep political interest was so blended and mixed up with matter of very deep and affecting tenderness. It does not wear the aspect of an affair of politics at all, but of an affair of the heart ; and the novel exhibition is now offered, of all party-irrita tions merging into one common and over whelming sensibility. Oh! how it tends to quiet the agitations of every earthly interest and earthly passion, when Death steps for ward and demonstrates the littleness of them all — when he stamps a character of such affecting insignificance on all that we are contending for — when, as if to make known the greatness of his power in the sight of a whole country, he stalks in ghastly triumph over the might and the grandeur of its most august family, and singling out that member of it on whom the dearest hopes and the gayest visions of the people were suspended, he, by one fatal and resistless blow, sends abroad the fame of his victory and his strength, throughout the wide extent of an afflicted nation. He has indeed put a cruel and impressive mockery on all the glories of mortality. A few days ago, all looked so full of life, and promise, and security — when we read of the bustle of the great preparation — and were told of the skill and the talent that were pressed into the service — and heard of the goodly attendance of the most eminent in the na tion — and how officers of state, and the titled dignitaries of the land, were charioted in splendour'to the scene of expectation, as to the joys of an approaching holiday — yes, and we were told too, that the bells of the surrounding villages were all in readiness for the merry peal of gratulation, and that the expectant metropolis of our empire, on tiptoe for the announcement of her future monarch, had her winged couriers of des patch to speed the welcome message to the ears of her citizens, and that from her an embassy of gladness was to travel over all the provinces of the land ; and the country, forgetful of all that she had suffered, was at length to offer the spectacle of one wide and rejoicing jubilee. O Death ! thou hast in deed chosen the time and the victim, for demonstrating the grim ascendancy of thy power over all the hopes and fortunes o. our species ! — Our blooming .Princess, whom fancy had decked with the coronet of these realms, and under whose gentle sway all bade so fair for the good and the peace of our nation, has be placed upon her bier ! And, as if to fill up the measure of his tri umph, has he laid by her side, that babe, who, hut for him, might have been the mo narch of a future generation; and he has done that, which by no single achievement he could otherwise have accomplished — he has sent forth over the whole of our land, the gloom of such a bereavement as cannot be replaced by any living descendant of royalty — he has broken the direct succes sion of the monarchy of England — by one and the same disaster, has he wakened up the public anxieties of the country, and sent a pang as acute as that of the most woful domestic visitation, into the heart of each of its families. In the prosecution of the following dis course, as I have already stated, I shall sa tisfy myself with a very limited application of the text. I shall, in the first place, offer a few remarks on that, branch of the righ teousness of practical Christianity, which consists in the duty that subjects owe to their governors. And in the second place, I shall attempt to improve the present great national disaster, to the object of impressing upon you, that, under all our difficulties and all our fears, it is the righteousness of the people alone which will exalt and perpetuate the nation ; and that therefore, if this great interest be neglected, the country, instead of reaping improvement from the judgments of God, is in imminent danger of being utterly overwhelmed by them. I. But here let me attempt the difficult task of rightly dividing the Word of truth — and premise this head of discourse, by ad mitting that I know nothing more hateful than the crouching spirit of servility. I know not a single class of men more un worthy of reverence, than the base and in terested minions of a court. I know not a set of pretenders who more amply deserve to be held out to the chastisement of public scorn, than they who, under the guise of public principle, are only aiming at per sonal aggrandizement. This is one corrup tion. But let us not forget that there is an other — even a spurious patriotism which would proscribe loyalty as one of the vir tues altogether. Now, I cannot open my Bible, without learning that loyalty is one branch of the righteousness of practical Christianity. — I am not seeking to please men, but God, when I repeat his words in your hearing— that you snould honour the King — that you should obey Magistrates — that you should meddle not with those who are given to change — that you should be subject to principalities and powers — that 232 SERMON ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. you should lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty. This, then, is a part of the righteousness which it is our business to teach, and sure I am that it is a part of righteousness which the judgment now dealt out to us, should, of all others, dispose you to learn. I know not a virtue more in harmony with the present feelings, and afflictions, and circumstances of the country, than that of a steadfast and deter mined loyalty. The time has been, when such an event as the one that we are now assembled to deplore, would have put every restless spirit into motion, and set a guilty ambition upon its murderous devices, and brought powerful pretenders with their op posing hosts of vassalage into the field, and enlisted towns and families under the rival banners of a most destructive fray of con tention, and thus have broken up the whole peace and confidence of society. Let us bless God that these days of barbarism are now gone by. But the vessel of the state is still exposed to many agitations. The sea of politics is a sea of storms, on which the gale of human passions would make her founder, were it not for the guidance of hu man principle; and, therefore, the truest policy of a nation is to christianize her subjects, and to disseminate among them the influence of religion. The most skilful arrangement for rightly governing a state, is to scatter among the governed, not the terrors of power — not the threats of jealous and alarmed authority — not the demonstra tions of sure and ready vengeance held forth by the rigour of an offended law. These may, at times, be imperiously called for. But a permanent security against the wild outbreakings of turbulence and disas ter, is only to be attained by diffusing the lessons of the Gospel throughout the great mass of our population — even those lessons which are utterly and diametrically at anti podes with all that is criminal and wrong in the spirit of political disaffection. The only radical counteraction to this evil is to be found in the spirit of Christianity ; and though animated by such a spirit, a man may put on the intrepidity of one of the old prophets, and denounce even in the ear of royalty the profligacies which may disgrace or deform it — though animated by such a spirit, he may lift his protesting voice in the face of an unchristian magistracy, and tell them of their errors — though animated by such a spirit, he, to avoid every appearance of evil, will neither stoop to the flattery of power, nor to the solicitations of patronage —and though all this may bear, to the su perficial eye, a hard, and repulsive, and hos tile aspect towards the established dignities of the land— yet forget not, that if a real and honest principle of Christianity lie at the root of this spirit, there exists within the bosom of such a man, a foundation of principle, on which all the lessons of Chris tianity will rise into visible and consistent exemplification. And it is he, and such as he, who will turn out to be the salvation of the country, when the hour of her threat ened danger is approaching — and it is just in proportion as you spread and multiply- such a character, that you raise within the bosom of the nation, the best security against all her fluctuations — and, as in every other department of human concerns, so will it be found, that, in this particular de partment, Christians are the salt of the earth, and Christianity the most copious and emanating fountain of all the guardian virtues of peace, and order, and patriotism. The judgment under which we now la bour, supplies, I think, one touching, and, to every good and christian mind, one powerful argument of loyalty. It is the distance of the prince from his people which feeds the political jealousy of the latter, and which, by removing the former to a height of inaccessible grandeur, places him, as it were, beyond the reach of their sympathies. Much of the political rancour, which festers, and agitates, and makes such a tremendous appearance of noise and of hostility in our land, is due to the aggravating power of distance. If two of the deadliest political antagonists in our country, who abuse, and vilify, and pour forth their stormy elo quence on each other, whether in parlia ment or from the press, were actually to come into such familiar and personal con tact, as would infuse into their controversy the sweetening of mere acquaintanceship, this very circumstance would disarm and do away almost all their violence. The truth is, that when one man rails against another across the table of a legislative as sembly, or when he works up his ferment ing imagination, and pens his virulent sen tences against another, in the retirement of a closet — he is fighting against a man at a distance — he is exhausting his strength against an enemy whom he does not know — he is swelling into indignation, and into all the movements of what he thinks right and generous principle, against a chimera of his own apprehension ; and a similar re action comes back upon him from the quar ter that he has assailed, and thus the con troversy thickens, and the delusion every day gets more impenetrable, and the dis tance is ever widening, and the breach is always becoming more hopeless and more irreparable ; and all this between two men, who, if they had been in such accidental circumstances of juxta-position as could have let them a little more into one another's feelings, and to one another's sympathies, would at least have had all the asperities of their difference smoothed away by the mere softenings and kindlinesses of ordinary hu man intercourse SERMON ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. 233 Now let me apply this remark to the mu tual state of sentiment which obtains be tween the different orders of the community. Among the rich, there is apt at times to rankle an injurious and unworthy impres sion of the poor — and just because these poor stand at a distance from them — just because they come not into contact with that which would draw them out into cour- teousness to their persons, and in benevo lent attentions to their families. Among the poor, on the other hand, there is often a disdainful suspicion of the wealthy, as if they were actuated by a proud indifference to them and to their concerns, and, as if they were placed away from them at so distant and lofty an elevation as not to require the exercise of any of those cordialities, which are ever sure to spring in the bosom of man to man, when they come to know each other, and to have the actual sight of each other. But let any accident place an indi vidual of the higher before the eyes of the lower order, on the ground of their common humanity — let the latter be made to see that the former are akin to themselves in all the sufferings and in all the sensibilities of our common inheritance — let, for example, the greatest chieftain of the territory die, and the report of his weeping children, or of his distracted widow, be sent through the neigh bourhood — or let an infant of his family be in suffering, and the mothers of the humble vicinity be run to for counsel and assist ance — or in any other way let the rich, in stead of being viewed by their inferiors through the dim and distant medium of that fancied interval which separates the ranks of society, be seen as heirs of the same frailty, and as dependent on the same sym pathies with themselves — and at that mo ment, all the floodgates of horrest sym pathy will be opened — and the lowest ser vants of the establishment will join in the cry of distress which has come upon their family — and the neighbouring cottagers, to share in their grief, have only to recognise them as the partakers of one nature, and to perceive an assimilation of feelings and of circumstances between them. Let me further apply this to the sons and the daughters of royalty. The truth is, that they appear to the public eye as stalk ing on a platform so highly elevated above the general level of society, that it removes them, as it were, from all the ordinary sympathies of our nature. And though we read at times of their galas, and their birth days, and their drawing-rooms, there is nothing in all this to attach us to their in terests and their feelings, as the inhabitants of a familiar home — as the members of an affectionate family. Surrounded as they are with the glare of a splendid notoriety, we scarcely recognize them as men and as women, who can rejoice, and weep, and 30 pine with disease, and taste the sufferings of mortality, and be oppressed with anguish, and love with tenderness, and experience in their bosoms the same movements of grief or of affection that we do ourselves. And thus it is, that they labour under a real and heavy disadvantage. There is not in their case, the counteraction of that kindly influence, to alleviate the weight or the malignity of prejudice, which men of a humbler station are ever sure to enjoy. In the case of a man whose name is hardly known beyond the limits of his personal acquain tance, the tale of calumny thai is raised against him extends not far beyond these limits ; and, therefore, wherever it is heard, it meets with a something to blunt and to soften it, in those very cordialities which the familiar exhibition of him as a brother of our common nature is fitted to awaken. But it is not so with those in the elevated walks of society. Their names are familiar where their persons are unknown ; and whatever malignity may ttach to the one, circulates abroad, and is spread far beyond the limits of their possible intercourse with human beings, and meets with no kindly counteraction from our acquaintance with the other. And this may explain how it is, that the same exalted person age may, at one and the same time, be suf fering under a load of most unmerited ob loquy from the wide and the general pub lic, and be to all his familiar domestics an object of the most enthusiastic devotedness and regard. Now, if through an accidental opening, the public should be favoured with a do mestic exhibition — if, by some overpower ing visitation of Providence upon an illus trious family, the members of it should come to be recognised as the partakers of one common humanity with ourselves — if, in stead of beholding them in their gorgeous- ness as princes, we look to them in their natural evolution of their sensibilities as men — if the stately palace should be turned into a house of mourning — in one word, if death should do what he has already done, he has met the Princess of England in the prime and promise of her days, and as she was moving onward on her march to a he reditary throne, he has laid her at his feet. Ah ! my brethren, when the imagination dwells on that bed where the remains of departed youth and departed infancy are lying — when, instead of crowns and cano pies of grandeur, it looks to the forlorn hus band, and the weeping father, and the hu man feelings which agitate their bosom, and the human tears which flow down their cheeks, and all such symptoms of deep af fliction as bespeak the workings of suffer ing and dejected nature — what ought to be,, and what actually is, the feeling of the country at so sad an exhibition? It is just 234 ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. the feeling of the domestics and the labour ers at Claremont. All is soft and tender as womanhood. Nor is there a peasant in our land, who is not touched to the very heart when he thinks of the unhappy Stranger who is now spending his days in grief and nights in sleeplessness — as he mourns alone in his darkened chamber, and refuses to be comforted — as he turns in vain for rest to his troubled feelings, and cannot find it — as he gazes on the memorials of an affection that blessed the brightest, happiest, shortest year of his existence — as he looks back on the endearments of the bygone months, and the thought that they have for ever fleeted away from him, turns all to agony — as he looks forward on the blighted prospect of this world's pilgrimage, and feels that all which bound him to existence, is now torn irretrievably away from him ! There is not a British heart that does not feel to this in teresting visitor, all the force and all the tenderness of a most affecting relationship ; and go where he may, will he ever be recog nised and cherished as a much loved mem ber of the British family. It is in this way that through the avenue of a nation's tenderness, we can estimate the strength and the steadfastness of a na tion's loyalty. On minor questions of the constitution we may storm and rave, and look at each other a little ferociously — and it was by some such appearance as this, that he, who in the days of his strength, was the foulest and most formidable of all our ene mies, said of the country in which we live, that, torn by factions, it was going rapidly to dissolution. Yet these are but the skir mishings of a petty warfare — the move ments of nature and of passion, in a land of freemen — the harmless contests of men pulling in opposite ways at some of the smaller ropes in the tackling of our great national vessel. But look to these men in the time of need and the hour of suffering — look to them now, when in one great and calamitous visitation, the feeling of every animosity is overborne — look to them now, when tbe darkness is gathering, and the boding cloud of disaster hangs over us, and some chilling fear of insecurity is beginning to circulate in whispers through the land — look to them now, when in the entombment of this sad and melancholy day, the hopes of more than half a century are to be in terred — look to them now, when from one end of the country to the other, there is the mourning of a very great and sore lamenta tion, so that all who pass by, may say, this is a grievous mourning to the people of the land. Oh ! is it possible that these can be other than honest tears, or that tears of pity can on such an emergency as the present, be other than tears of patriotism. Who does not see this principle sitting in visible expression on the general countenance of the nation — that the people are sound at heart, and that with this, as the mainsheet of our dependence, we may still, under the bless ing of God, weather and surmount all the difficulties which threaten us. II. I now proceed to the second head of discourse, under which I was to attempt such an improvement of this great national disaster, as might enforce the lesson, that under every fear and every difficulty, it is the righteousness of the people alone which will exalt and perpetuate a nation; and that, therefore, if this great interest be ne glected, instead of learning any thing from the judgments of God, we are in immi nent danger of being utterly overwhelmet by them. Under my first head I restricted myself exclusively to the virtue of loyalty, which is one of the special, but I most willingly admit, nay, and most earnestly contend, is also one of the essential attributes of righ teousness. But there is a point on which I profess myself to be altogether at an issue with a set of men, who composed, at one time, whatever they do now, a very nume rous class of society. I mean those men, who, with all the ostentation, and all the intolerance of loyalty, evinced an utter in difference either to their own personal reli gion , or to the religion of the people who were around them — who were satisfied with the single object of keeping tbe neighbourhood in a state of political tranquillity — who, if they could only get the population to be quiet, cared not for the extent of profane- ness or of profligacy that was among them — and who, while they thought to signalize themselves in the favour of their earthly king, by keeping down every turbulent 01 rebellious movement among his subjects, did, in fact, by their own conspicuous ex ample lead them and cheer them on in their rebellion against the king of heaven — and, as far as the mischief could be wrought by the contagion of their personal influence, these men of loyalty did what in them lay, to spread a practical contempt for Chris tianity, and for all its ordinances, through out the land. Now, I would have such men to under stand, if any such there be within the sphere of my voice, that it is not with their loyalty that I am quarrelling. I am only telling them, that this single attribute of righteous ness will never obtain a steady footing in the hearts of the people, except on the ground of a general principle of righteousness. I am telling them how egregiously they are out of their own politics, in ever thinking that they can prop the virtue of loyalty in a nation, while they are busily employed. by the whole instrumentality of their ex ample and of their doings, in sapping the very foundation upon which it is reared. I am telling them, that if they wish to see ON'THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. 235 loyalty in perfection, and such loyalty, too, as requires not any scowling vigilance of theirs to uphold it, they must look to the most moral, and orderly, and christianized districts of the country. I am merely teach ing them a lesson of which they seem to be ignorant, that if you loosen the hold of Christianity over the hearts of the popula tion, you pull down from their ascendency all the virtues of Christianity, of which loyalty is one. Yes, and I will come yet a little closer, and take a look of that loyalty which exists in the shape of an isolated principle in their own bosoms. I should like to gauge the dimensions of this loyalty of theirs, in its state of disjunction from the general principle of Christianity. 