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D. : CLERGTM A?r OP THE NATIONAL RSTABMKHBD CRVltCa Of M0!^N^( FORMERLT OF THE UNITERtlTT 0» BDINHUKOH, AMD NOVT MIN'UTKR OP »T. ANOREw's, IN THE CITT OV IT. MH|f| rROVINCE OP NEW BRIINtWICK, ;,. >' "; BRITISH NORTB AMERICA, * t SAINT JOHN, NEW BRUNSWICK. • • ' PRINTED BT WILLIAM HETNOLD* AND CO. AT THE ITAR OPPlCfe« CORNER OF VRINie WILLIAM AND CUURCII ITHEBT*. - v VV.\'' i ' ' ', \ 1820. olec f i G32_(o ^ -' '.i i T ■#■■ % ••.T::'rr \t P X . >'v »•: : ' tr tv N '■V..V ./, W ^ ^X^>^ ■ >^- .V- f if f »>./■• V' ii<: "i . •> ,•). #»« *h «. • ' » .1 ii'.l t ( s *. k/ J.'J * V- . •*■■■,' i Mi'i .» .: (*■> H' ■'* t*» »H W H > » l ««! ^f.. f-./.. .:. /y t 111 < .ii<.' fr« 'I -v-rj .'■^ .'■>'>.' f I . I i:0 HIS EXCELLENCY THE RIGHT HaXOURABLB ... „,;.,, , LIEUTENANT GENERAL. »->**> * ? GEORGE, EARL OF DALHOUSIE, CAPTAIN GENERAL AND GdTERNOR IV CHIEF, IN AND OVER HIS majesty's PROVINCES, ISLANDS, AND Dfc- .. PEVDENCIES, IN BRITISH NORTH AMEBIC.i, , • i • • ' &c. &c. &c. >-"• 5 Sly r'i f< ' i."i > M ' ♦)• >*JJ< 'I } ; 't'v 'i'^ My Lord, * The erilio^htened attachment to the Church of Scotland,, which has ever dis- tinguished your Noble House, and which so well fitted your illustrious Fatliet for the discharge of those high and im|x>rtant du- ties to which he was called as Representa- tive of our late Most Gracious Sovereign in the General As.sembly of the Church, — the excellence of those prhiciples which Your Lordship was taught in early life, and which have shewn their influence in a firm and manly regard to that EcclesiavStical Constitution which is {lie faithful guardian, at once, of the intellectual, moral, and re- ligious character of the Scottish population, — the dignified and important political re- lation in which you now stand to that Province of His Majesty's Dominions in DEDv:A^rioN. i: \ \rbich my lot is cast ;-"-4hese, iiidependeiA of otlM?r considerations, would have induced ine to.i?end forth tlii^ Vv>lume to the world, under the patronage of Your Lordship's n^nie. In addition, however, to these cir- cumstances of a pubhc and general natiire, various retfsons of a private but no less in- teresting character, have strengthened your claims to this humble tribute of respect. Be assured, my l/ord, that I regard myself as peculiarly fortunate in having this op- pprtunity of publicly acknowledging tliat partiality^ of IJ*iendship with which you have been pleased to honor me since my first arrival in a land of strangers, the very flattenng terms in which you were pleased to allow Your Lordship's name to be asso- ciated with these imperfect qompositions, the esteem which I entertain for your public dnd private virtues, and the sincerity witli which I haye the honor to be, .,, j, ,^,. ,,, ,». ,\.' ': ■ TVfy Lord,. ,- "••;>• Jl""*> Your Lordship's most obedient and ,., , , Most grateful Servant, i j»M GEORGE BURNS. rnlln- i )-■ • ' ^ ir.*:; S^nisr /o//iV, Nezs Brunszsickf Jun (J I, 1820. »t CONTENTS. LECTURE I. . , TUG CURE OF THE FARALYTICK. Matthew ix. 1-*-9. *' And he entered into a ship, and pass- ed over, and came into his own city," &c 17 ^ .LECTURE IL ^,, ,v^ THE SYROPUENICIAN SUPPLIANTi. _ ^ Matthew xv. 21 — 29. " Then Jesus went thence, and de« parted into the coasts of Tyre and Sidon," &&. 45 LECTURE III. THE WIDOW OF NAIV. Luke vii. 1 1 — 18. '' And it came to pass the day after, that he MTeut into a city called Naiu,*' &c 71 LECTURE IV. *" ^" THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS. Luke xvi. 19, .id. (in. <' There was a certain rich man, which was clothed in purple, and tine linen, and fared aumptuously every day," &c -90 LECTURE V. THE CONVFRSroW OP THE JAILER. Acts xvi. 25 — 35. " And at midnight Paul and Silas prayed, and sang praises unto God, and the prisoners heard them," &c 1 la A ! II •ONtENTS. SERMON I. INTELLECTUAL OIFFIDENCI. Proverbs hi. 5. <' Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not to thine own understanding." 153 SERMON II. 1>RACTICAL INFIDELITY. PtfALM X. 13. '^ Wherefore do the wicked contemn God?" 174 >> SERMON III. THE SYMPATHY OF ANGELS. Luke xv. 10. " There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." 211 %■ SERMON IV. ACTIVE GOODNESS. lEccLEs. IX. 10. " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might : for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, w^hither thou goest." 'iSl SERMON V. " . - THE PROGRESS OF VICE. IL Kings, viii. 13. "And TTazael said, But what! is thy servant a dog that he should do this great thing ?" . . . .255 SERMON VI. christian OBEDIENCE A SOURCE OF HAPPINESS. Psalm cxix. 165. ** Great peace have they which love thy ' law." 279 CONTENTS. Ill thy SERMON VII. TUE EXTENT AND OBLIGATIONS OF CHRISTIAN BIORAMTY. Cuui.vTiiiANs VI. 19, 20. "What! know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own ? For ye are bought with a price : therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God*^ '.f-*t These remarks concerning the difficulties witW which the preacher has to struggle — the dignity of his matter — and the importance of his object/ —are intended at once to disarm criticism, and' to impress on the public mind the general truth, that the publisher of pulpit discourses has less need of apology than any one who appears in the character of an author. On the one hand, the art of pulpit eloquence is of such difficult attainment that very high expectations ought not to be formed in any instance, and the critic should, in every case, be sparing of his censures. On the other hand, the subjects of which the divine is called to treat, are so hi^rh- ly important and interesting to all classes of so- ciety, that little is required of him in the way of apology for pressing them on the attention' PREFACE. > i' of mankind. But as various degrees of ability are sbe\vii in the way of illustrating tbe same truths^ and as many are required to instruct tbeir fellow ereatures from the pulpit who haye no call to address them through the medium of the press^ the author of the following discours- es feels it to be a duty owing to himself^ to state some of tbe reasons which induced him to send forth to the worlds compositions which were never designed to meet the public eye, and which have no intrinsic merits to secure them a favourable reception. Besides the general wish to be more extensively useful than any indivi- dual minister can be by the necessarily limited, instructions of one day in seveii^ he was induced to give these discourses publicity^ by circum- stances entirely of a local nature, and altoge- ther distinct from the qualities of the produc- tions themselves. Honoured to be the first and sole clergyman in this Province, of the North British Church, he felt himself placed in a situ- ation of considerable responsibility, and no lit- tle difficulty. Men generally form their opini- ons of a body or society of Christians from the first and only specimen they have been called to witness, and until a religious creed has been heard, rationally, intelligibly, and practically explained, it is extremely liable to be niisun- derst«Mid and misrepresented. Impressed with PREFACE. « these considerations, the writer of the follow- ing pages was solicitous^ not onlj to give, from the pulpit a fair view of the principles main* tained in the standards of that Church to which he belongs, but also to extend and perpetuate the knowledge of these principles in this more tangible and permanent form. He is persuaded that, however defective his statements may be, there is not one doctrine maintained in this vo- lume, which a conscientious Scottish Church- man will be ashamed to avow and defend. ISfysterious subjects, not essential to salvation, have been studiously avoided, but the doctrines of the guilt and depravity of man by nature — the Trinity — the Atonement — the Divinity of Christ — the efiicacy of his righteousness as the sole ground of hope — the influences of the Holy Spirit, &c. are unequivocally recognised ; and the author hesitates not to apply to each of these doctrines the words of Luther, in refer- ence to one of the most important, — ''Arti- culus $;tantis aut cadentis ecclesia;.** ' ^ Another circumstance had weight with the author in forming his resolution to commit these pages to the press. In consequence of the in- fant state of this Colony, and the very inade- quate provision made for the moral and religi^' ous improvement of its inhabitants, the lauda- ble practice of assembling together on Sundays Ill PREFACE. H ,M) "' i I !.« ^' for social worship, has been- introduced among' private Christians in different parts of the Pro- vince. On these occasions, prayers are offered up, psalms or hymns are sung*, and a sermon is generally read from an approved author. That this volume, produced in the Province, may be acceptable and useful to such humble worship- pers, is the sincere desire, and earnest prayer, of the author.^ A few Lectures are inserted along with these Sermons, for the sake of variety, and, if possi- ble, to bring into more general estimation, a species of composition which possesses advanta- ges peculiar to itself. It is a stated part in the Morning Service of the Church of Scotland, and while it " gives scope to the learning of the preacher, and to bis talent for bringing many particulars into one or a few points of view, it tends to make the people more acquaint- ed with the Sacred Scriptures, and to derive, from the experience of past times, very useful instructions with regard to life."— In selecting from his M S S the discourses to be submitted to the public eye, the author gave the prefer- ence to those which were most fully and dis- tinctly written out, and was not determined in his choice by any alleged superiority of one to another. Discourses preached on particular public occasions, have been omitted, because PREFACE. Xllf not so well adapted to the circumstances of or-« di nary life. — Sermon 1. was originally written as a Homily, and was read in the Divinity Hall in the University of Edinburgh, where it was received in. a very flattering manner by the learned Professor of Theology. It was after- wards sent to London, where it appeared in that well known periodical publication entitled the Christian Observer, conducted by Members of the Church of England. Part of Sermon HI, was inserted in the Edinburgh Christian Instruc- tor, conducted by Members of the Church of Scotland. In both cases, the initials of the author are affixed.]; These explanations arc given for the purpose of warding off any charge of plagiarism that might be preferred against the author, and not from any feeling of vanity, or love of ostentation. One circumstance more requires explanation. In the first advertisement of these discourses it was stated that there would be eighteen in all, whereas there appears to be in reality only FIFTEEN. The truth is, it was originally in- tended to have divided into two parts those dis- courses which were delivered on two or more several occasions. Had this plan been adopted, the number of discourses now published would t See Christian Observer for July, 1810, and Christian Instructor for June, 1816. ' \\ h? t K. i; H I \ isl : XIV PREFACE. ■ , I X.-':-t'i cofi- gi^fe4fer th^ri Wfts at fiirst templatcd. But not to interrupt the continuity of thought^ and to preserve the unity of each disconrse^ it was resolved that every reader should be left to make a division for him- self^ if in any instance he should find it ne- cessary. The result is, that while the full complement of pages is gfiven, there are, in- stead of eighteen discourses as originally pro- mised, or fifteen as apparently realized, virtu- ally and truly twenty-two discourses in alL — With all their imperfections, they are now re- commended to the blessing of Heaven, and submitted to tb^ judgment of the candid, libe<< ralj and seriously disposed. \b u; • ) 1 1 li| . f*t .:-¥.i:^^ 4'M.^ f^ ' " "■ -'" J..<»KJt-.~ - *.( ■■■i^,,»i. . ^..fc- •*^^, ifiiip ^T^f , p^^ =f'if ^^' -^'^!?*^^?f 5^|i^f; :#■ f*^ ^'T ^##:#^^: /,,t;^r .'''■^•'#r^'^#^f^tp^! ^^^I'f^^ #i*i#|■ ^*^^ ■ T. E C T U R E S. ■^^■^ti:m.^. •A ^'i ill r r^ 'n : •! ' ^ ' J^i^ft*i* "v*f^«r'lft**..- '"'; .'f ^^t'ii I I yf !i '^A \ LECTURE I. THE CURE OF THE PARALYTICK* ; ^v i 'K x*'i>f ■". »-^;v 'J Matthew ix, 1 — 9. ..'■.■■!, ^i -Hi ** And he entered into a ship, and passed orer, and came into his own city. And, behold, they brought to him a man sick of th; palsy, lying on a bed : and Jesus seeing their faith said unto the sick of the palsy ; Son, be of good cheer, thy sins be forgiven thee. And, behold, certain of the Scribes said within themselves. This man blasphemeth. And Jesus knowing their thoughts said, Wherefore think ye evil in your hearts ? For whether is easier, to say, Thtf sins be forgiven thee ; or to say. Arise, and walk? Bu# that ye may know that the Son of man hath power orr earth to for- give sins, (then saith he to the sick of the palsy,) Arise, take up thy bed, and go unto thine house. And he arose, and departed to his house. But when the multitudes sa\r t7, they marvelled, and glorified God, which had given suchr power unto men." * I. >v The benevolent tendency of our Saviour's miracles, has been often and justly remarked. The same feelings by which he was led to ex- change for a time the abodes of bliss for thi» icene of woe, never lost their influence as long m .,rt»:. Ml n n i >yu ^:v!l >■ !'• h\j ;!* '^-, 18 LECTURE I. as the malice of those whom he came to save, permitted him to remain in the world. He *' went about doing good.** Pew steps of his progress from the manger to the cross were not marked with the impressions of benevolence ; almost every exertion which he made of his divine energies was an exertion in the cause of the unfortunate ; and only one or two of the most terrible acts of his power, rendered con- spicuous by their singularity, were not sur-^ rounded with the mild lustre of benignity and love. In the midst, however, of the unceasing calls which were made on his sympathy by the vic- tims of misfortune and disease, he never forgot nor overlooked the grand design of his appear- ance in the world. Whilst, on no occasion, did he listen with indifference to the claims of the wretched, he never failed to seize the most favourable opportunity to illustrate the divinity of his character, and the nature of those pur- poses which his advent into the world was spe- cially designed to accomplish. Accordingly, the sacred historians, with that characteristick variety which marks diversity of minds, present to our view » e interesting transactions by ■..•^ LECTURE I. 19 forgot pear- sion, ms of most hiity pur- spe- istick esent s by >vliich these objects were iritcudctl to be gained, and, with a minuteness of iMelity which indi- cates the absence of every narrow and partial feeling, relate the effectSj whether good or bad, produced on the minds of surrounding spec- tators Oi" the truth of these remarks, the pas- sa;;e j'^si i5 ad, aflbrds an ample confirmation. Wi:ii: r' the relaxed and debilitated system of ilie paralytick regains its wonted firmness and energ}, the high pretensions of his physician are established, and the ultimate design of his appearance on earth, is strikingly evinced. — And, though the effects produced on the sur- rounding spectators were not such as might have been expected or desired, yet, this cir- cumstance, while it proves the impartiality of the historian who records it, only adds one to the numerous evidences which every age pre- sents, of the blindness of prejudice and the obstinacy of unbelief. In the course of a more minute examination of the passage, whilst we follow the narration before us, we shall avail ourselves of any addi- tional illustrations which may be furnished by others of the sacred penmen. " And he (Jesus) entered into a ship, and passed over, and camQ # l\: r 'w '.I" :. Ill 20 LECTURE I. I-! \ Mi i' • V I'i into his own city/* namely, Capernaum. "^ And behold they brought to him a man sick of the palsy, lying on a bed : and Jesus seeing their faith, said unto the sick of the palsy. Son, be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee." The first thing which attracts the notice of the Sa- viour and which is deserving of our attention, is the faith of those who solicited the exertion of the divine power with which our Lord was in- vested. Possessed of every attribute to which Deity can lay claim, he was fully acquainted with the real state of their hearts and the nature of thoso principles by which they were influenced. The active charity which is the genuine result of faith and of which they made so conspicuous a display on this occasion, though an important test of the reality and operation of that divine principle, yet, like all its other evidences which are placed within the reach of human cognisance, it is not unequivocal. Be- nevolent deeds are sometimes performed by the worst of men from the most unworthy motives, and though they may secure for those who per- form them the approbation and esteem of men who are determined in their judgment solely by external appearances, yet they cannot impose ^ LECTURE I. 2\ on that Being to whom motives and actions are equally known. In the present instance, the principles by which those were influenced who brought the sick man to Jesus, seem to have been congenial with the good deed which they so zealously performed. Jesus skw "their faith," — their firm persuasion of his power to heal a disease which none else could remove, and their unshaken confidence in his willingness to re- lieve the wants of the distressed. He saw the principle in its internal operation as well as in its outward effects, and whilst he beheld them rising superior to every obstacle which impeded their progress or hindered their approach to his presence, he v.as well aware that they made no empty parade of affected benevolence, and were not impelled by a curiosity worse than idle. Their faith thus active and persevering in its operation did not fail of its object. "Jesus seeing their faith, said unto the sick of the palsy. Son, be of good cheer; thy sins be (are) for- given thee." These words should have been translated as an affirmation, not as a prayer or wish. They are thus rendered in the parallel passage of Luke's Gospel. At the time the common version was made, the words " be far- i i t ' >r \[ •'..il ^% 1 !' . ..'( n LECTURE I. given" were equivocal, and were used indiscri- minately for are forgiven. But it is evident that had Christ's words been understood as simply a prayer or wish, the Scribes and Phari- sees would not have objected, f — In addition to the pitiable circumstances of the unfortunate paralytick, which were of themselves sufficient, to calL forth all the sensibilities of his soul, the Saviour had, on this occasion, to reg;ard the dis- interested importunity of those who had con- quered so many difficulties in order to gain access for the object of their compassion into the presence of him who alone could alleviate his distress. He knew the purity of the mo- tives from which tliey acted, — the disinterested nature of their compassion for the suticrer; the sincerity of their faith in the Saviour's power to heal; tiic strength of their reliance on hin wil- lingness to relieve the distressed ; and their un- suspecting coiilidcnce that the exertions which they had made iu the cause of benevolence would not fail of success; and therefore his compassionate feelings woulsi not permit him for one moment to withhold the object of so much anxiety and of such undaunted beue- licence. Hence we are told that, in consc- i See Campbell iu luc : LECTURE I. 23 qiiencc of seeing their faith, Jesus ''said to the sick of the palsy. Son, be of good cheer ; thy sins are forgiven thee." This dechiration of our Lord to the diseased man seems at first view totally inapplicable to his case. Did he himself or any of those who brought him to the Saviour complain of the power and domi- nion of sin or of any spiritual disorder what- ever? For any thing that is recorded', they seem to have regarded his disease as wholly confined to the body. The language of Christ seems designed to intimate that sin is the cause of suffering, and that the intention of his com- ing into the world was not so nuicli to relieve men from temporal distresses and bodily pains as to deliver them from spiritual maladies and eternal perdition. He knew that the causes of evil being removed, the baneful elfects would immediately follow, and of consequence, that the declaration " thy sins are forgiven thee," could not fail to be succeeded by a radi- cal, total, and permanent cure. ' At the same time, however, our Lord must have been fully aware, that such language would not be heard by the Scribes and Pharisees who witnessed the transaction, without excitins: '\''M ^ LECTURE I, ^'ii- . :,ii n '..i r feelings of displeasure and indignation. It is even probable that he made use of this lan- guage in the present instance, because he knew that it would naturally be attended with rea- soning concerning his pretensions, and would thus give him an opportunity of substantiating his claims to divinity. Accordingly we find that these men felt his language to be directly olpposed to two leading principles of their belief, that Christ was merely a man, and that the power of forgiving sins is the prerogative of God alone. " And behold certain of the Scribes said within themselves. This man blasphemeth.'* Mark savs, "There were certain of the Scribes sitting there and reasoning in their hearts, W hy doth this man thus speak blasphemies? who can forgive sins but God only }" Aud says Luke, '' the Scribes and the Pharisees began to reason, saying, who is this that speaketh blasphemies } who can forgive sins but God alone?" The term blasphemy is frequently employed to denote any high degree of impiety, and in this extended sense our Saviour frequently became obnoxious to the charge in consequence of as- suming to himself the unalienable perfections of God, In the present case, those who secret- LECTURE I. ly charged him with the crime, were afraid to utter the language of their hearts, for we are told that they said it only "within themselves." But Jesus was so really and truly what he pretended to be, that he was acquainted with the most secret movements of their hearts. " And Jesus knowing their thoughts, said. Wherefore think ye evil in your hearts? " On the supposition that Christ was only a man, their reasoning was just, and blasphemy was not too strong a term to designate the enormity of his offence. But the application of their reasoning to Christ, was as impious as it was erroneous, and therefore he might well censure them for harbouring such injurious thoughts of his character and pretensions by asking, " Wherefore think ye evil in your hearts ? " He then puts to them a question, to which he was conscious they could scarcely return a wrong answer, and which could hardly fail to extort a concession, favourable to the point which he wished to establish. " For whether is easier to say. Thy sins are forgiven thee; or to say. Arise and walk?" It must have been allowed on all hands that to make either of these declarations with full effect, was equal- 26 LECTURE I. h.^ ^\ r H ■ (. * ''\l :» 'A: Mu 1'!V < ;1 ly easy to God. The object, therefore, of the question seems to have been to ascertain which of them was conceived by those addressed, to be most within the reach of human power. To effectuate an instantaneous and complete cure of such a disorder in its nost dreadful form with the intervention of no external means but that of a simple command, was unquestionably an evidence of supernatural power, and, without the supposition of such an influence, could be Jiccounted for on no rational principles even by men determined to resist the force of conviction, and on that account most interested to give a colouring of reason to their conduct. The forgiveness of sins, however, is a secret transac- tion betwixt God and the soul of which the ex- ternal senses are totally unable to judge, and which is altogether an object of faith. Had, therefore, no external eftect been produced by our Lord's declaration to the diseased man, its efficiency might have been questioned, and the divinity of his physician which otherwise w^'dd have been established, must have remained as* doubtl'ul as before. W hut plan then was to be devised, in order to bring home conviction to minds perverted and hardened ? Certainly the LECTURE I. 27 ' one most likely to succeed was to prove the operation of an invisible cause by an external and palpable effect ; to expose the j^ross incon- sistency of supposing Christ more able to per- form one act of Deity than another, or of ques- tioning his authority to forgive sins whilst he gave an unequivocal evidence of his abili- ty to perform works which equally evinced the operation of omnipotence. This we find to have been actually the plan resorted to by our Lord. '' But that ye may know that the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins." That even you, inaccessible as you are to the force of conviction, may have no cause to complain of the want of evidence or of the nature of the proof actually furnished in order to substantiate my claims io divinity, observe before your eyes an irrefragable evidence of my full power and authority to per- form deeds to which omnipotence alone is com- petent, even whilst I dwell among you m the humble character of a servant and to all outward appearance possess no qualities superior to hu- manity. ('' Then saith he to the sick of the pal- sy.) Arise, take up thy bed, and go unto thine house. And he arose, and departed to his house." It is to be observed, that before the cure of tlie ^i& v\ '..' i;^ '■■!J: .1? rW' «t I ^i: -I * ,1 - 1' 7"H*' v4! ,|i:' 1 IP • . J ■-1! ,.i i «8 L^^CTURE I. diseased man was effected, our Lord's address to him was completely changed. He had first de- clared "thy sins are forgiven thee/* and now he says/' Arise, take up thy bed and go unto thine house.'* The probable designs of the former declaration have been mentioned, and whether its happy effects were produced without the consciousness of him to whom it was made, it is not for us to inquire. Had our Lord so in- tended, the cure would have succeeded the first address as easily as the second. But he evi- dently wished, previous to the manifestation of his power over the human body, to prepare the unbelieving spectators for receiving it as a de- monstration of his authority over the soul of man. For giving the proof its full effect, it was necessary to excite a discussion on the point in dispute, and consequently when the evi- dence came to be presented, it was as strong as it was palpable. The bed-chained sufferer obey- ed the command addressed to him with all the majesty of a divine physician, every member regained its energy, and through the vigour which braced every nerve, he was able to return home bearing the couch which had long been regarded as his grave. The reality of the mira- ■» f • ■% LECTURE I. * 29 m M rlc could not for one mom^fit be suspected by the most prejudiced and incredulous of those who witnessed it, and the application of our Lord's reasoning could not fail to be secretly felt by those to whom it was peculiarly addressed. It was undeniably proved that he did not false- ly arrogate to himself the power of healing, which was a circumstance favourable to the idea that he did not rest his claim to any other pre- rogative of Deity on less satisfactory grounds, and that the difference of the subjects on which his influence was exerted did not make the smallest difference as to its efficacy. The im- mediate and complete effect which his command produced on the body of the diseased man (an effect manifest to the senses and confessedly an evidence of divine power having been exerted) should naturally have led those who wiinessed it to conclude that a similar efficiency would accompany his other declaration peculiarly con- nected with the soul, though that as a spiritual act could not possibly be exhibited to the senses of man. Thus they were called to believe in his power to forgive sins, " not on account of his word only, but also because of the sign by ivhich it was confirmed/' i'M I. '. ii;'A<, ' '^li \l :;; ;4 1 ^ r if*'' ■' ir 'lid >: !yW'^ .; :«Ht|ii ! ■ ;:^]ii ■* ill" 1 "' •'•>\\-.' ill W ' IIJ d@ LECTURE L r ^ -?>* But were the effects produced on the specta- tors by this stupendous miracle such as might naturally have been expected or as were certain- ly, designed ? The Sacred Historian conceals not the truth, equally lamentable and astonish- ing. He informs us, that no sooner had the paralytick arisen and departed to his house, than the multitude who saw him ^' marvelled and glorified God, who had given such power unto men." Mark's account of it is this, — '^ And he immediately arose and took up his bed and went forth before them all ; insomuch that ^they were all amazed and glorified God, saying. We never saw it on this fashion." And says Luke, " And immediately he rose up befo^'*? them, and took up that whereon he lay and departed to his own house, glorifying God. And they were all amazed, and they glorified God and were filled with fear, saying. We have seen strange things to-day." It is worthy of remark, that though the several Evangelists are characterised by a slight diversity as to the num- ber and manner of their respective statements, yet that the harmony of sense is complete and the same mournful silence is preserved by all as to the belief of the multitude in the divinity of ^V «. ' *. #.■ .■!'■! J 1 LECTURE I 31 the Messiah, and their reception of him in his hij^hest and most peculiar character. Though they had beheld at his command and without the interference of any higher authority:, a man whose case had been long and universally con- sidered as desperate, and whose introduction into the presence of Christ the multitude had attempted to oppose s a vain and foolish expe- dient, — though they beheld a man in these hope- less circumstances and in this simple manner regain his strength and agility and return to his home with every possible symptom of having experienced a complete and permanent cure, yet, whilst their surprise and terror were excit- ed and they could account for the astonishing effect only on the principle of a divine inter- vention, they continued to view him by whom it was performed in the same light with those *' holy men of old " who wrought miracles by power derived from God, With them the cause was prejudged, and every circumstance which should have tended to reverse their precon- ceived decision was overlooked and disregarded. " Blindness was happened unto Israel ; seeing they saw, but could not perceive." As the practical improvement of the subject^ , 1^ li 1 : M !^l; M^:: wf ' it'' if ^?!l i Ft -f'i.i .■fi 4 : 1 - . »r « t' ss LECTURE I. 1 . Let us attend to the evidence which the passage illustrated affords in favour of our Lord's divinity. — There is not, perhaps, to be found within the compass of the sacred narra- tive, an individual miracle which exhibits such an assemblage of proofs on this interesting and important subject. Our Saviour's knowledge of the human thoughts is unequivocally evinced, for it is said that " certain of the Scribes said within themselves. This man blasphemeth. And Jesus knowing their thoughts said. Where- fore think ye evil in your hearts?" or as the Evangelist Mark expresses it, "Jesus perceived in his spirit that they so reasoned within them- selves." Acquaintance with the motions of the intellectual world is an extent of knowledge which unalienabiy belongs to God, and which is equally beyond the reach of human and an- gelic powers ; consequently he by whom it is possessed must be really and truly God. — Our Lord's authority to forgive sins is, in the pas- sage illustrated, fully intimated and clearly proved. This power over the spiritual circum- stances of man, has ever been allowed even by those who are most opposed to the doctrine which I am now Attempting to establish^ to be t- LECTURE I. 33 ich the of our 9, to be ^ I narra- lits such :in^ and ledge of evinced. Scribes hemeth. Where- Dr as the ►erceived in them- IS of the owledge d which and an- )m it is —Our he pas- clearly Icircum- iven by loctrine to be > '1 the prerogative of God alone ; in no instance do we read of its having been communicated to any inferior being ; und it is claimed by Jeho- vah himself as peculiarly his own prerogative when he says, '' I even I am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own names sake : I even I am the Lord, and besides me there is no Saviour." These circumstances render it evident, that the possession of such a power incontestibly proves the Saviour's identity with God. — The passage considered, demonstrates also, our Lord's power to heal the most inve- terate disorders in his own name and by a sim- ple command — a power whic^ was never con- ferred on any man, and an authority which no man could assume without being chargeable with the grossest presumption and impiety. The ancient Prophets and the Apostles of our Lord had in every instance to invoke the assist- ance of a higher power than their own, in the performance of those miracles by which their divine commission was proved, but, in no case was the Saviour himself necessitated to solicit any influence superior to his own, in order to give efficiency to the power which he so often and so successfully exerted. It is true, he pray* C If ifHi'' fl,,V' •j!