1 wish to know the kind of loyalty which charac terizes the pretenders to whom I am al luding — the men who have no value for preaching, but as it stands associated with the pageantry of state — the men who would reckon it the most grievous of all heresies, to be away from church on some yearly day of the king's appointment, but are sel dom within its walls on the weekly day of God's appointment — the men who, if minis ters were away from their post of loyalty, on an occasion like the present, would, with out mercy, and without investigation, de nounce them as suspicious characters; but who, when we are at the post of piety, dispensing the more solemn ordinances of Christianity, openly lead the way in that crowded and eager emigration which car ries half the rank and opulence of the town away from us. What, oh ! what is the length, and the breadth, and the height, and the depth of this vapouring, swaggering, high-sounded loyalty? — It is nothing better than the loyalty of political subalterns, in the low game of partisanship, or of whip- pers-in to an existing administration — it is not the loyalty which will avail us in the day of danger — it is not to them that we need to look, in the evil hour of a country's visita tion ; — but to those right-hearted, sound- thinking christian men, who, without one interest to serve, or one hope to forward, honour their king, because they fear their God. Let me assure such a man, if such a man there is within the limits of this assembly — that, keen as his scent may be after political heresies, the deadliest of all such heresies lies at his own door — that there is not to be found, within the city of our habitation, a rottener member of the community than himself — that, withering as he does by his example the principle which lies at the root of all national prosperity, it is he, and such as he, who stands opposed to the best and he dearest objects of loyalty — and if ever that shall happen, which it is my most de lightful confidence that God will avert from as and from our children's children to the latest posterity — if ever the wild frenzy of revolution shall run through the ranks of Britain's population, these are the men who will be the most deeply responsible for all its atrocities and for all its horrors* * I cannot hut advert here to a delicate impedi ment which lies in the way of the faithful exercise of the ministerial functions, from the existence of two great political parties, which would monopo lize between them, all the sentiments and all the services of the country. Is it not a very possible thing that the line of demarcation between these parties, may not coalesce, throughout all its extent, with the sacred and in/mutable line of distinction between right and wrong 1 — and ought not this latter line to stand out so clearly and so promi nently to the eye of the christian minister, that in the act of dealing around him the reproofs and the lessons of Christianity, the former line should be away from his contemplation altogether 1 But it is thus that, with the most scrupulous avoidance both of the one and of the other species of partisan ship, he may, in the direct and conscientious dis charge of the duties of his office, deliver himself in such a way as to give a kind of general and corpo rate offence to one pohtical denomination; and what is still more grievous, as to be appropriated by the men of another denomination, with whom in their capacity as politicians he desires no fellow ship whatever, and whose applauses of him in this capacity are in every, way most odious and insuf ferable. It appears to us that a christian minister cannot keep himself in the true path of consistency at all, without refusing to each of the parties all right of appropriation. Their line of demarcation is not his line. Their objects are not his objects. He asks no patronage from the one — he asks no favour from the other, except that they shall not claim kindred with him. He may suffer, at times, from the intolerance of the unworthy underlings of the former party : but never will his sensations of dis taste, for the whole business of party politics, be come so intense and so painful, as when the hosan nas of the latter party threaten to rise around him. We often hear from each, and more particularly from one of these parties, of the virtue and the dignity of independence. The only way, it appears to us, in which a man can sustain the true and complete character of independence, is to be inde pendent of both. He who cares for neither of them is the only independent man ; and to him only be longs the privilege of crossing and re-crossing then: factious line of demarcation, just as he feels himseli impelled by the high, paramount, and subordinating principles of the Christianity which he professes. In the exercise of this privilege, 1 here take the opportunity of saying, that if the chastisement of public scorn should fall on those who, under the disguise of public principle, have found personal aggrandisement for themselves, it should tail with equal severity on those who, under the same dis guise, are seeking precisely the same object — that if there be some men in the country who care not for the extent of profaneness and profligacy that is among the people, provided they can only keep them quiet, there are also some men who care not for their profaneness or their profligacy, provided they can only keep them unquiet — who hear no other regard to the people than merely as an instrument of annoyance against an existing administration — who can shed their serpent tears over their dis tresses, and yet he inwardly grieved, should either 236 ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. Having thus briefly adverted to one of the causes of impiety and consequent dis loyalty, I shall proceed to offer a few re marks on the great object of teaching the people righteousness, not so much in a general and didactic manner, as in the way of brief, and, if possible, of memorable illus tration — gathering my argument from the present event, and availing myself, at the same time, of such principles as have been advanced in the course of the preceding ob servations. My next remark, then, on this subject, will be taken from a sentiment, of which I think you must all on the present occasion a favourable season or reviving trade disappoint their boding speculation — who, in the face of un deniable common sense, can ascribe to political causes, such calamities as are altogether due to what is essential and uncontrollable in the circum stances of the country — and who, if on the strength of misrepresentation and artifice they could only succeed in effecting the great object of their own instalment into office, and dispossession of their antagonists, would prove themselves, then, to be as indifferent to the comfort, as they show them selves now to be utterly indifferent to the religion and the virtue of the country's population. But turning away from the beggarly elements of such a competition as this, let us remark, that on the one hand, a religious administration will never take offence at a minister who renders a per tinent reproof to any set of men, even though they should happen to be their own agents or their own underlings ; and that, on the other hand, a minis ter who is actuated by the true spirit of his office, will never so pervert or so prostitute his functions, as to descend to the humble arena of partisanship. Ho is the faithful steward of such things as are profitable for reproof, and for doctrine, and for cor rection, and for instruction in righteousness. His single object with the men who are within reach of his hearing, is, that they should come to the knowledge of the truth and" be saved. In the ful filment of this object, he is not the servant of any administration — though he certainly renders such a service to the state as will facilitate the work of governing to all administrations — as will bring a mighty train of civil and temporal blessings along with it — and in particular, as will diffuse over the whole sphere of his influence, a loyalty as steadfast as the friends of order, and as free from every taint of political severity, as the most genuine friends of freedom can desire. There is only one case in which it is conceived that this partisanship of a christian minister is at all justifiable. Should the government of our coun try ever fall into the hands of an infidel or demi- infidel administration — should the men at the helm of aflairs be the patrons of all that is unchristian in the sentiment and literature of the country — should they offer a violence to its religious esta blishments — and thus attempt what we honestly believe would reach a blow to the piety and the character of our population— then I trust that the language of partisanship will resound from many of the pulpits of the land— and that it will be turned in one stream of pointed invective against such a ministry as this — till, by the force of public opinion, it be swept away as an intolerable nui sance, from the face of our kingdom. feel the force and the propriety. Would it not have been most desirable could the whole population of the city have been ad mitted to join in the solemn services of tha day ? Do you not think that they are pre cisely such services as would have spread a loyal and patriotic influence among them 1 Is it not experimentally the case, that, over the untimely grave of our fair Princess, the meanest of the people would have shed as warm and plentiful a tribute of honest sen sibility as the most refined and delicate among us ? And, I ask, is it not unfortu nate, that, on the day of such an affecting, and, if I may so style it, such a national exercise, there should not have been twenty more churches, with twenty more minis ters, to have contained the whole crowd of eager and interested listeners ? A man of mere loyalty, without one other accomplish ment, will, I am sure, participate in a regret so natural ; but couple this regret with the principle, that the only way in which the loyalty of the people can effectually be maintained, is on the basis of Christianity, and then the regret in question embraces an object still more general — and well were it for us, if, amid the insecurity of families, and the various fluctuations of fortune and of arrangement that are taking place in the highest walks of society, the country were led, by the judgment with which it has now been visited, to deepen the foundation of all its order and of all its interests, in the moral education of its people. Then indeed the text would have its literal fulfilment. When the judgments of God are in the earth, the rulers of the world would lead the inhabitants thereof to learn righteous ness. In our own city, much in this respect remains to be accomplished ; and I speak of the great mass of our city and suburb population, when I say, that through the week they lie open to every rude and ran dom exposure — and when Sabbath comes, no solemn appeal to the conscience, no stir ring recollections of the past, no urgent calls to resolve against the temptations of the future, come along with it. It is unde niable, that within the compass of a few square miles, the daily walk of the vast ma jority of our people is beset with a thousand contaminations ; and whether it be on the way to the market, or on the way to the workshop, or on the way to the crowded manufactory, or on the way to any one re sort of industry that you may choose to condescend upon, or on the way to tho evening home, where the labours of a vir tuous day should be closed by the holy thankfulness of a pious and affectionate family ; be it in passing from one place to another; or be it amid all the throng of se dentary occupations : there is not one day of the six, and not one hour of one of these ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. 237 days, when frail and unsheltered man is not plied by the many allurements of a world lying in wickedness — when evil communi cations are not assailing him with their cor ruptions — when the full tide of example does not bear down upon his purposes, and threaten to sweep all his purity and all his principle away from him. And when the seventh day comes, where, I would ask, are the efficient securities that ought to be pro vided against all those inundations of profli gacy which rage without control through the week, and spread such a desolating influ ence among the morals of the existing gene ration? — Oh ! tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon — this seventh day, on which it would require a whole army of labourers to give every energy which belongs to them, to the plenteous harvest of so mighty a population, witnesses more than one half of the people precluded from attending the house of God, and wan dering every man after the counsel of his own heart, and in the sight of his own eyes — on this day, the ear of heaven is assailed with a more audacious cry of rebellion than on any other, and the open door of invita tion plies with its welcome the hundreds and the thousands who have found their habitual way to the haunts of depravity. And is there no room, then, to wish for twenty more churches, and twenty more ministers — for men of zeal and of strength, who might go forth among these wanderers, and compel them to come in — for men of holy fervour, who might set the terrors of hell and the free offer of salvation before them — for men of affection, who might visit the sick, the dying, and the afflicted, and cause the irresistible influence of kindness to circulate at large among their families — for men, who, while they fastened their most intense aim on the great object of pre paring sinners for eternity, would scatter along the path of their exertions all the blessings of order, and contentment, and sobriety, and at length make it manifest as day, that the righteousness of the people is the only effectual antidote to a country's ruin — the only path to a country's glory? My next remark shall be founded on a principle to which I have already alluded — the desirableness of a more frequent inter course between the higher and the lower orders of society; and what more likely to accomplish this, than a larger ecclesiastical accommodation ? — not the scanty provision of the present day, by which the poor are excluded from the church altogether, but such a wide and generous system of ac commodation, as that the rich and the poor might set in company together in the house of God. It is this christian fellowship, which more than any other tie, links so in timately together, the high and the low in country parishes. There is, however, an other particular to which I would advert, and though I cannot do so without magni fying my office, yet I know not a single circumstance which so upholds the golden line of life among our agricultural popula tion, as the manner in which the gap be tween the pinnacle of the community and its base is filled up by the week-day duties of the clergyman— by that man, of whom it has been well said, that he belongs to no rank, because he associates with all ranks — b$ that man, whose presence may dignify the palace, but whose peculiar glory it is to carry the influences of friendship and piety into cottages. This is the age of moral experiment, and much has been devised in our day for pro ¦noting the virtue, and the improvement, and the economical habits of the lower or ders of society. But in all these attempts to raise a barrier against the growing profli gacy of our towns, one important element seems to have passed unheeded, and to have been altogt ther omitted in the calcu lation. In all the comparative estimates of the character of a town and the character of a country population, it has been little attended to, that the former are distin guished from the latter by the dreary, hope less, and almost impassible distance at which they stand from their parish minis ter. Now, though it be at the hazard of again magnifying my office, I must avow, in the hearing of you all, that there is a moral charm in his personal attentions and his affectionate civilities, and the ever-recur ring influence of his visits and his prayers, which, if restored to the people, would im part a new moral aspect, and eradicate much of the licentiousness and the dis honesty that abound in our cities. On this day of national calamity, if ever the subject should be adverted to from the pulpit, we may be allowed to express our riveted con victions on the close alliance that obtains between the political interests and the reli gious character of a country. And I am surely not out of place, when, on looking at the mighty mass of a city population, I state my apprehension, that if something be not done to bring this enormous physical strength under the control of christian and humanized principle, the day may yet come when it may lift against the authorities of the land its brawny vigour, and discharge upon them all the turbulence of its rude and volcanic energy. Apart altogether from the essential cha racter of the gospel, and keeping out of view the solemn representations of Chris tianity, by which we are told that each in dividual of these countless myriads carries an undying principle in his bosom, and that it is the duty of the minister to che rish it, and to watch over it, as one who must render, at the judgment-seat, an ac- 238 ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. count of the charge which has been com mitted to him— apart from this considera tion entirely, which I do not now insist upon, though I blush not to avow its para mount importance over all that can be al leged on the inferior ground of political expediency, yet, on that ground alone, I can gather argument enough for the mighty importance of such men, devoted to the la bours of their own separate and peculiar employments — giving an unbewildered at tention to the office of dealing with the hearts and principles of the thousands who are around them — coming forth from the preparations of an unbroken solitude, arm ed with all the omnipotence of Truth among their fellow citizens — and who, rich in the resources of a mind which meditates upon these things, and gives itself wholly to them, are able to suit their admonitions to all the varieties of human character, and to draw their copious and persuasive illustra tions from every quarter of human ex perience. But I speak not merely of their Sabbath ministrations. Give to each a ma nageable extent of town within the com pass of his personal exertions, and where he might be able to cultivate a ministerial influence among all its families — put it into his power to dignify the very humblest of its tenements by the courteousness of his soothing and benevolent attentions — let it be such a district of population as may not bear him down by the multiplicity of its demands ; but where, without any feverish or distracting variety of labour, he may be able to familiarize himself to every house, and to know every individual, and to visit every spiritual patient, and to watch every death-bed, and to pour out the sympathies of a pious and affectionate bosom over every mourning and bereaved family. Bring every city of the land under such moral regimen as this, and another generation would not pass away, ere righteousness ran down all their streets like a mighty river. That sul len depravity of character, which the gib bet cannot scare away, and which sits so immoveable in the face of the most me nacing severities, and in despite of the yearly recurrence of the most terrifying ex amples, — could not keep its ground against the mild, but restless application of an ef fective christian ministry. The very worst of men would be constrained to feel the power of such an application. Sunk as they are in ignorance, and inured as they have been from the first years of their neglected boyhood, to scenes of week-day profligacy and Sabbath profanation— these men, of whom it may be said, that all their moralities are extinct, and all their tender ness blunted— even they would feel the power of that reviving touch, which the mingled influence of kindness and piety «an often impress on the souls of the most abandoned — even they would open ths flood-gates of their hearts, and pour forth the tide of an honest welcome on the men who had come in all the cordiality of good will to themselves and to their families. And thus might a humanizing and an exalting influence be made to circulate through all their dwelling-places: and such a system as this, labouring as it must do at first, under all the discouragements of a heavy and unpromising outset, would ga ther, during every year of its perseverance, new triumphs and new testimonies to its power. All that is ruthless and irreclaim able, in the character of the present day, would in time be replaced by the softening virtues of a purer and a better generation. This I know to be the dream of many a philanthropist : and a dream as visionary as the very wildest among the fancies of Utopianism it ever will be, under any other expedient than the one I am now pointing to : and nothing, nothing within the whole compass of nature, or of experience, will ever bring it to its consummation, but the multiplied exertions of the men who carry in their hearts the doctrine, and who bear upon their persons the seal and commis sion of the New Testament. And, if it be true that towns are the great instruments of political revolution — if it be there that all the elements of disturbance are ever found in busiest fermentation — if we learn, from the history of the past, that they are the favourite and frequented rallying- places for all the brooding violence of the land — who does not see that the pleading earnestness of the christian minister is at one with the soundest maxims of political wisdom, when he urges upon the rulers and magistrates of the land, that this is indeed the cheap defence of a nation— this the vi tality of all its strength and of all its great ness. And it is with the most undissemb'ed sa tisfaction that I advert to the first step of such a process, within the city of our ha bitation, as I have now been recommend ing. It may still be the day of small things; but it is such a day as ought not to be de spised. The prospect of another church and another labourer in this interesting field, demands the most respectful acknow ledgement of the christian public, to the men who preside over the administration of our affairs; and they, I am sure, will not feel it. to be oppressive, if, met by the willing cordialities of a responding popula tion, the demand should ring in their ears for another, and another, till, like the moving of the spirit on the face of the waters, which made beauty and order to emerge out of , the rude materials of creation, the germ of moral renovation shall at length burst into all the efflorescence of moral accomplish ment — and the voice of psalms shall again ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. 239 be heard in our families— and impurity and violence shall be banished from our streets — and then the erasure made, in these de generate days, on the escutcheons of our city, again replaceid in characters of gold, shall tell to every stranger, that Glasgow flourish- eth through the preaching of the word.* And though, under the mournful remem brance of our departed Princess, we can not but feel, on this day of many tears, as * The original motto of the City is, " Let Glas gow flourish through the preaching of the Word ;" which, by the curtailment alluded to, has been re duced to the words, " Let Glasgow flourish." if a volley of lightning from heaven had been shot at the pillar of our State, and struck away the loveliest ornament from its pinnacle, and shook the noble fabric to its base ; yet still, if we strengthen its founda tion in the principle and character of our people, it will stand secure on the deep and steady basis of a country's worth, which can never be overthrown. And thus an enduring memorial of our Princess will be embalmed in the hearts of the people, and good will emerge out of this dark and bitter dispensation, if, when the judgments of God are in the earth, the inhabitants of the world shall learn righteousness. THE DOCTRINE OF CHRISTIAN CHARITY APPLIED TO THE t CASE OF RELIGIOUS DIFFERENCES. A SERMON, PREACHED BEFORE THE AUXILIARY SOCIETY, GLASGOW, TO THE HIBERNIAN SOCIETY, FOR ESTABLISHING SCHOOLS, AND CIRCULATING THE HOLY SCRIPTURES IN IRELAND. PREFACE. If the question were put, what is Popery ? an answer might be given by the enumeration of what are conceived to be its leading principles. Without at all inquiring whether the conception be a just one or not, there are many persons who would tell us, that the members of this denomination ascribe an infallibility to the Pope ; and that they hold the doctrine of transubstantiation ; and that they offer religious worship to departed saints, and render an external homage to images ; and that they give such an importance to the ceremonial of extreme unction, as to conceive, that by the administration of it, all the guilt of the most worthless and unrenewed character is expiated and done away. — It is enough to mark our aversion to these positions and practices, that we say, that every one of them is unscriptural ; and that, if this be a real portraiture of Popery, it is a religion which has no foundation in truth or in the Bible. But it is altogether a different question, in how far Popery, as thus defined, is actually realized by those men who wear the name and the profession of it. Whether this was ever the Popery of a past age, is a question of erudition, into which we propose not to enter. And whether this be the Popery of any people of the present age, is a question of observation, into which we propose not to enter. We confine our selves to the object of looking into our own hearts, and of looking to those who are immediately around us, with the view of ascertaining whether the contamina tion and the substantial mischief of these alleged principles might not be detected on a nearer field of observation. We are all aware that such an attempt as this is not enough to satisfy many Protestants, or to fill up the measure of their zeal against what they hold to be a most blasphemous and pestilential heresy. They would not merely demand the disavowal of a corrupt system — but they would like to see it attached with all its deformities in the form of a personal charge to the men of a certain prominent and visible denomination. Now, we do not see how the former demand can be more effectually met, than by the denunciation of this system, under whatever shape, or in whatever quarter of society, it may be found. — Nor do we conceive how a more honest and decisive seal of reprobation can be set upon it, than by the ex pression of a dislike so strong and so irreconcilable, as to be felt, even when it obtrudes upon our notice any of its features amongst the individuals of our own connexion, and offers itself to view under the screen of an ostensible Protestant ism. As to the latter demand, we frankly confess that we are not historically enough acquainted with the present state of the Catholic mind, to be at all able DOCTRINE OF CHRISTIAN CHARITY, &C. 241 Ui comply with it. But should any member of that persuasion come forward witn his own explanations, and give such a mitigated view of the peculiarities of Catho lics, as to leave the great evangelical doctrines of faith and repentance unimpaired by them, and state that an averment of the Bible has never, in his instance, been neutralized or practically stript of its authority, by an averment of Popes or of Councils ; — on what principle of candour shall the recognition of a common Chris tianity be withheld from him ? Is it not better to confine our animadversion to the principles of the system, and to let persons alone : and if these persons shall step forward with the affirmation that the system is imaginary, or that, at least, it has no actual residence with them, whether is it the more Christian exhibition on our part, that we exercise, in their behalf, the charity which believeth all things, or that we pertinaciously keep by a charge, the truth of which they solemnly disclaim ? SERMON. " And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye ? — Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and behold a beam is in thine own eye ? — Thou hypocrite ! first cast out the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye." — Matthew vii. 3, 4, 5. The word beam suggests the idea of a rafter ; and it looks very strange that a thing of such magnitude should be at all con ceived to have its seat or fixture in the eye. To remove, by a single sentence, this mis apprehension, I shall just say, that the word in the original signifies also a thorn, a something that the eye has room for, but at the same time much larger than a mote, and which must, therefore, have a more powerful effect in deranging the vision, and preventing a man from forming a right es timate of the object he is looking at. Take this along with you, and the three verses will run thus: — Why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but con siderest not the thorn that is in thine own eye ? Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull-out the mote out of thine eye ; and behold a thorn is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite ! first cast out the thorn out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy bro ther's eye." In my farther observations on this pas- age, I shall first introduce what I propose o make the main subject of my discourse, by a very short application of the leading principle of my text, to the case of those judgments that we are so ready to pro nounce on each other in private life. And I shall, secondly, proceed to the main sub ject, viz. that more general kind of judg ment which we are apt to pass on the men of a different persuasion, in matters of re ligion. I. Every fault of conduct in the outer man, may be run up to some defect of prin ciple in the inner man. It is this defect of principle, which gives the fault all its 31 criminality. It is this alone, which makes it odious in the sight of God. It is upon this that the condemnation of the law rests; and on the day of judgment, when the se crets of all hearts shall be laid open, it will be the share that the heart had in the mat ter, which will form the great topic of ex amination, when the deeds done in the body pass under the review of the Son of God. For example, it is a fault to speak evil one of another ; but the essence of the fault lies in the want of that charity which thinketh no ill. Had the heart been filled with this principle, no such bad thing as slander would have come out of it ; but if the heart be not filled with this principle, and in its stead there be the operation of envy — or a desire to avenge yourselves of others, by getting the judgment of men to go against them — or a taste for the ludi crous, which rather than be ungratified, will expose the peculiarities of the absent to the mirth of a company — or the idle and thoughtless levity of gossiping, which can not be checked by any consideration of the mischief that may be done by its indul gence ; I say, if any or all of these, take up that room in the heart, which should have been filled with charity, and sent forth the fruits of it, then the stream will just be as the fountain, and out of the treasure of the evil heart, there will flow that evil practice of censoriousness, on which the gospel of Christ pronounces its severe and decisive condemnation. But though all evil-speaking be referable to the want of a good, or to the existence of an evil principle in the heart, yet there is one style of evil-speaking different from another ; and you can easily conceive how a 242 DOCTRINE OF CHRISTIAN CHARITY, &C. man addicted to one way of it, may hate, and despise, and have a mortal antipathy, to another way of it. In this case, it is not the thing itself in its essential deformity that he condemns ; it is some of the dis gusting accompaniments of the thing ; and while these excite his condemnation, and he views the man in whom they are real ized, as every way worthy of being repro bated, he may not be aware, all the while, that in himself there exists an equal, and perhaps a much larger portioii of that very principle, which he should be reprobated for. The forms of evil-speaking break out into manifold varieties. There is the soft insinuation. There is the resentful outcry. There is the manly and indignant disap proval. There is the invective of vulgar malignity. There is the poignancy of sa tirical remark. There is the giddiness of mere volatility, which trips so carelessly along, and spreads its entertaining levities over a gay and light-hearted part}'. These are all so many transgressions of one and the same duty ; and you can easily con ceive an enlightened Christian sitting in judgment over them all, and taking hold of the right principle upon which he would condemn them all ; and which, if brought to bear with efficacy on the consciences of the different offenders, would not merely silence the passionate evil-speaker out of his outrageous exclamations, and restrain the malignant evil-speaker from his delibe rate thrusts at the reputation of the absent ; but would rebuke the humorous evil-speaker out of his fanciful and amusing sketches, and the gossiping evil-speaker out of his tiresome and never-ending narratives. Now you may further conceive, how a man who realizes upon his own character one of these varieties, might have a positive dislike to another of them ; how the open and generous-hearted denouncer of what is wrong, may hate from his very soul the poison of a sly and secret insinuation ; how he who delivers himself in the chastened and well-bred tone of a gentleman, may recoil from the violence of an unmannerly invective ; how he who enjoys the ridicu lous of character, may be hurt and offended at hearing of the criminal of character; — and thus each, with the thorn in his own eye, may advert with regret and disappro bation to the mote in his brother's eye. Now, mark the two advantages which arise from every man bringing himself to a strict examination, that he may if possible find out the principle of that fault in his own mind, which he conceives to deform the doings and the character of another. His attention is carried away from the mere accompaniment of the fault to its ac tual and constituting essence. He pursues his search from the outward and accidental varieties, to the one principle which spreads the leaven of iniquity over them all. By looking into his own heart, he is made ac quainted with the movements of this prin> ciple. When forced to disapprove of others. his disapprobation is not a mere matter of taste, or of education, but the entire and well-founded disapprobation of principle He sees where the radical mischief of the whole business lies. He sees that if the principle of doing no ill were established within the heart, it would cut up by the root all evil-speaking in all its shapes and in all its modifications. His own diligent keeping of his own heart upon this subject would bring the matter into his frequent contemplation, and enable him to perceive where its essence and its malignity lay, and give him an enlightened judgment of it in all its effects and workings upon others ; and thus, by the very progress of struggling against it, and watching against it, and pray ing against it, and the strength of divine grace prevailing against it, and at length suc ceeding in pulling the thorn out of his own eye, he would see clearly to cast out the mote out of his brother's eye. But another mighty advantage of this self- examination is, that the more a man does ex amine the more does he discover the infirmi ties of his own character. That very infirmity against which, in another, he might have protested with all the force of a vehement indignation, he might find lurking in his own bosom, though under the disguise of a dif ferent form. Such a discovery as this will temper his indignation. It will humble him into the meekness of wisdom. It will. soften him into charity. It will infuse a can dour and a gentleness into all his judg ments. The struggle he has had with him self to keep down the sin he sees in an other, will train him to an indulgence he might never have felt, had he been altoge ther blind to the diseases of his own moral constitution. When he tries to reform a neighbour, the attempt will be marked by all the mildness of one who is deeply con scious of his own frailties, and fearfil of the exposures which he himself may have to endure. And I leave it to your own ex perience of human nature to determine, whether he bids fairer for success who re bukes with the intolerant tone of a man who is unconscious of his own blemishes; or he who, with all the spirituality of a humble and exercised Christian, endea vours to restore him who is overtaken in a fault, with the spirit of meekness, "con sidering himself lest he also be tempted." Now, the fault of evil-speaking is only one out of the many. The lesson of the text might be farther illustrated by other cases and other examples. I might specify the various forms of worldliness, and wilful ness, and fraud, and falsehood, and profa nity, and show how the man who realizes DOCTRINE OF CHRISTIAN CHARITY, &C 243 these s,ins m one form might pass his con demnatory sentence on the man who rea lizes the very same sins in another form; and I might succeed in saying to the con viction of his conscience, even as Nathan said to David, " Thou art the man ;" and might press home upon him the mighty task of self-examination, and set him from that to the task of diligent reform, that he might be enabled to see the fault of his neighbour more clearly, and rebuke it more gently, and winningly, and considerately. But my time restrains me from expatiat ing; and however great my reluctance at being withdrawn from the higher office of dealing with the hearts and the consciences of individuals, to any other office, which, however good in itself, bears a most minute and insignificant proportion to the former, yet I must not forget that I stand here as the advocate of a public Society; — and I therefore propose to throw the remainder of my discourse into such a train of observ ation as may bear upon its designs and its enterprises. II. I now proceed, then, to the more ge neral kind of judgment which we are apt to pass on men of a different persuasion in matters of religion. — There is something in the very circumstance of its being a differ ent religion from our own, which, prior to all our acquaintance with its details, is cal culated to repel and to alarm us. It is not the religion in which we have been edu cated. It is not the religion which fur nishes us with our associations of sacred ness. Nay, it is a religion, which, if admitted into our creed, would tear asunder all these associations. It would break up all the re pose of our established habits. It would darken the whole field of our accustomed contemplations. It would put to flight all those visions of the mind which stood link ed with the favour of God, and the blissful prospects of eternity. It would unsettle, and disturb, and agitate; and this, not merely because it threw a doubtfulness over the question of our personal security, but be cause it shocked our dearest feelings of ten derness for that which we had been trained to love, and of veneration for that, which we had been trained to look at in the aspect of awful and imposing solemnity. Add to all this, the circumstance of its being a religion with the intolerance of which our fathers had to struggle unto the death ; a religion which lighted up the fires of persecution in other days; a religion, which at one time put on a face of terror, and bathed its hands in the blood of cruel mar tyrdom ; a religion, by resistance to which, the men of a departed generation are em balmed in the memory of the present, among the worthies of our established faith. We have only to contemplate the influence of these things, when handed down by tra dition, and written in the most popular his tories of the land, and told round the even ing fire to the children of every cottage family, who listen, in breathless wonder ment, to the tale of midnight alarm, and kindle at the battle-cry lifted by the pa triots of a former age, when they made their noble stand for the outraged rights of conscience and of liberty ; we have only to think of these things, and we shall cease our amazement, that such a religion, even though its faults and its merits be equally unknown, should light up a passionate aversion in many a bosom, and have a re coiling sense of horror, and sacrilege, and blasphemy associated with its very name. Now Popery is just such a religion ; and I appeal to many present, if, though igno rant of almost all its doctrines and all its distinctions, there does not spring up a quickly felt antipathy in their bosoms even at the very mention of Popery. There can be no doubt, that for one or two genera tions, this feeling has been rapidly on the decline. But it still lurks, and operates, and spreads a very wide and sensible infu sion over the great mass of our Scottish population. There is now a dormancy about, it, and it does not break out into those rude and tumultuary surges, which at one time filled our streets with violence, and sent a firmament of jealousy and alarm over the whole face of our country. But we still meet with the traces of its existence. We feel it in our bosoms when we hear of any of the ceremonials of Popery; and I just ask you lo think of those peculiar sensations which rise within you at the mention of the holy "water, or the consecrated wafer, or the extreme unction of the Catholic ritual. There is still a sensation of repug nance, though it be dim, and in its painful- ness it be rapidly departing away from us ; and I think that, even at this hour, should a Popish Chapel send up its lofty minarets and spread a rich and expanded magnifi cence before the public eye, though many look with unmingled delight on the gran deur of the ascending pile, yet there may still be detected a visible expression of jealousy and offence in the sidelong glance, and the inward and half-suppressed mur muring of the occasional passenger. Now, is it not conceivable that such a traditional repugnance to Popery may exist in the very same mind, with a total igno rance of what those things are for which it merits our repugnance? May there not be a kind of sensitive recoil in the heart against this religion, while the understand ing is entirely blind to those alone features which justify our dislike to it ? May there not be all the violence of antipathy within us at Popery, and there be at the same time within us all the faults and all the errors of Popery 1 May not the thorn be in our 244 DOCTRINE OF CHRISTIAN CHARITY, &C. own eye,-while the mote in our neighbour's eye is calling forth all the severity of our indignation ? While we are sitting in the chair of judgment, and dealing forth from the eminence of a superior discernment, our invectives against what we think to be sacrilegious in the cree.l and practice of others, may it not be possible to detect in ourselves the same perversion of principle, the same idolatrous resistance to truth and righteousness ; and surely, it well becomes us in this case, while we are so ready lo precipitate our invectives upon the head of by-standers, to pass a humbling examina tion upon ourselves, that we may come to a more enlightened estimate of that which is the object of our condemnation; and that when we condemn, we may do it with wis dom, and with the meekness of wisdom. Let us therefore take a nearer look of Popery, and try to find out how much of Popery there is in the religion of Protes tants. But, let it be premised, that many of the disciples of this religion disclaim much of what we impute to them ; that the Popery of a former age may not be a fair specimen of the Popery of the present ; that, in point of fact, many of its professors have evinced all the spirit of devout and enlightened Christians ; that in many districts of Popery, the Bible is in full and active circulation ; and that thus, while the name and exter nals are retained, and waken up all our tra ditional repugnance against it, there may be, among thousands and tens of thousands of its nominal adherents, all the soul, and substance, and principle, and piety of a re formed faith. When I therefore enumerate the errors of Popery, I do not assert the extent to which they exist. I merely say that such errors are imputed to them ; and instead of launching forth into severities against those who are thus charged, all I propose is, to direct you to the far more profitable and Christian employment of shaming ourselves out of these very errors, that we may know how to judge of others, and that we may do it with the tenderness of charity. First, then, it is said of Papists, that they ascribe an infallibility to the Pope, so that if he were to say one thing and the Bible another, his authority would carry it over the authority of God. And, think you, my brethren, that there is no such Popery among you? Is theie no taking of your religion upon trust from another, when you should draw it fresh and unsullied from the fountain-head of inspiration? You all have, or you ought to have Bibles ; and how often is it repeated there, " Hearken diligently unto me ?" Now, do you obey this requirement, by making the reading of your Bible a distinct and earnest exer- lise ? Do you ever dare to bring your fa vourite minister to the tribunal of the word, or would you tremble at the presumption of such an attempt; so that the hearing of the word carries a greater authority over your mind than the reading of the word. Now this want of daring, this trembling at the very idea of a dissent from your minis ter, this indolent acquiescence in his doc trine, is just calling another man master; it is putting the authority of man over the authority of God ; it is throwing yourself into a prostrate attitude at the footstool of human infallibility; it is not just kissing the toe of reverence, but it is the profounder degradation of the mind and of all its facul ties ; and without the name of Popery — that name which lights up so ready an an tipathy in your bosoms, your soul may be infected with the substantial poison, and your conscience be weighed down by the oppressive shackles, of Popery. And all this, in the noonday effulgence of a protest- ant country, where the Bible, in your mo ther tongue, circulates among all your families — where it may be met with in al most every shelf, and is ever soliciting you to look to the wisdom that is inscribed upon its pages. O ! how tenderly should we deal with the prejudices of a rude and uneducated people, who have no Bibles, and no art of reading among them, to un lock its treasures, when we think that, even in this our land, the voice of human au thority carries so mighty an influence along with it, and veneration for the word of God is darkened and polluted by a blind venera tion for its interpreters. We tremble to read of the fulminations that have issued in other days from a conclave of cardinals. — Have we no conclaves, and no fulminations, and no orders of inquisition, in our own country ? Is there no professing brotherhood, or no professing sisterhood, to deal their censorious invectives around them, upon the members of an excommu nicated world? There is such a thing as a religious public. There is a " little flock," on the one hand, and a "world lying in wickedness," on the other. But have a care, ye who think yourselves of the favour ed few, how you never transgress the mild ness, and charity, and unostentatious vir tues of the gospel ; lest you hold out a dis torted picture of Christianity in your neigh bourhood, and impose that as religion on the fancy of the credulous, which stands at as wide a distance from the religion of the New Testament, as do the services of an exploded superstition, or the mummeries of an antiquated ritual. But, again, it is said of Papists, that they hold the monstrous doctrine of transubstan- tiation. Now, a doctrine may be monstrous on two grounds. It may be monstrous on the ground of its absurdity, or it may be monstrous on the ground of its impiety. It DOCTRINE OF CHRISTIAN CHARITY, &C 245 must have a most practically mischievous effect on the conscience, should a commu nicant sit down at the table of the Lord ; and think that the act of appointed remem brance is equivalent to a real sacrifice, and a real expiation ; and leave the