^i'{i|; K ^ ! . . ;rsv. ■ IV' II 34 LECTURE I. .,f ed to his Father before he issued the mandate '*^ Lazarus come forth ! " but he assigns the rea- soiij — not that it was necessary in order to derive authority or power to perform the mira- cle^ for '' he had life in himself " and " power to quicken whom he would/* and he speaks of it as his own work "I go that I may awake him;" but, says he, ''because of the people which stand by I did it that they may believe that thou hast sent me," — because of his weak disciples, who might have been offended by his open manifestation of so much authority, and because of his avowed enemies who represented his performance of miracles as the effect of secret compact with Satan. In the case imme- diately before us, the instantaneous restoration of health and vigour to a body which had long been deprived of them, by means of his own authoritative command, whilst it clearly evinc- ed the controul of Christ over the spiritual and invisible disorders of the human race, satisfac- torily proved his ability to remove diseases the inveteracy of which it was beyond the reach of human skill to mitigate, and thus substan- tiated his claims to an equality with God. — These circumstances are of themselves sufiicient. ■ial/ LECTURE I. 35 if weighed with seriousness and impartiality, to set forever at rest the long agitated question to which the doctrine of our Lord's divinity has given rise. Their force no sophistry however ingenious can evade, no pretext however spe- cious can weaken, no reason however perverted can secretly resist. The belief of this doctrine should be attended with many practical eflects. If an eye quicker than lightning, glances into the human bosom, observes the secret movement before it rises into a feeling and marks the latent feeling ere it ripens into action, let us tremble at the majes- ty of Him who thus knows our hearts, let us guard those thoughts which are thus open to the eyes of " Him with whom we have to do," let the most hidden actions of our lives be performed under the conviction that he who was once our Saviour and who shall finally be our judge, inspects every deed with tlie most scrupulous care. If Christ, while on earth, by miraculous interpositions of his power cured bodily diseases which none else could heal, and thus at once attested the benevolence of his character, the divinity of his nature, and his complete domi- nion over the spiritual as well as temporal cou- C2 36 LECTURE I. ;' W' |V':I corns of man, let our hearts glow with love to his cause, let us pay him every honour to which Deity is entitled, and let us trust in him for our final triumph over the combined powers which oppose our everlasting salvation. If Christ while on earth was invested with full authority to forgive the sins of men, let us rejoice in the completeness of his mediatorial character, and if, as his Gospel informs us, he is now exalted " a Prince and Saviour to give repentance and remission of sins,'* let us resort to him in the exercise of true penitence and faith, as our Saviour from sin in its present guilt and power, from the gloom with which it blackens the grave, and from the terrors in which it arrays the Judge of the Universe. 2. Tlie passage illustrated presents a very mournful view of sin and its direful consequences. — The desolations which sin hath wrought are to be seen in the aspect both of the natural and moral worlds. There arc appearances in nature which just views of the character and perfec- tions of iig author, forbid us to admit as having entered into the plan and structure of the world at its original formation. Witness those vast '•!f %i\ ii **»», LECTURE I. 37 h love to to which [ him for 1 powers ion. If with full 11, let us 3diatorial tis us, he r to give us resort :ence and s present th which terrors in erse. s a very iquenccs. ught are tural and lin nature pcrfec- [g having |he world io§c vast tracts of barren deserts and luxuriant wilds with which the globe abounds ; those noxious exha- lations which load the air, and carry disease and death to crowds of unthinking men ; those volumes of burning sands in which the lonely traveller finds at once his death and his tomb ; those preternatural convulsions which agitate the earth and engulph thousands of its peaceful inhabitants ; those overpowering heats and stif- fening colds which mark diversity of climates and ever-changing atmospheres; those count- less beasts of prey which ravage the globe and myriads of poisonous insects which darken the air and disturb the retreats of men ; and those appearances of ruin which the aspect of the islands and continents of the globe universally exhibits. These are imperfections which could not originally belong to a fabric produced by a wise and gracious Being, and enstamped at its first formation with the character of goodness. They nnist have been superinduced either by the universal deluge which was occasioned by the aggravated wickedness of man, or in some way or other by that fatal shock ''which bi'ought death into the world and all our woe." C3 I'. -V:: I' ; ..'-*• :. :'!it f 'ti'i', /V . : • ^ .'•'.II? :, I ' ( si ii *'' '(it: ■ ^r 'Hi 42 LECTURE I. of such important subjects in a land of civili- zation and religious knowledge, or that they should expose to ridicule a sy^lem whieh thejr do not understand^ and the foundation of which the^ have never examined ? With many, the cause of Christianity is prejudged ; they are convinced before hand that it cannot be true, and therefore arc d«:termined to resist the force of cvideiicc ; and is it not unreasonable to form a decision on a question before it has been tried, and to condemn a system as fabe, before one word has been heard in its defence ? With some men, infidelity is the eflect of licentious principles impelling to licentious conduct; what they wish to be true they readily believe, awd what they are determined to enjoy they cannot be brought by sober reason and sound argument to renounce ; and is it not unreasonable to act as if Revelation were false, when they cannot urge one objection to its truth, and can only say in defence of tlieir incredulity that they wish not to believe Christianity because it would niar their present enjoyments ? In the conduct of such men we behold a striking confirmation of the following declarations, "The natural man receivcth not the things of the Spirit of ■' :3' ■■:a','\ LECTURE I 45 God, for they are foolishness to him^ neither can he know thenHj because they are spiritually discerned." ''This is the condemnation that light has come into the world and men have loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil." — Christian! You live in a degenerate age. The poisoned arrows of the sceptic fly thick around you. Take care that they prove not fatal. '' Put on the whole ar- mour of God/' and then you will be proof against every attack. " Hold fast the profession of your faith without wavering." ** Be sted- fast and immovable," Be not '^'^ ashamed of the Gospel of Christ." Behold the noble army of martyrs, who sealed their testimony with their blood. Realize to your mind the flaming fagots and the burning pile. View these sol- diers of Christ welcoming the gibbet on which they were to expire, and triumphing when half consumed by the devouring flames. Imitate their example ; catch a portion of their Chris- tian magnanimity. Did they meet ''the king of terrors" himself, arrayed in the most ghastly attire ; and will you be afraid of the scofls and sneers of fellow creatures?" Be not alarmed nor discou/agcd, cither at the number or bold- >M-^. I I- ' ^ ill' > llli<" I J fill, \m\^ 11 lip liijiy iliiililil:: ••if mm' I*,;: 4; ''''m: 'lii lll^l^^M 44 LECTURE I. ness of the enemies of the truth. Ere long^ their triumph shall give place to utter confusion and dismay; their scoffs and sneers shall be remem- bered only "as waters that are past." *'The earth and all things that are therein shall be burnt up/' and nothing shall survive the wreck of worlds, but the majesty of truth and the realities of eternity. • m on^ their - , '/■■,■; usion and e remem- 1 " "The :'l shall be he wreck and the ' m LECTURE II. THE SYROPHENICIAN SUPPLIANT. # Matthew xv, 21 — 29. **Then Jesus went thence, and departed into the coasts of Tyre and Sidon. And, behold, a woman of Canaan came out of the same coasts, and cried unto him, saying, Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou Son of David ; my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil. But he answered her not a word. And his disciples came and besought him, saying, Send her away ; for she crieth after us. But he answered and said, I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Then came she and worshipped him, saying, Lord, help me. But he answered and said, It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs. And she said. Truth, Lord : yet the dogs eat of the cruuibs which fall from their masters' table. Then Jesus answered and said unto her, O woman, great is thy faith : be it unto thee even as thou wilt. And her daughter was made whole from that very hour." lo illustrate the principles of religion by suitable examples, ought to be one leading object with every Christian moralist. Such a mode of illustration has a tendency to bring abstract truths within the grasp of ordinary 5i 46 LECTURE II. : ■■'<**' 1 '■' Am ,!*'• J si'' : Hi'" ■ (.1 I Mi 'if' comprehension^ and by exhibiting their influ- ence in actual life, it gives them an interest and a force which they might not otherwise possess. Truths presented to the mind in a dry and ab- stract manner may gain access to the under- standings of those who are accustomed to reason and reflect, but they nuist lamentably fail to affect the heart and to influence the conduct of the generality of men. It is true, indeed, that the graces which Christianity recommends to cultivation must ever be attractive and love- ly, but their charms are beheld with most ad- vantage when they are embodied in human cha- racter, and adorn the walks of life. To have been simply told that the Patriarch Abraham possessed strong and lively faith would have made comparatively a slight and transient im- pression on the mind, but when we are called to contemplate the powerful operation of that heavenly principle in leading him at the call of God to abandon the country w hicli was dearest to his heart, to sojourn in a land of strangers, and to summon up the dreadful resolution of becoming himself the executioner of his darling child, we see the sincerity and strength of his faith in the most interesting and impressive ^ M LECTURE IT. 47 IIl^IiIs. It would have made no deep impress- sion on the mind to have been told in general terms that Moses was meek; according^ly to give interest to his character and to exhibit its excellencCj we arc called to behold him main- taining a constant struggle with an obstinate and disobedient people. We might have been pleased and impressed by a descriptive sketch of the beneficial effects which the Gospel is calcu- lated to produce; but this pleasure and impres- sion are equally heightened when we are called to contemplate living examples of its mighty oiiicacy in changing the sentiments^ ameliorat- ing the heartSj and reforming the lives of indi- vidual men. On these principles^ the narrative of the faithful CanaanitCj cannot tail to appear equally interesting and important. Had the sacred his- torians contented themselves with the simple assertion that the suppliant was distinguished by faith and its attendant graces, or had our Lord granted the object of her petition without putting her principles to any great severity of trial, the interest which her case excites would have been lost, and the strength and beauty of those graces which adorned her character would 48 LECTURE II. m':" ;■•! '•>■ m . v|ii!^,*.." .<■• W ■' 4j 'i. >» t( J .(• II ■((! J 'I'll have failed to impress and to captivate. But when we are called to contemplate her faith struggling with discouragements and fears, and rising superior to their disheartening influence, we behold the excellence of that heavenly principle in a mo«t interesting and impressive light — giving birth at once to unaffected humi- lity, unsuspecting confidence, persevering im- portunity, and animated hope. — After having attended to the leading circumstances of the narrative, I shall endeavour to state and illus- trate some of tliosc graces of the Christian life which the conduct of the petitioner so signally displayed. Our Lord's ministry on earth was now draw- ing to a close, and the prophecies which had been uttered respecting him required to be ful- filled. Aware, therefore, of the insidious con- duct of the Pharisees whose resentment he had recently enkindled, and at the same time of the consequences to which his rising popularity in Galilee would necessarily lead, he retired to the most remote part of the land, in the borders of Tyre and Sidon, where his person, character, and works might have been supposed, little known. His fame, however, which no cxpe* LECTURE II. ^KT dients of unexampled modesty could impede iu its progress, had reached the place of in- tended seclusion, and a circumstance sooa occurred to accelerate its progress. On his journey to the place of retirement, he was met by a woman whose clamorous importunity ex- torted attention and regard. Her daugliter, to whom she was bound by every possible tie, was possessed by a malignant spirit, or under the tyranny of one of those hellish fiends who, pre- vious to the triumph of the captain of salvation over the powers of darkness, were permitted to exert a baneful influence over the bodies and souls of men. With regard to the precise nature and causes of this calamity, our infor- mation is limited, but as to its actual existence, the combined .and explicit evidence of the his- torians of the times, opposed only by the attes- tations of our experience, sufficiently warrants our belief. It is enough for us to know that the effects of this disorder were of the most terrible kind, and that in the present instance it was exhibited to the view of the Saviour in its most direful form. The ii^anner in which the sympathy of our Lord was solicited, is set before us in all its i) I &^l 1', ■'■'■; •.vi « 50 LECTURE II. singularity and interest. This poor woman had frequently heard of our Saviour's miracles, and no sooner was she told of Jiis arrival in her country, than she'rcsorted to the spot where he was, full of anxiety and hope, '^"Ikliold," says the sacred historian, "Behold, a woman of Ca- naan came out of the same coasts, and cried unto him" (the evangelist Mark, adds, that "she fell at his feet," expressive of the humblest im- portunity,) ''saying', Havemerey on me, O Lord, thou Son of David; my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil." Here then is presented to our view the object to which our Lord's com- passion was solicited, and it might have been thought sufficient to excite the sympaihy of a heart less sensible than his. A mother — (per- haps a widow, for no husband seems to share in her sorrows!) A mother, prostrate at his feet, with looks bespeaking the agony of her inmost soul, and with no dissembled tokens of misery to impose on the genefiius heart ; — A mother in these affecting circumstances, implores with all the eloquence which the earnestness of nature could inspire, the compasi^ion of the Saviour in behalf of a beloved daughter agonizing under *he most drcudjul uialady which human nature 'k I LECTURE 11. 61 •voman had raclcs, and val in hcT t where he lold/' savs nan of Ca- cricd unto that ^^shc iniblest im- ne, O Lord, grievously iresentcd to word's corn- have been ipalhy of a (hor — (per- to share in at his feet, her inmost of misery mother in les with all of nature Saviour in Izin^ under Inan nature was ever doomed to bear. And is there nothing here to awaken all the sensibilities of his soul .'' Shall this victim of misfortune be overlooked ? Shall her claims to sympathy and relief be un- feelingly rejected? Shall he whose ear was ever open to the tale of woe and whose heart ever beat in unisjn with the throb of anguish, disregard alike the importunity of this wretched parent and the agonies of her afflicted child ? Yes! Astonishing and unparallelled truth! The suppliant an'? her miseries, are equally disre- garded! As ite unmoved and unconcerned *' he answered her not a word." — Not discourag- ed, however, by such cold indifference, she perseveres in her entreaties and at length succeeds in gaining over our Lord's disciples to her cause; *' his disciples came and besought him saying, send her away for she cricth after us." They were troubled witli her clamour-?, moved with com*passIon'for her situation, and aware that the conciMirtRent which our Lord wished would be prevented hy her loud and im- portunate supplications. But after all is she more successful in her attempts to conciliate the regards of the Saviour? Jly no means. She seems farther than ever from her purpose. For- n 'A ''4 f^ Ml H'r''^, if' ^^r 1 11 ; "rl i I* tit-. 52 LECTURE II. merlj our Lord appeared only to be indifferent to her case or to have his mind eiig ossed with other thoughts, and hopes might be indulged that his intt.est would soon be excited; but now his mind seems to have been made up, he appears determined to be inexorable, and he argues in defence of his conduct. To the inter- cessions of the disciples in her behalf " he an- swered and said, I am not sent but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." The history and character of this petitioner were peculiar. Our evangelist terms her *'a woman of Canaan," and the evangelist Mark says "the woman was a Greek, a Syrophenician by nation." She was not a Jewess, and there- fore had no claim to Hie privileges of the cho- sen people. But that is not all ; she was by nation "a Syrophenician," probably descended from the ancient Canaanitcs, a remnant of whom had taken shelter in the adjacent regions. The Plienicians were a race scattered over the whole world in numerous colonies. Th differ- ent settlements were distinguished by names taken from the countries upon which they bor- dered. The Canaan I tes were one of tbesc Plie- oician colonies; and bccaujiL' they bordered LECTURE II. 53 indifferent ossed with le indulged cited ; but ide up, he e, and he ) the inter- If '' he an- to the lost petitioner '^w ns her *'a 1 elist Mark i >phenician and there- if the cho- ihe was by descended cmnant of nt regions. •d over the Th differ- by names 1 they bor- ;'. tliese Phe- bordcred '"1 «:* upon Syria, they were called by the Greeks and Romans, Syro-phenicians. A Syrophenician, therefore, is a Canaanite under another name. an alien from the commonwealth of Israel to the members of which the promise was specially made and Christ was first to be revealed, f Such was the nation to which this suppliant belonged, and the consequent disadvantages under which she laboured. But what was the religion whic!i she professed } We are told that *^she was a Greek/* i. e. a Gentile, not a full proselyte to the religion of Israel,— one that followed the religion ai»d manners of the Greeks, ratlief than ihe Jewish customs and faith. "^'She was an idolatress, bred in the principles of that gross idolatry which consisted in the worship of the images of dead njen. And because idolatry in this worst form obtained more among the Greeks than the nations of the East, f^uch idolaters, of whatever country thev might be, were by the Jews of the Apostolic age calh'd Greeks." These remarks with regard to the birth and ■fSoo Ilorslcy's Sermons, vol. iir, p. Ml. In proof of tlio (locid(.'d j)rcf'ereiice given to the liouse of Israel, (he following |)assag<'s may i)e consulted. Mat. x, 5. Acrs, Hi, '20. JJoM. lA, 4. ■mm' .it:* 1 I H!f;..iir ItiiH;: 6lpl :^K hi) *!ii'-^t 'ft I -'f *:;:iii^ ill'. 'li •«/ ,'i.»i f if S. U ; 54 LECTURE IT. profession of the pctiiionor, may serve to give us some idea of our Lord's meaning wlien he aftirmed in reference to the case before him, that he was charjred with no immediate messaire to the Gentile nations, — tliat he was ^'not sent but to the lost sheep of the liouse of Israel." l^ui, does this reply of our Lord satisfy her mind, shake her resohdion, or check her im- portunity? The Evangelist tells us, that it produced very different ellects, for ''she came and worshipped him, sayijig, Lord help me." And what was the result of this second and touching appeal to his compassionate regards.^ Is her renewed importunity rewarded with more success? Alas! alas! The more importunate she becomes, the more numerous tlie discourage- ments with wliicli slie is called to struggle; the more severe and disheartening the repulse. "It is not meet" said our Lord *^'to take the chil- dren's bread and to cast it to dogs!" A\ as ever an object of distress beheld by the compiis- iiionate Saviour wilh such cold indifierence? Were ever such i^incere, and liumble, and im- porhiiiate cntrtitlies l\yc mercy so hars'ily rc- pui.sed by "iifnrnd that sticketh closer than ^ brother'? Where is there to be found a LECTURE II. 65 g when he before him, ate nicssa2;e IS '' not sent of Israel." satisfy her ek her im- ns, that it "'she came help me." Bocond and ie reg-ards? with more iiportunate lisf'ourag'c- i^glc; the ulse. "It ■ the ehil- s!" Was e conipjis- ilT'erence ? and im- iirsiilv re- oser liiaa found a --# bein^ possessed of ihe conmion feelings of hu- manity whose patience would not have been exhausted by such repeated denials and virulent reproaches? A\ ho would not have been in danj^er of yielding to the intemperance of hu- man passion and giving v "ly to unguarded and impious expostulations? Bnt, behold an exam- ple of hamble submission and triumphant faith in the Syrophenician suppliant! Instead of being enfeebled in her purpose or roused to indignation by such repeated ajid marked ex- pressions of neglect and reproach, she ventures to argue the point, and, if possible, to remove c\e?y remaining cause of si*orn and rejection. *' And she said. Truth, Lord; yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's tabic." — The word rendered in this place, Trith, and in the parallel passage of Mark's Go:-pcl, Yes, is sometimes employed as a form of assenting and sometimes of- entreating. In tlie present case, it should be understood in tin? latter of these senses, and then the petitioner will be represented as thus expressing the lan- guage of her heart, "1 beseech thee. Lord; l\)r even the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from tlieir master's table. 1 know that, tlicre is » D 4 Mf%4 ■■^;!'«P - :||1I mm I J ;»»';! ii; <■! ... ■ (!'(! :i ■»• ■>*f Mm'' ** II ii' Mm. 56 LECTUKE IT. distinction between us and the chosen race and I acknowledge that it would not be fit to put both on a level, but ♦he dogs under their mas- ter's table are allowed to eat the children's crumbs which fall from it, and may not I (though I was born afid have lived a stranger to the house of Israel) humbly hope to receive some fragments of that mercy which is so liber- ally bestowed on the Jews, and wliich in too many instances has been wantonly abused? Thou callest me a dog, and unworthy I confess myself to be, of any better appellation, but even the dogs though not regaled with the first and choicest food provided for, the children's nou- rishment are not suffered to perish with hunger. I beseech thee, therefore, io grant me but the favour and privilege of a dog, that I may gather up some crumbs of mercy from under thatj table at wliich thy children sit. This bles-. sinjr, of more value to me than ten thousand worlds, could detract nothing from the infinity of thy love. O then, for thy great mercy's sake, deny not this humble pittance, which an unworthy c eature su^h as I am, has presumed io ask." it The effectual fervent prayer " of the right- LECTUUE II. 5T ien race and be fit to put r their mas- e children's may not I I stranger to '' to receive I is so liber- »hich in too \y abused ? by I confess >n, but even the first and Irenes nou- ith hunger, me but the niav gather under that; This bles". 1 thousand he infinity at mercy's which an presumed t eous "avjiilolh much." The importunity of the faithful Canaanite at lengfth prevails ! The heart of the Saviour which seemed inexorable^ yields to the eloquence of goodness in distress, and the object of the suppliant's wishes and prayers, is granted in its full extent. "^Then Jesus answered und said unto her, O Woman ! great is thv I'aith ; be it unto thee even as thou wilt. And her daughter was made whole from that very hour.'' "My ways are not as your ways, nor my thoughts as your thoughts, saith the Lord." Never was this declaration more strikingly verified than in the case which wc have just contemplated. Even apparent harshness and severity, proceed from love and terminate in good. Had the faith of i\\{^ suppliant been weak, the trial would not have been so strong, and I ad an unfavourable result been intended, the struggle would not have been so long pro- tracted nor so severe. Our Lord seems to have had two leading objects in putting her faith to such an extraordinary severity of trinl, namely, to exhihit the reality and strength of that divine principle, and to reprove the surrounding nud- titude for the erroneous views which they enter- I ;iv .■4^:"^ , B!. 58 LECTURE IT. ill; ■'mM '.1' -4ii^#. \ '■■■ '«''r.|i '^Mt tained of his own character and work. Tliat faith by which the petitioner was actnuted, required only to be put io trial in order to have its reality and excellence strikingly dis- played ; and the enlightened views of Christ and his cause which were entertained by this humble descendant of a race held in universal abhorrence^ required only to be exhibited in their just proportions in order4o instruct and reprove ''the children of the kingdom." Our Lord pronounces an encomium on the FAITH of the Syraphenician suppliant, as if that were the only trrace by which she was distin^ guished. Unquestionably he knew the princi- ples by which she was actuated, and therefore the slig'litest suspicion of mistake on his part cannot for one moment be admitted The rea- son why the faith of the suppliant is t'lO only object of his conmicndation must be sufliciently obvious. Faith was the principle by which her whole conduct was influenced— the spring of all her actions — that which gave existence, energy, beauty, and value, to all her other graces. Our Lord, therefore, being fully aware of the purity of the motives from which she acted, itnd of the sincerity and strength of that faitb ^— ■'*^'^ rk. Tliat actmited, 1 order to .Ing'ly (lis- oi' Christ icd by this I universal hibited in Lstruet and in." iim on the ^ as if tliat kvas distin' the princi- l therefore his part The rca- llic only iufli(ientljr svhicli her spring of exist{'nce^ lerg'raees. ire of tlie le acted, Unii laitU n 4 LECTURE II 59 "fi to wliich all the \irtucs wliirh adorned her character owed their reality and excellence, is deternjined in his judii'mcnt as to tlie value of her faith by the eli'ects -which it produced, and virtually pronounces an eulogiuni on'her whole character when he attests the greatness of her faith. Let US then direct our attention shortly to some of those graces by which she was distin- guiyhed, and which warranted the Iiigh enco- miinn of our Lord, '^O woman! great is thy faith/' I. Olnserve her unaflected humility. — This Christian grace was strikingly displayed in the w iiole of her conduct. It was equally conspi- cuous in ihe language of her petition, the atti- tude in which it was presented, and the reason- ing by which it was enforced, licr language was that of a mind burdened with a sen^ie of guilt, deeply impressed with a conviction that her siiis had justly merited the divine displeasure, luid fully conscious that, without the interposi- tion of heavenly i!:race, she and her dauffliter nnist perish without hope. Her first entreaty was in these terms, ''Have mercv on nic, O Lord, '% :.i\ip'. mr fiik' ' ■ -itli rill 4 i'- ■•'I'lr 4i; • hjf .. ii-ii .Ik I 'ill 1 1 :i;.i3*- 60 LECTURE II. thou son of David ! " and her serond was ex- pressed in these few afld simple, but awfully comprehensive words, "Lord^ help me! " — The attitude in whieh she presented herself to the Savio!'r comported well wilh the frame of her rrund and the object of her expostulation, and gave, if possible, additional significance to the language which she uttered. Afraid to ap- proach a. Being whose wrath ^he had incurred, whilst at the same time she was fully Convinced of his suificiency and willingness to relieve the distressed, she at first cried to the Saviour from a distance; but most probably imagining, from his seeming disregard, tliat her cries had not reached his ears, she ventured into his presence, and, expressive of the deepest abasement, fell prostrate at his feet. The posture of her body and of her mind was the lowliest that could possibly be assumed ; she was humbled in the dust under a sense of guilt and a consciousness of merited punishment. — But how does she overcome the objection of our Lord, and enforce her petition for mercy? Does she oppose her claims to the declared will of God, and demand en extension of mercy inconsistent with the righi cous appointment of Heaven ? By no LECTURE II 61 Iqf ; means. She acknowlcdg^cs the justice of God in the preference ^iven to the house of Israel, theerfuH)' acquiesces in the allotments of Pro- vidence^ and solicits that favour only which could be extended to her case without interfer- ini^ with the purposes of infinite wisdom. "It is not meet/' said our Lord, " to take the chil- dren's bread, and to cast it to dogs." Mortify- ing distinction! The Israelites, children, and the Gentiles, dogs! Where is the man whose pride would not have been offended, whose in- dignation would not have been roused, by such invidious language } But, does the suppliant to whom it was actual Iv addressed, and whose feelings of national pride it was most likely to have wounded, retire in disgust and mutter the language of resentment ? Listen to her argu- ment, " Truth, Lord ; yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's tabl'O." She receives the contemptuous epithet withoiri one feeling of disdain, because it was applied by her Lord ; — she acquiesces in the preference given to the Jewish race without one emotion of repugnance, because it was the preference of Heaven ;— and she supplicates, with the most unuifectcd c^)nviction of ill-desert, the least I ii ii 'i ■ liM' '•■■ ^ ■ ' «.. ',:>>?• .1 .