performance with a mind unburdened of all its past guilt, and resolved to incur fresh guilt to be wiped away by a fresh expiation. But in the sacrament of our own country, is there no crucifying of the Lord afresh? Is there none of that which gives the doctrine of transubstantiation all its malignant influence on the hearts and lives of its proselytes? Is there no mysterious virtue annexed lo the elements of this ordinance 1 Instead of be ing repaired to for the purpose of recruit ing our languid affections to the Saviour, and strengthening our faith, and arming us with a firmer resolution, and more vigorous purpose of obedience, does the conscience of no communicant solace itself by the mere performance of the outward act, and suffer him to go back with a more reposing security to the follies, and vices, and indul gences of the world? Then, my brethren, his erroneous view of the sacrament may not be clothed in a term so appalling to the hearts and the feelings of Protestants as transubstantiation, but to it belongs all the immorality of transubstantiation ; and the thorn must be pulled out of his eye, ere he can see clearly to cast the mote out of his brother's eye. But, thirdly, it is said, that Papists wor ship saints, and fall down to graven images. This is very, very bad. " Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve." But let us take ourselves to task upon this charge also. Have we no consecrated names in the an nals of reformation — no worthies who hold too commanding a place in the remem brance and affection of Protestants ? Are there no departed theologians, whose works hold too domineering an ascendency over the faith and practice of Christians ? Are there no laborious compilations of other days, which instead of interpreting the Bi ble, have given its truths a shape, and a form, and an arrangement, that confer upon them another impression, and impart to them another influence, from the pure and original record? We may not bend the knee in any sensible chamber of imagery, at the remembrance of favourite saints. But do we not bend the understanding be fore the volumes of favourite authors, and do a homage to those representations of the minds of the men of other days, which should be exclusively given to the repre sentation of the mind of the Spirit, as put down in the book of the Spirit's revelation ? It is right that each of us should give the contribution of his own talents, and his own learning, to this most interesting cause ; but let the great drift of our argument be to prop the authority of the Bible, and to turn the eye of earnestness upon its pages ; for if any work, instead of exalting the Bible, shall be made, by the misjudging reverence of others, to stand in its place, then we in troduce a false worship into the heart of a reformed country, and lay prostrate the conscience of men, under the yoke of a spurious authority. But, fourthly and lastly — for time does not permit such an enumeration as would exhaust, all the leading peculiarities ascrib ed to this faith — it is stated, that by the form of a confession, in the last days of a sinner's life, and the ministration of extreme unction upon his death-bed, he may be sent securely to another world, with all the unrepented profligacy, and fraud, and wick edness of this world upon his forehead; that this is looked forward to, and counted upon by every Catholic — and sets him loose from all those anticipations which work upon the terror of other men — and throws open to him an unbridled career, through the whole of which, he may wanton in all the varieties of criminal indulgence — and at length, when death knocks at his door, if he just allow him time to send for his minis ter, and to hurry along with him through the steps of an adjusted ceremonial, the man's passage through that dark vale, wbich carries him out of the world, is strew ed with the promises of delusion — that every painful remembrance of the past is stifled amid the splendours and the juggle ries of an imposing ritual : and in place of conscience rising upon him, and charging him with the guilty track of disobedience he has run, and forcing him to flee, amid the agitations of his restless bed, to the blood of the great Atonement, and alarming him into an earnest cry for the clean heart and the right spirit, knowing that unless he be born again unto repentance, he shall perish — why, my brethren, instead of these salutary exercises, we are told, that a ficti tious hope is made to pour its treacherous sunshine into the bosom of a deceived Catholic. — that, when standing on the verge of eternity, he can cast a fearless eye over its dark and untravelled vastness — and that, for the terror of its coming wrath, his guilty and unrenewed soul is filled with all the radiance and all the elevation of its antici pated glories. O ! my brethren, it is piteous to think of such a preparation, but it is just such a pre paration as meets the sad experience of us all. The man, whose every affection has clung to the world, till the last hour of his possibility to enjoy it ; who never put forth an effort or a prayer to be delivered from the power of sin, till every faculty of its pleasures had expired ; who, through the varied progress of his tastes and his desires 246 DOCTRINE OF CHRISTIAN CHARITY, &C. from amusement to dissipation, and from dissipation to business, had always a some thing in all the successive stages of his ca reer, to take up his heart to the exclusion of him who formed it; — why, such a man, who never thought of pressing the lessons of the minister upon his conscience, while life was vigorous, and the full swing of its delights and occupations could be indulged in,— do we never find, even in the bosom of this reformed country, that while his body retains all its health, his spirit retains all its hardihood ; and not till the arrival of that week, or that month, or that year, when the last messenger begins to alarm him, does he think of sending to tbe man of God, an humble supplicant for his attendant prayers. Ah! my brethren, do you not think, amid the tones, and the sympathies, and the tears, which an affectionate pastor pours out in the fervency of his soul, and mingles with all his petitions, and all his addresses to the dying man, that no flattering unction ever steals upon him, to lull his conscience, and smooth the agony of his departure? Then, my brethren, you mistake it, you sadly mis take it; and even here, where I lift my voice among a crowd of men, in the prime and unbroken vigour of their days, — if even the youngest and likeliest of you all, shall, trusting to some future repentance, cherish the purpose of sin another hour, and not resolve at this critical and important No#v, to break it. all off, by an act of firm abandon ment, then be your abhorrence of Popery what it may, you are exemplifying the worst of its errors, and wrapping yourselves up in the cruelest and most inveterate of its delusions. I have left myself very little time for the application of all this to the particular ob jects of our Society. — First, Let it correct the very gross and vulgar tendency we all have, to think that the kingdom of God cometh with observation. That kingdom has its seat within us, and consists in the reign of principle over the hidden and invisi ble mind. The mere deposition of the Pope from that throne where he sits sur rounded with the splendour of temporali ties, — the mere ascendency of Protestant princes, over the counsels and politics of the world, — the mere exclusion of Catholic subjects from our administrations and our Parliaments, — these things are all very ob servable, but they may all happen, without one inch of progress being made towards the establishment of that kingdom, which cometh not with observation. Why, my brethren, the supposition may be a very odd one, nor do I say that it is at all likely to be realized,— but for the sake of illustration, I will come forward with it. Conceive that the Spirit of God, accompanying the circu lation of the word of God, were to intro duce all its truths and all its lessons into the heart of every individual of the Catho lic priesthood ; and that the Pope himself, instead of being brought down in person from the secular eminence he occupies, were brought down in spirit, with all his lofty imaginations, to the captivity of the obedience of Christ, — then I am not pre pared to assert, that under the influence of this great Christian episcopacy, a mighty advancement may not be made in building up the kingdom of God, and in throwing down the kingdom of Satan, throughout all the territories of Catholic Christendom. And yet, with all this, the name of Catholic may be retained, — the external and visible marks of distinction, may be as prominent as ever, — and with all those insignia about them, which keep up our passionate anti pathy to this denomination, there might not be a single ingredient in the spirit of its members, to merit our rational antipathy. I beg you will just take all this as an at tempt at the illustration of what 1 count a very important principle ; — and, to make the illustration more complete, let me take up the case of a Protestant country, and put the supposition, that, with the name of a pure and spiritual religion, the majority of its inhabitants are utter strangers to its power ; that an indifference to the matters of faith and of eternity, works all the effect of a deep and fatal infidelity on their con sciences ; that the world engrosses every heart, and the kingdom which is not of this world, is virtually disowned and held in derision among the various classes and characters of society; that the spirit of the New Testament is banished from our Par liaments, and banished from our Universi ties, and banished from the great bulk of our ecclesiastical establishments, and it is only to be met with among a few inconsid erable men, who are scouted by the general voice as the fanatics and visionaries of the day; — then, my brethren, I am not to be charmed out of truth, and of principle, by the mockery of a name. Call such a coun try reformed, as you may, it is full of the strong-hold of antichrist, from one end to the other of it ; and there must be a revolu tion of sentiment there, as well as in the darkest regions of Popery, ere the "ene mies of the Son of God be consumed by the breath of his mouth," or "Babylon the great be fallen." Now, secondly, mark the influence of such a train of sentiment, on the spirit of those who are employed in spreading the light of reformation among a Catholic peo ple. It will purify their aim, and give it a judicious direction, and chase away from their proceedings that offensive tone of ar rogance which is calculated to tVritate, and to beget a more determined obstinacy of prejudice than ever. Their great aim, to express it in one word, s to plant in the DOCTRINE OF CHRISTIAN CHARITY, &C. 247 hearts of all men of all countries, the reli gion of the Bible. Their great direction will be toward the establishment of right principle ; and in the prosecution of it, they will carefully avoid multiplying the points of irritation, by giving vent to their tradi tional repugnance against the less material forms of Popery. And the meek conscious ness of that woful departure from vital Christianity, which has taken place even in the reformed countries of Christendom, will divest them of that repulsive supe riority which, I fear, has gone far to defeat the success of many an attempt, upon many an enemy of the truth as it is in Jesus. "The whole amount of our message is to furnish you with the Bible, and to furnish you with the art of reading it. We think the lessons of this book well fitted to chase away the manifold errors which rankle in the bosom of our own country. You are the subjects of error as "well as we ; and we trust that you will find them useful, in en lightening the prejudices, and in aiding the frailties to which, as the children of one com mon humanity, we are all liable. Amongst us, there is a mighty deference to the au thority of man : if this exists among you, nere is a book which tells us to call no man master, and delivers us from the fallibility of human opinions. Amongst us there is a delusive confidence in the forms of godli ness, with little of its power : here is a book, which tells us that holiness of life is the great end of all our ceremonies, and of all our sacraments. Amongst us there is a host of theologians, each wielding his sepa rate authority over the creed and the con science of his countrymen, and you, Catho lics, have justly reproached us with our manifold and never-ending varieties ; but here is a book, the influence of which is throwing all these differences into the back ground, and bringing forward those great and substantial points of agreement, which lead us to recognise the man of another creed to be essentially a Christian, — and we want to widen this circle of fellowship, that we may be permitted to live in the exercise of one faith and of one charity along with you. Amongst us the great bulk of men pass through life forgetful of eternity, and think, that by the sighs and the ministra tions of their last days, they will earn all the blessedness of its ever-during rewards. But here is a book which tells us that we should seek first the kingdom of God ; and will not let us off with any other repentance than repentance now ; and tells us, what we trusts will light with greater energy on your consciences than it has ever done upon ours, that we should haste and make no de lay to keep the commandments." O ! my brethren, let us not despair that such argu ments, urged by the mild charity which adorns the Bible, and followed up by its circulation, will at length tell on the firmest defences that bigotry ever raised around the conscience and the principles of men — and that, out of those jarring elements which threaten our empire with a wild war of tur bulence and disorder, we shall, by the bless ing of God, be enabled to cement all its members into one great and harmoniou3 family. I conclude with saying, that, mainly and substantially speaking, I conceive this to be the very spirit of the attempt that is now making by the Society I am now pleading for. It is not an offensive declaration of war against Popery. It is true that it may be looked upon virtually as a measure of hos tility against the errors of Catholics, but no more than it is a measure of hostility against the errors of Protestants. The light of truth is fitted to chase away ail error, and there is something in that Bible which the agents of our Society are now teaching so assiduously, that is not more humbling and more severe on the general spirit of Ireland, than it is on the general spirit of our own country. It is true, that some of the Catholics set their face against the establishment of our schools, but this resistance to education is not peculiar to them. It is to be met with in England. It is to be met with in our own boasted and beloved Scotland. It is to be met with even among the enlightened classes of British society — and shall we speak of it as if it fastened a peculiar stigma on that country, which we have left to languish in depression and ignorance for so many generations? But, this resistance on the part of Catholics is far from general. In one district the teachers of our schools are chiefly Roman Catholics; many of the school -houses are Catholic chapels; and the great majority of the scholars are children of Catholic parents, who have appeared not a little elated that their children have proved more expert in their scriptural quotations than their neigh bours. — Call you not this an auspicious commencement? Is there no loosening of prejudice here? Do you not perceive that the firmest system of bigotry, ever erected over the minds of a prostrate population, must give way before the continued opera tion of such an expedient as this? There is no one device of human policy that has done so much for Ireland in a whole cen tury, as is now doing by the progress of education, and the freer circulation of the gospel of light through the dark mass and interior of their peasantry. Let me crave the assistance of the public in this place to one of the most powerful instruments that has yet been set agoing for helping forward this animating cause. It is an instrument ready made to your hand. The Hibernian Society have already established 347 schools in our sister country, a number equal to one third of the parishes in Scotland ; and they 248 APPENDIX. are dealing out education, a pure scriptural education, to 27,700 Irish children. It will be a disgrace to us if we do not signalize ourselves in such a business as this. We talk of the Irish as a wild and uncivilized people. It will be the indication of a very gross and uncivilized public at home, if we restrict our interchange with the men of the opposite shore, to the one interchange of merchandise. Let the rudeness of the Irish be what it may, sure I am, that there is much in their constitutional character to encourage us in this enterprise. They have many good points and engaging properties about them. I speak not of that peculiar style of genius and of eloquence, which gives such fascina tion to the poets, the authors, the orators of Ireland. I speak of the great mass, and I do think that I perceive a something in the natural character of Ireland, which draws me more attractively to the love of its peo ple, than any other picture of national man ners ever has inspired. Even amid the wild est extravagance of that humour which sits so visibly and so universally on the counte nance of the Irish population, I can see a heart and a social sympathy along with it. Amid all the wayward and ungovernable flights of that rare pleasantry which belongs to them, there is a something by which the bosom of an Irishman can be seriously and permanently affected, and which I think in judicious hands is convertible into the finest results on the ultimate character of that people. It strikes me, that, of all the men on the face of the earth, they would be the worst fitted to withstand the expression of honest, frank, liberal, and persevering kind ness; — that if they saw there was no artful policy in the attentions by which you plieo. them, but that an upright and firmly sus tained benevolence lay at the bottom of all your exertions for the best interest of their families; could they attain the conviction, that, amid all the contempt and all the re sistance you experienced from their hands, there still existed in your bosoms an un- quelled and an undissembled love for their and for their children; — could they see the working of this principle divested of every treacherous and suspicious symptom, and unwearied amid every discouragement in prosecuting the task of their substantial amelioration, — why, my brethren, let all this come to be seen, and in a few years I trust our devoted missionaries will bring it before them broad and undeniable as the light of day, and those hearts that are now shut against you in sullenness and disdain will be subdued into tenderness; the strong emotions of gratitude and nature will at length find their way through all the bar riers of prejudice; and a people whom no penalties could turn, whom no terror of military violence could overcome, who kept on a scowling front of hostility that was not to be softened, while war spread its desolating cruelties over their unhappy land, — this very people will do homage to the omnipotence of charity, and when the mighty armour of Christian kindness is brought to bear upon them, it will be found to be irresistible. APPENDIX. Extracts from the Eleventh Annual Report of the Hibe?~nian Society, for establishing Schools, and circulating the Holy Scriptures in Ireland. London, 1817. The Committee are persuaded, that among the numerous Institutions which the Divine power and goodness have raised up in this kingdom, the Hibernian Society, if duly considered, will stand very high in the scale of moral and religious im portance ; and they arc happy to add, that the present Report will present to its worthy support ers, continued and additional instances of the prac ticability of its designs, and the success of its ope rations. " In the good work of establishing Schools for the education of the children of the poor, in Ire land, the Committee had proceeded so far, at the time of holding the last General Meeting, as lo re port, that the number of Schools exceeded three hundred ; and that the children and adults edu cated therein were upwards of nineteen thousand. They have now the pleasure to state, that, by the annual return which was made up to Christmas last, the number of Schools is 347; and the chil dren and adults educated therein, are 27,776. " Such is the endearing and interesting specta cle which the present state of the labours of the Society presents to its benevolent supporters. Every Parent, p\cry Christian, and every Briton must rejoice in the accomplishment of so much good to Ireland, where it was so peculiarly needed ; and it is of such a nature, and is in such a course of ex tension and increase, as to afford the most reasona ble expectations of enlarged and permanent bene fits to that part of the United Kingdom. " The Committee are happy to state, that the regulation for the conduct of the Schools are in full operation, and that the Inspectors are active and circumspect. The progress of the children in learning to read, and in committing the Scriptures to memory, and the interest that even Catholic pa rents feel in having their little ones appeal with APPENDIX. 