■♦ J bsll i'f'i'" . .. , I «< ■ >\4 d!i LECTURE II. 4r expression of divine favour, only because that might he given her in perfect consistency with the established arningenients of Providence. Behold, then, an example of unaffected hu- mility ! — expressing itself in the posture of lowly abasement, and in the language of conscious guilt and of holy resignation to the will of Heaven! — Let every Christian suppliant at the throne of grace receive a lesson of humility from this despised Canaan ite. Nothing can be more inconsistent with the situation of a pen- sioner on the divine bounty and a petitioner for mercy at the throne of grace, than the spirit and language of pride. But on the contrary, how amiable does a suppliant appear who imi- tates the example of this Canaanite ! — who trembles to appear in the presence of a Being whose wrath he has incurred — who falls pros- trate in the dust under an overwhelming sense of his aggravated otfences — who cries for mercy in the spirit and ttmo of one who is conscious that he deserves it not — and who casts himself wholly on the compassion of Heaven ! A spec- tacle like- this, commends itself to every right feeling of reverence for God, to every just im- pression of man's weaknesses and wants. V>, ^ LECTURE II. 63 rause that encv with rovidence. fectfd hu- e of lowly conscious le will of ant at the humility n^ can be of a jien- pelitioRcr I the spirit \ contrary, who imi- rc ! — who a Rcinsr 'alls pros- ling sense or mercy conscious ts himself A spcc- crv riHit y just i ru- nts. Ye, then, who admire tliis temper and conduct as ^ exemplified in the case of the suppliant before us, ''Go, and do likewise." • ^ 2. Observe her enlightened confidence. — She was placed, as we have seen, in circumstances peculiarly unfavourable for acquiring correct and enlightened views of the character and work of the Mesiiiah. Descended of an idola- trous race, she was familiarized from infancy with the most impious rites, the most shameful profanations, and most disgusting impurities, — with every thing, in fact, that was most di'ectly opposed to the simplicity and purity of that sjstem which Christ came to establish; And '^ii.i, overcoming all the disadvantages of birth, education, and early prejudices, she re- cognised in the despised Cialilean the promised IMessiah, the son of tlie living (jod, and the Saviour of the world. Iknce, we find iicr ad- dressing him undci his peculiar title as a d.'.'s- cendant of the famjly of David, ''Have mercyi on me, O Lord, tfu)u son of David." Slie knew that a general expectation of the Messiah's ap- j)ea ranee prevailed among the Jews, she had Ueard of the stupendou!) miracles which Je»us j^m^ . :ii\xid'% n m IM[ ililifliii> f I li ' 'I .1 ■• \i -in ■'■ he :'<>'»■ 'X ^li^'^^'- 111 -lif; ' -Hi 64 LECTURE II, performed, and bidding instant defiance to every national feeling of hostility to his pretensions^ ^he resorts to him with the fullest confidence in his power to heal and sufficiency to save. Here then appears the fullness and strength of her confidence ; — that, tliough born with the most inveterate prejudices against the Messiah, tu- tored from childhood in a religion totally at variance with that which he came to establish, and surrounded by men who questioned and opposed his claims to divinity, she received him in his true character, and resorted to his pre- sence with the firmest expectations of making a successful appeal to his beneficence. But, on approaching the Saviour and pre- senting her request in all the confidence af prayer, did she meet with nothing to shake her resolution or to weaken her faith ? Did she behold in the object of her worship the pleas- ing character which her fond imagination was accustomed to contenjplate, and was she receiv- ed with that condes ending kindness for which lihe had been told the Saviour was so much dis- tinguished ? Ah ! No. Instead of the meek and lowly Jesus, she seemed to have found a JBciiig distinguished only by forbidding harsh- LECTURE IL 65 iress and repulsive dignity. Instead of "the Lamb of God " she seemed to have found only '^ the Lion of the tribe of Judah.*' And yet,- marvellous truth ! her faith in him as the true Messiah remains unmoved^ — her confidence of ultimate success remains unshaken ! Behold^ an example of unsuspecting confi- dence worthy the imitation of every Christian suppliant f — an example of noble superiority to prejudices strong and deep rooted — to errone- ous opinions long and universally received — to the disheartening influence of cold unconcern and contemptuous rejection ! Confidence in the sufficiency and willingness of God to grant the object of his request, is an essential requisite in every suppliant at the throne of grace. It is this alone that can inspire boldness and earnest- ness of spirit, for as long as doubts and fears beset the mind, feeble must be the resolution, languid must be the devotion, formal and life* less must be the service. Let all, then, who would taste the refined pleasures and experience the blessed cflects of real devotion, learn of the Canaanitish suppliant true confidence in prayer. • Observe her persevering iuiportunity.-j* £ >• .» « '»,•• li-^»; '.M; 1 , j:i--;Jfi.. 1 1 !f ,;«*■• ,, ;V.i R'-H- ,^, n? ,1' :..vf. ' <« If 5*:!:f :^* 94 P, - Jl :| -Mjli i*S 60 LECTURE II. Her confidence, as we have just seen, led her to eiJiorace Jesus as the true Messiah, and notwithstanding of every circumstance tending ' to contradict her preconceived opinions respect- ing him, to resort to his presence with the firmest expectations of attaining the object of i her wishes; — but her importunity led her far beyond the most unshaken confidence. The? latter, discovered 'its influence in the assurance with which she reposed on the mercy of the Saviour; the former, in the earnestness with which she preferred her request : — the one, in the firmness of her purpose ; the other, in her : Conquest of opposing difficulties: — her confi- dence, in the hope of ultimate success with which she was inspired ; her importunity, in the argu- ments which she employed to remove objec- tions and to enforce the request which she p^e-. ferred. To have adequate conceptions of the extent both of her importunity and perseverance, we have just to contemplate the number and sevc-- i^'ly of those trials with which she was called to struggle. What might naturally have been supposed the feelings of her mind, when he from whom she had expected instant attention LECTURE II. 67 and relief, turned a deaf ear to the voice of her supplications and answered her only with silent disregard ? And yet, rising superior to the feelings of nature, additional energy is giver« to her purpose ; she ventures into the presence of him by whom she had been slighted,, and repeats her request with renewed earnest' ness of soul. How great might naturally, have been supposed the agitation of her mind when that renewed solicitation aided by the intercessions of those who were dearest to her. Lord, was answered by the Saviour only v ith a cold declaration of the utter incompatibility of a favourable answer to her request, with the plan of his mission, and a degrading represent- ation of herself and the race to which she be- longed? And ycif equally unmoved by denial* and by reproaches, her importunity increases with her discouragements, and the difficulties which she is called to combat, or' o.i* V Jfi the midst of the severest disccragc .ts. This : : '' the one thing need- ful," ''the pearl of groat price." I et thisj thcn.^ E3 U 'U 1 •ill' I'Vi^bf. U *ili';i5f^'''■ »?. .1*'-^ V*: iW" jfc« s-' ill? i 1 ' li I »» I, 70 LECTURE II. be the prayer of every heart, "Fulfil in me, O God, all the good pleasure, of thy goodness, and the work of faith with power;" — enable me to *' fight the good fight of faith," that I may finish my course with joy, and at last receive that best of all applauses, ''Well done good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord" u; ■t ki- ivii '•;*..*. -M^-^ >*«* .;/', LECTURE III. • i, »'.sVv . ^*-- j--«g 'A THE WIDOW OF NAW. >, «.4 ?/ "I) 'j>*«.llt no ■. ,>>¥»:,.♦ 'liM#»ijt; ;f,'«tif. t*-" - ■ - •';'^''^ -■■''■• ' ^* \ f' ' ' ' ' ./■.rJ4|jvl^;.i,i'-?.;.%t* ■ I4UKE VII. U — 18. -jiiV »'>^.;, ;♦ / v « > .* ' • 1 " And it came to pass the day after, that he webt Ihfft a citf called Nain ; and many of his disciples went with him, »nd ' much people. Now when he came nigh to the gate of the City, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow : and much people of the city was with her. And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, aud said unto lier, Weep not. And he came and touched the bier : and they that bare him stood still. And he said. Young man, I say unto tnef?, Arise. And he that was dead sat up, a.nd beg^«, to speak. And he delivered him to his mother. And fhere came a fear on all : and they glorified God, saying, Thri a great ■ prophet is risen up among us ; and, That God hath visited his people. And this rumour of him went torUi throughout a'.l Judea, aud throughout all tae region round about." The simplicity of the sacred narrative is one of the most striking; evidences of its truth. Imagination delights to clothe her productions in her own native language^ and it generally happens that those who represent scenes design- ed to impress ^^e hearts of spectators have \im m.' I. ' .n ii ,mI 72 LECTURE III. Vil'tt I'; - '" ,;!"■*( I;t |r *;?ff, i * iff ^^ recourse to jthose gaudy trappings of fancy, which tend at once to dazzle the ignorant and to attract the learned. "V/here true history fails, the graces o^ fiction are appended, and whore facts are thou^t^not sufficiently striking' on a plain recital, they are surrounded with all the brilliancy of rhetorical e.ubeiiiEihmcat. The splendid career of a renowned hero, is rendered ttill more luminous by the glow of eloquence, whilst the gloomy path of the aban* doncd profligate, if brightened by one solitary virtue, is emblazoned in the temple of fame, . The sacred pen-men, however, pursue an opposite course. In their true characters as plain, unostentatious, and unprejudiced men, they relate the incidents of their master's life exactly as they witnessed them, without at- tempting the task which thej were conscious of their inability to perform, of adding to their grandeur by the foreign aid of decoration, or of pxasrgerating their marvellous nature by splen- did description. Even the most tender scenes which the eye of humanity, could witness, are descril/td with a simplicity mpletely free from the impulse of private feeling, and from jiJl ft'^rlied design Xq excite the sympathy of LECTURE JIT. 7S others. Tliiey leave facts to speak for tbrm- selves^ and thus evince with an evidence bte- yoi>d all suspicion^ that they Mere neither thenr- selves animated by passmi like oiithii«iasts^ ^nd that they had no design to operate on the" p«ffl- ions of their readers...''iiiw»i>»j»iH'<'*»' c?***^^^ ^^j'^'* If there is one paska^(i within the eonipass of the sacred narrath'e to which thfese rernark^s can ht applied with more truth thai* another, it is the package which has heeii chosen as tlie sub- ject cf this discourse. The incident^ equally affecting and sublime, is narrated in language at once simple and dignified, concise and corti- prehjjnsive. No attempt is made to exalt the Savio r beyond the height to which his conduct raises h'm, and no other effort is used to call forth sympathy in behalf of the sufferer tliaii a simple statomcnt of her case. The justness of these remarks will be more apparent on a closer examination of the passage, and if in th6 course of illustration I may be found violating the very principles now stated, let it be im- puted — not to wilful inconsistency, but to the want of power to command language which unites the qualities of dignity, simplicity, and ease. . * m ■fc;. 4' I '0'"^ :.^>''|'i.. i It' ' I*, . . ■ ■4'''*f : ' • *■ . .ill ^ , im ! 'a*f .•^. ^^%" If 'juM.' in, i 74 LECTURE lU. Jesus "^went about doing good.," The day immediately preceding that on which this mira- cle was performed^ he had rescued a centuri- on's servant from a disease which battled the most skilful physicians. Pursuing his benevo- lent plaiis and abounding in labours of love, he .went to Nain, twelve or thirteen miles from Capernaum, probably for the express purposje of performing the beneficent deed which is here recorded. The spectacle which presented itself to his view as he approached the gate of the city, was of a very interesting nature. "Be- hold!" says the historian, "Behold! there waa a dead man carried out, the only son of hii mother, and she was a widow; and much peo- ple of the city was with her." A funeral is at all times a solemn sight, calculated to awaken attention, and to interest the feelings of the mind. In the case before us, however, there were several circumstances peculiarly affecting. It was the funeral of a young man. Youth has its charms, and we are more sensibly affected by their fate who have been cut off in the bloom and vigour of youth, than by the depar- ture of those who have been borne down to the grave under a load of years. — But the 3 outh LECTURE III. 75 bf her departed son constituted not the only claim which this victim, of misfortune had to the regards of the compassionate. We *re in- formed that he was "the only son of faismoh ther." To a feeling heart it is severely trying to bury a friend, more so still to bury a child^ but most of all, an only child. The strongest atlections of the human heart being centered in one object, when that object is removed, a thousand wounds are inflicted at once. And we may well suppose in the case of this bereaved parent, that so close and endeared was the con- nection dissolved by the death of her only son, that a shock was given to every feeling of her heart. The form on whicii she dwelt with fond complacency fades before her lingering eyes, and the remembrance of those endearments which bound her heart to that of her st i while he lived, embalms his memory when he is gone. — The mournful climax is not yet completed. It was an additional misfortune, that there was only one parent left to pay the last tribute of affection to the departed son. He was "the onlv son of his mother, and she was a widow.'* The father, the husband, the stay of the family is no more, and the unfortunate sufferer is de- '^^r'K ■■'HP ' '; -■ i, ■<•', „'.i,-.ft. '■' m mm 1 », J'U : '|ii:V.'::; J : t .' I' ■ I .' .■■■■'[. '- ; -M '•'■ 1. ■ ■'■'"J .* .«.' ^1 :-( " '^ l- "I . j«. I; -I' . . /' ■ ■ 1' ' ....»''• ' -1 '■*-'l-''^^ ■ •III. i.t '' l' I » , I: ::''•' * I ""k 76 LECTURE IIL nied even the last consolation of the wretched, that of having one to whom she might unhosom her griefsj who might bear with her the same load of sorrow^ and who might mingle his tears with hers. The strong masculine mind does not so soon bend und< i* affliction^ but tlie eX- quisitf sensibilities of the maternal heart can yield but a faint resistance to the anguish of distress. Perhaps the widowed mother beheld in her son while he lived the image of his father, and felt, when she consigned him to the land of silencCj as if she buried afresh the husband whose departed worth still lived in her remem- brance. Perliaps, since the partner of her life was removed, he was the only support of her declining y<^ars, on whose dutiful exertions she i'elied for the supply of her returning wants. He was the last stay of her failing heart, and I1 does he know that amid that group of mourners there is one agonizing, bleeding heart, and he longii to pour in the healing balm. With a tender- iiJtr ' i •;:-fe i| fr!;^^■ .1' " liwci ,, •'• .; ' ;« . tl: 1,, .*> ''' ''^' '■ 'H, • I •^ ; W M' :, ■«• .;'><» r' I ; It. < U ; ».v I ;i t ■ . ; -I < .,. ■'\ ,:. ,1.. *»-"< .j-^' ,t 78 LECTURE III. ness of affection which softens without unnerv- ing the soulj he enters into the peculiarities of personal distress, seeks out the afflicted mourn- cr, and "wlien he saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.'* As if he had said. Repress every feeling- of sorrow and every sigh of regret, for behold ! that only son whose breast is now cold to the endearments of parental regard, shall soon requite thy solici- tude with the grateful returns of filial love. The gloom Which seems to have settled around thee shall soon be dispelled. Thy son shall live to share in every pang that rends thy bo- som, and in every joy that dilates thy soul. He shall live to relieve thy every want, and to console thee in every hour of distress. Me shall live to close thine eyes in death, and to shed the tear of regret over thy hallowed dust. ' Had our Lord contented himself with ut- tering Kanguage like this, the afflicted parent might have charged him with an attempt to insult her misery. But words were as unable to rxpress the compassion of the Saviour as they were insuflicient to assuage the grief of the mourner. His benevolence did not exhaust itself in mere wishes and feelings: it led to LECTURE III. 79 immediate actioiij it instantaneously impelled to deeds of love. " He came and touched the hier : and they that bare him stood still." Dur- ing this- interesting moment, what sensations must fill every heart! And how affecting to behold the weeping mother, the compassionate Jesus, the sympathizing multitude, the breath- less corpse! — 'But affor a momentary suspense the scene becomes still more interesting. The power and goodness of the Saviour are equally displayed in the performance of a most stu- pendous miracle. With all the majesty of a God and with all the compassion of "a friend who sticketh closer than a brother, " he says, *' Young man, I say unto thee. Arise." The sound of his voice thrills through the heart of the mourner, and penetrates the regions of the dead. The pulse of life begins to beat; the vital glow reanimates that bosom which was cold as a mass of clay ; that paleness which shrouded the once l^looming countenance is succeeded by the flush of healthful vigour; those eyes that were seaiod in darkness open on ( the light of the sun ; every member regains its energy, and the dead man starts into life ! " He that was dead sat up and began to spcak^ and ^r' '' ii-' ., '%^'1^* W'4'^'^- ^i,^-]^.^^^ ■■'■ 4'n ' 1*.- ff "i > ,'',1 " • 'Mw fit... 'if- 'I;! k? ^rf 1' 'i»;«*% : i' ^r^i! i:i li"^--^^^ 'i^i .* «ii» ■ ? '^ % 80 LECTURE III. Jesus delivered him to his mother." There is something in this action of o'.ir Lord that is indescribable. It does noi appear that he ut- tered a word. The stison was too solemn to be disturbed ; the silence was too expressive to require aid from language; the emotions of the ^Javiour were too big for utterance. Behold ! a scene of overwhelming" tenderness! The son \^rapt in amazement — the mother overpowered with the ming-led emotions of delight and as- tonishment— -Jesus enjoying in silence the un- utterable feelings of them both! Wiiat quick transitions! From the gloom of death to the light of life — from the depths of Avoe fo the heights of bliss ! The^n recalled from the mansions of the dead and restored to the anng of his disconsolate parent! The mother che- rishing in her fond embrace the very child whom she had just been conducting to the silent tomb to mingle with the ashes, of hi» fathers ! • The effects produced on the surrounding spectators were such as might have been ex- peetcd. Terror, like, an electric shock, fled from breast to breast, till it pervaded the mrhole assembly. This alarm was mingled with LECTURE III. ^ reverence, and both were the combined effect of the appearance of a messenger from ihe dead and the presence of a Being who had the regions of darkness under his controul. Ac- cordingly we ^nd that these emotions did not lie dormant in the breasts of the multitude^ for ''they gloriticd God, saying, that a great pro- phet is risen up among us, and, that God hath visited ' "^ people. And this rumour of him went loiiii throughout all Judea, and through- out a.' he region round about." — They were fully convinced that the miracle which thej had just witnessed could be performed only by a supernatural agency, that the Bein|?^ by whom it was elfected must be possessed of pow- ers superior to those which have ever been con- ferred on ordinary men, and that he must be the very personage whom they were taught to expect and whose appearance they anxiously desired. The last of these conclusions was generally received, and the report that God had at length visited his people with the pro- mised Deliverer was speedily and extensively circulated. These suggestions were founded on the most rational and solid grounds, and did not prevail F '^^ .^ *i:* f Ml- .,. I'r* ■,':■■ -f! ■:■« . ^ • ■ ■ H- . r- , '' '• »i; >■'.• '' .■ . 4' . :.i..., i^ :4 !K;(!!|> ; ill ::-:>■■• I! p '■-^*'^-; ♦ ^ ■--tl Ml, ..,, i, .!|'' ''■ Is- . „ ,'.> ill'' , ..1 '■»,. 1' S2 LECTURE III. solely amongst weak and credulous men. The miracle performed was accompanied with an evidence as clear as it was irresistible. That the youth was really dead was admitted even by one whose every wish might long have deluded into a contrary belief; and that he v/aji instantaneously and completely restored, Yt'as a fact which forced itself on the attention aad courted the most scrupulous examination of the most incredulous of the vast and mixed a.«= uMibly of surrounding spectators. The ques- tion, therefore, came to this short issue. Does power to raise the dead belong to any being inferior to CTod ? or, is it possible for the ex- ertion of any powers inferior to those of Omni- potence, to reanimate the vital spark when totally extinguished? The conclusion which the original witnesses were led to founx^ on such reasonings as these, must be the result of the inquiries of every succet.ding age when they are sincerely devoted to the examination of those grounds on which our Saviour rests his claims to a divine commission. The miracle was in itself complete; it was attended with evidence above all suspicion ; and it was per- formed bv Jesus hinrself without the interfor- LECTURE III. 83 ence of any higher authority : consequently we may join with the original witnesses of the stupendous sciene in ascribing glory to Godj not only for the evidence by which our Lord's claims to the character of a *^' great prophet'* were substantiated, but also because " he was proved to be the son of God with power." The practical remarks which this subject suggests are numerous and important. Our attention shall be confined to the following : — m F-'-y, ■'v'el L -The language in which our Saviour ad- ministered comfort to the widowed mother may be considered as addressed to every mourner in Zion. It is true, he docs not in every case remove the cause of sorrow so effectually as he did in the case of this unfortunate sufferer, but still he has other means of consolation by which he is ever ready to soothe the troubled breast. Does a dying parent feel the pangs of regret at the thought of leaving to a cold and merci- less world, the children of many prayers and of many anxious fears? Jesus says, ''Wee^not! leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive, and let thy widows trust in me " Does the christian mourn the departure of one ¥2 ;k., ' V ' j'iii; «;.i « I: v'*| - i) %m I , ,|. -St*' in. LECTURE III. with whom "^ he took sweet coiinser' and who entered with kindred feelings into every plan which he devised for promoting the best inter- ests of mankind ? Jesus says '' Weep not ! Sor- row not as those who have n j hope." Does an affectionate parent, as in the case immediately before us, mourn the loss of an only son in whom was centered every hope which gladdened her heart in this the land of her pilgrimage ? Jesus says ''Weep not! I will give a name and a place better than of sons or of daughterjg." — Do the fcorrows of the Christian arise from spiritual sources ? The consolations of religion are equally abundant ; — the language of the Saviour still is, ''Weep not! I will not lay more upon you than you are able to bear, but with the temptation will make a way for your escape.'* Thus, in the Gospel there is a balm for every bleeding wound, there are consola- tions provided for misery in all its varied forms. Religion so far from being the parent of melan- ■fuii'e of ilic distressed. 'holy. 'iy yields the only consolation which is left to the wretched, and affords the only hope that re- muing when hope iv most required. ■w^BKm LECTURE III. 85 2. The address of our Lord to the young man, maybe viewed in I'i. applicatiou to the state and circumstances of every sinner. In the case of "the dead man " who " was carried out/' the functions of animal existence had entirely ceased ; the sinner, is equally destUfit'^ of all the energies of spiritual life. The former, was cold to all the finer sensibilities of the heart ; the latter, is equally a stranger to the still nobler feeling of love to God and benevolence to man, which warm the breajst of him "whose heart is right with God." The one, was insen- sible alike to the joys and sorrows of this mortal stale ; the other, is equally dead to the sorrows of repentance and to those joys which are "unspeakable and full of glory.'' T( the man who was naturally dead, the add ess of our Saviour was, "Young man, I say unto Ihee, arise ; " to the man who is " dead in trespasses and sins," his language is equally strong- and forcible, "Awake thou that sleepest, a id arise from the dead, and I will give thee light.' Sin- ners ! Complv with the heavenlv call while compliance is within your power. " Now is the accepted time ; behold novv is the day of salvation." Another opportunity equally fa- I Mi^^i«i I* f mmmm r y '^l^-;,!!! w ''m-m*-^'- ^i:i:#^ ;:'; ^liiiii '■■■ li F «« l:,.l' ''3 ,1 S5 LECTURE III. vouralilt^ may never be afforded you. The si- lence or insensibility which now surrounds yoi«. may soon be succeeded by the stillness of the grave. The call of mercy which now meets your car may soon give place to the sound of the last trumpet, and the dread mandate which shall awaken to life the accumulated ashes of ten thousand generations, '' Arise ye dead and come to judgment!" Listen now to the invi- tations of mercy that at last you may escape the denunciations .of vengeance. ''To day if ye will hoar his voice, harden not your hearts.'' — "Look unto me and be ye saved all ye ends of the earth; for I ^^n God and there is none else.** — "Him that r orneth unto me I ^yill in no-wise cast out." — "And the spirit and the bride say. Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst. Come. And who- soever will, let him take the water of life freely/* Finally. The conduct of our Lord on the interesting occasion to which our attention has been called, is worthy of universal imitation. Compassion was one of the most prominent fea- tures in the character of the Redeemer. It LECTURE III. 87 a-nlinated his breast as he ''went about doing good," and it shed a softened radiance over the most terrible deeds of his power. But in no instance was it exhibited in a more amiable light than in the incident which we ^a c just contemplated. Far from resemblint pfe- tenders to a high share of refined y, who, whilst they weep at the trag . .*e- sentation of imaginary woe, arc shocked at the sight of real distress, shun the haunts of squalid wretchedness, and shut their ears against the cry of misery, he courted the presence of the unfortunate stranger and entered with every feeling of genuine sympathy into the most affecting circumstances of her pitiable case. His compassionate regards were so far from being extorted by the importunity of a clamo- rous multitude, that he did not wait even for the most gentle solicitation. The scene of dis- tress required only to be witnessed in order to awaken all the tender sensibilities of his nature, and these feelings of sympathy had only to be moved in order to give birth to deeds of benefi- cence. Behold ! an example worthy of univer- sal imitation ! an assemblage of every tiling pleasing, dignified, generous, and heavenly! — » F4 fkrm. 'Mm .»%, ■ 11 , i •it. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I i:^ 1 2.8 |50 '""^~ 1^ ■ 40 US US u 21 2.2 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 < 6" - ► Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STRUT WIBSTIR.N Y. MSSO (716) ■73-4503 C/a [i 'iH'^i, 88 LECTURE III. i^ r V4: ,. ..^ :i? 't The same mind must be id all his disciples M^ho are fired with the noble ambition of being dis- tinguished by love to their fellow creatureai, and hy every amiable grace which enters into the composition of a truly great and disinteriest- cd spirit. Formed on this models Christians^ you cannot fail to exhibit to the world a cha^ racter which will be inshrined in the affections of every good man^ and which even the ungodly and profane will be constrained in secret to admire. Imitating this pattern of perfection, you will be '' tremblingly alive " to the situa- tion of those whom Providence may have con- signed to your care; you will resort to the splendid abodes of affluence and ease to tell of those whom ''sorrow has marked out for her own/' and to disclose as the reward of Chris- tian beneficence those hidden treasures '' which the world knoweth not of" and which shall remain entire when earthly riches with their mortal possessors shall be equally scattered with the dust; you will visit the couch of the dying to watch the last heave of the fluttering bosom and '"to commend the departing spirit into the hands of God who gave it." Such are those •ympathies of heart and charities of life which LECTURE in. S9 will distinguish » spirit congenial with that which influenced the conduct of bur Saviour as it has just been presented to our view — fi^riii- ciplcs and actions at once honourable to men and worthy of Christians — grateful to the bene- volent heart on earth and congenial with " the spirits of just men made perfect." 'f:i ■ "* ' -^ '*' '*■':■ ' : ■' '■ - .• • ' ;. ■!;.!•'/ >' ,, V •''.• v'' '." ' -' J -S^' '■b'^''/ ■; \*l . ».' I' I > t i I • 'Ai « :i . . §1'- M, : . ■ '■ .,;; •^.■■ivi" ^i1: '-^k- I,, ■ .J, 3 •■ ^--i';**?''!,. I"* f!i'!:',:^i ^H'^i^iJ'' ?;f Pi' r i I X. Hi '«v :'; t !*♦ \ ■> -s^^«. LECTURE IV. THE RICH MAN AKD LAZARUS. »'■■•,. ,;.:'^*''-- '^^ Luke xvi. 19 — ad fin. *^ There was a certain rich man, which was clothed in par- pie, and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day : And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, which was laid at his gate, full of sores, And desiring to be fed with the crumbs whith fell from the rich man's table: moreover the dogs came and licked his sores. And it came to pass, that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into Abra- ham's bosom : the rich man also died, and was buried ; And in hell he lifted up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom. And he cried and said, Father Abraham, hare mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue: for I am tormented in this flam^!^ But Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst tliy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things : but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented. And besides all this, between us and you there ia l great gulf fixed: so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us, that would come from thence. Then he said, I pray thee therefore, Father, that thou wouldest send him to my falhcrN house: For I have five brethren ; that he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this place of torment. Abraham saith unto him, They hare Moses and the prophets; let theiti hear tbeio. And he said^ Nay, Father Abraham : but if ea& ?f LECTURE IV. 91 went unto theiii from the clead,^ the^ will repent. And \i§ said unto him^ If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither viiil they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead." This passage of sacred Scripture has given rise to many inquiries more curious than edifying. It has been asked, whether or not it is to be understood as simply a narration of real occurrences — a parabolical represent- ation founded on events which actually took place — or a description originating wholly in the imagination of its author. On these points it is impossible for us to be accurately informed, and the information were it commu- nicated would be of little avail, since the best authority assures us that the representation, in all its material circumstances^ is too frequently verified. - ' . u +r The meaning and design of the whole passage are too obvious to be mistaken; the instruc- tions which it conveys are of the deepest inter- est and the highest importance. The truths which it contains and the lessons which it inculcates, relate not to the trifling interests of these mortal frames, nor to the puny concerns of this passing scene ; they bear reference to the Ii m M i v. f T ;■ ■■ '<{' . i; v< rr •t)"r ■ » ■»■■ t If*' f ■ 1 ^■'• ^ 'ft'! n LECTURE IV. m omen tons interests of the iramortal soiil, and the awfully important concerns of an eternal world. i , iss^n Two characters are here set before us^ whose opposite conditions in the present and future worlds, are simply, but strikingly, depicted. In the present life, the one was allowed to fiat amid a luxuriance of pleasures, every sense was gratified, every object of mortal ambition was gained in its full extent. lie is not charged with having acquired his riches by unlawful means, or with being niggardly of the gifts of Providence, and, though he was adorned with the vestment of kings and "^ fared sumptu- ously every day," it is not said that he mined hii family or defrauded his creditors by extra- vagance and folly. — The other, was a signal object of compassion, doomed to indigence and 4 obscurity, cast upon the wide world, and forc- ed to depend for a scanty pittance on the sympathy of the humane. Vv hilst the former reclines on the lap of ease and "^ withholds not his heart from any joy; ' the laiter, naked and wounded, is exposed to his view with every cir- cumstance fitted to extort his pity. What is \he reception vyhich ho meets with ? We have LECTURE IV. n fe' k- tpo riiiich i*ea^on fo fear that, though the peti^ ^ tion which he preferred was of the humblesf kind, it was unfeelingly rejected; that the starv-t ing suppliant was denied even that which cou4d be of use to none ; for, whilst nothing is said of the rich man's compassion, it is recorded of the dogs that they, as if more generous than their inhuman master, performed the only office of tenderness to which nature prompted them.-— i But mark the ultimate condition of these two men. '*One event happcnelh to the righteous, and to the wicked/* Death, which assails with equal indifference the palace of the monarch ami the cottage of the poof, dissolves the con- nection of each with this sublunary state, and whilst Lazarus is denied, perhaps, the usual tri-» bute of respect to the memory of the dead, the rich man is consigned to the tomb amid all the pomp and splendour which opulence can com? mand. But alas! pomp and splendour can act company their deluded votary no farther than the grave- Draw aside the veil which separatep eternity from time, and wli^t an awful scene opens on our view! How sudden, liow com? plete the reverse ! Lazarus, slighted and des* pi«ed by an unpitying; worlds is honoured. b| J. ,-l'>. I, ■ life' if-ht- '•i vJ I 1 ;'.f i 1 f *!' •:■■ i'! " If' 1 ' \* a ii:;!"»^ 't vf. I ' ■■,« • »■* K I (-■'-4 1 ,W" 94 LECTURE IV, ^ angels and raised to minp*le with ''the spirits of I just men made perfect;'* the rich man, flattered and soothed in his carelessness and crimes^ is doomed to misery unutterable and everlasting. |j The felicity of heaven is exhibited to the inlagination under the idea of a feast^ and the guests are represented as seated in the posture in which the ancients used to recline, the second in the bosom of the first, and so on to the last. Abraham, being '"'the father of the faithful'* and "the friend of God/' is placed, as it were, it the head of the table — raised to a station in heaven, peculiarly elevated ; and La- zarus, poor in this world*s possessions, but ''rich in faith," is admitted into close and endeared communion with that illustrious saint. Thus, the beloved disciple is said to have leant on the bosom of his Lord, and the Son of God himself is represented as dwelling in the bosom of the Father. Thus "Abraham's bosom" was one of the phrases commonly used by the Jews to express the happy state of good men on their departure from the world, and thither was Lazarus conducted by the angels when death released him from the pressure of his woes. — • But thou, O deluded votary of pleasure \ whi- LECTURE IV. ther art thou gone? Sad transition! Driven in a moment from the companions of thy fes-* tive hours to be an associate with accursed spirits in that place where benevolence never shed its kindly beams, but malice and anguish^ and blackness of darkness reign for ever and ever! — The gnawings of conscience, together with the aMrful impressions of divine vengeance create such excruciating tortures in the bosom of the rich man, that no image can so fitly represent the anguish of his soul as that of a rj^ing fire. His misery seems to have been aggravated by the sight of that wretched being whose penury, disease, and cries were equally disregarded by his relentless spirit, now raised to a splendour and glory from which he is for- ever excluded; by the thought of those dear relations whom he had left on earth following his example and hastening to tlie same ruin ; and by the reflection, that he had shamefully abused those mercies of Heaven with which he was to be blest no more. He who lately shewed no mercy to a fellow creature in disease and want, now implores with the earnestness of an expiring criminal, mercy from . Heaven. He who once denied Lazarus the crumbs which feU ^tu: J ,, 1 y ':' <*' i f ft«V ^i$ iji X' 'ni'i&llHt erse, — '^a great gulf is fixed" which cannot be passed, so that your case is altogether desperate. Abandoned, then, forever be the hope of escape, — banished forever be the dream of happiness to come. In this part of the representation there is an evident allusion to the ancient mythology of the Greeks. As in the fictions of the Grecian poets the abodes of the blessed are represented as Ijing contiguous to the regions of the damn- edj and separated only by a great impassable LECTURE IV. 99 river or deep gulf so as to admit of conversation between the ghosts on the opposite banks^ so in the description here given by our Saviour, disembodied spirits are introduced as holding intercourse together in the same manner as when they inhabited their tenements of clay. The misery of ungodly men in the place of everlasting punishment is represented to us un- der the image of material fire; in like manner, the heathen poets tell us that the souls of the wicked lie in a river of fire where they suffer the same torments they would have suffered on earth had their bodies been burnt. But we are not warranted to form any conclusion regarding the real nature of future happiness or future misery from the description here given. We are to attend only to the scope of the passage and the practical lessons which it inculcates, impressed at all times by these solemn truths which are plainly taught througliout the sacred volume, that the future torments of the wicked and joys of the righteous are equally incon- ceivable ; and that on the conduct of men in the present world is staked their destiny for- ever. Finding all entreaties for himself utterly G2 ■Mtsf^ tKi i'-i''" ^:niar 1 , i .'*ivt ' Ell ■ r>. ■■!; ' I ... ■' ■'n''M&^^ I <•,. ir ■liJ: ,i \'\, . -j:»»" „.ii'v'»«*;i'lllik''' M .:';*..iL ' V .* 1 .1 ;! n^ :;j5j^^W^;;i! '5^ ^'Sik , ■ t „.l I 1. , . . . 110 LECTURE IV. in their cool moments that the span of mortal existence is the only term of probation^ but they pass on from day to day, careless and se- cure, as if they had "made a covenant with death " and with the grave. Pew comparative- ly act coolly and systematically on the foolish and unfounded hope that after having passed into the invisible state their natures shall be purified from every remnant of corruption and rendered capable of sharing in a felicity for which no adequate preparation was made while on earth, but thousands conduct themselves as if this were their real conviction, or at least as if no danger were to be apprehended from con- tinued delays. They cannot think of renounc- ing pleasures so fascinating as those of sense^ nor of engaging in a task apparently so arduous as that to which religion calls them, and there- fore they are ever and anon devising excuses for continued indulgence and prolonged security. Ye, who thus feel and act, how shall I warn you of your danger? how shall I arrest your attention and rouse you to serious thought? how shall I urge you to instant repentance and immediate reformation ? Consider the value of thcioul. It is spiritual and immcital. Ages i-f LECTURE IV. Ill and generations of men pass in succession from the earth — Kingdoms fall to nothing and disap^ pear — Monuments of heroes and mighty men crumble into dust and are scattered before the wind — Every thing terrestrial and material va- nishes aw^ay; — but the soul lives in a state of endless existence. — Consider the destiny of the soul immediately on its disengagement from the body. Ere the dust has been consigned to its kindred dust, ere ever the tear of sympathy or of regret has been wiped from the eye of the mourner, the nobler part has taken its flight to the land unknown and is lodged in an eternal habitation either of bliss or woe. — Consider the danger of your state. You are asleep in secu- rity and sin whilst the sword of justice hangs over you by a single hair ; you are saying with the rich man '' Soul, take thine ease, thou hast much goods laid up for many years," whilst the king of terrors stares you in the face ready io execute his commission. And Oh ! should his arrow strike your heart as it pants after carnal delights, where are you ? Removed by a gulf impassable from the regions of the blessed, — banished forever from God and from happiness ! Where is the insensibility with which you lis- ■--,«, t,.*. I "5*,. ii»;^"i'* M:;iji*;'!:Jfr'^5 ,.»e derived from almost every possible source, riw dressed to every rational principle in the La- man mind, and every way calculated to lead captive i'e bosom of the candid and serious inquire*? at.*^r truth. Does any one imagine :l . ;^;i:*t:h LECTURE IV. U3 that a messenger from the dead could idduce equal evidence in support of his pretensions or furnish any additional proof in support of Christianity ? He might indeed attest the truth of revelation by a reference to his own experi- ence, bnt \,vn!fl his testimony be received? Would no,l a thousand suspicions be entertained of hfs evidence? What credentials could he bnog that would not be rejected ? How would men be convinced that he was not an impostor, designing to beguile and ensnare ? How would the person who was favoured with the interview convince his associates that he was not disturb- ed in his imagination, and that the whole waa not a phantom of his own brain ? It is difficult to stand single in opinion against the whole world — to convince men of a fact which con- tradicts their own experience and is inconsist- ent with those laws which seem to be fixed for ever — and to persuade them to renounce their most favourite principles and habits by a single tes.iiiiony subject to defects inseparable from humanity even though free from those which originate in the peculiar circumstances of the ease referred to. Though probability might be the result of such evidence, yet absolute cer- II tiim t' m .. ?'; y.- ma l':*^ -ill ' '* I ■4.! . ! -A,. n li ■ ,h 1*1,:: '^ ] ' ft;!"!* V k " 1 114 LECTURE IV. tainty would still be wanting, and the sensual profligate, as long as one excuse for indulgence remained, would continue to riot in pleasure. Had Lazarus b6en sent to the rich man's bre- thren on earth, they might have said as the Jews once did ''We know that God spake by Moses, but as for this fellow we know not whence he is;" and they might have added. He brings an evil report concerning our deceased brother, raises a scandal on our family, and deserves rather to be punished than listened to with patience. — On the very best su])position, a messenger from the dejid could not ail'ord evi- dences either in support of his own pretensions or in attestation of the truth of Christianity, equal in number or in value to those which have actually been furnished in support of di- vine revelation. The evidences of Christianity are of a rational nature. They address themselves neither to the feelings nor passions of men. Had not this ])een the cas\^, the minds of men would have been over-awed and their belief extorted by ter- ror. Moral evidence is of all others the best fitted to answer as a test by which to try the »iiiceri I - \< I ,1 •' .111 pt-.j' t ■ Ij •It:'!':*. ;■.... yf^. \M. 116 LECTURE TV. may be viewed. If one man has a right f o claim new and additional evidence in support of Christianity, every other man has an equal right. What, then, would be the consequence of this equality of rights? Every man would geek that kind of evidence which lie thought most likely to operate conviction in his own mind, and thus evidences, various and opposite, would be multiplied without order and without limits. How much better is it to have the evidence in a state of perfection, standing in need of no addition, but gathering strength with advancing years. — Besides, if one man were allowed to demand a miracle for his con- viction, every other man would be equally entitled, and thus miracles would cease to be miracles and would become the common course of nature. Take, for example, the case inimedi- atcly under review. Were one man to be fa- voured with the appearance of a messenger from the dead for his conviction, another man might prefer a similar claim. Hence, the resur- rection of every dead man would be requisite for the conviction of the living, and the event would soon become so common that (he alles- tatione of such messengers would be a« little ■' 11 LECTURE IV. H7 re^^ardcd as the instructions which are daily delivered from the pulpit. ,^,,,,, ..iii * . •* III addition to what has been advanced on this subject, it may be observed, that the evi- dence afforded by a messenger from the dead is not fitted to be of general, far less of universal influence. How are those who live at a dis- tance from the scene to be benefited by the information or conviction thence derived .'* Jii no way could such a messenger attest the divi- nity of his commission and the truth of his declarations but by the performance of miracu- lous deeds. Thus his evidence would just re- solve itself into that which we actually possess and which fails to produce conviciion iu the minds of ungodly and unbelieving men. You see then. Christians, the sufficiency and excellence of the truths which the Gospel makes known and of the evidence by which tlu^y are supported, contrasted with the information Riid conviction which could be afforded by a messenger from the dead. With what truth is it affu'med by the patriarch Abraham iu refer- ence to the brethren whom the rich map had l«*ft on earth "If they Ivear not INloscs and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though 113 c m^;£ .''I J "I- I'J . IMhOl u}^ ..•■,i> [r 'fiii .;^i!ia; , I •* ..■■ii*"'ii'. . V ,, ,1 M "i:' :i!P'«; fit' ,'^'1' *lt? i 1 , 4lij ' ^' i 118 tECTURE IV. one rose from the dead." The word of God is the authorised source of information and con* viction. ''It is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and for instructi€»n in righteousness " and it is " able to make men wise unto salvation through faith that is in Christ Jesus." liCt no one presume to question the sufficiency of the revelation which God has been pleased to afford, or to cavil at the evi- dence by which it is supported. More would * be unnecessary and more you cannot have. Re- member that if the word of God faiU to produce conviction, — if you neglect this "great sal- vation," your case is utterly hopeless. — The question, therefore, comes to this short issue. Do you, or do you not believe the Gospel ? If conscience tells you that you are still in a state of unbelief, then nothing awaits you but "a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation ;" if, on the other hand, you have the witness in yourselves that you have indeed "believed our reporl," thfen assuredly you shall "receive the end of your faith, the salvation of your souls." mm LECTURE V. THE CONVERSION OF THE JAILOR. Acts x\u 25—35. «t **And at midnight Paul and Silas prayed, and sartg praises unto God: and the prisoners heard them. And suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken: snd immediately all the doors j were opened, and every one's bands were loosed. And^ the keeper of the prison awaking out of his sleep, and see- ing the prison doors open, he drew out his sword, and would have killed himself, supposing the prisoners had bceu fled. But Paul cried with a loud voice, saying, Do thy- self no harm : for we are all here. Then he called for a light, and sprang in, and came trembling, and fell down before Paul and Silas, And brought them out, and said, Sirs, what must I do to be saved ? And they said, Beliera OH the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou slialtbe saved, and thy' house. And they spake unto him the word of the Lord, and to all that were in his house. And he took them tho same hour of the night, and washed their stripes ; and was baptized, he and all his, straightway. And when he had brought tliem into his house, he set meat before theui, and rejoiced, believing in God with all his house." ; Paul and Silas, in the course of their minis- terial labours, came to Philippic a city of Ma- cedonia. During th<^ir abode in that place, H 4 Wi,''? ft t jf,- ' ' ^ ^ -'£{'' ft ;■' ■-4 :';r.«» 111 " i'' ; ' '" • -■■■ ■li * •'^iWi ' ' ' ... ^■1 ■} i»» 120 LECTURE V. preaching the Gospel with various success, an incident occurred which brought on them the resentment of the inhabitants. A woman who was possessed with a spirit of divination or a power of foretellir^ future events, and who by exerting that power amongst a deluded people brought much gain to her employers, for seve- ral days troubled the brethren. Paul, grieved that the father of lies should possess such un- happy influence over her mind, and that she ^should be employed as an instrument for sup- porting the cause of a most malignant supersti- tion, '' turned and said to the spirit, I command thee in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her." The command was instantly obeyed, and the poor woman was restored to her right mind. It might have been reasonably expected that an event of this kind would have imparted joy to all the inhabitants of Philippi. To restore a lunatic to her right mind, to deliver a rational being from the tyranny of diabolical possession, is certainly to perform a deed of real benevo- lence, and is well calculated to excite joy and gratitude. But, behold the fatal influence of self-interest. When her masters saw that the hope of tlieir gains was gone, their rage was € LECTURE y. 121 enkindled against tlie brethren. They drew them before the men in power and by injurious misrepresentations excited the resentment both of rulers and people. Paul and Silas after having been exposed to ignominy in its most hateful forms^ were cast into prison and laid ill irons. Their persecutors no doubt imagined that they would feel with the keenest anguish the complicated miseries of their situjition, that their principles would be shaken^ and that the language of impiety would be extorted fro their lips. But "they imagine a vain thing;" — they are mistaken in their malignant expect- ations. Wicked men may aillict and even kill the body, but "'after that they have nothing more that they can do," They cannot touch the soul; they cannot lessen its enjoyments; they cannot extinguish its hopes. Equally una- ble are they to alter the designs of God con- cerning his people and to oppose with success the mt^ans which infinite wisdom employs for their deliverance. Accordingly, we find that amid ail the bodily sufllMings to which these good nien were subjected, the peace and joy of their souls remained unruffled and uiiallaycd, that soon divine power interposed for their de- '"■wit ■ " '*<* ri'^'"'^^^ 'K ^1 '■jj- ' ■ Jan. *#;"'■' '■ 4 isat. '^'"'iii^!*;' 9, u, , If •iStwv ' .,-«■;''■}«« 1;#' ,,« ^»«' ^K'i : ,.,4' 't{^ ^* .; ■ j 'I'lf'liilltl li 'r ":.,'■:. '.■ 4 id I : -MM I I '^ii' '■iillpl'i'''9''S m LECTURE V. liverance, and that the means employed by •their enemies for accomplishing their base de- signs were signally frustrated, and by the omni- potence of Sovereign grace made the instru- ments by which very different objects were attained. , On a view of their external circumstances— the combination of ignominy, persecution^ and misery which their situation exhibited, we might have naturally expected that Paul and ilas would have been overwhelmed with des- pair. The excruciating tortures to which their bodies were subjected, might of themselves have been supposed enough for human nature to endure. But when we reflect on the many causes of disquietude with which '' their right- eous souls were vexed," — the thought of human guilt in opposing the cause of God and truth and supporting in its room the interests of the prince of darkness; — the baneful influ- ence of self-interest in leading men to pro- mote their own temporal advantage at the expence of the present and eternal welfare of the human race — and the tendency which their imprisonment might be supposed to have in retarding the succcse of that cause which LECTURE V. 123 was dearest to their hearts,-— when we reflect on tU these accumulated sources of disquietude and alarm^ we might naturally have thought that their spirits would have been overwhelmed within them. But no! a heaven-born energy supports their minds — consolations from above cheer their souls in the midst of surrounding sorrows. Of the inward 'composure and joy wliicli Paul and Silas experienced in the midst of their sufferings we have the most distinct assurance. "At midnight Paul and Silas prayed and san praises to God ; and the prisoners heard them.*' Amid the darkness of a dungeon^ the tortures of the severest scourging, the gloom of mid- night when no human comforter was near, and all the horrors of the most dismal bondage, their minds remained calm and joyful. They were so elevated above the frowns of their enemies and the hardships to which they were doomed, and so abundantly filled wit^he jo}8 of the Holy Ghost, that, with minds ^llegtcd, with hearts warmed, and with nps attuned to celebrate the praisci^W their divine Redeemer, they commended their cause to God in the con- fidence of prayer and raised a song of gratitude and triumph which echoed through the gloomy • r ill ''*''••• ''4 t 'jil ti *>^- wwm u m ■,,,'^li I' 124 LECTURE V. \aults of their dismal abode. So fervent, in- deed; were their supplications, and so elevated their song-s of praise, that the rest of the pri- soners caught the sound and no doubt were filled xnih amazement at such expressicns of confidence, exultation, and joy — bespeaking a state of mind so different from their own, and according, apparently, so ill .with the external circumstances of the sufferers. ? ,.5 What was it that rendered these servants of ^od so calm, resigned, and cheerful ? that ena- bled them even in the gloom of a dungeon and at the dead hour of night, to join in the delightful exercises of prayer and pr.i^sr ? They were cheered by the reflection that they suflTered in a good cause — the cause of God and truth — the cause of human happiness — a cause in whicli God, angels, and men, are equally concerned. — They were consoled by a sense of the diviB|| presence and support. They were assim^jd jKit though secluded from the society of their Tjrefhf en and immured in a gloomy dungeon, ydi, th^t eve^%jQid the silence and> solitude of hiidnigVt they were not alone — that God was with, thera-^and that Jesus the master whom they served would not desert them in the 'y. \: f u LECTURE V. m season of suffering and alarm. The spirit of patience, fortitude, and joy was given tliem — the '^'^ everlasting consolation" of the Gospel was imparted to their souls and its value v^^as taught by experience. — They were cheered and supported by the recollection of past mercies — the distinguishing favour of God in setting them apart to an office so honourable as that of " ambassadors for Christ" — in preserving them from many temptations to which ordinary Christians are exposed — in communicating many proofs of his love to support and animate them in their Christian labours. Reflecting on such honours, blessings, and privileges as wholly unmerited on their part, and evincing* infinite condescension and love on the part of God, their hearts were supported and cheered. — Once more, Paul and Silas were comforted by the thought that their sufferings would redound to the glory of God. They knew that in all ages the sufferings of good men had been overruled by God for the interests of his church — that though their labours in the vineyard were sus* pended, yet that the success of the Redeemer's cause did not depend exclusively on them — that the endurance of sufl. , A^#ftl? llJi"i !'■ .iMI«>' 1 t* 'ii''r''!v .■4?:; -;,i?l* 1,' ' !''* '*■' *■• ! ' j-."* y •■• sS'' 126 LECTURE V. exercise the best principles and affections of their souls — and that by some unseen but wise and benevolent dispensation of Providence, their sufferings would ultimately tend to the advancement of that very cause which they were intended to check and to crush. The circumstances which led to the deliver- ance of Paul and Silas, were equally singular and astonishing. That confidence in God which preserved these holy men from sinking under the weight of sufferings which they en- dured—that gratitude to divine goodness which attuned their hearts and lips to celebrate the praises of God even in the midst of calami- ties — and that assurance of faith which led them to supplicate with unaffected earnestness of spirit, the continued protection and favour of Heaven, did not lose their reward. How true are these declarations of the Psalmist, "^ The righteous cry and the Lord heareth and delivereth them out of all their troubles!" " The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him, to all that call upon him in truth ! " In addition to that general inspection and car6 which the Governor of the world exercises over mankind^ there is a special protection and ^ LECTURE V. 137 favour extended to true Christians and to those who are emplojed as instruments for supporting the cause of God in the world. The interests of the Divine Being are involved in those of his servants; and the cause in which they are engaged is the cause of the whole race of im- mortal beings. That they should be blessed, therefore, with the manifestations of peculiar favour and love, is naturally to be expected provided our views of the divine character and conduct be just and scriptural. In the case before us, Paul and Silas, men zealously engaged in the cause of God and of immortal beings, were subjected to bonds and imprisonments for their (idelity to the master whom they served. That God, therefore, should condescend to take a peculiar interest in their welfare and signally manifest his power and goodness in accomplishing their restoration to liberty and peace, was to bo expected from 9, view of his character as a just God and a Savi- our. This then we find to have been actually the case. " And suddenly there was a gnat earthquake, so that the foundations of the pri- son were shaken : and immediately all the doori were opened, and every one's bands were loosed." &:<^^^PW ■•/•I i^A^-^: I^'^IJJ ■I • :,; V;i4-.i J" * '* '■' ■ *■' .Ma"- ■' <■■' ■ ■•..•* ' ■.;?!! id** •^ > ■■'■ fV-' i<£.''> ,. , .- - • 4 'I.; M E« ':j^M t I .1 .; ) t,( !( 128 LECTURE V. The phenomena of an eaithquake with its direful circumstances, considered as the effect of a special and miraculous interposition of Providence^ never took place but as the prelude or attendant of some great and uncom- mon event in the moral world. In all ordinary cases, thej are to be viewed as effects originat- ing in physical causes — as designed to produce beneficial influence on the natural world — and as appearances in nature, terrible indeed and to be contemplated with awe and veneration of that Great Being who directs them in their course, but implying no suspension of establish- ed laws, and no direct or special interference of supernatural agency. In the present in- stance, they must be viewed in a very different light. The occasion was sufficiently important to render it worthy of divine interposition — the circumstances with which the terrible event was attended wei'e so singular and striking — and the effects produced on the state of the Apostles and the Jailor were so felicitous and astonishing, that the immediate and special interference of Heaven, was unequivocally evinced, and could not fail to be impressively recognised. The iervant* of God wer« to be LECTURE V. 1^ delivered from sufferings to which innocence and goodness had exposed them — the cause of eternal truth was to be maintained and promjDt- ed — and ''the enemies of the cross of Christ" were to be put to shame and silence 'for ever : and was not this an occasion worthy the inter- ference of God himself? To give impression to the scene and at the same time te give in- fallible efficacy to the plan devised, the tremen- dous shock took place amid the silence an4 darkness of midnight when human beings are least prepared to make resistance, — and did not such nice adjustment and felicitous coinciden- ces mark the special contrivance and immediate direction of unerring wisdom ? And were not the effects produced by the stupendous event on the place and instruments of their confine- ment so instantaneous^ so complete, and so tri- umphant; as to evince the combined and direct operation of Infinite perfections ? God might indeed have accomplished the deliverance of his servants without such a stupendous manifest- ation of his power, but to shew with resistless evidence tliat their liberation was specially his own work and not the result of any artifice or force of Uici* oun, he gave this miraculouj I t, 'h :•<( I- . ^ .' 'J %^' s 4--''' 5!f' - • •»■•'' ^ '' •IK*'''''''*! " I', ,1 v'/:?i •*•!•«■• ; I i ■■ \i 5 » V I i 130 V . LFXTURE V. demonstration of his omnipotence to save. The dreadful concussion which the earth- quake produced, together with the terrific i^ounds which most prohahly attended it, arous- ed the Jailor from his sluinhers, and as, amid the darkness of midnight, human hcings are most alive to the influence of terrvir, he started up, full of alarm, and dreading the worst. His mind being thus wrought up to the highest pitch of terror, and every circumstance which he beheld giving countenance to iha most dreadful of all suppositions, that iha prisoners had escaped, he is prepared to betake himself to the last refuge of the nuserable, the fatal deter- mination not to survive his apprehended dis- grace. He knew that their escape woiiid be imputed cither to his carelessness or treachery, and that after the peculiarly strict charge which was given him to keep these prisoners secure, no hope of mercy could remain for him, and nothing could be expected but a painful and ignominious execution. He, therefore, comes to the desperate resolution to deprive himself of that existence, which, at all events, must he sacriiiced to the justice of his country. But^ asttmishing and unparalleled truth! LECTURE V. 131 The prisoners, notwithstanding every induce- ment to escape, arising from the severity of their tortures and the case with which they could elude detection, remain quietly in their dun*;eon! And no sooner is the murderous design of the Jailor discovered, than it is mer- cifully frustrated by one of those very men to whom he had given every possible cause of provocation and enmity! Most probably Paul and Silas were favoured with some miraculous intimation of the design of God with respect to this poor deluded man, and therefore, will- ing to sacrifice their lives and all that is dear to them if the salvation of but one soul and that of an enemy be put in the opposite scales, they resist every inducement to escape, and the desperate purpose of the Jailor's heart is shaken by the exclamation of Paul, Stay thy nuirder- ous hand — cast down the instrument of destruc- tion and '^do thyself no harm^ for we are all here." Our attention is next called to a terribly pleasing object of contemplation' — the Jailor humbled, alarmed, convinced, and converted. The call of the Apostle receives instant atten- tion — the infatuated being is arretted in hii 1 i ^:m, twjns^'''!^' f. ' 'I ^^■^' .jiTv. Ifc . "'I f i f I. !