249 credit at the inspections, are truly gratifying. The attention of the Masters, in general, to the import of the sacred word, is pleasinglv on the increase : and among such as have had "their own under standings enlightened and informed, there exists a spirit of emulation to have their pupils excel in giving suitable answers to questions relating to the meaning of the passages which they repeat. " These instances evidently show the immediate and direct influence which the Schools produce on the minds of the parents of the children who are educated therein ; and that an emanation of Scrip ture light, and a portion of religious interest of the most important and useful kind, are introduced into the humble cottages of the poor. These now have some | light in their dwelling,' in the midst of sur rounding darkness and superstition ; which, how ever, begins to be penetrated with the beams of Divine truth, and to be impressed with that word which is ' quick and powerful, and a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.' On this interesting subject, a most valuable correspondent of the Committee thus writes : — " From the many applications I receive from in dividuals from different parts of the country for Bibles and Testaments, there is strong evidence to the spreading of religious inquiry among the mass of the people. Many of them come from places remote from any of the Schools ; but I always find that anxiety for the Scriptures has been excited by converse with some who have been pupils therein, who have hved in the neighbourhood of the Schools, or have been in some other ways immediately or remotely connected with them. " Could the moral and religious improvement of the human mind be as easdy discovered as the agricultural improvement of a country, those nu merous districts where the Schools have been for any time established, would be found to exhibit a striking contrast to those wherein they have not yet taken place. While these would be seen in all the nakedness of sterility, or fruitful only in the production of noxious weeds ; in the other it would appear that in a great degree the fallow ground has been broken up, the good seed sown and in a state of vegetation, waiting for the early and latter rain ; in many, the appearance of a healthful crop would gladden the eye, and in some, the fields would ap pear already white unto the harvest. "The great increase in the number of the Schools ; the amazing anxiety for the Scriptures which they have been the means of exciting in every district ; the increasing demand for Evening Schools for the instruction of the adult popula tion, — all pressingly call for such a supply of Bibles and Testaments as I am unable to meet. Were the wonders doing in this country by the instru mentality of the flibernian Society fully known in England, and their importance rightly appreciated, no Society would be found deserving of greater support." " The Committee continue to give the greatest encouragement to the instruction of adults in the vicinity of the Schools ; and they receive the most pleasing accounts of the efficacy of the word of God in the enlightening of the minds of those who probably would never have had an opportunity of reading the Scriptures, or of hearing them read, had it not been for the free Schools which this So ciety has established, and for the numerous copies of the Divine word which it has industriously cir culated. Indeed, the Visitors to the Schools per ceive and acknowledge, that, were it not for the labours of this Institution, it would be impossible 32 for the Bible Societies to get the Scriptures into the hands of the Cathoike, the great mass of the popu lation of Ireland. " The formation of Irish classes in the Schools which are appropriate thereto, continues to he se dulously promoted. An additional allowance has been granted to the Masters for their Irish Testa ment classes ; and this has powerfully operated to increase the demand for Irish Testaments, both in the day Schools, and also in those which are held in the evening, for teaching the adults. " The Committee could adduce additional in stances of approbation and support from some of the Catholic Clergy, both of the Society's Schools, and of its exertions to circulate the Scriptures ; but the limits of this Report will not permit an en largement on this pleasing and interesting subject. If, however, the views and object of this Institu tion have only commended themselves as yet to a small part of the Catholic body, the Committee are happy to state, that, in the Protestant community, the high importance of the Hibernian Society in creasingly arrests public attention ; that the de mands tor Schools in almost every district are more numerous than can be attended to, and that in every place respectable individuals come forward, unsolicited, to carry into execution the benevolent designs of the Society. And here it is very ap propriate and grateful to observe, that to the Clergy of the Established Church who have afforded their patronage to the Schools, and have condescended to act as Visitors, the Society are under verv r-reat obligations ; and particularly to an excellent Dig nitary of that Church, who has always entered into the views of the Society with a liberal mind, has furthered them with continued assiduity, and has recently from the pulpit pleaded the cause of the Institution, and thereby added to its celebrity and support. This last service called for the official thanks of the Committee. They were transmitted by the treasurer, and the answer which has been received from this estimable personage is so charac teristic of his piety and philanthropy, and so highly honourable to the Hibernian Society, that it would be unsuitable and injurious to withhold the follow ing extract : — " I have received your very kind letter, commu nicating the thanks of the Committee of the Hi bernian Society of London, to me, for the sermon I preached in Sligo Church on their behalf; and for other services which the Committee are pleased kindly to notice, as rendered by me to the Schools under their patronage. Whatever little I have been enabled to do, I have felt that therein I have been doing the best service I could to this quarter of my poor benighted country. And I thank God, that I see the exertions which the Society has made already (and they have been great) so largely owned of him. I am persuaded, that nothing is calculated so much, under the Divine blessing, to dispel the gross darkness that has covered this land, for so many ages, as such a system of general scriptural education, as that adopted by your Society. And I have to acknowledge that the establishment of the Society's Schools in the vicinity of my minis terial duties, has proved the happy instrument of a great enlargement of utterance and usefulness to me ; and never more did I experience this enlarge ment, than on the late occasion of my visiting Sligo, to advocate the cause of the Society. If 1 have done this with any degree of success, I desire to thank, and give glory to God. Surely you well deserve the cordial co-operation of the Irish pub lic; and you call forth from Irish Christians, 250 APPENDIX. thanksgivings to God for the grace bestowed upon you." * It has been noticed that the number of children and adult:, taught in the Society's Schools has in creased, in the course of the last year, from 19,000 to 27,000, and that requisitions for additional Schools are far more numerous than can be com plied with. It will also be remembered, that at the time of holding the last Annual Meeting, the ex penditure of the Society had exceeded its income upwards of 600/. In this conflict of an enlarged establishment and a deficient revenue, of encourag ing prospects and limited means, the Committee have endeavoured to increase the funds of the So ciety, and to lessen the expense of its future ope rations. To obtain the first-mentioned benefit, they have transmitted a circular letter to Ministers generally, in town and country, describing the state of the Institution, as to its importance, its useful ness, and its necessities; urging them to interest themselves in procuring subscriptions and dona tions : and particularly and earnestly requesting them to incorporate it amongst those other excel lent Societies, for the assistance of which Auxi liary Institutions have in so many places been established. These dispense their tributary streams with fertilizing and invigorating energies ; and if in their course, they were permitted to visit and enrich the Hibernian Society, Ireland would greatly benefit by the diffusion, and would ar dently bless her pious and liberal benefactors. — With regard to lessening the expense of future operations, the Committee have endeavoured to connect the formation of new Schools, with an Annual Subscription ; and, in this way, it is to be hoped, that many of the resident noblemen and gentlemen in Ireland, will assist in carrying into effect the designs, and in relieving the iunds, of the Hibernian Society. It has been truly gratifying to the Committee, to state the considerable increase of the Society's Schools, and the evident utility and success of its operations ; but it is with regret that they view the inadequacy of the funds to defray the necessary expenses of the Institution ; and with anxiety that they contrast the openings of Providence which present themselves, for exertions of a very exten sive nature — in the highest degree important, and promising the most happy results, — with the alarm ing deficiency of pecuniary means for following those providential leadings, with the energies and the hopes which they are so well calculated to inspire. With respect to the progress which has already been made in fulfilling the purposes for which the Society was formed, it may be observed, — that its advances in extension of operations, and its suc cess by its means and instruments, have proved in the highest degree pleasing and satisfactory. It was not till about the year 1809, that Schools were established in Ireland, under the patronage of the Hibernian Society ; from which period to the pre sent tfme, these establishments have so increased as to include upwards of 27,000 pupils. And when it is considered that the Schools have been formed, and the children collected therein, for the purpose of imparting the benefits of education to the lower classes of the people, who had neither the means nor the hopes of these benefits from any other quarter ; and also of diffusing tho blessings of pure Scriptu ol instruction among those to whom the policy and the power of their superiors forbid the introduction of these blessings ; surely it must lw acknowledged, that the designs and operations of the Society have been appropriate and efficient, for the removal of the greatest of evils, and for the production of the most essential and important good. In fact, the gradually increasing operation* of the Society have greatly exceeded its progres sive means of support ; its designs have been truly laudable and excellent, its means and instruments well adapted to execute them, and the sphere of its labours admirably calculated to gratify British benevolence, and to reward Christian zeal. Under all these circumstances, it is a matter of surprise and regret, that the income of this Institution, arising from annual subscriptions, does not amount to 500/ ; whilst its annual expenditure is upwards of 4,000/. The deficiency has, in part, been sup plied by donations and collections, and also by as sistance received from Auxiliary Societies ; but the arrears at length amount to a sum (1,605/.) which must have become burdensome to the Treasurer, embarrassing to the Committee, and prejudicial to the interest of the Society. To relieve it of this debt, is the anxious wish of its Committee, and must be the earnest desire of its Members. And when it is considered, as having arisen out of the actual prosperity of the cause, which the Society was established to promote, and from the enlarged and successful exertions which it has been enabled to prosecute, the Committee are persuaded that every Member of the Institu tion will feel it to be his duty and his pleasure, to unite with them, in immediate and earnest efforts, to replenish and increase its funds, in order that the Society may be relieved from the pressure of present obligations, and be capacitated to enter on a course, of additional labours, and of extensive and hopeful exertions. That the operations of this Society should be stationary whilst the most fair and promising prospects open for their exertions ; that the bene fits of education which it has conferred, and the blessings of Scriptural instruction, which it has imparted, should be circumscribed comparatively to a few, while hundreds of thousands are perish ing for lack of knowledge, is a state of things, which must wound the feelings, and disappoint the hopes, of the supporters of the Institution. That a work so truly important, that objects so highly benevolent, and that efforts so eminently successful, will be impeded or paralyzed for want of pecuniary support, the Committee cannot be lieve. For the appeal to Christian principles, feel ings, and generosity, is made, in the present in stance, to the religious public in Great Britain ; whose noble liberality supports efforts of compas sion and mercy, amongst the ignonant and the miserable, in the most distant parts of the world. And this liberality will surely not be withheld from the Hibernian Society, whose labours are di rected to remove the afflicting spectacle of igno rance, superstition, immorality, and mental degra dation, which the lower classes of the community in Ireland exhibit; to place our "brethren accord ing to the flesh," our fellow subjects, on the same high ground of moral and national advantage on which we stand, and thus to promote their best interest, their highest happiness, and their eternal salvation. CRUELTY TO ANIMALS: A SERMON PREACHED IN EDINBURGH, ON THE 5th OF MARCH, 1826. ' A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast." — Prov. xii. 10. The woid regard is of two-fold signifi cation, and may either apply to the moral or to the intellectual part of our nature. In the one application, the intellectual, it is the regard of attention. In the other, the moral, it is the regard of sympathy, or kindness. We do not marvel at this com mon term having been applied to two dif ferent things; for, in truth, they are most intimately associated; and the faculty by which a transition is accomplished from the one to the other, may be considered as the intermediate link between the mind and the heart. It is the faculty by which certain objects become present to the mind; and then the emotions are awakened in the heart, which correspond to these ob jects. The two act and re-act upon each Dther. But as we must not dwell too long Dn generalities, we shall satisfy ourselves with stating, that as, on the one hand, if he heart be very alive to any peculiar set of emotions, this of itself is a predisposing cause why the mind should be very alert in singling out the peculiar objects which excite them; so, on the other hand, that the emotions be specifically felt, the objects must be specifically noticed : and thus it is, that the faculty of attention — a faculty at the bidding of the will, and for the exer cise Of which, therefore, man is responsible — is of such mighty and commanding, in fluence upon the sensibilities of our nature; insomuch that, if the regard of attention could be fastened strongly and singly on the pain of a suffering creature as its ob ject, we believe that no other emotion than the regard of sympathy or compassion would in any instance be awakened by it. So much is this indeed the case — so sure is this alliance between the mind simply noticing the distress of a sentient creature, and the heart being sympathetically affect ed by it, that Nature seems to have limited and circumscribed our power of noticing, and just for the purpose of shielding us from the pain of too pungent, or too inces sant a sympathy. And, accordingly, one of the exquisite adaptations in the mechan ism of the human frame may be observed in the very imperfection of the human fa culties. The most frequently adduced ex ample of this is, the limited power of that organ which is the instrument of vision. The imagination is, that, did man look out upon Nature with microscopic eye, so that many of those wonders which now lie hid in deep obscurity should henceforth start into open revelation, and be hourly and habitually obtruded upon his gaze, then, with nis present sensibilities exposed to the torture and the disturbance of a perpetual and most agonizing offence from al-1 possi ble quarters of contemplation, he would be utterly incapacitated for the movements of familiar and ordinary life. Did he actually see, for example, in the beverage which he carried to his lips, that teeming multitude of sentient and susceptible creatures where with it is pervaded, or if it were alike pal pable to his senses, that, by the crush of every footstep, he inflicted upon thousands the pangs of dissolution, then it is appre hended that, to man as he is, the world would be insupportable. For, beside the irritation of that sore and incessant disgust, from which the power of escaping was de nied to him, there would be, another, and a most intense suffering, in the constantly aggrieved tenderness of his nature. Or if by the operation of habit, all these sensi bilities were blunted, and he could behold unmoved the ruin and the wretchedness that he strewed along his, path, then he might attain to comfort in the midst of this surrounding annoyance; but what would become of character in the utter ex tinction of all the delicacies and the feel ings which wont to adorn it? Such a change in his physical, could only be ad justed to his happiness, by a reverse and most melancholy change in the moral constitution of his nature. The fineness of his bodily perceptions would need to be compensated by a proportional hardness in the temperament of his soul. With his '252 ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. now finer sensations, there behooved to be duller and coarser sensibilities ; and to as sort that eye, whose retina had become tenfold more soft and susceptible than be fore, its owner must be furnished with a heart of tenfold rigidity, and a nervous system as impregnable as iron, — that he might walk forth in ease and in compla cency, while the conscious destroyer of millions by his tread, or the conscious de- vourer of a whole living and suffering he catomb with every morsel of the sustenance which upheld him. But, for the purpose of a nice and deli cate balance between the actual feelings and faculties of our nature, something more is necessary than the imperfection of our outward senses. The bluntness of man's visual organs serves, no doubt, as a screen of protection against both the nausea and the horror of those many spectacles, which would else have either distressed or dete riorated the sensibilities that belong to him. But then, by help of the microscope, this screen can be occasionally lifted up ; and what the eye then saw, the memory might retain, and the imagination might dwell upon, and the associating faculty might both constantly and vividly suggest; and thus, even in the absence of every provoca tive from without, the heart might be sub jected either to a perpetual agitation, or a perpetual annoyance, by the meddling im portunity of certain powers and activities which are within. It is not, therefore, an adequate defence of our species, against a very sore and hurtful molestation, that there should be a certain physical incapa city in our senses. There must, further more, be a certain physical inertness in our reflective faculties. In virtue of the former it is, that so many painful or dis gusting objects are kept out of sight. But it seems indispensable to our happy or even tolerable existence, that, in virtue of the latter, these objects, when out of sight, should be also out of mind. In the one way, they lose their power to offend as ob jects of outward observation. In the other way, their power to haunt and to harass, by means of inward reflection, is also taken away. For the first purpose, Nature has struck with a certain impotency the organs of our material framework. For the se cond, she has infused, as it were, an opiate into the recesses of our mental economy, and made it of sufficient strength and seda tive virtue for the needful tranquillity of man, and for upholding that average en joyment in the midst both of agony and of loathsomeness, which either senses more acute, or a spirit more wakeful, must have effectually dissipated. It is to some such provision too, we think, that much of the heart's purity, as well as much of its ten derness is owing; and it is well that the thoughts of the spirit should be kept, though even by the weight of its own lethargy, from too busy a converse with objects which are alike offensive or alike hazardous to both. It is more properly with the second of these adaptations than the first, that our argument has to do — with the inertness of our reflective faculties, rather than with the incapacity of our senses. It is in be half of animals, and not of animalcule, that we are called up'on to address you — not of that countless swarm, the agonies of whose destruction are shrouded from ob servation by the vail upon the sight ; but of those creatures who move on the face of the open perspective before us, and not as the others in a region of invisibles, and yet whose dying agonies are shrouded al most as darkly and as densely from general observation, by the vail upon the mind For you will perceive, that in reference to the latter vail, and by which it is that what is out of sight is also out of mind, its purpose is accomplished, whether the ob jects which are disguised by it be without the sphere of actual vision, or beneath the surface of possible vision. Now it is with out the sphere of your actual, although not beneath the surface of your possible vision, where are transacted the dreadful mysteries of a slaughter-house, and more especially those lingering deaths which an animal has to undergo for the gratifications of a re fined epicurism. It were surely most de sirable that the duties, if they may be so called, of a most revolting trade, were all of them got over with the least possible ex pense of suffering; nor do we ever feel so painfully the impression of a lurking can nibalism in our nature, as when we think of the intense study which has been given to the connexion between modes of killing, and the flavour or delicacy of those viands which are served up to mild, and pacific, and gentle-looking creatures, who form the grace and the ornament of our polished so ciety. One is almost tempted, after all, to look upon them as so many savages in dis guise; and so, in truth, we should, but for the strength of that opiate whose power and whose property we have just endea voured to explain ; and in virtue of which, the guests of an entertainment are all the while most profoundly unconscious of the horrors of that preparatory .scene which went before it. It is not, therefore, that there is hypocrisy in these smiles where with they look so benignly to each other. It is not that there is deceit in their words or their accents of tenderness. The truth is, that one shriek of agony, if heard from without, would cast most impressive gloom over this scene of conviviality; and the sight, but for a moment, of one wretched creature quivering towards death, would, ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 253 with Gorgon spell, dissipate all the gaieties which enlivened it. But Nature, as it were, hath practised most subtle reticence, both on the senses and the spirit of her chil dren ; or rather, the Author of Nature hath, by the skill of his master hand, instituted the harmony of a most exquisite balance between the tenderness of the human feel ings and the listlessness of the human fa culties, so as that, in the mysterious econo my under which we live, he may at once provide for the sustenance, and leave entire the moral sensibilities of our species. But there is a still more wondrous limita tion than this, wherewith he hath hounded and beset the faculties of the human spirit. You already understand how it is, that the sufferings of the lower animals may, when out of sight, be out of mind. But more than this, these sufferings may be in sight, and yet out of mind. This is strikingly exem plified in the sports of the field, in the midst of whose varied and animating bustle, that cruelty which all along is present to the senses, may not, for one moment, have been present to the thoughts. There sits a some what ancestral dignity and glory on this favourite pastime of joyous old England; when the gallant knighthood, and the hearty yeomen, and the amateurs or virtuosos of the chase, and the full assembled jockeyship of half a province, muster together in all the pride and pageantry of their great em- prize — and the panorama of some noble landscape, lighted up with autumnal clear ness from an unclouded heaven, pours fresh exhilaration into every blithe and choice spirit of the scene — and every adventurous heart is braced, and impatient for the hazards of the coming enterprise — and even the high-breathed coursers catch the general sympathy, and seem to fret in all the res- tiveness of their yet checked and irritated fire, till the echoing horn shall set them at liberty — even that horn which is the knell of death to some trembling victim, now brought forth of its lurking place to the delighted gaze, and borne down upon with the full and open cry of its ruthless pursuers. Be assured that, amid the whole glee and fervency of this tumultuous enjoyment, there might not, in one single bosom, be aught so fiendish as a principle