•; *•»♦• iibf f Jj.. . ,* ',1 ■• 1*=:^ r- Vi IV. 132 LECTURE V. mad purpose, the arm of vengeance is unnerved, and the weapon unslK^athed for the horrid deed, drops harmless to the ground. And, behold the spectacle ^hicli succeeds! ''Then he called for a light, and sprang in, and came tremhling, and fell down before Paul and Sila!s."t . . Darkness as yet shrouded the face of creation ajid deepened the gloom of the dungeon. The mind of the Jailor, however, is irradiated by a beam from heaven — his heart is impressed with such magnificent but terri])lc displays of Al- mighty power in l>ehalf of thesfe persecuted ser- vants of God, and of divine justice against the enemies of the Truth — instantaneous conviction fliishes across his mind — with resistless irnpetu- osit} he rushes into the presence of the con- demnod criminsvJs — overwhelmed with the feel- ings of consternation and awe, every member of his frame trembles — he falls prostrate before the prisoners in their dungeon — and some moments "! t ll:^r'¥' h . ^j'tr^^^t']' ,* • < ■ ... \ i , ^. i : ■ t + " He called for a lig1>^" (In tlie original it is lights^ which seems to imply that several of liis attendants being alarmed, came with torches, and were present at the scene,) probably wishing to see whether or not it was really so that the prison- ers were in safety, — " and sprang in," with keenness. Th« verb siguiQes to use violent dxertion^ as 011 sudden om^r^on- ci«9. LErrURE v/ 133 nrc passed in speechless confusion. What a sudden ! what an astonishing^ reverse of circum- ' stances! He who lately evinced all the insensi- bility of an executioner of vengeance, now melts into tenderness ! lie who lately, with • malignant exultation, loaded tlw^se humble am- bassadors of the cross with the chains of bond- » age and insulted their misery, now tremble* with awe at their presence, and at the majesty - of Truth with which their cause is supported! >; He who lately, with all the assumed dignity and all the wanton insolence of office, issued his harsh and unfeeling mandates, fired at the fii'st look of disaffection, and awed into silence {• the gentlest whisper of complaint, now falls prostrate at the feci of those very criminals it whom he contemned and insulted, and in th« j presence of those domestics whom he made tt»>«> tremble at his frown. i ....;. :.;. ',\ But the Jailor is not to be viewed as a mere slave of terror, or as only panic-struck' with the awful demonstrations of divine indignation and r power which surrounded him. No. lie soon . rises superior to Iiis natural feers and returns to Ihc exerci'^e of enlightened reason, but roused • lo a conviction of the importance of eteruul v 13 ?iC m \i€> M'^ ^f}u i ^ffi;! m' •■■ 1 •■ . ill r' 'i ,(•' f« H'** '* '! ; 1^^ m^ \.. . s« flow ■< ^ ' '4JH-' ir ■:'?t" *>i 154 LECTURE -¥. concerns, he is anxious to know how his soul might escape everlasting misery, " And brought them out, and said. Sirs, what must I do to be saved ? " The language of the Jailor is the lan- guage of conviction, arising from a sense of guilt and a dread of punishment. It is the language of ardent desire to know how the guilt of sin might be removed and its conse- quences averted. It is the language of deep humility and contrition of heart, aris'ng from an impression of sinfulness and demerit in the sight of God. He no longer contemplates these prisoners in the light in which he formerly be- held them. Instead of viewing them as con- temptible fanatics, base impostors, and impert- inent troublers of the people, he regards them as the publishers of Truth, as the messengers of Heaven, and as divinely commissioned to guide immortal beings into the way of salva- tion. Impressed with such convictions of their principles, character, and authority, he entreats them with all the earnestness of a perishing creature awakened to a sense of- his danger, to overlook his past provocations and guilt; to compassionate his ignorance, his criminality, his. wretchedness; to inform him whether or Ii ' ' . , n tlii' Jm LECTURE V. 135 ■■i't<'.fif iJJ-ii not mercy mi«:;ht yet be found for such a sinner as he was; and to direct his trembling steps into the way of pardon^ peace^ and eternal life. What is the answer returned by the Apostles to the earnest entreaty of the awakened and convinced Jailor ? We find it in the follovring verse, "And they said^ Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house." As if they had said. From a sense of guilt and an apprehension of divine wrath, as well as from pai anxious wi&h to obtain eternal salvation, you ask, " what mu&t I do to be saved ?" You see your guilt, and you wish for pardon. You see your danger, and you wish for safety. You see your misery, and you wish for happi- ness. You must be convinced that nothing that you have done, nothing that you may . da, and nothing that you can do, will be of any avail in recommending you to the divine favour, since as a creature you can merit nothing .at the hand of your Creator ; as a weak and erring creature you can do nothing fit to be looked on with complacency by the eye of Infinite perfection; and Jis a sinful creature you deser>e eternal destruction. We would, therefore, di- I 4 1 iir /Vt 3 t ^ 'P*-- -Vi i*"* |!|.!!',*: W^'^m 1" Wt'^^^^' f >ri .r':., ^iii ,'>ir: !^t 136 LECTURE V. rect your anxious inquiring mind to Jesus that divine Saviour, whom it is our duty, our ho- nour, and otir happiness to preach. Of the truths conjcerning him jou have already heard, (especially of that "faithful saving vehich is wortliy of all acceptation, that he came into the world to save sinners/*) and we recommend these important and salutary truths to your faith. From a firm conviction of their excel- lence and suitableness to your necessities, assent willingly to them. Give the full credit of your understanding and the acceptation of your whole heart to the fact that Je«us Christ is the Son of God, and the only Saviour of ruined man. Receive him as your Saviour, and rest your hopes of salvation on him alone as he is offered to you in the Gospel. Thus your sins, numerous and highly aggravated as they are, will be freely forgiven. Thus your person and services, vile and worthless as thev are, will be accepted by a pure and holy God. And thus your own soul and those of your family who may follow your example, will be saved with an everlasting salvation. It is evident that faith implies some know- ledge of the truths to be believed, for we LECTURE Vr 137 M cannot reasonably assent to the* jf which we are wholly ignorant. It also implies that we have some grounds or evidences to warrant our assent, for an assent given without reason^ is not faithj, but credulity. And it is insepa- rably connected with confidence in the thing believed, or an implicit reliance on it as true, for we cannot be said really to believe that cf which we have not full assurance and in which we do not place unsuspecting confidence. — When the Jailor, therefore, is called ^o 'be- lieve in the Lord Jesus Christ," he is required to assent or give full credit to the fact that he is a sufficient Redeemer, and in conformity with iuited to his particular cir* cumstances. Fully convinced that a remedy so well adapted to the case of sinful man could be devised by none but God, he gives credit to, - '•'I'm'.- ■■'•'■'■V . I n't '- *:,'•, *'*■ ' t.i'%^ " / 1 ,|-;-i;i;^ j 1) !« >j'V*!" I,.' M I .Ik 11 if Hi 138 LECTURE V. the record respecting it, namely, that *^^tiod hath given us eternal life and that this life is in his Son." He rejoices in the remedy' ; re- ceives Jesus as his only Saviour ; and delights in him as ''all his salvation and all his desire.'* Convinced, therefore, that such a knowledge of Christ, such a rational conviction of the truths respecting his character and w^ork, and such unsuspecting confidence in his sufficiency and willingness to save, are absolutely necessary in all who would obtain salvation by the cross of Christ, the Apostles proceed to state more fully and explicitly to the ^ vakened sinner, and to those of his family who were present and anxious to learn, the doctrines revealed in scrip- ture concerning the atonement of Christ. ''And they spake unto him the word of the Lord, and to all that were in his house." Pro- bably the Jailor, anxious for the everlasting welfare of those who were endeared to him by every tie of nature and affection, had brought his family together for the purpose of hearing concerning the things belonging to their ever- lasting peace, so that those events which seem- ed big with danger and death, were overruled by a gracious Providence for the best interests .Ml LECTURE V. TSd of this thoiigliticss creature and of those con-^ signed to bis care. a^ja The proofs which the Jailor gave of tlid radical and total change which was produced on his temper and dispositions, sentiments and conduct^ are mentioned in the following verse*;^ **x\nd he took them the same hour of the night, and washed their stripes; and was haptized, he and all his, straightway. And when he had brought them into his house, he set meat liefore them and rejoiced, believing in God with all his house." A neavy burden is removed from his mind, for he has found what he anxiously desired, deliverance from the guilt and conse- quences of sin ; and God so blessed the word that he is immediately humbled, softened, and changed from a lion, as it were, into a lamb, so that those very men on whom he ^pent his vengeance, now become the objects of his sym- ' pathy and regard. He tenderly upbinds those painful wounds which his own scourge had in-' * flictcd, resorts to every possible means of allevi-" ating those sufferings which before he derided and augmented, and refreshes the exhausted spirits of the saints with the best provisions which his house could afford. Thus do feelings „-j. * ■ ■It 'W^f ■:''■' ^^' '&• 'Lf. ■"■■'"■' -'h''' r-; • , ,. .X' ■■- !>£■ -( *^'»1 I'tl'l ml ' !■•; ':ft • ^m^jT?*) !*,! liis. 51 Jii' #■;<;; * , 1 IWBIS'*' " .!L :'l ^ %M ^ f k''i' 'i-u ..'i I'ipi,' i^i*' f|'>i.. If m I f .jiiiir 140^ LECTURE V. of gratitude to those who were made the instru- ments in the hand of God for bringing him to the knowledge of salvation, prompt to the grateful returns of affectionate regard. Here we behold " faith working by love " — evincing its real and substantial excellence bj an open, decided, and manly profession of religion though opposed by the arm of civil power — and ''rejoicing with a joy unspeakable and full of glory." In concluding this lecture, I shall state and illustrate a few practical obsiervations. , • .) t . « ,• .- ^ . » 1. The astonishing labours and holy forti- tude of the Apostles are worthy of admiration. — We are disposed to admire the brave leader of a brave army, who overcomes every difficulty, sets at defiance the stratagems of the enemy, and returns in triumph from the field of blood. We look back with a romantic pleasure to th^ heroes of ancient times ; we transport ourselves to. the fields on which they bled; and we point to the laurels which encircled their brows. It is yio doubt natural and just to admire and ve- nerate heroism wherever it appears; but have wc no meed of applause in reserve for those LECTURE V, 1^ nobler heroes of our race, who^ in opposition to all the allurements of pleasure and all the apprehensions of danger^ enlisted themselves under the banners of the cross and fought the battles of the Lord ? Unlike the heroes of this >vorldj theirs was a struggle for every thin^ precious to man as an immortal being — for every thing that can exalt and dignifj his nature — for every thing that can cheer his heart in this vale of tears^ and gild the cloud that hangs over his grave. It is a striking and painful fact, that while the names of men falsely called great have been enshrined in the temple of fame, those of the Apostles and martyrs of Christ have so few to commemorate (PC revere them. Ncven/ieless so let it be. Their record is on high. Their names are em- blazoned in the temple of the skies, and thej' cc shall shine forth as the sun in the kiiJS'dom of their father.'' S, We may see from this subject the value of true religion. — What was it that supported and cheered these soldiers of Christ In the dark and noisome dungeon? What was it that ena- bled them io ri«e as it were above themselves^ *. V ■ ^^'' 1 ■- ■ *■ » . y ' ' . , ,. j-f ^ ■-*-■„ f ■ ' ' 1 ' . '■ ' ■ '>; *'' i '^M l^ mm ^^im .74 t>! 4'^' '■ ' ■."■■'■'I'l I* l^,li)J i^ ■•;?',.. »»•« ir. ■i- ; i • ll^ LECTURE V. andj whik other men would have brooded over their mUeries^ pined in silence, and sunk in despair^ led them to fill the abodes of cruelty and horror with songs of praise ? It was, as we have seen^ the influence of relig-ion — peace of conscience arising from a conviction of the goodness of the cause in which they sulT'ered— the experience of divine consolations — the re- collection of past communications of heavenly love — and the assurance that under the direc- tion of a wise and gracious Providence "all things would work together for their good/' — these were the sources of thoir abundant conso- lations^ of their "joy unspeakable and full of glory." Here, then, is religion as a source of comfort and joy amid the darkest and most dis- couraging dispensations of Providence, brought to the test of experiment; and how does its excellence, how does its splendour, how does its gl6ry shine forth ! It irradiates by its beams the gloomy vajills of a dungeon — it supports by its energies the feeblest saint amid the deep- est floods of tribulation — it enraptures by its consolations and hopes the captive of satim ere yet he has burst asunder the chains of bondage, and escaped from darkness and death. 1- M'T 1) IJlCTURE v. 143 lo light ineflftible and life tliat shall never end. TIk; same sources of consolation which were o}>ened to the suflTcring Apcstlcs in their dmi- j^'con, arc disclosed to the Christian in evcr^ a^Cj to give zest to the enjoyment of tepiporal prosperity, and to support his soul in the midst of overwhelming* sorrows. The support whici* religion affords in the season of adversity de- cides its superiority to every other source of happiness. Its pleasures, no walls can exclude ; its hopes, no disappointments can destroy, — pleasures which flourish in solitude and in ad- versity ; hopes which fear no wreck but from the storms of passion. Religion brings comfort to the dreariest dwelling. It warms the heart when earthly friendships grow cold as the grave — it soothes the breast when it throbs with aiip;iiii,h — it comnuuiicates a heavenly energy to the soul when it trembles on the brink of aii eternal world. The friend whom we trust may. be dear — the friend whom we have tried i» incstimalde. Religion, perhaps, best shews its .strength when it rules the prosperous, but its value is felt by the unfortunate alone. Who then woidd be so dead to his own best interests as to reject the Gospel, and thus wil-> ^.^^^jfeM Mm' 1' I fer'^^- ■ f A^-'^ if ■'! :ilt;. ll'f "j..-i" I II' 'm i-B\ ■'■■ ..j^^ ■•n !^';'„l! •^- : l! .'■'■r 144 LECTURE V. fully and with open eyes to deprive himself of consolation when its supports are most required ? who would for o^ moment hesitate whether or not to become religious^ when religion is mani< festly so essential and so conducive to man's truest happiness? Let the men of the world seek for happiness in the possessions and plea- sures of time. Brethren, be it our unremitting care and study to make religion and its con- corns the business, that it may become the happiness, of our lives. 3. We may remark the care with which God watches over his people. — Paul and Silas .prayed, and their prayers ascended from the lowly dungeon to the throne above the skies. They came up in sweet memorial before God and received "an answer of peace." The eye of a compassionate Father beholds their sufferings, and the arm of omnipotence is stretched out for their deliverance. The earth is convulsed to its centre — the foundations of the prison are shaken — and the fetters by which the prisoners were detained burst asunder, and freedom is restored. How true is that declaration of scrip- ture, ''The evei of the Lord run to and frt LECTURE V. 145 tjiroughout the ^yhoIe earthy to sbew himself strong in behalf of those whose hearts are per^ feet towards him ! " He takei a deep interest ill the concerns of his own children^ and "deli- vers them out of all their troubles/' Ere long^ he will impart strength by which they shall be enabled to vanquish *'the last enemy." The powers of darkness shall fall prostrate before^ them^ and the song of triumph shall be heard^., "O death where is thy sting ? O grave where. , is thy victory? Thanks be unto God who ^ g^iveth us the v* • > y through Jesus Christ our Lord!" 'V/ ) ., ♦«• ,'»,'»■ 4. How astonishing the power and grace manifested in the conversion of the Jailor ! — What his former life and character may have been, wc know not. It is likely that they were far from being such as they ought to have been^ for his situation in life was by no means favourable to the cultivation of the mild and peaceful graces of the Christian character. Of one thing we are certain, that^ in common with his brethren of mankind, he was a deprav- ed guilty creature. How astonishing, then, that power which accomplished his deliverance A^'i:- .^k rnmm ^^■"'y I f!i ' ■ :f *^; ^ H" . ♦ t i^'i. r 146 LECTURE y. from guilt and depravity! — which roused his thoughtless mind to serious reflection — which softened hi hard and unfeeling heart into tenderness and love — which constrained his ob- durate will into the obedience of the truth — which humbled in the dust his proud and loftj spirit — w^bich gave a new directibn to all his dispositions, sentiments/ principles, and con- duct. And how astonishing the power display- ed in the means which were employed for efFtct- ing this blessed change! Let us admire and venerate the divine power displayed in this glorious work, and let us pray that we and all men may become " a willing people in the day of the Saviour's power." '' "/ f ' ■ What had the Jailor done to merit such a stupendous display of power and goodness in his favour? He had done every thing that, might have been supposed capable of arming divine vengeance against him. He had perse- cuted those who were employed as the ambas- sadors of Christ — he had done his u. »ost to check and crush the cause of God, which they laboured to promote — and be was just about to hurry himself into the presence of his Judge by au unnatural and unjustifiable act, when he lectuhe v. 147 ivas stopped in his mad career. Behold^ theft, the riches of Sovereign grace in the conversion and salvation of this hardened and impenitent sinner! — in regarding him with pity when he shewed no pity for himself! — in plucking him as a brand from the burning! O adorable power ! O astonishing and glorious grace ! Finally, How excellent is the scheme of salvation which the Gospel reveals! — It unites' in its contrivance and execution, "mercy and truth, righteousness and peace.'* "We all with open face behold as in a glass the glory of the Lord." The excellence of this plan has been attested by the experience of ages. We read of an Ethiopian, who, when his eyes were open- ed to discern the perfect suitableness of the Saviour to the work of redemption, "went on Iiis way rejoicing." When Paul was brought to see the glory of God as it shines in the face of Jesus Christ, he exclaimed with rapture, ''yea, doubtless, I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus niy Lord." In later times, we Sjave heard of a poor Indian, who, when he received the message of reconciliation from the mouth of a , ■„:: vol I t' ^^^ u ■-./. ^; 4i !f*^ii ¥| L j-j' .V.:*'^' 'P Hi ^'^1 * '•■Si '■ ■*;' ,' III : i I, f 1:^ ^ - >i 'u ■ 0"^ ■1'X i*-- ri fl ' ( .'«» ' ■¥ 'i '1 1, •'» 1 148 LECTURE V. Christian Missionary, immediately threw down his instrument? of torture and exclaimed " This is what I want ! " Yes ! The Gospel is satisfy- ing to cvefy real believer. He sees in it the perfections of God magnified and shining forth with united glory. He is convinced that ac- cording to the scheme which it unfolds, God may be just when he justifies the ungodly who have "believed on the Lord Jesus Christ;" that he may be holy when he pardons sin and receives guilty creatures into favour and friend- ship ; that he may be good in the highest sense of the term, though he punishes with ever- lasting destruction those who reject the Gos- pel of Jesus. All the methods which the ima- ginations of men have devised, fail to give peace to the troubled breast. They may please the speculative inquirer ; they may satisfy the formal and worldly-minded ; they may commu- nicate a presumptuous hope to the hypocrite. But let a man be roused to a sense of tiis sin and danger ; let his eyes be opened to discern the evil of sin and its hatefulncss in the sight of God ; let conscience be awakened to a faith- ful discharge of its duty; and you will find that all the boajsted schemes of human invention LECTURE V. 14» m will be rejected by him as unsatisfactory and delusive. Nothing can calm the troubled breast — nothing can heal tlie wounded spirit^ but an exhibition to the believing >oul of the love of God in redemption by Christ Jesus. To every question, then, similar to that of the awakened Jailor, let the reply be that of the Apostles, " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." :? <: i ''I; '*'i,'vi t ,; I . sn ' ' ■.■■ ■■ -.■it ... I ; .» It.'-' ■ %*! ■wi:ii^ 4:':'., ■•';-k*ik.:i^v:^ .an...!*./ K.^ , ' •'.* 1 t ■''. . 4 , p )*■ t «■ i < It i , , 't t 1 ■ 1 1; i .p^.l 1 t.-'l!^ ■' 1 ; 1 ' ' 1 ii-3$ 4 <' :\ '\i iV fiyft, r^ ik 4 .'jliiWL «#. i i^ntj' »i * "*.>«:*• i?.i^' ^ ^' O If^ H ^1 #<*t *.3 1^*' r'i ■M'l SERMONS. TV ..-'i n.'^i'' m i-^'i K4 at * * *id' *■ .'■^ f^ i'^'' t !;ir* i \i%Si im Mr . H ^^ .i 1.: J 15 •1 S i f/ *f » 4 1 ..* ilt ' <»'» -t .1' 'i V vr \: '1 •4.-.-»NA. )f ■ ■ ■■•*■ -Vt ..I- l- t'^" 1*': *^Sii ■^J..* :1 1 I '1 'la till J.I :^fi 1 l* W: '^;;i(. , ./ ', T' ^i ! ■ Y^** 4 ■<*■- > U •:' ' ( Jl 1 i1 ■ » ' t,™fr n ■■^^it ;•'* ■T |l|y ■■■;i f* ■s P ».t ; . 1^ : 'vjiUp t ' ;•• -'.t 1 ii7 1 i, 1 ' i ' :! J ,.li* •ju'.>iH'.im#i iNTElLECTUAt DIFFIDENCES ? * > - ' > *»^ . .4 «A * ■ - *■■ ■ '*. V PROV. III. 5. ■ ' - •■■ 1 ^ ' iiJ.w ■ » V.J is'3' \ > i_ << Trust in the Lord with lU thine heart, and lean I10| to thine owu understanding." ••••'ii'l: The fiicultieg of the human mind are limited • in their operation. This is a truth universally acknowledged, because it is too obvious to be denied. The most intelligent observer o^ the appearances which the material world presents, and the most profound inquirer into the cofi- ftitution of mind, are equally called to invest- igate phenomena too vast, complicated, and nultiform, for their most expanded intellects to embrace; every accession of knowledge .tends to convince them of their ignorance, and every ^■r V:-:, + *. y%^' ■:k:ir. ;:!■; , ^mi :l ,.; ,. ti n **•.•:; :. ,' i*> '' .if* 'I* r »«) 154 SERMON I. step which they take in the road' to perfection, reminds them that perfection is unattainable in the present stage of existence. "One of the most valuable effects of genuine philosophy" says a celebrated modern philosopberf " i» to remind us of the limited powers of the human understanding, and to revive those nataral feelings of wonder and admiration at the spec- tacle of the Universe, which are apt to languish in consequence of long familiarity. The most profound discoveries which are placed within the reach of our researches, lead to a confession of human ignorance; for while they flatter the pride of man and increase his power, by ena< bling him to trace the simple and beautiful laws by which physical events are regulated, they call his attention at the same time to those ge- ncral and ultimate facts, which bound the narrow circle of his knowledge, and which, by evincing to him the operation of powers whose nature must forever remain unknown, serve to remind him of the insufficiency of his faculties to penetrate the secrets of the Universe." „ ., Men, however, frequently admit in specula- tion what in practice they deuy. That our intellectual powers are circumscribed in their + StewaHrt. SERMON I. 155 operation within very narrow bounds^ is readily confessed, but the humiliating truth is seldom made the guide of subsequent conduct. " Vain man would be wise though he be born as the wild asses colt. " Aiming at perfection in knowledge, he feels a secret dissatisfaction and restlessness of mind as long as he is conscious of ignorance on any subject. Acting as if his faculties in their present state, were susceptible of unlimited expansion, he applies them to the investigation of objects whose nature can be comprehended only by infinite and uncreated intelligence. This conduct originates in an ignorance of his own mind, conjoined with aii impertinent self-sufficiency. Its baneful effects are too manifest to be concealed, and too alarm- ing to be palliated. They escaped not the observation of the wisest qf men, and did not fail to excite his solicitude to prevent their re- currence. Hence wc find on record this iir- portant admonition, ''Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not to thine own iindcrstanding." :-.>.. The imperfection of the human mind in the present #tagc of its existence, is sufficient of itself to convince us of the impropriety of plac-^ ¥ mm l' 7 "I l' * H H:- * » .wLwi'. i' - '' ' * s ML VI' ' ' '■ 'Mf^ i ,., j: g^e f , "J : „: ■. I'M.,.!. ,i' -l*t4t if '^':^Aj'& I '-'If #': ^ :*' ^ t^^'t u M 156 SERMON I. ing too great a reliance on its noblest powersv It shitll^ therefore, be the object of this dis- course to shew the importance of intellectual diffidence, or of being distrustful of our own understandings, when called lo discharge cer- tain departments of duty. . ? k .- v : ,. t , ^.^ l>f4o?j-i a^rttj^*^., ,* r ;, S:-.->5U 1. We should beware of .eposing too great confidence in the powers of our own minds, when employed in 4he invesfigation of moral* and religious truth. — Truth and error are in certain cases so blended together that the broad line which separates them is scarcely dis- cernible, Gircumstances seem to bear equally in favour of both sides, and the precise track to be pursued is clouded with uncertainty. In such situations as these, it becomes necessary to put Pilate's question, "What is Truth?" The whole of our mental forces miist be concentrat- ed and directed to this one object- — the possess- ion of truth iriitainted by the slightest contam- ination of error. Whatever rank the truth io be discovered may hold in the scale of injport- ance, we must be careful not to place too much dependence on our own intellectual powers. At best they are extremely apt to err. Perverse iti t SERMON I. •^y \m "i associations give rise to foolish prejt«dioes, which too frequently warp the judgment and. render the mind impervious io the light . of truth. Blind credulity or unlimited scepticism flow as the native streams of this polluted fount- ain. In modern iiraes^ the latter has had the most wide diffusion^ and its poisonous qualities have heen productive of the most deleterious effects. Facts, incorporated with the higtories of philosophy and religion, combine in attesting the truth of this assertion. Imagining it a mark of superior genius to doubt of every thing which has received the sanction of popular belief, men have been led to call in question the most ob\ ious truths, to indulge a sceptical hu- mour on almost every subject, and to oppose with virulent hostility all established opinions; Whether we regard the conduct of these men as the efl'ect of prejudice, a desire of singularity, or an extravagant love of philosophizing,— or trace it directly to the latent but powerful in- fluence of a proud understanding; it equally evinces the fallibility of the human mind «nd the dangerous consequences w}iich result from an implicit reliance on its aid in the invc«ti^ gation of truth. / . , j f ^> 1 '«''•! , '• '■ '■': i'Mi '-4 . 04'^ ' i- Vf 't i ,» . . ■' ■ A f 4 • . - , ' t , ■< »■>■ I '5 ■Hi > >'' . . . ■' I" ' '■'■ .; 1 V- . - •.■■■ f' ...h- w i :. i t ■ ■ .♦, . ■* , ' . ^ > 1 :. '( . V * 1 • 1 ■ »■■ ■ ' - V- ■■ ' 1 k |- ^n. =. ^f ■«•■" Ml''- ."^ ' * >' •1. ^' ' r} fitx. 158 SERMON I. *" As the f rutfis connected with religion are of all others the most important^ so the baneful effects of scepticism indulged in regard to these truths^ must be worthy of our most serious attention. By the survey of these effects we shall naturally be led to pride of reason as their final cause. Men there have been and still are in the world, who hesitate not to call in ques- tion the existence of a First cause, and, if possible, to dismiss from their creed all ideas of supernatural agency. The source of their scep- ticism it is not difficult to trace; for in the features of the progeny are pourtrayed the li- neaments of the parent. Their understandings, being unable to trace the relation of causes and effects, or being baffled in their atv^'ipts to comprehend the mode of the divine existence, have been led to conceal their imperf. ction by a flat denial of what lie^ beyond their reach. In this way, dependence on the human mind leads, to direct and unblushing Atheism. When a systei . of truth is proposed, and when men profess to take that system for their standard of faith and of practice, it might na- turally be expected that an appeal would be made to if in ever; case of doubt, and that iti ».. t ''^-- id^^K SIERMON I. 159^ decision would invariably be final. It is riot more lamentable than astonishing^ however, that many who profess to take the scripture* for their standard of faith and of practici^^ do not submit their understandings to its decisioni. They either reject those truths which reason was unable to discover^ or else they dismiss from their creed those doctrines which reason is unable to comprehend. Men who reject those truths of revelation which are not confirmations of what reason discovered^ insinuate that a revelation was in a great measure, if not wholly, unnecessary, and that Socrates expected a use* less teacher, when he said, ^'Vie must wait till we learn from an instructer who careth for us and has a wonderful concern for our welfare, iu what manner we are to conduct ourselves with regard to God and our fellow creatures." They are guilty of the most daring impiety, in re- jecting what God has thought worthy of being revealed, and in making divine truth bend ti> the dictates of human reason. In this way,, dependence on the powers of man renders Christianity only a more perfect system of Deism. mu ■t '^^ - 1?- '^:',« i ' ^'xtM^ 1 "■.if^'JV "ft. i 160 SERMON I. , The same pride of reason has too often led liw»n to class with unprofitable speculations, those doctrines which the human understand- ing is unable to comprehend when revealed. These votaries of reason either imagine that the doctrines referred to are contrary io the light of naturCj or conclude that, because thej are incomprehensible, they cannot be proper objects of faith. The former of these ideas c^u be corrected only by a careful study of the doctrines in question as revealed in the sacred volume, conjoined with fervent prayer to God for direction. The latter contradict^ one of the first principles of philosophy — namely, that though we cannot believe what is against rc?.- gon, we may rationally believe upon competent evidence, what is above reason. To act con- sistently these men should disbelieve every truth which their understandings are unable vo com- prehend. If a man denies the e,\isience of mind, because he cannot understand its nature, and can define it only by the operations of which he is conscious; to act consistently, he should also deny the existence of matter, be- cause he can judge of it only by its visible and tangible qualities. If a man denies the 4:^\ SERTVtON I. i.i^ % « 161 communication of motion by thought which w6 ascribe to spirit ; to act consistently, he should also deny the communication of motion by impulse, which we ascribe to matter. We can- not tell how particles of light are propagated from the radiant point, and do we therefore deny the existence of light? We cannot tell how the blood circulates inr our veins, and do we therefore dony that it is the medium of nutriment and vigour? We cannot unfold the nature of that union which subsists between body and mind, nor can we explain their mu- tual influence; and do we therefore conclude that they are unconnected, or independent of eiich other? There is not a leaf that rustles in the breeze; there is not a flower that decks the field; there is not an insect that wantons in the sun beam or flits along the ambient air ; there is not a particle of sand by the sea wave, — whose properties can all be described by the^ wisest of man ; and do all men therefore be- come the dupes of modern scepticism as to the existence of the material world ? W iiy then do men presume to arraign the incomprehensiblfc God Jit the bar of their limited understandings, and to reject those doctrines which he has not ■r.-ijr -n- I 1-( '. \i t > "^m^ :M ,-, >■' « *: (•" ■f h ' ;.» ■•A 0': HI* '»-- 1 #"^<.i' 2 -a * ■ nil ,^ P:" i' .Hi "J r , r .: 162 SERMON I. made level to human capacity ? Why do men reject the wlole of Christianity because some of its doctrines are mysterious? In the on^i case, they resemble the man who discredits ht^ senses, because be cannot understand tiie nat'jro of the objects which surround ^ im. In the otl^ef, they resemble the man who discontinues the practice of e^itina^uisliing fiie b)' water, because h? ri-pnot understand why ois poured on the sam' flai v* woidd increase the confla- gration. It Av;-» ifd be impiety to say, that \i was im[i0is5)ble for God to have made every thing which he has thounjht tit to reveal, level U} the human ^mderstanding; but certainly \i is not irrational to expect that whatever proceeds from an Infinite Being should bear some traces of Infinity. When an author produces a work bearing marks of great profundity of thought and research, we naturally expect that every work proceeding from the same author should bear some resemblance to the first in both of these respects. It is suHicient to verify the title of a revelation, if additional light be thrown on subjects previously involved i;? ^^a- certainty, and if truths be mide knov '^l ivhivh the humar; nind could previc'sly jh ifti' SERMON I. 163 GO men 36 Sonne the op.t) '. iiaturo III the >ntinue3 water, poured confla- that it ry thing 1 to the t is not roceeds e traces a work hou«5ht t ev<^ry • should )oth of ify the ght be air J ' »« -St .Jit no conception. In the revelation of God to his creatures, every thing essential to salvation is c\-:'\r\y made known, and those truths which ,irt now ''seen darkly as through a glass/' are reserved to be fully unveiled in that world of Iig>t where the boundaries of intellectual vision shall be enlarged to embrace them. Thus, the etTccts of too great a reliance on the powers of the human understanding, in leading some men to detract from the Gospel its peculiar doctrines and others to downright infidelity, may serve to convince us of the importance of intellectual diiHdcnce in the search after truth. There is one error of an opposite description to those which have now been adverted to, equally remote from that distrust of our own understandings which is recommended in the text. The error to which I refer is that of endeavouring to simplify the Gospel by explain- ing what cannot and was never intended to be explained. This is an error into which a mis- guided zeal has frequeutly led well meaning Christians. Thu/:' ^ro not aware that the ex- planatitva of » mystery is a . annihilation, and that their a; tempts cau only injur the cause vvhich they wish to promote. The same plan *-««.! ' l^^3 ,i .» •.-.MJiSwr ^w- .,?.-; m #-v :| :• 'J J ^'f.yi«l * 16# SERMON I. of simplification has led men to form artificial representations of the divine nature, and thui to introduce all the errors of idolatry. It is with the intellectual powers as it is with the external senses; objects placed in an obscure light are not discernible owing to a defect in the medium ; and very luminous objects cannot be beheld owing to the natural imbecility of the optic nerve. Some objects of the under- standing are unknown to us, because of the want of due Information ; and there are others of which we are ignorant^ because they exceed the measure of our comprehension. Of this latter kind are the doctrines which these men endeavour to explain. The human mind can- not receive them in its present embryo state, and to make the attempt is as foolish as it would be to endeavour to make the infant oii the breast comprehend the pursuits of the philosopher. " We ought not/' says Lord Ba- con, ''to attempt to draw down or submit the mysteries of God to our reason ; but, on the contrary, to raise and advance our reason to the divine truth." The mysterious doctrines of Christianity constitute its peculiar glory, for it is their splendour which dazzles the eyes of SERMON r. 165 feeble mortals. Instead^ therefore, of vainly attempting to make them less m^^sterious, the Christian should exhibit them in all their na- tive lustre to the admiration of the world. A becoming sense of the imperfection of the hu- man understanding would se^ve as a corrective to this as well as the other errors to which I have alluded. ^■■■- ^^ " ..^^ . 'rt, .,, -;. Hitherto our attention has been called in truths of a doctrinal nature. It may be proper before concluding this part oi' the subject, to turn our thoughts for a little, to the ejffect of too great a reliance on human reason, in regard to those parts of the divine word which arc professedly of a practical nature and tewuency. — The numerous systems of ethics which have been obtruded with much philosophical parade upon the wc^rld, must have attracted the atten- tion of every reflecting mind. Many of the^e systems are highly exceptionable, and all of them are extremely defective. The reason is obvious. The theorists when framing them have had too great confideiice in their own powers. They have paid little regard to the obligations which arise from the divine will ; and though in s-^ , . cases they have uninten* L3 'f: ■J- -■■ : 1 . i: ' ' 9m::.& it' h V ti ■ «f^:-' *'t.. % ■ jf ^( 1 I r ilS'?,*'^:=.|i i *t II S' l«n "' n 11 1 .. ( .. , ; i i!.)i- 166 SERMON I. tionallv been indebted to the sacred writers, vet the rules and motives of Christianity have not had that prominefjco iH .heir respective systems, to which they are justly entitled. Often too, the law of God which the light of nature discovers, has been obscured by vain metaphy- sical reasonings. The tvdiik is, no proper system of morality can be framed without the aid of C hristianity ; and those which are merely of hun an formation must ever partake of the imperfection of the minds which conceived tlicm. 4 . ' But, too groat dependence on human reason not only discovers itself in leading men to fubricate theories of morality for 'the conduct of life ; it likewise evinces its pernicious, ten- dency by leading rncn to shape their conduct according io those rulcr> of Christianity which appear to theniGclves most expedient. These sons of reason cull from among the precepts of the Gospel, and at one time, contemn those dispositions of heart which it requires to he cultivated, while at another, they either pal- liate or exalt as virtuous f wgs, those disposi- tions wlurh it reprobates m tii* strongest lan- g :age. Humilitv, they term meanness; for- '1 , >■ ^, SERMON I. 167 giveness of injuries, pusillanimity ; self-donial, monasticism ; zeal for the honour of God and the salvation of men, enthusiasm. The man inflated with pride, they represent as a man of a great mind ; he whose eye sparkles with re- venge on receiving a small affront, as a man of honour ; and the victim of sensuality, as a lover of ^-eedom. — Mark, then, the excellence of the wis; man's admonition "lean not to thine own understanding," — the importance of having the dictates of the human mind subjected to the direction of the divine law. t 2. We must guard against placing too much depen '«nce on our own minds, when forming a jtiJghient concerning the divine operations. — When the votaries of reason observe the events Mrhich .ire constantly taking place in the ad- ministration of human affairs, they perceive many appearances of irregularity ; and, in too many instances, have been led to the dreadful conclusion, that the world is governed by an uncontroulable necessity, and that every event originates in the blind collision of casual asso- ciations. It must be. owned that, in many cases, the operations of Omnipotence are dark L4 ■•■i- t ( H ■. «V; ^■'<& ■^-, 1 1 f *•- y^aiJ^^ I « ■ I lis';.*-. '41^ |.|. I •; .^'^ s ■^1 I.. ^*'^-^!?f;& 1 ■ i.l»!, '■ ;i'i,'^:!!is t. ,' J t ' 1-' f f ,.„:,..,,; '■■• ^,.. •-»!' :1 ^ i.i-.' tj ;4*iil '*■'■ IIIP''^ 1 1 I ) 1 -J, 1 1,"', s 1 ■ ,, ■"* . 168 SERMON I. and mysterious, and, like the erratic motion of a comet in the heavens, seem to be guided by no determinate agency. God's "way is in the sea, and his path in the deep waters, and his foot- steps are not known." Evil, both physical and moral is allowed to exist in the world ; virtue is often marked out by sorrow for her own, while vice is allowed to triumph ; and those / schemes which are designed to be of extensive public utility are rendered abortive, while the dark laid plans of mischief are crowned with the success desired. These are no doubt appa- rent discrepancies, and it is not surprising that the deductions of human reason lead to the impious conclusion that "the ways of God are not equal.'* But, we must be diffident of our own understandings. When we attempt to form adequate concep- tions of the divine nature, we are bewildered in the vast mazes of infinity and return from our fruitless wanderings without finding a point at which to stop the boundings of our thoughts. The noblest conceptions of which the human mind is capable, are annihilated; the boldest flights of imagination are arrested in their vain career. We inhabit a globe which is but a SERMON I. m )m our gpeck in the Universe ; and how can we com* prebend a Being who actuates and supports the whole frame of nature ? Our faculties are as limited as the sphere of our existence ; and how can we comprehend a Being; who with one glance beholds the past^ the present^ and the future, "whose understanding, is infinite/* whose "judgments are unsearchable and whose wajs are past finding out" ? If the nature of God be thus incomprehensible to finite crea- tures, is it not natural to expect that his oper- ations should be equally inexplicable ? If our intellectual powers are so incompetent to explain the mode of the divine, existence, how dare we presume to pass a verdict on the operations of Omnipotence ? But, supposing that the nature and operationg of Deity are in some measure \e\i\ to the human understanding, yet our views of them are only partial. Our situation on this globe is like that of an insect on the surface of a vast and complicated machine. Even admitting thaf the insect had intelligence, yet it could Judge only of what was within its view, and as it could not perceive the adjustment of the differ- ent parts of the mechanism to their respective ■■1 ■ v ■■t« t - ,)^-j •M' ■'#•■ ■c* if; ■1 y ■ •■'ir ■J .v'^'r: ■♦ ',.'9!. »,f . I ' , '■ "i)^ i'*i^^ 170 SERMON 1. ends, it could form no decision concerning the skill of the mechanic. We see only a part of the Almighty's ways, and to decide on the whole from the part which we behold, would be rash and presumptuous. Candutt similar to this has often been attended with injurious consequences. Let us take one instance from the :naterial Universe : — For a long period the pboriomena of the heavens were wrapt in ob- scurity. Men judged of them merely from the appearances which they present to the external senses, and consequently were led to imagine that the sun and planetary bodies revolve round this earth as a centre, and that they were de- signed only to diffuse light and heat over this insignificant globe which we inhabit. The conseqiitncos of these ideas were as bad as the ideas themselves wore erroneous. The untutor- ed peasant looked on the celestial appearances with an unmeaning gaze, whilst those whose minds were enlightened by any scattered rays of astronomical science, regarded them as the pioduction of an unskilful artificer. Hence, the declaration of Alphonso X. King of Leon and Castile, so celebrated for its impiety — that if God had consulted him at the funuation of SEHMON I. 171 the world, he would have furnished him with a better plan. Additional light, however, has dispelled every cloud ; and the system of the heavens, like every other part of the material Universe, is found to bear marks of profound skill and consummate wisdom. — Such was the elTect of a rash and inconsiderate judgment cooctrning the works of God. May not si- milar effects result from too hasty a decision concerning the moral administration of the Universe ? The plan of Providence is vast and complicated, and we can see only a part of that plan. We seldom see causes and efl'ects conjoined, and though experience sometimes endows men with a kind f»f natural vaticination by which they can know the efl'ects which will result from the operation of certain causes;, yet, in most casci, the intentions of Deity are wholly unknown to man. To be able to explore final causes, it is absolutely necessary that we have a perfect acquaintance with every" purpose to which the objects around us may be applied, together with a clear conception of tlie iih'as of fitness or order whiili form the prototypes in the mind of that Great Being vho directs their motions. Events which '^f^. ' . :' '^^'^ 1 ■ -1 -•4 • 1-1 t > ■*•'■> '«•' 'in J>-#. II ■ I'n--. WW- h * f' '*;!' '"-■•• \ li^ ri!' I- Fft''' ' ■ ■■ • Z"^ It' , . * -1 m ^ »i 1 l> t i^ SERMON i. Wlien^ tlicrcfore, we undertake any great and arduous work, such as the investigation of moral and religious tr^th^ or the contemplation of divine operations, we should seek direction from a superior gu'de, — from that spirit which has been promised to act as a ''light te our feet and a lamp to our paths." • *» lU!, it tSl" r '-if 'I k t f , !! . [i .. ■^' r # > J^ '■4f\.'$^' 4 '■'!.■*'■ «c^-i«i- tl» .' t. ■-■.-■ .1 i-. SERMON 11. ^.^"•■;*^-'^ /■as .; • jfU ^ 'hiMi -Hiv PRACTICAL INFIDELITY, •a; ;■.,' ^VV ii:;. Hi;;.: Prov. X. 13. « Wherefore do the wicked contemn God?'* We live in an enlif^litened aj2;e. A spirit of, inquiry has been awakened, — philosophical the- ories long established and above suspicion, have been examined, and the insecurity of their foundations has been detected and exposed, — many of those physical and intellectual pljo- noniena concerning which uncertain conjec- tures were previously formed, have been tr;r iif- i .> "1 I; ' ^ *■ ♦I. • * III '« , , •ir^;. ^, "l|l|?!. "'^'*MI '\fk ijliW- .ill 'f - i ^ '. ^ 1 ISO SERMON II. entitled; — and when men, by their conduct, evince to the world that the encourag , .'»nt8 and threatenings of our holy religion, are equal- ly overlooked and disregarded. In some cases, contempt of God is still more wanton and un- blushing. It leads men systematically io oppose the progress and io eradicate the impressions of religious principles, — avowedly to decltr.re their hostility to the divine Government, — and with the most daring effrontery, to proclaim their independence. Whence those unmeaning and disgusting expletives, with which conver- sation is so frequently interlarded, and which too often wound the feelings of good men though nsiiif^ied with the language of friend- ship ? Wiience that dissipation which riots in darkness, aiid that intemperance at which the heart sickens even in the face of the Sun ? Whence that dereliction of religious feelin*;' which leads to the open and avowed disregard of the Sabbath, desertion of the house of God, or secret indulgence in sloth, idleness, and vice ? Whence, in short, that sacrilegious familiarity with divine things which too often offends every feeling of decency and awe ; — that un- feeling and unblushing disregard, I had almost SERMON II. 181 said, abusp, with which the ordinances, people, and ambassadors of God, are treated bj multi- tudes around us ? They proceed from con- tempt of God — from the secret disreg^ard of his authority, and the open rejecti' i '»f that revelation with which he has blessc' * orld. These, however, are the more ex- pressions of contempt of God, and llj offensive to decency and religion. There are other forms in which it more generally appears, and these, though apparently less bold and daring, equally evince a spirit of disregard and Iiostility to God. In these more plausible and imposing forms, contempt of God discovers itself, even among the professed friends of reli- gion, who might naturally be supposed totally free from the charge. To these let our atten- tion be shortly directed. Indiflerence about religion is one way in which contempt of God discovers itself. — The importance of religion may be generally ac- knowledged ; its external observances may re- ceive a regular attention ; and, mockery of things sacred, may be, of all crimes, the farthest removed from the intentions. There may, however, be a thoughtlessness about religion, • M 3 I. "m ;vt- . 1 :. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^0 '/i 1.0 I.I IS"^ II Uf |j4 lii— 40 12.0 12.2 I! 1.8 1-25 1.4 1.6 * 6" ► Kiotographic Sciences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN STRUT WIBSTER.N Y. M5«0 (716) 873-4503 '^V^ ^1^ ^> C/j '/. ^ ■ tt ■ \ ; ■^^:'i': ■ I ,i2 f" ; ( .i'^r-,' U$^' i-l f a 'S'ill I 182 SERMON IT. a cold and stupid insensibility to its invitationl and warnings, a secret, but criminal unconcern about its requisitions and the immortality to which it points; and for such thoughtless- ness, insensibility, and unconcern, no palliative ran be oflered, no excuse can be preferred at the bar of God. "Nothing," says a celebrated moralist, ''Nothing but stupidity or the most frivolous dissipation of thought can make even the inconsiderate forget the supreme import- ance of every thing that relates to the expect- ation of k future existence. Whilst the infidel mocks at the superstitions of the vulgar, insults over their credulous fears, their childish errors, Or fantastic rites, it does not occur to him to observe, that the most preposterous device by which the weakest devotee ever believed he was secusing the happiness of a future life, is more rational than unconcern about it. Upon this subject, nothing is so absurd as indifference — TIG folly so contemptible as thoughtlessness and levity. "f Does God demand supreme re- gard ? Tben to refuse him that regard is ma- nifestly to neglect his requisitions; it is openly to question' his authority to demand. Do the culls and admonitions of his word require th« + Pake's xVIoral Phllosoph)', Vol. ii. p. 100. SERMON IL 183 fliief attention, the best thoughts/ and the deep- est concern of responsible beings ? Unquesti- onably they are in themselves matters of the most dread importance, and are entitled on every principle of reason, of duty, and of in- terest, to paramount concern. Is not he rt - ■' .: .. ♦; '! i. ,■:■-'*•'■-« ;< A, t.t Ijii ^? r : 184 SERMON 11. adore and at which devils tremble, bandied about with lightoegs and vanity^ as if the great- est of ali Beiug.s were the meanest and most despicable> or, as if the honour of speech con- sisted in dishonouring him who bestowed it ; and yet these men profess to be the genuine worshippers of God, and claim to themselves the title of Christians. But, are they not guilty, wilfully and deliberately guilty, of con- temning that Being whom they profess to serve ? To attempt an imposition by offering him the body wit^iout, the soul, is to be chargeable with the roost daring profanity ; it is practically to deny his Omniscience ; it is to act on the impi- ous presumption that the best of Beings will be satisfied with the worst services of his creatures ; it is to contemn God. Those who despise the people and ministers of God, are, likewise, chargeable with this aa;- gravatcd ofl'ence. — The more detached f/om the world; the more devoted to their divine mas- ter; and the more eminently distinguished for religion, the servants of God are, — the more narrowly are they watched, the more criminal do their faults appear, the more defenceless do their characters become against the ar^pws of j»^! SERMON II 185 reproach. The evil report is heard with com- placency, is circulated with malignant exulta- tion, gathers aggravations as it proceeds, and at last overspreads with the stains of calumny the character which it was designed to traduce; The sanctitv of character is overlooked, the very image of God is assailed, and the awe with which the reflection of divine purity and excel- lence should impress the hearts of men is re^ pelled and overcome. And is not this to con- temn God? Listen to his own explicit decla- ration, "He that despiseth you, despiseth me.** True Christians and faithful ministers of the Gospel are invested with a sacred character ; — they bear the name and are impressed with the image of the Master whom they serve. To think or speak lightly of them must consequent- ly be a dishonour cast upon that holy name by which thev are called, and an insult offered to that splendour of character which they reflect. What, then, is contempt of God ? It is just to think and speak lightly of a Being of infinite perfections ; — it is just to treat with disrespect the image of God wherever it appears. r-i*. IF. 0])scrve the causes to which contempt of •# 'i^w ^: . .1 > -■'•''lis !• i * , ■ *:. 'liJf 'TPk J''*i ■ ■!■■ ■ :-.f:-ir^.'>', I ^ ,. ".. T -i ■%' ,ri^. #^^- p , •■■:. ^ ■0 *. h:^- ''¥if4.ti ■ ! ^N Wt^A picas' i til: if' ft.. I ' 't ■" ^%,' 186 SERMON II. God may be traced. — '^^ An evil heart of unbc* lief" is undoubtedly the primary source in Vhich it originates ; indeed, contempt of God is just a particular form in which infidelity appeairs. The man who is obnoxious to the charge may affirm that he is earnest in the cause of RATIONAL religion, and that his only aim is to emancipate hot-headed men from the tram- mels of fanaticism. But, what is that rational religion about which he talks so loudly .? It is an idol at whose shrine he would sacrifice the religion of the Bible. What are these tram- mels of fanaticism from which he is so anxious to rescue the world ? They are, '' the yoke of Christ" which is '^'easy," and his "burden" >vhich is '' light." From whence, then, do the attempts of this pretended philanthropist take their rise.? Not surely from a heart warmed by love to God and benevolence to men. Infi- delity is the latent germ of such noxious pro- ductions. But more particularly. H .1 1. Contempt of God proceeds from ignorance. — It is not affirmed, that those who are charge- able with the oUence, are universally or even generally, strangers to physical and moral sci- SERMON II. 187 fnce. In too many instances alas! it has dis- graced the characters of men eminent in the walks of literature, though, certainly, it evinces a prejudice, a levity, and a thoughtlessness of mind totally inconsistent with that candour^ gravity, and dignity of conduct, by which their high pretensions should be distinguished. Hap- pily, however, sound wisdom and real religion have not yet been proved incompatible, and, in justice to the cause it must be recorded, that men whose names shall be revered and cherished as long as splendour of talents, pro- fundity of learning, and excellence of character, command the admiration and esteem of the world, have been enrolled among the most dis- tinguished friends of real religion. Fear of God and reverence for every thing sacred had a commanding influence on the whole of their conduct, and gave to their characters consist- ency, stability, and value. *' The ignorance with which we charge those who contemn God is of a worse kind, be- cause, it is ignorance the most inexcusable, tak- ing into view the ample means of information afforded, and, the awful importance of the subjects. It is an ignorance of God ; — of hin ■ ■■■■ ^ *.'*■ '■■■** '..I^iJi f ■ ; ■'■ .^ ',. ■ , '^^km I H *Jl .' 1 i 188 SERMON II. I i J'. '•4/' I!! :.; life 4'y t # :' '-'P-H t Being, of his perfections^ and of the character of his government. The evidences of his exist- ence and of the perfections of his nature by which these men are surrounded, are contem- plated with a vacant stare, or with a cold and stupid inditference. The most pleasing displays of his goodness, and the most terrible inflictions of his vengeance, are seen and felt with equal disregard of the great Being from whom they proceed. Is it then matter of surprise that men should contemn a Being, of the proofs of whose Existence, of the majesty of whose per- fections, and of the splendour of whose govern- ment, they have no adequate information and no correct or enlightened views ? O did they hut know the majesty and glory of that God whom they contemn, they would fall down, tremble, and adore ! ^ , . Contempt of God, proceeds, also, from ig- norance of the evidences by which revealed religion is supported. The minds of a few may he inaccessible to the light of truth, as opaque bodies are impervious to the rays of the Sun, and, by some strange fatuity of intellect they may be unable to bring their judgments to acquiesce in truths which they cannot disprove ;f + This was the pica of the celobrsited David Hume, K q« SERMON II. 189 T.m 'i: but, with the far greater number of modern scoffers, the case is widely different. The evi- dences of Christianity have never received the smallest share of their attention. Though these evidences are so numerous, rational, and power- ful, as in many instances to have conquered tho strongest opposing influence ; yet, the scoffer, by a simple and easy process, succeeds in evad- ing their force. He shuts his eyes against the light which they circulate, and prejudges the cause on which they alone are competent to give a final decision. Unacquainted with Christianity itself, his mind is jaundiced by false views of its nature, or possessing a few scattered fragments of ideas concerning the most curious, unprecedented, and apparently ludicrous parts of it, those internal marks of divinity with which it is stamped are overlooked, and, as the necessary consequence, fail to over-awe his thoughtless spirit. Hence it is, that he con- demns the whole system as a mass of unmeaning absurdities, is contented to remain ignorant of subjects which he regards unworthy of in- vestigation, and when their claims to universal acceptance happen to be preferred, is ready io cry them down with a burst of raillery or mer- i._^ ^^ 1 ("ft.*":'. , * ' ill • » *' < ift> ** . . t^FTT -. h-,7 -i;* .*.., I' i' .J'*' ' ^ ■■'. Hi m*^'-'-* 190 SERMON II. riment. He seldom pretends coolly and dispas* sionately to arg-ue the point, and when the in- telligent Christian brings fgrth ^*^the weapons of his warfare" and wields them with skill, he immediately trembles and seeks for a retreat. His whole forces consist in sneers. Unable to be a reasoner he l^ecomes a scoffer. He con- temns God for the very same reason that the untutored peasant laughs at the theories of the earth's rotation and of a plurality of worlds. There are, however, some scoffers who have a considerably extensive acquaintance with the evidences which combine to establish the truth of Christianity. The scoffs of these men are directed, not against Christianity itself but against those doctrines which, in their appre- hension, have been attached to it by men of heated imaginations. Amongst these repudiat- ed doctrines are comprehended, those which imply a supernatural energy of the divine spirit on the souls of men. Conceiving that Christ-* ianity must ever be consistent with what they are pleased to term common sense and enlight- ened REASON, and imagining that the doctrines referred to are repugnant to both, they think that they are doing God service when they m KS\-u-ii SERJVION IL 191 hold them up to contempt and derision. Now, it is evident that these men must either bd grossly ignorant of jthe scriptures^ or else they must perceive that these doctrines form the very essence, aud core of the Gospel. Th« truth is, they prefer the light of the moon to that of the sun ; they make their own feeble understandings judges on subjects which Christ-^ ianity alone can illuminate ; they make revela- tion bend to reason, instead of making reason bend to revelation. To ignorance may likewise be traced that contempt with which many of the precepts of religion are treated by multitudes in the world 1 It is true, indeed, that the man of enlightened reason must " esteem the commandments of God concerning all things to be right," but it is also true that there are some precepts of hit religion which can be understood by those only who have felt the influence of its doctrines on their hearts. *^' Rejoice always; and again I say. Rejoice." To the vicious and abandoned this exhortation must appear absurd, because compliance with it seems impracticable. To rejoice in tribulation, they have neither cause uor power. From the pleasures of the world i^ I t '.>::■ ... ,.f. -T-'V ^'■%'- ■■■'■ ■:/}t i: m' 'tf'fW* I •if*;* t" i: '••'::■ *i 'l(t « ,,. ' ,J»' « "J || 'ioit^'^l '.,,1 ( I it 'llil)Q*i ' T 2 I ' * 102 SERMON II. they have received their consolation, and when these are taken away, what have they more? Every gleam of joy is extinguished, and nothing remains for them but to brood over that misery which they are unable to alleviate. Why need we wonder, then, that they scoff at that reli- gion which calls men to rejoice in the vale of adversity ? Why need we wonder that they deride those who "^ glory in tribulation" as stoic philosophers, or as labouring under mental derangement ? — Thus, it appears that the scrip- tures, like the cloudy pillar, are light to the true Israelites, but darkness to the Egyptians. "The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him/' They and they only can enter into the full meaning of the glorious doctrines and wise admonitions of the Gospel. They "are hid to them that are lost." As soon may a blind man discern the beauty of colours as the ungodly can perceive the excellence of the Gospel in all its parts. In these and similar ways does igno- rance of God — his being, perfections, and go- vernment; of Christianity — its evidences, doc- trines, and precepts ; and of true Christians— their sentiments, feelings, and conduct, lead to a contempt of God and of that religion which came frona heaven. SERMON II 193 2. Contempt of God proceeds from vanity. —A love of singularity or an affectation of superiority to vulgar prejudices, are not unusual principles of action in the present age. Unfor- tunately they exert their influence in cases where matters of religion are concerned. To follow the general current of opinion, even Dn such subjects, is thought the indication of a mind unable to think for itself; narrowed in its views by early prejudices, habits, or education. What, then, is the general sentiment or com- monly received opinion on religious matters? Happily, in our favoured land, the laws and in- stitutions of religion are countenanced and sup- ported ; — there is jn the public mind a feeling and impression favourable to the cause of Chris- tianity. Now, if a man is eager to proclaim his independence, — to appear to soar above vulgar prejudices, to strike out a new path, and to think for himself, — he has nothing more to do than to question the truth of Christianity, to aim a blow at its vitals, and to laugh at its pretensions. Hence it not unfrequently hap- pens, that persons originally obscure and desti- tute of any better means of emerging from obscurity, become dabblers in infidelity, retail N '4 If > '* \ If y _. if '■■■ •*'■ I . , " I- " ' "■ r ' ' i -it* \ I ^ ^><. :^ li'/ ,1 ( '.f:^:'-^:i ■' ''^^ J.-* It j' -■•»;%#< ' '111- ^ V* W' 194 SERMON II. scraps of sceptical productions, and, disputing' those truths in the faith of which their fathers lived and died, astonish and overpower their former associates by the a|)parent strength of their philosophy, originality of their thinking, and brilliaricv of their wit. '" 'V^f^^a44' There is another way in which vanity' leads men to contenm God. There is in human na- ture a proncncss to imitation, and this tendency is peculiarly manifest in the present age. It has generally for its object the manners or exteriK^l circumstances of those in the higher ranks of life. Hence the rage for dress; the general ailbctation of finery; and erty, disease and persecution, whilst the workers of iniquity are' allowed to riot in pleasure and to triumph iii SERMON IT 197 their wickedness. And hence tliey are led to ask, " Doth the Lord know, and is there any know- ledge in the Almighty ? and to say in their hearts, God hath forsaken the earth ; and the Lord will not do good, neither will he do evil." With those scoffers whose appearance in the last days was foretold by the Apostle Peter, " they walk after their own lusts, saying. Where is the pro- mise of his coming.? for since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation." They do not consider, that their views of the divine proce- dure are extremely partial and contracted ; — that the plans of Jehovah are concealed from human observation for the wisest and most im- portant purposes ; — and that the present is only a state of probation, introductory to another scone of things, where the ways of God to man shall be finally and triumphantly vindicated. The conduct of the professed friends of reli- gion, is another erroneous test by which men are determined in their judgment as to the truth and excellence of religion itself. Ignorant of God themselves, thev form an idea of him from those who profess to be his servants, and as the cundwct of oian^ who claim this appcUatioa it N3 '*# '-; 'i '■^:,r: a . ".,. ■■^ ./. • -H': a- 4' >• , .