of naked and abstract cruelty. The fear which gives its lightning speed to the unhappy animal; the thickening horrors which, in the pro gress of exhaustion, must gather upon its flight; its gradually sinking energies, and, at length, the terrible certainty of that de struction which is awaiting it; that piteous cry, which the ear can sometimes distin guish amid the deafening clamour of the blood-hounds, as they spring exultingly upon their prey; the dread massacre and dying agonies of a creature so miserably torn;— all this weight of suffering, we ad mit, is not once sympathized with ; but it is just because the suffering itself is not once thought of. It touches not the sensibilities of the heart ; but just because it is never pre sent to the notice of the mind. We allow that the hardy followers in the wild romance of this occupation, we allow them to be reckless of pain; but this is not rejoicing in pain. Theirs is not the delight of savage, but the apathy of unreflecting creatures. They are wholly occupied with the chase itself, and its spirit-stirring accompaniments, nor bestow one moment's thought on the dread violence of that infliction upon sen tient nature wdiich marks its termination. It is the spirit of the competition, and it alone, which goads onward this hurrying career; and even he, who in at the death, is foremost in the triumph, although to him the death itself is in sight, the agony of its wretched sufferer is wholly out of mind. We are inclined to carry this principle much farther. We are not even sure if, within the whole compass of humanity, fallen as it is, there be such a thing as de light in suffering, for its own sake. But, without hazarding a controversy on this, we hold it enough for every practical ob ject, that, much, and perhaps the whole of this world's cruelty, arises not from the en joyment that is felt in consequence of others' pain, but from the enjoyment that is felt in spite of it. It is something else in the spec tacle of agony which ministers pleasure than the agony itself; and many is the eye which glistens with transport at the fray of animals met together for their mutual de struction, and which might be brought to weep, if, apart from all the excitements of such a scene, the anguish of wounded or dying creatures were placed nakedly before it. Were it strictly analyzed, it would be found that the charm, neither of the ancient gladiatorships, nor of our modern prize fights, lies in the torture which is thereby inflicted ; for we should feel the very same charm, and look with the very same intent- ness, on some doubtful, yet strenuous colli sion, even among the inanimate elements of nature — as, when the water and 1he fire contended for mastery, and the inherent force of the one was met by a plying and a powerful enginery that gave impulse and direction to the other. It is even so, when the enginery of bones and of muscles comes into rivalship ; and every spectator of the ring fastens on the spectacle with that iden tical engrossment which he feels in the hazards of some doubtful game, or in the desperate conflict and effervescence even of the altogether mute unconscious elements. To him it is little else than a problem in dynamics. There is a science connected with the fight, which has displaced the sen sibilities that are connected with its expiring moans, its piteous and piercing outcries, its 254 ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. cruel lacerations. In all this, we admit the utter heedlessness of pain; but we are not sure if even yet there be aught so hellishly revolting as any positive gratification in the pain itself — or whether, even in the lowest walks of blackguardism in society, it do not also hold, that when sufferings even unto death are fully in sight, the pain of these sufferings is as fully out of mind. But the term science, so strangely applied as it has been in the example now quoted, reminds us of another variety in this most afflicting detail. Even in the purely academic walk we read or hear of the most appalling cruelties; and the interest of that philosophy wherewith they have been associated, has been plead in mitigation of them. And just as the moral debasement incurred by an act of theft is somewhat redeemed, if done by one of Science's enamoured worshippers, when, overcome by the mere passion of connoisseurship, he puts forth his hand on some choice specimen of most tempting and irresistible peculiarity — even so has a like indulgence been extended to certain perpe trators of stoutest and most resolved cruelty; and that just because of the halo wherewith the glories of intellect and of proud discovery have enshrined them. And thus it is, that, bent on the scrutiny of nature's laws, there are some of our race who have hardihood enough to explore and elicit them at the ex pense of dreadest suffering — who can make some quaking, some quivering animal, the subject of their hapless experiment — who can institute a questionary process by which to draw out the secrets of its constitution, and, like inquisitors of old, extract every reply by an instrument of torture — who can probe their unfaltering way among the vitalities of a system which shrinks, and palpitates, and gives forth, at every move ment of their steadfast hand, the pulsations of deepest agony ; and all, perhaps, to ascer tain and to classify the phenomena of sen sation, or to measure the tenaoity of animal life, by the power and exquisiteness of ani mal endurance. And still, it, is not because of all this wretchedness, but in spite of it, that they pursue their barbarous occupation. Even here it is possible, that there is nought so absnlutely Satanic as delight in those suf ferings of which themselves are the inflict- ers. That law of emotion by which the sight, of pain calls forth sympathy, may not be reversed into an opposite law, by which the sight of pain would call forth satisfaction or pleasure. The emotion is not reversed — it is only overborne, in the play of other emotions, called forth by other objects. He is intent on the science of those phenomena which he investigates, and bethinks not himself of the suffering which they involve to the unhappy animal. So far from the sympathies of his nature being reversed, or even annihilated, there is in most cases an effort, and of great s renuousness, to keep them down ; and his neart is differently af fected from that of other men, just because the regards of his mental eye are differently pointed from those of other men. The whole bent and engagement of his faculties are similar to those of another operator who is busied with the treatment of a piece of in animate matter, and may almost be said to subject it to the torture, when he puts it in the intensely heated crucible, or applies to it the test, and the various searching opera tions of a laboratory. The one watches every change of hue in the substance upon which he operates, and waits for the re sponse which is given forth by a spark, or an effervescence, or an explosion ; and the other, precisely similar to him, watches every change of aspect in the suffering or dying creature that is before him, and marks every symptom of its exhaustion, or sorer distress, every throb of renewed anguish, every cry, and every look of that pain which it can feel, though not articulate; marks and considers these in no other light than as the exponents of its variously affected physiology. But still, could merely the same interesting phenomena have been evolved without pain, he would like it bet ter. Only he will not be repelled from the study of them by pain. Even he would have had more comfort in the study of a complex automaton, that gave out the same results on the same application. Only, he will not shrink from the necessary incisions, and openings, and separation of parts, al though, instead of a lifeless automaton, it should be a sentient and sorely agonized animal. So that there is not even with him any reversal of the law of sympathy. There may be the feebleness, or there may be the negation of it. Certain it is, that it has given way to other laws of superior force in his constitution. And, without imputing to him aught so monstrous as the positive love of suffering, we may even admit for him a hatred of suffering, but that the love of science had overborne it. In the views that we have now given, and which we deem of advantage for the right practical treatment of our question, it may be conceived that we palliate the atrocious- ness of cruelty. It is forgotten, that a charge of foulest delinquency may be made up al together of wants or of negatives ; and, just as the human face, by the mere want of some of its features, although there should not be any inversion of them, might be an object of utter loathsomeness to beholders, so the human character, by the mere ab sence of certain habits, or certain sensibili ties, which belong ordinarily and constitu tionally to our species, may be an object of utter abomination in society. The want of natural affection forms one article of the Apostle's indictment against our world ; and ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 255 certain it is, that the total want of it were stigma enough for the designation of a monster. The mere want of religion, or irreligion, is enough to make man an outcast from his God. Even to the most barbarous of our kind you apply, not the term of anti- humanity, but of inhumanity — not the term of antisensibility: and you hold it enough for the purpose of branding him for general execration, that you convicted him of com plete and total insensibility. He is regaled, it is true, by a spectacle of agony — but not because of the agony. It is something else, therewith associated, which regales him. But still he is rightfully the subject of most emphatic denunciation, not because regaled by, but because regardless of, the agony. We do not feel ourselves to be vindicating the cruel man, when we affirm it to be not altogether certain, whether he rejoices in the extinction of life ; for we count it a deep atrocity, that, unlike to the righteous man of our text, he simply does not regard the life of a beast. You may perhaps have been accustomed to look upon the negatives of character, as making up a sort of neutral or midway innocence. But this is a mistake. Unfeeling is but a negative quality ; and yet, we speak of an unfeeling monster. It is thus that even the profound experimental ist, whose delight is not in the torture which he inflicts, but in the truth which he elicits thereby, may become an object of keenest reprobation : not because he was pleased with suffering, but simply because he did not pity it — not because the object of pain, if dwelt upon by him, would be followed up by any other emotion than that which is experienced by other men, but because, intent on the prosecution of another object, it was not so dwelt upon. It is found that the eclat even of brilliant discovery does not shield him from the execrations of a public, who can yet convict him of nothing more than simply of negatives — of heed lessness, of heartlessness, of looking upon the agonies of a sentient creature without regard, and therefore without sensibility. The true principle of his condemnation is, that he ought to have regarded. It is not that, in virtue of a different organic struc ture, he feels differently from others, when the same simple object is brought to bear upon him. But it is, that he resolutely kept that object at a distance from his attention, or rather, that he steadily kept his sttemion away from the object ; and that, in opposi- sition to all the weight of remonstrance which lies in the tremours, and the writh- ings, and the piteous outcries of agonized Nature. Had we obtained for these the re gards of his mind, the relentings of his heart might have followed. His is not an anoma lous heart ; and the only way in which he can brace it into sternness, is by barricad ing the avenue which leads to it. That fa culty of attention, which might have opened the door, through which suffering without finds its way to sympathy within, is other wise engaged ; and the precise charge, on which either morality can rightfully con demn, or humanity be offended, is, that he wills to have it so. It may be illustrated by that competition of speed which is held, with busy appliance of whip and of spur, betwixt animals. A similar competition can be imagined be tween steam-carriages, when, either to pre serve the distance which has been gained, or to recover the distance which has been lost, the respective guides would keep up an incessant appliance to the furnace, and the safety-valve. Now, the sport and the excitement are the same, whether this ap pliance of force be to a dead or a living mechanism ; and the enormity of the latter does not lie in any direct pleasure which is felt in the exhaustion, or the soreness, or, finally, in the death of the over-driven ani mal. If these awake any feeling at all in the barbarous rider, it is that of pain ; and it is either the want or the weakness of this latter feeling, and not the presence of its opposite, which constitutes him a barbarian. He does not rejoice in animal suffering — but it is enough to bring down upon him the charge of barbarity, that he does not regard it. But these introductory remarks, although they lead, I do think, to some most im portant suggestions for the management of the evil, yet they serve not to abate its ap palling magnitude. Man is the direct agent of a wide and continual distress to the lower animals, and the question is, Can any me thod be devised for its alleviation 1 On this subject that scriptural image is strikingly re alized, " The whole inferior creation groan ing and travailing together in pain," because of him. It signifies not to the substantive amount of the suffering, whether this be prompted by the hardness of his heart, or only permitted through the heedlessness of his mind. In either way it holds true, not only that the arch-devourer man stands pre-eminent over the fiercest children of the wilderness as an animal of prey, but that for his lordly and luxurious appetite, as well as for his service or merest curiosity and amuse ment, Nature must be ransacked throughout all her elements. Rather than forego the veriest gratifications of vanity,he will wring them from the anguish of wretched and ill- fated creatures ; and whether for the indul gence of his barbaric sensuality, or barbaric splendour, can stalk paramount over the sufferings of that prostrate creation which has been placed beneath his feet. That beauteous domain whereof he has been con stituted the terrestrial sovereign, gives out so many blissful and benignant aspects ; and whether we look to its peaceful lakes, or its flowery landscapes, or its evening skk's, or 256 ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. to all that soft attire which overspreads the hills and the valleys, lighted up by smiles of sweetest sunshine, and where animals disport themselves in all the exuberance of gaiety — this surely were a more befitting scene for the rule of clemency, than for the iron rod of a murderous and remorseless tyrant. But the present is a mysterious world wherein we dwell. It still bears much upon its materialism of the impress of Paradise. But a breath from the air of Pandemonium has gone over its living ge nerations. And so "the fear of man, and the dread of man, is now upon every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl of the air, upon all that moveth upon the earth, and upon all the fishes of the sea ; into man's hands are they delivered : every moving thing that liveth is meat for him ; yea, even as the green herbs, there have been given to him all things." Such is the extent of his jurisdiction, and with most full and wanton license has he revelled among its privileges. The whole earth labours and is in violence because of his cruelties ; and, from the amphitheatre of sentient Nature, there sounds in fancy's ear the bleat of one wide and universal suffering, — a dreadful homage to the power of Nature's consti tuted lord. These sufferings are really felt. The beasts of the field are not so many automata without sensation, and just so constructed as to give forth all the natural signs and expressions of it. Nature has not practised this universal deception upon our species. These poor animals just look, and tremble, and give forth the very indications of suf fering that we do. Theirs is the distinct cry of pain. Theirs is the unequivocal physiog nomy of pain. They put on the same aspect of terror on the demonstrations of a menacing blow. They exhibit the same distortions of agony after the infliction of it. The bruise, or the burn, or the fracture, or the deep incision, or the fierce encounter with one of equal or superior strength, just affects them similarly to ourselves. Their blood circulates as ours. They have pulsations in various parts of the body like ours. They sicken, and they grow feeble with age, and, finally, they die just as we do. They possess the same feelings; and what exposes them to like suffering from another quarter, they possess the same instincts with our own species. The lioness robbed of her whelps causes the wilderness to ring aloud with the proclamation of her wrongs; or tho bird whose little household has been stolen, fills and saddens all the grove with melodies of deepest pathos. All this is pal pable even to the general and unlearned eye; and when the physiologist lays open the recesses of their system by means of that scalpel, under whose operation they just shrink and are convulsed as any living subject of our own species, there stands forth to view the same sentient apparatus, and furnished with the same conductors for the transmission of feeling to every minut est pore upon the surface. Theirs is un mixed and unmitigated pain — the agonies of martyrdom, without the alleviation of the hopes and the sentiments, whereof they are incapable. When they lay them down to die, their only fellowship is with suffer ing, for in the prison-house of their beset and bounded faculties, there can no relief be afforded by communion with other in terests or other things. The attention does not lighten their distress as it does that of man, by carrying off his spirit from that existing pungency and pressure which might else be overwhelming. There is but room in their mysterious economy for one inmate ; and that is, the absorbing sense of their own single and concentrated anguish. And so in that bed of torment, whereon the wounded animal lingers and expires, there is an unexplored depth and intensity of suffering which the poor dumb animal itself cannot tell, and against which it can offer no remonstrance ; an untold and un known amount of wretchedness, of which no articulate voice gives utterance. But there is an eloquence in its silence ; and the very shroud which disguises it, only serves to aggravate its horrors. We now come to the practical treatment of this question — to the right method of which, we hold the views that are now offered to be directly and obviously sub servient. First, then, upon this subject, we should hold no doubtful casuistry. We should ad vance no pragmatic or controversial doc trine. We should carefully abstain from all such ambiguous or questionable posi tions, as the unlawfulness of animal food, or the unlawfulness of animal experiments. We should not even deem it the right tac tics for this moral warfare, to take up the position of the unlawfulness of field-sports, or yet the unlawfulness of those competi tions, whether of strength or of speed, which at one time on the turf, and at an other in the ring, are held forth to the view of assembled spectators. We are aware that some of these positions are not so ques tionable, yet we should refrain from the elaboration of them ; for we hold, that this is not the way by which we shall most ef fectually make head against the existing cruelties of our land. The moral force by which our cause is to be advanced, does not lie even in the soundest categories of an ethical jurisprudence — and far less in the dogmata of any paltry sectarianism. We have almost as little inclination for the con troversy which respects animal food, as we have for the controversy about the eating of blood; and this, we repeat, is not the ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS 257 way by which the claims of the inferior animals are practically to be carried. To obtain the regards of man's heart in behalf of the lower animals, we should strive to draw the regards of his mind towards them. We should avail ourselves. of the close alliance that obtains between the re gards of his attention, and those of his sym pathy. For this purpose, we should im portunately ply him with the objects of suffering, and thus call up its respondent emotion of sympathy, that among the other objects which have hitherto engross ed his attention, and the other desires or emotions which have hitherto lorded it over the compassion of his nature and over- powcrel it, this last may at length be re stored to its legitimate play, and reinstated in all its legitimate pre-eminence over the other affections or appetites which belong to him. It affords a hopeful view of our cause, that so much can be done by the mere obtrusive presentation of the object to the notice of society. It is a comfort to know, that in this benevolent warfare we have to make head, not so much against the cruelty of the public, as against the heedlessness of the public ; that to hold forth a right view, is the way to call forth a right sensibility ; and, that to assail the seat of any emotion, our likeliest process is to make constant and conspicuous exhibi tion of the object which is fitted to awaken it. Our text, taken from the profoundest book of experimental wisdom in the world, keeps clear of every questionable or ca suistical doffina ; and rests the whole cause of the inferior animals on one moral ele ment, which is, in respect, of principle, and on one practical method, which is, in respect of efficacy, unquestionable: "A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast." Let a man be but righteous in the general and obvious sense of the word, and let the regard of his attention be but di rected to the case of the inferior animals, and then the regard of his sympathy will be awakened to the full extent at which it is either duteous or desirable. Still it may be asked to what extent will the duty go 1 and our reply is, that we had rather push the duty forward than be called upon to de fine the extreme termination of it. Yet we do not hesitate to say, that we foresee not aught so very extreme as the abolition of animal food ; but we do foresee the in definite abridgement of all that cruelty which subserves the gratifications of a base and -icifish epicurism. We think that a christian and humanized society will at length lift their prevalent voice, for the least possible expense of suffering to all the victims of a necessary slaughter — for a business of utmost horror being also a business of utmost despatch — for the blow, in short, of an instant extermination, that 33 not one moment might elapse between a state of pleasurable existence and a state of profound unconsciousness. Again, we do not foresee, but with the perfecting of the two sciences of anatomy and physio logy, the abolition of animal experiments but we do foresee a gradual, and, at length, a complete abandonment of the experiments of illustration, which are at present a thou sand-fold more numerous than the experi ments of humane discovery. As to field-sports, we for the present, ab stain from all prophecy, in regard, either to their growing disuse, or to the conclusive extinction of them. We are