-'% ■■ ijf f . I »'t,M i-i * ,* f . ■••'»>fS m %'t tt r ,1 ■■■" ; 'M^ ^ks- ' « 1 . %. 1*1 J'l' "« lA ' . SH ■•'•;.;' ,< ^;l!*-^:iL-''t;lt » 11?^ 1^ ' *;; 198 SERMON II. often grossly inconsistent with their profession, they rashly contemn religion as, in itself, vain and useless. They see professing Christians mingling with the profbne and delighting in their society, cherishing a censorious and slanderous disposition, seizing the first moment which promises concealment to deceive and overreach their neighbour, "^ biting and de- vouring one another " in controversies about forms or ceremonies, and, through fear of the reproach of men, deserting the cause of religion when it^ interests arc at stake ; and what is the conclusion to which they are led ? It is per- haps a natural, but it is an erroneous one, namely. That religion is untrue, or at least, that there is nothing certain about it,^that it is only a shelter for crimes, — and that the less of it any man possesses, so much the better. It is impos- sible for the most blinded partiality of friend- ship to defend the conduct of those by whom such offences come, but, at the same time it , were easy to shew, that the premises will b^ no means warrant the sweeping conclusion to which they have led. Need these men be told that the very circulation of counterfeit money implies that there is also good coin ? that the SERMON II. 199 abuse of a thing; is no argument against its legitimate i|se ? and that the most important and best established truths in philosophy have given rise to the most violent disputes? But as long as men erect their own feeble under- standings iato judges of the plans of infinite wisdom, and decide on the truth and value of religion itself from the conduct of those who only profess to believe it^ — need we wonder that they contemn God ? ^; , ;. ., . ^^ ; t V 4m 4. . Contempt of God proceeds from licenti- ous PRINCIPLES or a desire of freedom. — The feeling of restraint in all its forms, is extremely ungrateful to the human mind, but when that restraint is imposed on the understanding, willj and affections, it is peculiarly repugnant to na- ture and hard to be endured. The corrupt pro- pensities of the heart, rise in rebellion, — demand gratification at whatever expense, — and no op- posing force except that which divine energy supplies, can resist their violence. Hence, the de- termined opposition with which the laws of re- ligion are assailed by the vicious and abandon- ed. These laws impose restraints on the under- standing, will, aud affections, which sudi men N 4 ■'"'-IT. n; >•>:.-./ -p. j-,»:'i. 'I ( i. ' I ■ y. "' ■. .( I ■' ■■ jti r It li :f ■'••' M . :■;<:< I f Ift'^' mm'-: I 200 SERMON II. represent as grievous to be borne. They call for the humblest submission of the understand- ing to the truths of revelation ; for the unlimit- ed consent and obedience of the will to the duties which the divine word enjoins; and for the complete elevation of the affections above time and its most fascinating pleasures. And, is it possible that the human mind can be brought by natural means to such a diffidence of those powers in which it glories, — to such a surrender of that will in w hich it confides as a perfect standard of duty and of action, — and to such an abstraction of those affections from objects on which they dwell with rapture ? It is impossible. Desire of reputation or regard to health may lead men to external goodness, whilst in reality the doctrines and precepts of religion are viewed with disaffection and hosti- lity. These doctrines are too spiritual, and these precepts are too strict, to be admired or obeyed by natural men. They are willing, it may be, to submit to the restraints of decency, but to the demands of religion, their opposition u determined and insuperable. Eager to be emancipated from the horrors of confinement or restraint, they repel its claims with thought' 11 SERMON II. tot less levity or criminal inconsideration, and anx- iously desirous that it should be false, they are easily led to believe it so. In opposition to what generally happens, their practice influ- ences their theory instead of their theory de- termining their practice. Libertine principles have so interwoven themselves with the senti- ments and feelings of their minds, that they exert a paralysing influence over their whole reasoning powers. The natural consequence is, that the most gross and palpable absurdities are received with passive submission, whilst the most important and best established truths are rejected with unreasonable, because unfounded, contempt. Their magic touch transforms sal- lies of raillery into brilliant reasoning, makes the most insignificant objection to assume the form of an insurmountable obstacle, and the most persuasive arguments to bend before the omnipotence of a fortunate witticism. — In this way, does a preconceived and fixed deter •? mination, at all hazards, to indulge in unhal- lowed pleasures, lead men to contemn a reli- gion which imposes restraints on the strongest passions, and demands the sacrifice of the dear- est cnjoymentF. »; t* »j. ' I i:^ i --*«; !? ■ !■ '-I :> k. • ' ' <'•:' i ', -1 -*t:' ■■;^i Ill'i ■.?f-,f 'Sr'lL •jL'L'*' 191' •* . U \ I li-. 'IC W2 SERMON II. •^'v Such ^heri are some of the causes to which contempt of God may be traced. — -nm^^^^m^ €¥'■ III. Consider the folly, guilt, and danger of contemning God. s V^i'^M !'>'.t 1, Attend to the folly of contemning God. — We call that man foolish who acts without reason — who traduces a character beyond the reach of malice and the cruellest arrows of reproach — who attempts to accomplish a pur- pose by means which are manifestly inadequate to the end in view. Where then is folly to be met with, equal to that of the man who con- temns Gof' ' Is there any thing in the divine Being open to contempt ? Is there any thing in wisdom Infinite, in power Omnipotent, in goodness inexhaustible, to deserve contempt? is there any thing in Ught ineffable, in majesty supreme, in perfection of excellence, worthy of scorn ? And is there to be found in the w hole world of mortals a man so foolish as to attempt to cast reproach on a Being so pure, so perfect, so transcendently glorious? Rather let him attempt to obscure the lustre of tlie sun, — rather let him attempt to deform and traduce all that ii SERMON II. 203 is lovely, all that is j^rand, all that is sublime in the universe of God. ^ / . '^''iSi\r And who are yc who are chargeable with such a mad contempt? AVeak and fleeting mortals ; dust and ashes ; creatures who quickly fade as the flower, and wither as the grass; less than nothing and lighter than vanity. And are ye so foolish ^s for one moment to ima- gine, that your most malignant efforts will lessen the majesty or obscure the splendour of Infinite perfection ? Banished for ever l)e such unfounded "expectations; — abandoned forever be such impotent attempts. The name of that God whom you despise, shall be the theme of endless praises to the angels around the throne ; that religion which you lightly esteem, shall march on in majestic triumph till it shall have attained the conquest of the world; and the strongest efforts which you may make to lessen the authority of Heaven, or to impede the pro- gress of that religion which is from God, shall serve only to per|3etuate and immortalize your folly. — Consider, then, for a moment, the great- ness oi God on the one hand, and the weak- ness of man on the other, and blush for your- selves. i' ' ' ';: •■ • ■ ■ '<• " A- - <% n ■ k life.'' '■; ;..!,r';;j' ■ ;. ^ i f- * ■.)( 'M ; k mi SERMON II. ' 2. Consider the guilt of contemning God. — If the conduct of that man be chargeable with criminality who fails to acknowledge with gra- titude the kindnesses of a benefactor, how still more base must his conduct be, who requites with hatred or with scorn, favours conferred by a friend! Where, then, can guilt be found more highly aggravated than that of the man who contemns God ? He despises the author and preserver of hi i life — the source of his best enjoyments — the foundation of his dearest hopes. He despises a Being from whom he derived those noble powers and capacities by which he is distinguished — on whom he depends for every breath he draws, for every blessing that mingles in his lot, for every thing that renders life de- lightful — to whom he is indebted for all those discoveries which Revelation has made of the way by which pardon of sin, peace with God, •nd eternal life, may be attained and secured. And are all these unmerited favours which man lias received from a Being independent of the ijest of creatures, worthy of no return but that of disobedience and contempt ? O ungrateful sinner! think for a moment on the number and strength of your obligations — reflect on the shanu-ful SERMON II. 205 returns which you have made to the best of benefactors — and behold a criminality attached to your conduct too great for language to ex« pr ess. ,-*$' 1- •' .■>,.•*.; 'j^^'^'f y»r :'fit^- ■;' v-,f/ , •^.-HVt '-*■ ii^i-^- ,t(# iJ»'Y Men are formed with sentiments of awe and veneration for the divine Being and for every thing that is sacred. These natural and inex-^ tinguishable feelings may be checked and Qver- powered in their influence by indulgence in thoughtlessness^ dissipation^ and vice ; but when the moments of reflection come, when dan- ger threatens, when death approaches, they speak out and alarm the most careless and se- cure. Hardened, indeed, and desperately wick- ed must that heart be, which is so dead to the feelings of nature and has gained such a fatal conquest over every just impression of venera- tion and awe as to scoff «t the solemnities of religion, and wantonly to insult the dread Ma-;' jesty of Heaven and of Earth. Behold, thenj, ye that contemn God ! the height of sin at which you have arrived, and tremble for your guilt in the sight of Heaven ! ;>i-i •I -rt- •- '* i llf .■ <<■ > \ ♦,■ :ti»-''r' jib flf't- :;!# .*• '• * w:l 1^. 4'-.i^::' ^■vf . t i < 3. Consider the danger of contemning God. — If God be just, then assuredly guilt shall he v^';' n^ H ... ?: I • .. (i>< >t^M^i,m [!::S|,^■^P I ifr'j-; ,|:* III -i 'f •' i ■ i tir''-A ;:',-.'f SN v.rV *t ^%iSl''ki■;■ lit,' 'litt^''-- .. ^T I'v.' r- *|i<. T ;^ .^-l 9 'will *•■■ !lim*i *1 .r'ul' i; 206 SERMON II followed with punishment, and what punish' Hient can be too §^reat for those who contemn God ? They violate the most powerful obliga- tions — they bid defiance to the strongest and most seasonable remonstrances of conscience — they insult a Being of infinite perfections. And where is guilt to be found that calls more loud- ly for the vengeance of Heaven ? If the right- eous scarcely be saved, and if the least violation of the divine law receives its merited punish- ment, "where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?" — -where shall the man whose whole life has been marked by disregard of the divine authority and by acts of rebellion against Hea- ven, reap the fruits of his crime ; ? — where shall be his final and everlasting abode? Even in the present life he escapes not with impunity. He experiences a foretaste of that misery which awaits him beyond the grave, in the anguish of a guilty conscience, and in the want of those consolations and hopes which cheer and support the good man in this vale of teaib. And, if in this life, which is only a state of probation for another, his sin is attended with such anticipa- tions of mise. ', how dreadful must his portion e when he rt ; ^ive^ the full punishment of his 1^ SERMON H. 207 c:nilt, in the state of final retribution ? Tim langiiage in which the Judg:e is represented as nddressin^ such characters is awfully 3lariiiiiig>, " Because I have called^ and ye refused ; I have stretched out m^' hiuidj and no man regarded ; But ye have st .. A Thought all my counsel^ and would none .f my reproof: I also will laugh at joui ci!>!\'iity; I will mock when your fear fotneth : When your fear cometh as desolation^ and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind :, when distress and anguish cometh upon you., Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me: For that they hated fcaowled'^e, and did not choose the fear of the Lord : They would none of my counsel : they despised all my reproof Therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own devices." -' *>■ t^ ?^ > ; ,H *' Behold" then "ye despisers, and wonder" at your 9'inlt aiid folly, ere you perish forever! i ou see that your danger is imminent, — that your doom is fixed, if yr repent not. You may now disregard the invitations and warnings of the divine word and expect that you shall have pciice though you walk after the imaginations v V5:«JP'- • 1 ; -< ^ -y k %l ! ! *. , t: I 'V' v '»•-. 'I ^'|4. rf 'l,„ tj|!j" ', ■ '!• " I IC I : /t||ir. I. y* -a * «08 SERMON II. of your evil hearts; you may flatter yourselves with the hope that you shall escape the threat- ened vengeance of Heaven or that the punish- ment denounced shall not be so hard to bear as it is now represented to be, — but awake from your slumbers, and dream no longer of prospects never to be realized. Your carelessness and crimes shall not always pass unpunished, — from the eye of omniscience no darkness nor shadow of death can conceal you, and no false covering can veil the baseness of your hearts, — and ''^who can dwell with devouring fires ? who can abide wiih everlasting burnings ? '* O then despise no longer the calls of God, for they are the calls of that mercy which alone can save yon, — slight no longer the offers of the Gospel, for '' how shall you escape if you neglect so great salvation ? " " If they who despised Moses' law died without mercy, under two or three witnesses, of how much sorer punishment, sup- pose ye, shall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant wherewith he was sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto the spirit of grace? For wc know him that hath said, vengeance bclongeth i:.. 'It m SERMON n 209 unto me, I will recompense saith the Loxd. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God." Take care, brethren, that there be not among you something which beEtpeaks the existence and operation of this base feeling. I do not address myself to the openly abandoned who systematically oppose the progress of truth, who "glory in their shame," who, with all the bold- ness of infidelity and impiety combined, declare their hatred of God, and contempt of his au- thority. The great evil which we have cause to dread is, lest there should be found amongst ourselves, even while professing to worship and serve God, "an evil hcairt of unbelief" — a cold and stupid indifference to real vital godliness — a mere hypocritical, formal, and customary pro- fession of religion — a secret aversion to the sentiments and conduct of genuine believers and faithful ministers of the Gospel. If such indif- ferent, formal professors, and " despisersof them that are good," do exist among us, they may rest assured that thoy are classed with the wick- ed who contemn God. Dreadful thought! to contemn God ! a Being who demands and has a right to claim the service of our lives, who O N. P r m / * |:i^i«iiPl S ' .. ft bI,: r 'r n (• *!, .1. "A:\ < ^ ,v »* ''■'ill* ' ■"*•'*' n.^ ■^ ■!*■.: pip - < ..'i'ifl: ,-j t 210 SERMON II loolt^on the heart and cannot be imposed on by any outward appearances, who loves with the strongest affection those who bear his imaj^e and regards the persecutions to which they are subjected as directed against himself ! to contemn God ! who shall one day call to a strict accoijfnt, the whole world of mortals— who shall assign to mansions of eternal bliss those who now love, venerate, and serve him — ■ but who sliall say to those by whom he is now contemned, '' Behold, ye despisers, and wonder, and perish!" "Consider this, ye who forget God, lest he tear you in pieces, and there be none to deliver you.*' l^i ih #v- Luke, xv. 10. ** There is joy in the presence of the angols of God OTcr one sinner that repcnlcth." Numerous and animating are the enconmc^c- nients which the Gospel presents to the duty of repentance. The representations which it j^ives of llie divine Being as deh'ghting in mercy and rejoicing to forgive ; the direct in- vitations which it addresses to sinners of everv description to eiubrace the Savionr, and to re- ceive the blessings of his purcliasc ; the instan- ces which it records of men retnrning from the paths of sin, and restored 1o tlie favour of God which they liad lost; and the views which it O i • ' V. S12 SERMON III. %^ ' ' lit •)' I'-y' ' *' - ■ ~^ ! \^< . - f I? ! exhibits of the present peace and -ultimate feli- city of the repenting sinner ; — all combine to dispel the fears and to animate the hopes of him, who, convinced of his guilt, acknow- ledges his «ins and "walks in newness of life." The chapter in which the text occurs, is peculiarly fraught with encouragements to re- pentance. In three successive parables, differ- ing in some minute incidents, but harmonizing in their general scope, and each rising above the other in beauty and * in force, oyr Lord describes the freeness with which pardon is offered in the Gospel to the true penitent, and the peculiar complacency with which a sinner returning to duty and to God, is beheld by that Being to whose wrath he was exposed, and by all the blessed inhabitants of the heavenly world. The text concludes one of these in- teresting parablies, and is designed to explain its meaning and application. "What woman" says our Saviour, " having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it ? And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her ^.leigbbours together, saying, Rejdice with me, for I have found the w^' SERMON III. 213 piece, which I had lost : Likewise I say unto you. There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." It is proposed to direct your attention to the ground of encouragement which this subject presents to the duty of repentance, by inquiring into the causes of that joy which is felt by the angels over '' a sinner that repenteth/' — It may be traced to two sources, namely^ The exercise* of benevolent afFections, and. Feelings of re- gard to the divine glory. I. The joy which angels experience at the repentance of a sinner, may be traced to the exercise of benevolent affections. — Limited as onr information is concerning the nature and, properties of angelic spirits, we have sufficient evidence, both from reason and revelation, to conclude, that those to whom the epithet good is applied, are peculiarly characterised by feel- ings of benevolence. We know that they possess, in a pure and exalted degree, every quality which constitutes excellence in man; ■nd we feel no wish to deny the assertion, that benevolence is the very essence of goodness. Hence, in all ages a belief has prevailed in the O 3 ..:T»< '! i' #;;j- ■ 1*1, ^^:'- • '^ :.K 1*1*. .iV «'" li^^i '■i « K/P. ,.-%• ,'4;' f J* H- < '■ 1." Si :• ' i"J it L *, It ^'1 ^ 'f'4tf tii a i| «"! i ' 214 SERMON III. existence of guardian aii«»;cls, appointed by God to take special eliarge of g-ood men, and their concerns, bot!i temporal and spiritual ; and this tradition, as it existed amonj^ the Jews, seems to receive countenanf • from our Lord, when he sajs, "Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones ; for I say unto you, that in hea.ven their angels do always beliold the face of my Father which is in heaven."* These suggestions of reason are confirmed by the testimony of revelation. In the sacred narrative, these exalted beings are frequently introduced as performing offices of kindness to man ; us conveying messages, cither of a warn- ing or consolatory nature, from God to the ancient prophets ; as conducting the spirits of departed saints to " Abraham's bosom ;" and as attending the Saviour in his journey through the world, ministorinjr to his necessities, and supporting him amid all the j^orrovvs which he was (loomed to bear. In conformity witii these actiial expressions of their beneficence, the Psalmist alarms for the comfort of good men in all ages of the world, "The angel of the Lord ^ncampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them."t "lie shall give his angeli *iMat. xvjii. 10. tPsaliu xxxis, 7, SERMON Ill- SB cluirgo over tlice, to keep tbee in all ihj ways/'* And, in attestation of the same conso- latory truth, the apostle asks, ''Are they not all ministering- spirits, sent forth to minister for tJiem who shall be heirs of salvation ? "f Taking it, therefore, as a point suflieiently established, tliat the holy angels arc distin-; guished by benevolence, and by the interest which they take in the concerns of man, it is natural to thiiik that a sinner will be peculiarly an object of their commiseration. He is a beinic who has lost the favour of God, which is the essence of bliss, and in the absence of which no earthly comforts can impart real substantial felicity. He is a being who has lost the appro- bation of his own mind, and is continually exposed to the remonstrances of reason, and the accusations of conscience, which equally conspire to mar his enjoyment. He is a being lost to the hope of happiness beyond the grave, without which the most animating joys of time must ever be damped by the chilling apprehen- sion of a sudden and final termination. But tliis, alas ! is the bright side of the picturp^. Wliilst the sinner is lost to the favour of Cod,, wluch is the perfection of bliss, he is the object * Psalm xci. 11. 4 Hl-b. i. it. :N m t i 'm m ' ■ ■ ■ ! ■ ^' ^ til h *v I ;.- \''i'- p > : lijSBc I < t 'jilt . ' ^H :■ k \i 1S16 SERMON III. of liis displeasure^ which is worse than death m its most frightful form. Whilst he has for- feited the approbation of his own mind, and is exposed to its severest reprehensions, he is a slave to the most tormenting passions which war against the tranquillity of the soul, and experiences, in the midst of his highest gratifi> cations, that sin carries its punishment in iU own bosom. Whilst he is destitute of every hope terminating on objects beyond this passing scene, he is disquieted by awful forebodings of misery, inconceivable and eveilasting. Where, throughout the universe, can be contemplated such an object of commiseration ? And can it be witnessed, without emotion, by those benevo- lent spirits who surround the throne of God? Their feelings are too generous ; — their concern for immortal beings is too deep, to allow them to remain uninterested spectators of the sad spectacle. The groans of the captive ascend to heaven, the horrors of his state are beheld from the mansions of the blessed, and feelings of sympathy mingle for a time with the joy which is '' in the presence of the angels of God." When, on the other hand^ a sinner repents of his sins, his state is completely changed, and • •■ ill*" EKiifri SERMON III. 217 the scene which has been just contemplated is totally reversed. He is convinced of his guilt ; ho is awakened to the wretchedness of his state ; he '' lays hold on the hope set before him in the Gospel." The captive's chains are burst asund- er ; the '' prisoner of hope" is set free ; and he rejoices in "the glorious liberty of the soiis of God." The countenance of Jehovah, which once frowned, now beams benignity and love ; the accusers within no longer condemn • nor does the wayward violence of distracting passi- ons, which once reigned supreme in bis bosom, continue to disturb his peace ; and the awful anticipations of endless misery, which haunted his imagination in the hours of retirement, and clouded the gayest scenes of life, are succeeded by "^a hope full of immortality." What a blessed change! what a glorious transforma- tion! from the darkness of death io the IJght of life ! from the depths of despair to the heights of bliss! from all the horrors of the moU dismal bondage to all the joys of the most glorious liberty ! — And can such an interesting spectacle be contemplated without emotion by "the anjrels of God?" To have some faint conception of the feelings wliich such a scene I" ' : ?^*^ i • •' . :i f i I' \ ;»..■' 1 • ■' , ]'■■■ ■pi-- > ■' ■ * . , r ''-;*. •' ■ .'< !' t'' '-»' ^ Pl ■3!n '■*-Wi ^U,'^H:i ' -'h ^:M ., ,p .,<:(' r *-. ■ ,.1 '■ ' '- , ' .."■ ' «'»>; 11 *,1.-M ^ '^ .^-l*"'< •. I,. I '!,-.,J' ■' ' ■ (fit ^si • *ii. # Ij i 't' T' fSW'Si T >-^ III J 21S SERMON III. must excite among the benevolent spirits above, imagine for a moment that you behold (a scene which we have been too ol'tcn called to witness) ashive to human oppression torn from tlie coun- try dearest to his heart, and casting his linger- ing eyes on the scenes Vthich recede from his vievi^, but cannot be parted from his affections; listen to the sighs which he heaves in the agony of prayer, as they swell in the breeze, and are wafted to heayen, but touch not the heart of his oppressor; contemplate him landed on a foreign shore, with no kindred spirit to welcome his arrival, and no compassionate heart to give vent to its feelings in deeds of soothing tender- ness; follow him as he writhes under ihi: scouffi-e, or sinks under the voke of his inhuman master, with no interruption of his toils but what gives place to heart-rending thoughts of his unpiticd wrongs and hopeless captivity; — and is there nothing in all this [spectacle of woe to affect the benevolent heart ? But suppose the scene reversed ; suppose the captive's chains knocked off, the frowns of a cruel oppressor exchanged for the smiles of a father's counten- ance, and a land of strangers for the spot where his (ir^t breath was dravvUj — all the horrors of hi' ■^ : i' \- r SEUMON III. 219 }j|avcry succeeded by all the blessiii£^s of free- dom ; and how di(Ferent the feelinc:s which arise in the bosom ! in proportion to tlie depth of sorrow which was felt at the contemplation of his former wretchedness, is the elevation of joy produced by the thought of his complete delivenmce. Similar to thcso^ but differing with the nature f)f the beings by whom they are felt, and of the o])jccts which excite them, are the emotions produced ''^in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenleth." These benevolent spirits witnessed the slave of sin as ho passed through all the scenes of his dreadful jiondage ; they felt for his situation, the more deplorable that he was himself unconscious of its wretchedness ; and therefore, with feelings of joy, they contemplate his emancipation from the iron fetters by which he was bound. The baleful influence of selhshness and envy too often leads men to repine at the prosperity and happiness of their fellow creatures; but tlia pure spirits above are total strangers to such malignant passions. Their generous natures rrjoicc in ihe boundless extension of happiness. Tl\v\ know too well the blessedness of rcsemb- J-^^-r:lll?l'l U- i'r #"> 'Si 220 SERMON III. ling God, and of enjoying the unclouded radi- ance of his countenance: thev know too well the calm peace of a tran(|uil bosom, and the exalted delights of '^a heart that is right with God;" they know too well the reality and extent of that bliss which is rcKCrved for " the spirits of just men made perfect;" — not to be filled with sensations of the most exalted de- light, when an immortal being", who was lost to happiness, and seemed to be doomed to misery, has been made to share in their hcaven- ^y jojs. If imagination may be heard on a subject like this, these benevolent spirits may be conceived bending from their celestial man- sions, and, as they contemplate a hapless wan- derer reclaimed, addressing each other in such language as this, " Yonder is an immortal being whom sin had enslaved, and would have ruined forever. Now he is awakened to all the horrors of his servitude, and his breast beats high with the love of liberty. He sees his misery, and seeks for happiness where alone it can be found. Mark him as he bends his steps to these realms of light. Ere long he shall join our blessed society, and his voice shall swell the symphony of heavenly song. Let us hail his z^'^ii SERMON III. 221 approach to our celesti.al' abodes. Let us be glad and rejoice ; . for '' In that was deafd is alive again; he that was lost is found." " II. The joy which the angels experience at (he repentance of a sinner arises from feelings of regard to the divine glory. — That these ex- alted beings are influenced by such feelings, is a point sufficiently established. At the birth of time, when the whole works of creation were stamped by their author with the character of goodness, "the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy," — in succeeding ages, the same heavenly host marked with exultation the evolution and acconftplish- mcnt of those varied plans by which the divine perfections were displayed in majestic bright- ness before the eyes of men, — and, when " the fulness of the time was come," they attended with joyful anticipations the first feeble strug- gles of that mighty Being, whose descent from heaven to earth was designed to accomplish a scheme devised in the counsels of heaven, exhi- biting in full splendour the combined perfect- ions of Deity, and having for its grand and ul- timate object the salvation of unnumbered U N, :\' ■ ^i'\ t- \. •■..tiM ■b-v \ 'f -ri .lit .., » ' •« ■•;■ .;. ■' I ■ \* 222 SEUiMON III. worlds. Willi all llic solicitude of ja^iiiinlijui spirits, tlu'y \vatclnul (ho heavenly l)al)e ore his eyes were opened on this .s»'cne oi' woe, and stay- ed that nuirderoiis hand which, at oiiee, would have shed the blood of innoeenco and entoiuh'^l in the p^ravc of its iiel[)less victim, the hist and dearest hopes of man. Viiieiieled with tlu^ c'D'nI- ji^ence of heaven, a celestial iiarbiiiiver appeared on the phiins o( l^etlileheni in tlie darkness of iiim^ht, and, havinii; auimaied the Iieaits of the tr<'nd)lini»: shepherds hy Ww tiilings of tlie wondrous birth, mingled wiih Win chorus of attendinc;' anjj;*els wlio !>;ave vent to the eniotions of seraphic joy whieli swelled their enraptured spirits, in this hymn of praise, "(jlory to (lod in the highest, and on earth peace, good Mill toward nuMi." Thoin.':!! they liave no personal interest in the great salvation e.ccouiplished by Christ, and thoui^h their kindred spirits who kept not their fust estate, were excluded from all share in the nu'rcy displauui in tlu; Ciospcl to the guilty race of men, yet still they conti- nue to take a deep concern in the great disco- veries of Uevelation, and especially in the sub- lime mvsterv of rede^Muini;" love. Hence, the Apostle in rel'ereuce to thetc i;;raud and inter- '* '*Vho shall not fear thee O Lord, and glorify thy nanie? for thou only art holy.'*f If, then, "the angcl.s of Cod" arc thus un- ceasingly anxious for the advancement of the divine glory, a ''sinner that repenteth " cannot fail to call forth in them sensations of the higli- cst ('lelight This is an object which display! tlie divine perfections in » most pleasing and illustrmus iuanner ; for every " sinner that re- penteth " is not only a soul redeemed from des- truction and restored to happiness ; it is at tiic same time a fresh instance of the cllicacy of the method of salvation revealed in the Gospel. In this view, every *' sinner that repenteth" is a I lU'v. >v. u— }, i' "*?'4'' II'. • ^ii. -'fi' ' : ♦ I" ,» *|v ■■■.•-it' ' '^"4i?f " 1 *.. ' .>ll i..■■..|^.^ 1^ I ^H; It", 'f • * ' L^ ^-^ IK' ".t« MB ' *" 224 SERMON III. III »^:: renewed attestation to the excellence of the plan of redemption and to the glory of those divine perfections which it displays. It is an object of contemplation which equally exalts the wisdom, power, and grace of t;he divine author of redemption. It exalts the wisdom of God which devised a plan by which all the demands of justice might be fully satisfied, and vet rebels received into favour ; — it exalts the power of God which accomplished the great plan devised though opposed by the combined hostilities of earth and hell ; — it t^xalts the grace of God which was displayed in ransoming from everlasting perdition the millions who were ready to perish, and raising them to the hope of a nobler than an earthly paradise. Thus, in the salvation of ''one sinner that repentcth," ** mercy and truth meet together, righteousnesii and peace embrace each other," and hence arisei ''joy in the presence of the angels of God." But it is not only as displaying the suitable- ness and excellence of that plan of redemption by which the salvation of ruined man is attain- ed, that the contemplation of a repenting sinner excites "joy in the presence of the angels of God." Every instance of true penitence is » SERMON III. 2S5 ence a M> new trophy of the Saviour's Cross^ — a fresh triumph of victorious grace. Behold^ in the case of the great Apostle of the Gentiles, what a stupendous work is performed when "one sinner repeiiteth!" Witness the description which he gives of his temper and conduct pre- vious to conversion. *'I punished thera oft" says he, (speaking of his hostility to the saints of God) *'l punished them oft in every syna- gogue and compelled them to blaspheme, and being exceedingly mad against them, 1 perse- cuted them even unto stiange cities.'