quite sure, in the mean time, that casuistry upon this subject would be altogether powerless ; and nothing could be imagined more keenly, or more energetically contemptuous, than the impatient, the impetuous disdain where with the enamoured votaries of this gay and glorious adventure wotdd listen to any demonstration of its unlawfulness. We shall therefore make no attempt to dogma tise them out of that fond and favourite amusement which they prosecute with all the intensity of a passion. It is not thus that the fascination will be dissipated. And, therefore, for the present, we should be in clined to subject the lovers of the chase, and the lovers of the prize-fight, to the same treatment, even as there exists be tween them, we are afraid, the affinity of a certain common or kindred character. There is, we have often thought, a kind of professional cast, a family likeness, by which the devotees of game, and of all sorts of stirring or hazardous enterprise admit of being recognized; the hue of a certain assimilating quality, although of various gradations, from the noted champions of the hunt, to the noted champions of the ring or of the racing-course ; a certain dash of moral outlawry, if I may use the ex pression, among all those children of high and heated adventure, that bespeaks them a distinct class in society, — a set of wild and wayward humourists, who have broken them loose from the dull regularities of life, and formed themselves into so many trusty and sworn brotherhoods, wholly given over to frolic, and excitement, and excess, in all their varieties. They compose a sepa rate and outstanding public among them selves, nearly arrayed in the same pictu resque habiliments — bearing most distinctly upon their countenance the same air of recklessness and hardihood — admiring the same feats of dexterity or danger — indulg ing the same tastes, even to their very literature — members of the same sporting society — readers of the same sporting ma gazine, whose strange medley of anecdotes gives impressive exhibition of that one and pervading characteristic for which we are contending; anecdotes of the chase, and 258 ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. anecdotes of the high-breathed or bloody contest, and anecdotes of the gaming-table, and, lastly, anecdotes of the high-way. We do not just affirm a precise identity be tween all the specimens or species in this very peculiar department of moral history. But, to borrow a phrase from natural his tory, we affirm, that there are transition processes, by which the one melts, and de moralises, and graduates insensibly into the other. What we have now to do with, is the cruelty of their respective entertain ments — a cruelty, however, upon which we could not assert, even of the very worst and most worthless among them, that they rejoice in pain, but that they are regardless of pain. It is not by the force of a mere ethical dictum, in itself, perhaps, unques tionable, that they will be restrained from their pursuits. But when transformed by the operation of unquestionable principle, into righteous and regardful men, they will spontaneously abandon them. Meanwhile, we try to help forward our cause, by forcing upon general regard, those sufferings which are now so unheeded and unthought of. And we look forward to its final triumph, as one of those results that will historically ensue, in the train of an awakened and a moralized society. The institution of a yearly sermon against cruelty to animals, is of itself a likely enough expedient, that might at least be of some auxiliary operation, along with other and more general causes, towards such an awakening. It is not by one, but by many successive appeals, that the, cause of justice and mercy to the brute creation will at length be practically carried. On this sub ject I cannot, within the limits of a single address, pretend to aught like a full or a finished demonstration. This might require not one, but a whole century of sermons ; and many therefore are the topics which necessarily I must bequeath to my succes sors, in this warfare against the listlessness and apathy of the public. And, beside the force and the impression of new topics, if there be any truth in our doctrine, there is a mighty advantage gained upon this sub ject of all others by the repetition of old topics. It is a subject on which the pub lic do not require so much to be instruct ed, as to be reminded ; to have the re gard of their attention directed again and again to the sufferings of poor helpless Creatures, that the regard of their sympathy might at length be effectually obtained for them. This then is a cause to which the institution of an anniversary pleading in its favour, is most precisely" and peculiarly adapted. And besides, we mustconfess, in the general, our partiality for a scheme that has originated the Boyle, and the Bampton, and the Warburtonian lectureships of England, with all the valuable authorship which has proceeded from them. An endowment for an annual discourse upon a given theme, is, we believe, a novelty in Scotland ; though it is to similar institutions that much of the best sacred and theological literature of our sister country is owing. We should rejoice if, in this our comparatively meagre and unbeneficed land, both these themes and these endowments were multiplied. We recommend this as a fit species of charity for the munificence of wealthy individuals. Whatever their selected argument shall be, whether that of cruelty to animals, or some one evidence of our faith, or the defence and illustration of a doctrine, or any distinct method of Christian philanthropy for the moral regeneration of our species, or aught else of those innumerable topics that lie situated within the reach and ample domain of that revelation which God has made to our world — we feel assured that such a movement must be responded to with bene ficial effect, both by the gifted pastors of our Church, and by the aspiring youths of greatest power or greatest promise among its candidates. Such institutions as these would help to quicken the energies of our establishment ; and through means of a sustained and reiterated effort, directed to some one great lesson, whether in theology or morals, they might impress, and thai more deeply every year, some specific and most salutary amelioration on the princi ples or the practices of general society. Yet ye are loath to quit our subject with out one appeal more in behalf of those poor sufferers, who, unable to advocate their own cause, possess, on that very account, a more imperative claim on the exertions of him who now stands as their advocate before you. And first, it may have been felt that, by the way in which we have attempted to resolve cruelty into its elements, we instead of launching rebuke against it, have only devised a palliation for its gross and shock ing enormity. But it is not so. It is true, we count the enormh^ to lie mainly in the heedlessness of pain ; but then we charge this foully and flagrantly enormous thing, not on the mere desperadoes and barbarians of our land, but on the men and the women of general, and even of cultivated and high bred society. Instead of stating cruelty to be what it is not, and then confining the imputation of it to the outcast few, we hold it better, and practically far more impor tant, to state what cruelty really is, and then fasten the imputation of it on the common place and the companionable many. Those outcasts to whom you would restrict the condemnation, are not at present within the reach of our voice. But you are ; and it lies with you to confer a ten-fold greater boon on the inferior creation, than if all barbarous sports, and all bloody experi- ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS 259 inents were forthwith put an end to. It is at the bidding of your collective will to save those countless myriads who are brought to the regular and the daily slaughter, all the difference between a gradual and an instant death. And there is a practice realized in every-day life, which you can put down —a practice which strongly reminds us of a ruder age that has long gone by ; — when even beauteous and high-born ladies could partake in the dance, and the song, and the festive chivalry of barbaric castles, unmind ful of all the piteous and the pining agony of dungeoned prisoners below. We charge a like unmindfulness on the present gene ration. We know not whether those wretch ed animals whose still sentient frameworks are under process of ingenious manufacture for the epicurism or the splendour of your coming entertainment, — we know not whe ther they are now dying by inches in your own subterranean keeps, or through the subdivided industry of our commercial age, are now suffering all the horrors of their protracted agony, in the prison-house of some distant street where this dreadful trade is carried on. But truly it matters nought to our argument, ye heedless sons and daughters of gaiety ! We speak not of the daily thousands who have to die that man may live; but of those thousands who have to die more painfully, just that man may live more luxuriously. We speak to you of the art and the mystery of the kill ing trade — from which it would appear, that not alone the delicacy of the food, but even its appearance, is, among the connois seurs of a refined epicurism, the matter of skilful and scientific computation. There is a sequence, it would appear — there is a sequence between an exquisite death, and an exquisite or a beautiful preparation of cookery ; and just in the ordinary way that art avails herself of the other sequences of philosophy, — the first term is made sure, that the second term might, according to the metaphysic order of causation, follow in its train. And hence, we are given to understand, hence the cold-blooded ingenui ties of that previous and preparatory tor ture which oft is undergone, both that man might be feasted with a finer relish, and that the eyes of man might be feasted and regaled with a finer spectacle. The atroci ties of a Majendie have been blazoned be fore the eye of a British public ; but this is worse in the fearful extent and magnitude of the evil — truly worse than a thousand Majendies. His is a cruel luxury, but it is the luxury of intellect. Yours is both a cruel and a sensual luxury : and you have posi tively nought to plead for it but the most worthless and ignoble appetites of our nature. But, secondly, and if possible to secure your kindness for our cause, let me, in the act of drawing these lengthened observa tions to a close, offer to your notice the bright and the beautiful side of it. I would bid you think of all that fond and pleasant imagery, which is associated even with the lower animals, when they become the ob jects of a benevolent care, which at length ripens into a strong and cherished affection for them — as when the worn-out hunter is permitted to graze, and be still the favourite of all the domestics through the remaiiyler of his life ; or the old and shaggy house dog, that has now ceased to be serviceable, is nevertheless sure of its regular meals, and a decent funeral ; or when an adopted in mate of the household is claimed as pro perty, or as the object of decided partiality, by some one or other of the children ; or, finally, when in the warmth and comfort of the evening fire, one or more of these home animals take their part in the living groupe that is around it, and their very presence serves to complete the picture of a blissful and smiling family. Such relationships with the inferior creatures, supply many of our finest associations of tenderness, and give, even to the heart of man, some of its simplest yet sweetest enjoyments. He even can-find in these some compensation for the dread and the disquietude wherewith his bosom is agitated amid the fiery conflicts of infuriated men. When he retires from the stormy element of debate, and exchanges, for the vindictive glare, and the hideous dis cords of that outcry which he encounters among his fellows, — when these are ex changed for the honest welcome and the guileless regards of those creatures who gambol at his feet, he feels that even in the society of the brutes, in whose hearts there is neither care nor controversy, he can sur round himself with a better atmosphere far, than in that which he breathes among the companionships of his own species. Here he can rest himself from the fatigues of that moral tempest which has beat upon him so violently ; and, in the play of kindliness with these poor irrationals, his spirit can forget for awhile all the injustice and fe rocity of their boasted lords. But this is only saying, that our subject is connected with the pleasures of senti ment. And therefore, in the third and last place, we have to offer it as our concluding observation, that it is also connected with the principles of deepest sacredness. It may be thought by some that we have wasted the whole of this Sabbath morn, on what may be ranked among but the lesser morali ties of human conduct. But there is one aspect, in which it may be regarded as more profoundly and more peculiarly religious than any one virtue which reciprocates, or is of mutual operation among the fellows of the same species. It is a virtue which oversteps, as it were, the limits of a species, and which, in this instance, prompts a de- 260 ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. scending movement, on our part, of righ teousness and mercy towards those who have an inferior place to ourselves in the scale of creation. The lesson of this day is not the circulation of benevolence within the limits of one species. It is the trans mission of it from one species to another. The first is but the charity of a world. The second is the charity of a universe. Had there been no such charity, no descending current of love and of liberality from spe cies to species, what, I ask, should have become of ourselves'? Whence have we learned this attitude of lofty unconcern about the creatures who are beneath us ? Not from those ministering spirits who wait upon the heirs of salvation. Not from those angels who circle the throne of heaven, and make all its arches ring with joyful har mony, when but one sinner of this prostrate world turns his footsteps towards them. Not from that mighty and mysterious visi tant, who unrobed Him of all his glories, and bowed down his head unto the sacri fice, and still, from the seat of his now ex alted mediatorship, pours forth his interces sions and his calls in behalf of the race he died for. Finally, not from the eternal Father of all, in the pavilion of whose resi dence there is the golden treasury of all those bounties and beatitudes that roll over the face of nature, and from the footstool of whose empyreal throne there reaches a golden chain of providence to the very humblest of his family. He who hath given his angels charge concerning us, means that the tide of beneficence should pass from order to order, through all the ranks of his magnificent creation ; and we ask, is it with man that this goodly provi sion is to terminate— or shall he, with all his sensations of present blessedness, and all his visions of future glory let down upon him from above, shall he turn him selfishly and scornfully away from the rights of those creatures whom God hath placed in dependence under him? We know that the cause of poor and unfriended animals has many an obstacle to contend with in the dif ficulties or the delicacies of legislation. But we shall ever deny that it is a theme be neath the dignity of legislation ; or that the nobles and the senators of our land sloop to a cause which is degrading, when. in the imitation of heaven's high clemency, they look benignly downward on these humble and helpless sufferers. Ere we can admit this, we must forget the whole economy of our blessed gospel. We must forget the legislations and the cares of the upper sanctuary in behalf of our fallen species. We must forget that the redemp tion of our world is suspended on an act of jurisprudence which angels desired to look into, and for effectuating which, the earth we tread upon was honoured by the- foot steps, not of angel or of archangel, but of God manifest in the flesh. The distance upward between us and that mysterious Being, who let himself down from heaven's high concave upon our lowly platform, sur passes by infinity the distance downward between us and every thing that breathes. And He bowed himself thus far for the pur pose of an example, as well as for the pur pose of an expiation; that every Christian might extend his compassionate regards over the whole of sentient and suffering na ture. The high court of Parliament is not degraded by its attentions and its cares in behalf of inferior creatures, else Die Sanc tuary of Heaven h*is been degraded by its counsels in behalf of the world we occupy, and in the execution of which the Lord of heaven himself relinquished the highest seat of glory in the universe, and went forth to sojourn for a time on this outcast and accursed territory. SERMONS PREACHED IN ST. JOHN'S CHURCH, GLASGOW. PREFACE. The following Sermons are of too miscellaneous a character to be arranged ac cording to the succession of their topics, and they are, therefore, presented to the reader as so many compositions that are almost wholly independent of each other. Two of the Sermons treat of Predestination, and the Sin against the Holy Ghost. There are topics of a highly speculative character, in the system of Christian Doctrine, which it is exceedingly difficult to manage, without interesting the curiosity rather than the conscience of the reader. And yet, it is from their fitness of application to the conscience, that they derive their chief right to appear in a volume of Sermons ; and I should not have ventured any publication upon either of these doctrines, did I not think them capable of being so treated as to subserve the great interests of practical godliness. The Sermons all relate to topics that I hold to be strictly congregational, with the exception of the thirteenth and fourteenth in the volume, which belong rather to Christian Economies, than to Christian Theology — to the " outer things of the house of God," rather than to the things of the sanctuary, or the intimacies of the spiritual life. I, perhaps, ought therefore to apologize for the appearance of these two in a volume of Congregational Sermons, and yet I have been led by experi ence to feel the religious importance of their subject, and I think that much injury has been sustained by the souls of our people, from the neglect of obvious princi ples both in the business of education, and in the business of public charity. I have, however, more comfort in discussing this argument from the press, than from the pulpit, which ought to be kept apart for loftier themes, and which seems to suffer a sort of desecration when employed as the vehicle for any thing else than the overtures of pardon to the sinner, and the hopes and duties of the believer. SERMON I. The Constancy of God in His Works an Argument for the Faithfulness of God m His Word. " For ever, O Lord, thy word is settled in heaven. Thy faithfulness is unto all generations : thou hast esta blished the earth, and it abideth. They continue this day according to thy ordinances: for all are thy servants." — Psalm cxix. 89, 90, 91. In these verses there is affirmed to be an analogy between the word of God and the works of God. It is said of his word, that it is settled in heaven, and that it sustains its faithfulness from one generation to another. It is said of his works, and more especially of those that are immediately around us, even of the earth which we inhabit, that as it was established at the first so it abideth afterwards. And then, as if to perfect the assimilation between them, it is said of both in the 91st verse, " They continue this day according to thine ordinances, for all are thy servants;" thereby identifying the sure- ness of that word which proceeded from his lips, with the unfailing constancy of that Nature which was formed and is upholden by his hands. 371 262 THE CONSTANCY OF GOD IN HIS WORKS [SERM. The constancy of Nature is taught by universal experience, and even strikes the popular eye as the most characteristic of those features which have been impressed upon her. It may need the aid of philosophy to learn how unvarying Nature is in all her processes — how even her seeming anomalies can be traced to a law that is inflexible — how what might appear at first to be the caprices of her waywardness, are, in fact, the evolutions of a mechanism that never changes — and that the more thoroughly she is sifted and put to the test by the interroga tions of the curious, the more certainly will they find that she walks by a rule which knows no abatement, and perseveres with obedient footstep in that even course, from which the eye of strictest scrutiny, has never yet detected one hair-breadth of deviation. It is no longer doubted by men of science, that every remaining semblance of irregu larity in the universe is due, not to the fickleness of Nature, but to the ignorance of man — that her most hidden movements are conducted with a uniformity as rigorous as fate — that even the fitful agitations of the weather have their law and their principle — that the intensity of every breeze, and the number of drops in every shower, and the formation of every cloud, and all the occur ring alternations of storm and sunshine, and the endless shiftings of temperature, and those tremulous varieties of the air which our instruments have enabled us to discover, but have not enabled us to explain — that still, they follow each other by a method of succession, which, though greatly more in tricate, is yet as absolute in itself as the order of the seasons or the mathematical courses of astronomy. This is the impres sion of every philosoph. al mind with re gard to Nature, and it is strengthened by each new accession that is made to science. The more we are acquainted with her, the more are we led to recognise her constancy ; and to view her as a mighty though com plicated machine, all whose results are sure, and all whose workings are invariable. But there is enough of patent and palpa ble regularity in Nature, to give also to the popular mind, the same impression of her constancy. There is a gross and general experience that teaches the same lesson, and that has lodged in every bosom a kind of secure and steadfast confidence in the uni formity of her processes. The very child knows and proceeds upon it. He is aware of an abiding character and property in the elements around him— and has already learned as much of the fire, and the water, and the food that he eats, and the firm ground that he treads upon, and even of the gravitation by which he must regulate his postures and his movements, as to prove, that infant though he be, he is fully initiated in the doctrine, that Nature has her laws and her ordinances, and that she continueth therein. And the proofs of this are ever multiplying along the journey of human observation: insomuch, that when we come to manhood, we read of Nature's constancy throughout every department of the visible world. It meets us wherever we turn our eyes. Both the day and the night bear wit ness to it. The silent revolutions of the firmament give it their pure testimony. Even those appearances in the heavens, at which superstition stood aghast, and ima gined that Nature was on the eve of giving way, are the proudest trophies of that sta bility which reigns throughout her pro cesses — of that unswerving consistency wherewith she prosecutes all her move ments. And the lesson that is thus held forth to us from the heavens above, is re sponded to by the earth below ; just as the tides of ocean wait the footsteps of the moon, and, by an attendance kept up with out change or intermission for thousands of years, would seem to connect the regularity of earth with the regularity of heaven. But, apart from these greater and simpler ener gies, we see a course and a uniformity every where. We recognise it in the mysteries of vegetation. We follow it through the suc cessive stages of growth, and maturity, and decay, both in plants and animals. We dis cern it still more palpably in that beautiful circulation of the element of water, as it rolls its way by many thousand channels to the ocean — and, from the surface of this expanded reservoir, is again uplifted to the higher regions of the atmosphere — and is there dispersed in light and fleecy maga zines over the four quarters of the globe-— and at length accomplishes its orbit, by fall ing in showers on a world that waits to be refreshed by it. And all goes to impress us with the regularity of Nature, which in fact teems, throughout all its varieties, with power, and principle, and uniform laws of operation — and is viewed by us as a vast laboratory, all the progressions of which have a rigid and unfailing necessity stamped upon them. Now, this contemplation has at times served to foster the atheism of philosophers It has led them to deify Nature, and to make her immutability stand in the place of God. They seem impressed with the imagination, that had the Supreme Cause been a being who thinks, and wills, and acts as man does, on the impulse of a felt and a present mo tive, there would be, more the appearance of spontaneous activity, and less of mute and unconscious mechanism in the admi nistrations of the universe. It Is the very unchangeableness of Nature and the stead fastness of those great and mighty processes wherewith no living power that is superior to Nature, and is able to shift or to control her, is seen to interfere — it is this which !•] AN ARGUMENT FOR HIS FAITHFULNESS IN HIS WORD. 263 seems to have impressed the notion of some blind and eternal fatality on certain men of loftiest but deluded genius. And, accord ingly, in France, where the physical sciences have, of late, been the most cultivated, have there also been the most daring avowals of atheism. The universe has been affirmed to be an everlasting and indestructible effect; and from the abiding constancy that is seen in Nature, through all her departments, have they inferred, that thus it has always been, and that thus it will ever be. But this atheistical impression that is de rived from the constancy of Nature, is not peculiar to the disciples of philosophy. It is the familiar and tbe practical impression of every-day life. The world is apprehended to move on steady and unvarying principles of his own; and these secondary causes have usurped, in man's estimation, the throne of the Divinity. Nature in fact is personified into God: and as we look to the performance of a machine without thinking of its maker, — so the very exactness and certainty, wherewith the machinery of creation performs its evolutions, has thrown a disguise over the agency of the Creator. Should God interpose by miracle, or inter fere by some striking and special manifesta tion of providence, then man is awakened to the recognition of him. But he loses sight of the Being who sits behind these visible elements, while he regards those attributes of constancy and power which appear in the elements themselves. They see no demonstration of a God, and they feel no need of him, while such unchanging, and such unfailing energy continues to ope rate in the visible world around them ; and we need not go to the schools of ratiocina tion in quest of this infidelity, but may de tect it in the bosoms of simple and unlet tered men, who, unknown to themselves, make a god of Nature, and just because of Nature's constancy ; having no faith in the unseen Spirit who originated all and up holds all, and that, because all things con tinue as they were from the beginning of the creation. Such has been the perverse effect of Na ture's constancy on the alienated mind of man : but let us now attend to the true in terpretation of it. God has, in the first in stance, put into our minds a disposition to count on the uniformity of Nature, insomuch that we universally look for a recurrence of the same event in the same circumstances. This is not merely the belief of experience, but the belief of instinct. It is antecedent to all the findings of observation, and may be exemplified in the earliest stages of child hood. The infant who makes a noise on the table with his hand, for the first time, anti cipates a repetition of the noise from a re petition of the stroke, with as much confi dence as he who has witnessed, for years together, the invariableness wherewith these two terms of the succession have followed each other. Or, in other words, God, by putting this faith into every human crea ture, and making it a necessary part of his mental constitution, has taught him at all times to expect the like result in the like circumstances. He has thus virtually told him what is to happen, and what he has to look for in every given condition — and by its so happening accordingly, he just makes good the veracity of his own declaration. The man who leads me to expect that which he fails to accomplish, I would hold to be a deceiver. God has so framed the machinery of my perceptions, as that I am led irresistibly to expect, that every where events will follow each other in the very train in which I have ever been accustomed to observe them — and when God so sustains the uniformity of Nature, that in every in stance it is rigidly so, he is just manifesting the faithfulness of his character. Were it otherwise, he would be practising a mock ery on the expectation which he himself had inspired. God may be said to have pro mised to every human being, that Nature will be constant — if not by the whisper of an inward voice to every heart, at least by the force of an uncontrollable bias which he has impressed on every constitution. So that, when we behold Nature keeping by its constancy, we behold the God of Nature keeping by bis faithfulness — and the system of visible things, with its general laws, and its successions which are invariable, instead of an opaque materialism to intercept from the view of mortals the face of the Divinity, becomes the mirror which reflects upon them the truth that is unchangeable, the ordination that never fails. Conceive that it had been otherwise — first, that man had no faith in the constancy of Nature — then how could all his experi ence have profited him'? How could he have applied the recollections of his past, to the guidance of his future history? And. what would have been left to signalize the wisdom of mankind above that of veriest infancy? Or, suppose that he had the im plicit faith in Nature's constancy, but that Nature was wanting in the fulfilment of it — that at every moment his intuitive reliance on this constancy, was met by some caprice or waywardness of Nature, which thwarted him in all his undertakings — that, instead of holding true to her announcements, she held the children of men in most distressful uncertainty, by the freaks and the falsities in which she ever indulged herself— and that every design of human foresight was thus liable to be broken up, by ever and anon the putting forth of some new fluctua tion. Tell me, in this wild misrule of ele ments changing their properties, and events ever flitting from one method of succession 264 THE CONSTANCY OF GOD IN HIS WORKS [SERM. to another, if man could subsist for a single day, when all the accomplishments without, were thus at war with all the hopes and calculations within. In such a chaos and conflict as this, would not the foundations of human wisdom be utterly subverted? Would not man, with his powerful and per petual tendency to proceed on the constancy of Nature, be tempted, at all times, and by the very constitution of his being, to pro ceed upon a falsehood ? It were the way, in fact, to turn the administration of Nature into a system of deceit. The lessons of to day, would be falsified by the events of to morrow. He were indeed the father of lies who could be the author of such a regimen as this — and well may we rejoice in the strict order of the goodly universe which we inhabit, and regard it as a noble attesta tion to the wisdom and beneficence of its great Architect. But it is more especially as an evidence of his truth, that the constancy of Nature is adverted to in our text. It is of his faithful ness unto all generations that mention is there made — and for the growth and the discipline of your piety, we know not a bet ter practical habit than that of recognising the unchangeable truth of God, throughout your daily and hourly experience of Na ture's unchangeableness. Your faith in it is of his working — and what a condition would you have been reduced to, had the faith which is within, not been met by an entire and unexpected accordancy with the fulfilments that are without ! He has not told you what to expect by the utterance of a voice — but he has taught you what to ex pect by the leadings and the intimations of a strong constitutional tendency — and, in virtue of this, there is not a human creature who does not believe, and almost as firmly as in his own existence, that fire will con tinue to burn, and water to cool, and matter to resist, and unsupported bodies to fall, and ocean to bear the adventurous vessel upon its surface, and the solid earth to uphold the tread of his footsteps ; and that spring will appear again in her wonted smiles, and summer will glow into heat and brilliancy, and autumn will put on the same luxuri ance as before, and winter, at its stated pe riods, revisit the world with her darkness and her storms. We cannot sum up those countless varieties of Nature; but the firm expectation is, that, throughout them all, as she has been established, so she will abide to the day of her final dissolution. And I call upon you to recognise in Nature's con stancy, the answer of Nature's God to this expectation. All these material agents are, in fact, the organs by which he expresses his faithfulness to the world; and that un- veering generality which reigns and con tinues every where, is but the perpetual demonstration of a truth that never varies, as well as of laws that never are rescinded. It is for us that he upholds the world in all its regularity. It is for us that he sustains so inviolably the march and the movement of those innumerable progressions which are going on around us. It is in remem brance of his promises to us, that he meets all our anticipations of Nature's uniformity, with the evolutions of a law that is unal terable. It is because he is a God that can not lie, that he will make no invasion on that wondrous correspondency which he himself hath instituted between the world that is without, and our little world of hopes, and projects, and anticipations that are within. By the constancy of Nature, he hath imprinted upon it the lesson of his own constancy — and that very character istic wherewith some would fortify the un godliness of their hearts, is the most im pressive exhibition which can be given of God, as always faithful, and always the same. This, then, is the real character which the constancy of Nature should lead us to assign to him who is the Author of it. In every human understanding, he hath planted a universal instinct, by which all are led to believe that Nature will persevere in her wonted courses, and that each succession of cause and effect which has been observed by us in the time that is past, will, while the world exists, be kept up invariably, and recur in the very same order through the time that is to come. This constancy, then, is as good as a promise that he has made unto all men, and all that is around us on earth or in heaven, proves how inflexibly the promise is adhered to. The chemist in his laboratory, as he questions Nature, may be almost said to put her to the torture. when tried in his hottest furnace, or probed by his searching analysis, to her innermost arcana, she, by a spark, or an explosion, or an effervescence, or an evolving substance, makes her distinct replies to his investiga tions. And he repeats her answer to all his fellows in philosophy, and they meet in academic state and judgment to reiterate the question, and in every quarter of the globe her answer is the same — so that, let the experiment, though a thousand times repeated, only be alike in all its circum stances, the result which cometh forth is as rigidly alike, without deficiency, and with out deviation. We know how possible it is for these worshippers at the footstool of science, to make a divinity of matter; and that every new discovery of her secrets should only rivet them more devotedly to her throne. But there is a God who liveth and sitteth there, and these unvarying re sponses of Nature are all prompted by him self, and are but the utterances of his im mutability. They are the replies of a God who never changes, and who hath adapted 1.1 AN ARGUMENT FOR HIS FAITHFULNESS IN HIS WORD. 265 the whole materialism of creation to the constitution of every mind that he hath sent forth upon it. And to meet the expectation which he himself hath given of Nature's constancy, is he at each successive instant of time, vigilant and ready in every part of his vast dominions, to hold out to the eye of all observers, the perpetual and unfailing demonstration of it. The certainties of Na ture and of Science are, in fact, the vocables by which God announces his truth to the world— and when told how impossible it is that Nature can fluctuate, we are only told how impossible it is that the God of Nature can deceive us. The doctrine that Nature is constant, when thus related, as it ought to be, with the doctrine that God is true, might well strengthen our confidence in him anew with every new experience of our history. There is not an hour or a moment, in which we may not verify the one — and, therefore, not an hour or a moment in which we may not invigorate the other. Every touch, and every look, and every taste, and every act of converse between our senses and the things that are without, brings home a new demonstration of the steadfastness of Na ture, and along with it a new demonstration both of his steadfastness and of his faithful ness, who is the Governor of Nature. And the same lesson may be fetched from times and from places, that are far beyond the limits of our own personal history. It can be drawn fom the retrospect of past ages, where, from the unvaried currency of those very processes which we now behold, we may learn the stability of all his ways, whose goings forth are of old, and from everlasting. It can be gathered from the most distant extremities of the earth, where Nature reigns with the same unwearied constancy, as it does around us — and where savages count as we do on a uniformity, trom which she never falters. The lesson is commensurate with the whole system of things — and with an effulgence as broad as the face of creation, and as clear as the light which is poured over it, does it at once tell that Nature is unchangeably constant, and that God is unchangeably true. And so it is, that in our text there are presented together, as if there was a tie of likeness between them — that the same God who is fixed as to the ordinances of Nature, is faithful as to the declaration of his word; and as all experience proves how firmly he may be trusted for the one, so is there an argument as strong as experience, to prove how firmly he may be trusted for the other. Uy his work in us, he hath awakened the expectation of a constancy in Nature, which he never disappoints. By his word to us, should he awaken the expectation of a certainty in his declarations, this he will never disappoint. It is because Nature is 34 so fixed, that we apprehend the God of Na ture to be so faithful. He who never falsifies the hope that hath arisen in every bosom, from the instinct, which he himself hath communicated, will never falsify the hope that shall arise in any bosom from the ex press utterance of his voice. Were he a God in whose hand the processes of Nature were ever shifting, then might we conceive him a God from whose mouth the proclamations of grace had the like characters of variance and vacillation. But it is just because of our reliance on the one, that we feel so much of repose in our dependence upon the other — and the same God who is so unfail ing in the ordinances of his creation, do we hold to be equally unfailing in the ordi nances of his word. And it is strikingly accordant with these views, that Nature never has been known to recede from her constancy, but for the purpose of giving place and demonstration to the authority of the word. Once, in a season of miracle, did the word take the precedency of Nature, but ever since hath Nature resumed her courses, and is now proving by her steadfastness, the authority of that, which she then proved to be au thentic by her deviations. When the word was first ushered in, Nature gave way for a period, after which she moves in her wonted order, till the present system of things shall pass away, and that faith which is now upholden by Nature's constancy, shall then receive its accomplishment at Nature's dissolution. And O, how God mag- nifieth his word above all his name, when he tells that heaven and earth shall pass away, but that his word shall not pass away — and that while his creation shall become a wreck, not one jot or one tittle of his testimony shall fail. The world passeth away — but the word endureth for ever — and if the faithfulness of God stand forth so legibly on the face of the temporary world, how surely may we reckon on the faithful ness of that word, which has a vastly higher place in the counsels and fulfilments of eternity. The argument may not be comprehended by all, but it will not be lost, should it lead any to feel a more emphatic certainty and meaning than before, in the declarations of the Bible — and to conclude, that he who for ages hath stood so fixed to all his plans and purposes in Nature, will stand equally fixed to all that he proclaims, and to all that he promises in Revelation. To be in the hands of such a God, might well strike a terror into the hearts of the guilty — and that un relenting death, which, with all the sureness of an immutable law, is seen, before our eyes, to seize upon every individual of every species of our world, full well evinces how he, the uncompromising Lawgiver, will ex ecute every utterance that he has made 266 THE C0NS1ANCY OF GOD IN HIS WORKS [SERM. against the children of iniquity. And, on the other hand, how this very contempla tion ought to encourage all who are looking to the announcements of the same God in the Gospel, and who perceive that there he has embarked the same truth, and the same unchangeableness on the offers of mercy. All Nature gives testimony to this, that he cannot lie — and seeing that he has stamped such enduring properties on the elements even of our perishable world, never should I falter from that confidence which he hath taught me to feel, when I think of that pro perty wherewith the blood which was shed for me, cleanseth from all sin ; and of that property wherewith the body which was broken, beareth the burden of all its penal ties. He who hath so nobly met the faith that he has given unto all in the constancy of Nature, by a uniformity which knows no abatement, will meet the faith that he has given unto any in the certainty of grace, by a fulfilment unto every believer, which knows no exception. And it is well to remark the difference that there is between the explanation given in the text, of Nature's constancy, and the impression which the mere students or disciples of Nature have of it. It is because of her constancy that they have been led to invest her, as it were, in properties of her own ; that they have given a kind of in dependent power and stabiny to matter; that in the various energies which lie scat tered over the field of visible contemplation, they see a native inherent virtue, which never for a single moment is slackened or suspended — and therefore imagine, that as no force from without seems necessary to sustain, so as little, perhaps, is there need for any such force from without to originate. The mechanical certainty of all Nature's processes, as it appears in their eyes to supersede the demand for any upholding agency, so does it also supersede, in the silent imaginations of many, and according to the express and bold avowals of some, the demand for any creative agency. It is thus, that Nature is raised into a divinity, and has been made to reign over all, in the state and jurisdiction of an eternal fatalism; and proud Science, which by ¦ wisdom knoweth not God, hath in her march of discovery, seized upon the invariable cer tainties of Nature, those highest chara ,,er- istics of his authority and wisd in and truth, as the instruments by wh.cn to dis prove and to dethrone him. Now compare this interpretation of mon strous and melancholy atheism, with that which the Bible gives, why all things move so invariably. It is because that all are thy servants. It is because they are all under the bidding of a God who has purposes from which he never falters, and hath is sued promises from which he never fails. It is because the arrangements of his vast and capacious household are already order ed for the best, and all the elements of Na ture are the ministers by which he fulfils them. That is the master who has most honour and obedience from his domestics throughout all whose ordinations there runs a consistency from which he never devi ates; and he best sustains his dignity in the midst of them, who, by mild but resist less sway, can regulate the successions of every hour, and affix his sure and appropri ate service to every member of the family. It is when we see all, in any given time, at their respective places, and each dis tinct period of the day having its own distinct evolution of business or recreation, that we infer the wisdom of tlie instituted government, and how irrevocable the sanc tions are by which it is upholden. The vexatious alternations of command and of countermand ; the endless fancies of hu mour, and caprice, and waywardness, which ever and anon break forth, to the total overthrow of system ; the perpetual in- , novations which none do foresee, and fol which none, therefore, can possibly be pre pared — these are not more harassing to the subject, than they are disparaging to the truth and authority of the superior. It is in the bosom of a well-conducted fa mily, where you witness the sure dispensa tion of all the reward and encouragement which have been promised, and the unfail ing execution of the disgrace and the di?- missal that are held forth to obstinate dis obedience. Now those very qualities ol which this uniformity is the test and the characteristic in the government of any human society, of these also is it the test and the characteristic in the government of Nature. It bespeaks the wisdom, and the authority, and the truth of him who framed and who administers. Let there be a King eternal, immortal, and invisible, and let this universe be his empire — and in all the rounds of its complex but unerring mechan ism, do I recognise him as the only wise God. In the constancy of Nature, do I read the constancy and truth of that great master Spirit, who hath imprinted his own charac ter on all that hath emanated from his power; and when told that throughout the mighty lapse of centuries, all the courses both of earth and of heaven, h