* Is it possible for language to represent a more fcro- rious temper, or more barbarous conduct ? But behold! In a moment, that mind which was (lark as hell is irradiated by a beani from hea- ven ; that bosom in which the flames of rancour were kindled and sought only for objects on which to spend their violence, is made to glow with the soft emotions of tenderness ; those eyes which sparkled with revenge, are made to pjlistcn with the sympathetic tear ; those hands in which was brandished the sword of vindictive fur}', are raised in adoration of the persecuted Jesus ; and that very man whose former life was Dinployed in extirpating the righteous from the P p.* s *a ■ t i /■ m^WmWJ ff ■ ■ ■ i f 1^ K •n^'- J ■ » l! 1 • lA?' !! '""i ) ■'/;' If'*'? M III •t1-'>^>! . 226 SERMON III. earth, is added to their bright assemblj ! What a sudden, but complete transformation ! How glorious thtj effects with which it is attended ! — Similar to this is the case of every "^'sinner that repenteth," The agency of supernatural influence is as necessary to effectuate his change as that of Saul the persecutor, and therefore he is equally a monument of Sovereign grace. The sphere in which hp moves may be less conspicuous, the natural boldness and temerity of his mind may more readily yield to the res- traints of decency ob of constitutional feeling, and the opportunity afforded him to display the virulence of his hostility to the cause of Christ may be less favourable; but still, the darkness which overhangs his mind is equally impenetrable; his aversion to the concerns of religion is equally strong and deep rooted ; and his opposition to the progress of truth through- out the world is equally determined and insu- perable. Consequently, when the darkness of his mind is dispelled; when his aversion and hostility to divine things are subdued ; when he is brought to feel the pangs and to shed the tears of penitence, the change produced is <)qualiy astonishing, the victory achieved is ivj*-- SERMON III. 987 fquiilly complete. — And^ can such an interest- ing spectacle be contemplated without emotion by **^tne angels of God?" Impossible! They are fiicd with too much ardour for the divine glory, not to witness with feelings of exultation such a triumph of divine power and grace. The splendid scene which shall for ever signa- lize the way to Damascus, was beheld with rapture by the hosts of heaven, and every new conquest gained by the same power and grace over the legions of darkness, shall never cease to ^ive "joy in the presence of the angels of God.*' If the language of imagination may a<::ain be listened to, the bright inhabitants of heaven Inay be supposed to say on the sight of *' one sinner that repentcth," '' How glorious is that plan of redemption by which sinners are thus brought to salvation ! How glorious those perfections of Godhead which this scene dis- plays ! Behold! a new conquest gained by the captain of salvation ! — a rebel to his Sovereign now become a faithful subject of the king of heaven ! — another jewel inserted in the Redeem- er's crown ! Welcome wc to our blest abodes this new witness to the omnipotence of the Saviour's grace, who through eternal ajj;es P 2 r^'4', J-..; *;,■•■ % 3i,: •■■>.s^^' i f ^ ^■' ■ i ■;.,r **!!■.«*'. «1 i life '" ^':^} \ ^^'^Mlj'i SERMON III. shall celebrate with us the praises of "the Lamb who was slain ! '* ' ''* ^ " *'*i^* "-"iMf! What ian engaging motive is here presented to the duty of repentance ! — It implies a change so glorious in its effects as to fill the benevolent spirits above with the most exalted satisfactions^ and to give rise at once to feelings of exulta- tion, and accents of praise. Is it not then an object after which mortals should aspire ? Is it so benignant in its influence on the condition of mauj and does it reflect with such transcend- ent lustre the perfections of its author, and shall we not labour with the earnestness of en- thusiasm, that such a glorious attainment may be ours ? Shall those exalted beings, who sur- round the throne aboTC, be prepared to cele- brate in celesltial strains^ our deliverance from slavery and d6ath ? And shall we bind with our own hands the chains of bondage more closely around us, and, in obstinate impenitence, welcome death in all its horrors ? Shall aban- doned men, in league witji the hosts of dark- Mess, be allowed to gain a malignant triumph over us, whilst our return to duty and to hap- piness might be giving pure and heavenly de- light to the angels of God? Perish the unge- SERMON III. 229 nerous thought ! ahaudoncd be the mad pur- pose ! Let men, whose reproach is praise^, de-, ride us as they may with the language of scorn. Be it the grand object of our ennobled ambi* tion to give pure and heavenly delight to " the angels of God." Let no hope of " a con- venient season" yet to come, tempt us to delay the important w ork, b'eing fully aware that the time may not be far distant when " no place shall be found for repentance, though sought night and day with tears;" and that "in the grave, whither we go, there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom." Let us rejoice that Christ Jesus is " exalted a prince and Saviour, to give repentance and remission of sins;" and that, if we «sk this grace with earnestness and importunity^ we shall not ask in vain. ' V What strong consolation does this subject afford to the repenting sinner ! — Whilst he be- holds " the exceeding sinfulness of sin," the pu- rity of the divine nature and law, he may be perplexed by doubts and fears concerning the sincerity of his repentance, and the safety of hji state; — and, in. the midst of the deepest sorrows of contrition, he mav be bcs«t with spiritual I. -1 ap ,• I. i*f ^ii- rm^* i»: * *^ t *' « •*^ ■' .,4!. V' ' 'ti '!■ (f III ! |-> .. , - V-l^ Ic -i :.'^' . :" , '- '■• ■•11 »\, «'!#.* ■ mi I* ; l^ .4: It i V 230 SERMON III. encmiMj and iin*^odly men, insulting' instead of alleyiating' his misery. But, O humble peni- tent, beiieTing soul ! dismiss thy fears — rejoice in hope ! Heaven smiles on thee. Angels hail thee to the mansions of the blessed, where sor- row and sighing are unknown. *' Weeping* may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.'* " They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.'* In the meantime " watch unto pray- er." Persevere in the use of every ordinance of grace. **^ Who is among you thai feareth the Lord, and obeyeth the voice of his servant, that waikcth in darkness, and hath no light? Let hin^ trust in the name of the Lord, and stay himself upon his God." *' Now, our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and G5nd even our Father, which hath loved us, and hath given us ever- lasting consolation, and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts, and stablish you in every good word and work,'* .. , , t^\ ; ■ '. )* I >• •i I (.v., i «flf> •tJ I ' .V. ' ' i i..^/ -t?>;; ■*'ii J'^^{', ■•' ■ . .. SERMON IV. ,» ' "- Active goodnbi«. if> r '*» r-^r--'^ - '^' :• r'} ^•:.i-' EceLEs. IX. 10. a- ■• ^ ■».; f** Whatsoerer thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might ; for there is no work, nor device, fior knowledge, uor wisdom^ io the grave) whither thou goest." I .n Whatever relates to the concerns of the pre- sent life, excites general interest. The ineans of increasing power, wealth, and consequence, are closely examined, eagerly ehibriced, and zealously jmrsued : and for the attainment of. these objects no sacriiices arc accounted^too grcatj IK) exertions too severe. P4 - N^ i ■ -.. '/ ill .1 M 532 SERMON IV. ^^■^: ^"'■'^■ , ■«■!*"}{ pi' ' V^i'*!^! 'mi If i ♦*.i! ■li*^'- f/ i\ ' .|| .■»' 3'); . t 1.'. M *" UW ''- If DiflTerent, however, arc the sentiments and feelings of men with regard to religion and tha concerns of a future life. Visible things only, impress their minds ; objects beheld solely by the eye of faith, fail to produce the influence of realities; men 'Mook at the things which are seen and temporal, not at those which are unseen and eternal." But, is not indifference in regard to these matters, unreasonable and dangerous in the highest degree ? are not the concerns of religion tho most important and interesting to immortal beings? Unquestiona- bly they are in themselves mat*? rs of the deep- est interest, and are entitled on every principle of reason, of conscience, and of duty, to para- mount concern. Hence, the importance ^f admonitions io di- ligence and activity in the great business of re- ligion. However lightly they may be esteemed, however coldly they may be received, how- ever contemptuously they may be disregarded by the vain, thoughtless, and secure ; to every enlightened and serious mind they runiiot fail to appear in their just and awful importance. The text contains one of these admonitions, en- forced by ^ most interesting and. impressive SERMON IV. 23J consideration^ " Whatsoever thy hand findcth to do, do it with thy might : for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thoirgoest/*^'^' ' i*^ t'*^'^- Our attention is naturally called,^'' ^ ''^* '^^ I. To the admonition, — *'' whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might'* and, II. To the consideration by which it is en- forced, — " there is no work, nor device, noi* knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whithef thou gocst." 1. From the conne; tion in which the text is found, this admonition may be understood as having a primary reference to the concerns of the present lifej— -as recommending the mode- rate use and rational enjoyment of temporal blessings. Religion is not inimical to a becom- ing attention to the affairs of the world ; nay, it peremptorily forbids our being slothful in bu- siness. As long as men exist in the world they must take some share in its cares, pursuits, and pleasures ; and as long as their own preservation and that of others depends on their exertions, thry must be unremitting in their activity and diligence. The text, therefore, forbids delays in such matters ; deman(is instant attention t» ::3' , '*■ "t: *■ ii!=' ,..™.l '!IIi>'l : v^■^■^J'H• ii''f^f-!*.ii.i ,^)!i 1» ■:♦: '■.it H ^•*i., ■■'■jl'LjW^ '"■' 111'' i' ■•■-■" "-iff.*-*'- ,;^,_^ti,f4 234 SERMON IV. those concerns of life which call for thought; and powerfully impresses on the minds of men, thle importance and necessity of making provi- sion for futurity, whilst time and opportunities are afforded. And whilst it urges to such ear- nestness in the concerns of time^ it is perfectly consistent with those other parts of revelation which condemn that excessive anxiety and dis- tracting carefulness^ which come into competi- ||P| tion with the regular and faithful discharge of the great duties of religion and morality. It requires the instant performance of duties for- merly neglected ; — it demands Mniversal instead of partial obedience ; — it calls for a double mea- sure of force and activity to that religion which before was sincere ; — it sties up to earnestness, instead of coldness and indifference in regard to the concerns of another world. The meaning and force of the admonition^ however, will be best perceived and felt, by viewing your situation in this world in different I aspects, and the consequent duties which you are required to perform. 1. Consider yourselves as in a state of depend- ence. — You come into the world in a weak and helpless condition; you struggle through the ♦ SERMON IV. S35 diseases and dangers of infancy, giipparted and cherished by the afifectionate regards of those who gave you birth ; and, in the progress of time, you become the support of others and of yourselves. Contemplated as placed in these de- j^endent circumstances, what do ''your hands find to do ?" Under the government of God, meant 'ire wisely connected with ends, — exertion is in- dispensably requisite for the preservation and increase of temporal good. Even in the garden of Eden, the labour of roan was necessary for his conifort and support. To sit ddvvn in list- less inactivity, as if provision would descend from heaven like the manna of old, is to be chargeable with a conduct not less criminal tban foolish. We are expressly told that " the han^ of the diligent" only " maketh rich," — that " in labour only there is profit." Hence the necessity of industry and activity in your tehj- pora! conccrrw. Sec that your calling be law- ful. Use all honourable means for the advance- ment of your interests. Sloth is shameful and ruinous ; it enfeebles the body and debilitates the mind ; it infallibly leads io poverty, infamy^ and ruin. Religion enjoins you to be active, and declares indolence aad carelessness to bo m fm ' 1 / 1* '^1 ,.»' ' * n * li ^'M'K^ *fi-: . i- |(tM ^tif -,3 23^ SERMON IV. neither innocent nor safe. View it, therefore, at a religious duty, to prpvide the comforts of life for yourselves and those consigned to your care. -—And, " whatsoever your hands find to do " in this matter " do it with your might," — with the earnestness of those who feel its impoi'tance, who are tenderly alive to the weakneeses and wants of those who have been cast upon their hounty, who are powerfully impressed with the Ij^ awe which Divine authority should command. But, whilst you thus use all lawful means to promote your temporal interest, be careful to recollect your dependence upon God, and to acknowledge his overruling Providence. With- out the smiles of Heaven, the pleasures of life must be destitute of their animating principle. Strive then to feel youi dependence upon God for a blessing on your exertions ; commend your- selves and those to whom you are bound by the ties of nature, of duty, and of affection, to his compassionate regards ; and esteem the enjoy- ♦ ments of life as only valuable when mingled with the sweets of his " loving kindness which is better than life.'^ . 2. Consider yourselves a« in a stale of guilt, and liable to punishment. — You cannot d(;ii- SERMON IV. 237 ver yourselves from this unhappy situation; for how can beings inherently and totally impure, make atonement to a God of Holiness foF their impurity? Can repentance save from guilt and misery ? The repentance of such beings needs to be repented of. Can pur- poses of amendment found a just claim for pardon ? Under human governments, the most solemn vows of a criminal are disregarded, and to expect a dilierent form of procedure under the controul of inflexible justice, is to cherish the most foolish, because the most unfounded, hopes. Can future obedience prove a solid ground of hope ? The obedience of the best of creatures must ever be partial and defectiye, and unfit to be beheld with complacency by a God of infinite perfections. Look to the histo- ry of man in every age and in every country ; see him conflicting for four thousand years with all the variety of moral and physical evils ; falU ing step by st«p in the scale of religious im- provement ; losing in one age what wasaCqui" red in a preceding ; devising njcans for his re- covery, trying their strength, and lamenting in all the madntss of despair, their inadecpiacy to attain the object in view, and say, are not all 1 i: i/>- ,'iffi. §'•* WKKt ■!»> ■m !|^J %i^: j|#i^ , , , ■ ■ 'J ifisii'^* - 1^ *• If h ,■•«•< It.' If If. 3ERMON IV: the efforts of human skill and power/ lamentably . insuiTicieut to accomplish the deliverance of men from giiiltj degradation^ and death ? But is he to perish without hope ? Shall man^ the no- blest creature of God, and child of immorlali- iy, be doomed forever to darkness and despair ? No. A voice from Heaven declares, " The blood of Jesus Christ his son, cleanseth from all flin.** The obedience, sufferings, and death of Christ, are the only appointed means of justi- fication, and they are effectual for this purpose, because Christ is the son of God, — a divine per- son, — an infinite Beinii^. But in order that the atonement of Christ may avail for our individu- al acceptance and salvation, something is rer quired on our part. Christ must he believed iu and obeyed : without this, hope is un warrant* ed and dangerous. The city of refuge would have been totally useless had it not been fled 1o ; and the brazen serpent could not pis- sibly have availed the wounded Israelites for a cure, unless they had looked to it with the eye of confidence in its healing virtues. This then is what we find to do in the matter of salvation. We must flee to the place of refuge provided in the GoHpel. We must look with the eye of . • .:L SERMON IV. S39 faith to the Saviour lifted up on the cross, for the Express purp >5.3, tlmt " whosoever bclieveth on him might not perish, hut have everlasting life." And we must do it with our '' might/* — we must believe with the whole heart. We must lay hold of the offered salvation with the eagerness of those who are fully conscious that, without the help of Christy they must perish for ever. We must flee for refuge to the " hope set before us in the Gospel/* with the earnest- ness of those who are fully convinced, that by neglecting this great -^ Ovation, they reject the only mercy that car .v.j them. The reality and excellence of this faith must be testified to ourselves and to the world around us, by a life of genuine repentance and godly sorrow for sin, — activity and zeal in the cause of God and truth, — cheerful, uniform, and universal obedi- ence to the divine commands. 3. Consider yourselves as members of socictv, or citizens of the world. — This view of your situation involves in it many important rela- tions, and correspondent duties, equally nu- merous and equally important. It calls in- to view, the interesting connection of parents with children, masters with servants, friend •■''I,* ■■ 1 "i..i ^ Ci' ','. a' m ■*f;"-'i f . :i^. Itr f t ' , 1 •' ''t "'..'■ ^^^i 1 V4l f;^4i♦*• I " ■■■• u- >■ i' , ?'^ '^ilJM- 246 SERMON IV. buke/' '^ adorning the doctrine of our God and Saviour," and ripening for the " inheritance of the saints in light." — And all this we must do with our " might;" — with the dignity of sen- timent and ardour of feeling which should dis- tinguish those who are alive to their exalted circumstances, their high destiny, and their dazzling prospects. We must enter into the? spirit and feel the force of the Apostle's lan- guage when lie says, '^ Fight the good fight of faith." '' So run that ye may obtain." *' For- getting the things which are behind, reach forth to those which are before, press towards the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." II. The consideration by which the admo- nition of the text is enforced, is of a most inte- resting and impressive nature ; — '' there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goesf ." — Taking the whole in one view, Solomon may be considered as thus addressing the sons of men : Be diligent and active now, in forming schemes for your fu- ture advantage and in executing the plans which you devise, for *' there is no work, nor device in the grave." Be unremitting now in your ex- SERMON IV. 247 crtions to improve the powers of vour souls^ to store your minds with useful acquisitions^ and to attain sound wisdom^ for " there is no know- ledge nor wisdom in the grave/' and to that place of inaction and inseusibilitv^ an irrevoca- ble mandate ordains you to go. ,,.fevf ki » .r Viewed in this light, the language of the wise man is intelligible to all^ and it states a fact which can never be questioned. But, con- templated more especially in a religious light, we find that doubts have been entertained on the subject, or at least, it has failed to. produce its full impression. If the conduct of men can at all be rescued from the charge of absolute fol- ly, it seems to be founded on the presumption that, at death, the term of their probation docs not expire, and that some means shall be em- ployed in an intermediate state, for the removal of guilt, and the attainment of purity. The fol- ly of such an expectation it is quite uunecessaiy to prove in an address to those who profess the Protestant faith, or who have studied the sacred volume with minds unfettered by partialities and open to conviction. It is an expectation which the whole spirit and tendency of revelation de- clares to be delusive and ruinous, — whicU th« Q 1 iw ■ ! ^:1 ., m I m M - m '^■M VV,1 ^•^1,'% ■^S4;fc^'-i■ hM' ,. .1 •» ' . : ..I "■■'«'•» ■'*^-i " ^''^i/ 4:: if hi ^8 SERMON IV. text contradicts in the most unequivocal^ the most solemn, the most decisive language, when it asserts*—"' there is no vv^ork, nor device, nor knowledsre, nor wisdom in the grave." « ?AHf The force of this consideration viewed as a motive to activity and diligence in the moment-^ ous concerns of religion, demands the greatest share of our attention.-^Your situation in this world has been exhibited in different aspects, and the various duties thence arising have been set before you and urged on your attention. These duties, then, I now press home upon you with renewed earnestness, as demanding instant performance, for these among other reasons, — that the present is your most favourable oppor- tunity, — that the period when it may elapse is absolutely uncertain,-*— and that, " in the grave whither you go, there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom," • ' '^' ' Are you placed in a state of dependence, and required to provide for yourselves and those con- signed to your care, by your owi) exertions ? " Whatsoever your hand findeth to do " in this matter, "do it with your might; for in the grave whither you go" ajptivity is unknown; the arm of exertion is laid nerveless by the side ; the SERMON IV. 249 hurry of business, the strug^fi^les of competition, and the bustle of life, are succeeded bj a still- ness which the thunder of heaveu cannot shake. Placed in a state of g:uilt and exposed to punish- ment, are jou called to " believe in the Lord Jesus Christ that you may be saved," and to evince the sincerity of your faith by a life of holy obedience ? " Whatsoever your hand find- eth to do," in the vv'ay of faith and obedience, *' do it vt^ith your might ; for in the grave whi- ther you go" even " the withered arm " of faith cannot be extended to the Saviour ; pardoning mercy is unknown, " the accepted time and the day of salvation " are proclaimed no more. Are you surrounded by beings like yourselves to whom you are bound by close and endearing ties, and who demand of you offices of tender- ness and love ? " Whatsoever your hand tind- eth to do," in the various relations of life, " do it with your might ; for in the grave whither you go" the most sacred connections of time are burst asunder, " love is perished," and deedc of kindness can no longer be performed. Pa- rents ! instruct your children and animate them in the paths of wisdom and of peace; for you must soon leave them to a merciless and ensnaring 1^ Mi ■: *■ ill 1 • ^m ft f ■ i ■ .m m '^■fl'f^'l^v ■■^T JN V?'. 1 I 'I'M? , •"■•'*. i ■J^- M S50 SERMON IV. world, and when you are consig^nedto the grave^ they shall rise up, not to call you hlessed, but to reproach your memory ; they shall visit your grave, not to drop the tear of regret, or to \ow over your hallowed dust, eternal obediencv^ to your commands, but to curse you for your neg- lect of their dearest interests. Children ! lis- ten to the admonitions of your parents and imi- tate their virtues ; for soon you must be depri- ved of these best of counsellors, and when you consign their ashes to the grave, your breasts will hie wrung with the keenest anguish of re- morse at the thought of your uudutiful con^ duct, your ingratitude, and neglect. Masters! segard ; our servants as beings of the same na- ture with yourselves, and treat them with chris- tian gentleness and tender forbearance ; for in the grave whither you and they equally tend, distinctions- of rank are unknown, '' the rich and the. poor meet together, the siuall and the great are there, and the servant is free frcmi his master." Servants! continue faithful to the in- ttu'ests of your masters, be not discouraged in your course of duty towards them though they may fail in their duty to you, bear with their in- huKmnity and unjust reproaches; for the grave SERMON IV. 251 is tile land of peace whither the friendless exil^ retires bejond the reach of oppression and the cruellest arrows of fortune; " there the prison- ers rest together, they hear not the voice of the oppressor." Ye who are bound together by the ties of blood or of aiTectiou ! cherish the attach- ments of friendship, take delight in an inter- change of kind attentions and soothing endear- ments; for the touch of death chills the warm- est current of afFection, and in " the grave whither you go" the ashes of friends and lues are mingled together in one undistinguished mass. But there is a bond which unites man with man, and therefore I address all of you as related to each other by the ties of one common nature, and call upon you to '* be kindly affec- tioned one toward another," to visit the father- less and the Widows in their affliction," to givo of your abundance for the support of the indi- gent, to alleviate the pains of the diseased and the sorrows of the wounded in spirit ; for " in the grave whither you go," the pilgrim's staff is useless; the charities of life have ceased for ever; closed is the eye which now sheds the nynipathetic tear,- silent is the tongue which now utters the words of soothing tcadeniesy, cold to 4 ^ . y m ^m m -Wa ,^ '*# fm^^^^m fi -»${ m T h'\ s f .1;r ■If ;j .#'^1^^ 4 4 . . 1 t ^ . "1 252 SERMON IV. its finest sensibilities is the heart which now feels for distress. Standing in the interesting atti- tude of candidates for immortality^ are you call- ed to prepare for " the inheritance ^jmoii"" therr! who are sanctified ?" " Whatsoever your hand findeth to do " in regard to those " things which belong to your everlasting peace/' " do it with your might \" for '' in the grave whither you go " the state of all is fixed beyond the possibi- lity of change, " he that is unholy must be un- holy still, and he that is filthy must be filthy still/' no preparation can be made for that land of purity and bliss, to which it opens the way. How interesting and impressive, then, the consideration by which the injunction of our text is enforced, — " there is no work, nor device nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave whi- ther thou goest !" It should come home to our breasts with peculiar force on this occasion, t One year has just closed, and another has just commenced. How solemn the truth which the lapse of time presses on oiu* recollection, — " thou goest to the grave !" and how awful the thought that talents, opportunities, and means of improvement, shall be buried with us ! The period of our departure is wrapt in dread un- f Pit^aclicd on iSicw Ycar'bDiij. n^ ■w '.,'!*■ !■■ \ SERMON IV. 253 certainty, but one thAg we have too much rea- son to apprehend, that before this year comes^o its close, some of us shall have gone to the grave, is not each of us ready to utter the lan- guage of fearful anxiety, and to say with the disciples of old, " Lord, is it I ?'* At all events, our duty and our interest is to be active in bu- siness, '' fervent in spirit, serving the Lord," — prizing every opportunity as if it were our last, and improving every moment as if the next were to terminate our earthly career. This is sound wisdom, and the most careless and uncon- cerned of mortals shall certainly find it so, though, alas ! it may be too late to repent of their foil}'. The time of sober consideration must arrive, but it comes too late when it can no longer reform but merely reproach, a con- duct guided by folly and tending to misery. Brethren ! You see your perilous situation if you continue indifferent to the concerns of eter- nity. Whilst you are thoughtless and gay, cv<'- ry thing around you wears a serious aspect. Vou may loiter, but time will speed its flight. Satan will not be inactive in carrying on his work, and God will not be mocked. For once, then, be thou^^htful and serious. Reflecting on P\ .....|ii y . v(. :.^i <'. ■• .J It' il • *,! 1 '♦ illP'-'W*: *''.•#•' j M ' 'lii ' 1 ' :'V" ■'I Ilj.^.e^'ii ,^!i 251 SERMON IV. thepAst, may you testify repentance! anticipa- ting ti^e future, may you awake to newness of life ! But if this like other warnings fails to pro- duce its designed effect, you must perish, ^ — not because you were so unfortunate as to be igno- rant of your danger, but because you were mad enough to disregard it. . > 4 4«\ p ■wt?:'ni^ ^:-'^-^" -SERMON vr-"^^:j^^» t W, fv, tHE FAOGRESS OF VICE, v^H trj f ^rf II, Kings, viir. 13. »■ ! •■ *' Aud Ilazacl saltl, But what! is thy servant a dog that he should do this great thiug r" The circnmstances in which these words were uttered, deserve our most serious attention. Hazael, one of the chis«f men of the Syrian co.j.it was sent by ilte king, chpr(^ed with an iuil)ortant message, to Elisha, an illustrious pro- phet of God. Softened by the acuieness of disease, and under the influence of that tcm- poriuy seriousness wliich is ^-encrally produced by the gloom of affliction, the king, though the determined enemy of " the man of God," v\^m m l«'^ \i' . X^.j"' r**n I '^ii^f 1 1 a ^^mIk * 1 .j r .-■* , .fc I ■I It , .li'i' , tr' %^^ itc ,i»u apparently am- biguous ternis, but th-: re^di of the conference too plainly i»»titjiate. . SERMON V. lliis unexpecied change in the prophet's ap- pfarance and manner. " And Hazael said. Why vvccpeth my Lord? And he answered. Became ^ know the evil that thou wilt do un- tc ihe mildren of Israel ; their strong holds wilt thou set on fire, and their j^oung' men wilt thou slay with the sword, and wilt dash their chilvlren, and rip up their women with child." 'I vie very thought of being f,-ie perpetrator of such execrable deeds, made the spirit of Hazael revolt with horror. In such detestation did he hold these acts of monstrous cruelty, that he could not for one moment harbour the thought, that a man could be so lost to every generous feeling by which the human is exalted above the brutal nature, as, in any circumstances, to be brought to commit them. "But what!" says he '' is thy servant a dog that he should do this great thing?" The prophet of God, how- ever, knew his heirt be Jci. than he knew it himself, and foresaw that he would actually commit those atrocious deeds the very uame of wliich made him shudder. In this short huA ikiiur naTative, we be- hold an avvfi * rep' .i^atioa of [he gradual and insidious progre-**; of vice. No nian b» comers li ll ■ ) ■■! .Si j 1i itflir*! 'IP**- ir m -J I :'« l*''^'li ■A; s< m.. if -*li^ '■' ' 1 ■ '• 4 ■. . - i " 1 ' >" , ,1' ' . i 258 SERMON V. altogether abandoned at once ; he is prepared by degrees for the last acts of enormity. " The cloud'* which appeared " small as a man's hand" gradually increases, till it blackens the whole horizon. Men whose characters, at one period, could not be sullied even by the breath of calumny, become at length the finished pic- tures of depravity, and sensibilities once so de- licate as to shrink from the touch of vice, be- come at last hardened to insensibility, and pre- pared to succeed with no '' compunctious visit- ings of nature,'* atrocities of the most dia- bolical kind. Ilazael, who shuddered at the thought of committing murder and rapine, becomes the perpetrator of both in their most malignant forms. These are facts in the history of mankind which demand our most serious attention, as on them may be founded most important and seasonable admonitions. It is, therefore, pro- posed to enquire into the causes to which the progress of vice may be traced, or, in other words, to ascertain whence it happens that men are brought to commit sins against which their minds, like the mind of Ilazael, were previously, completely determined. — Amongst SERMON V. t259 ..** other causes which might be mentioued, the following are selected for illustration, namely. Partial views of human nature, and, Inade- quate conceptions of the influence of temp- i^ation. i. I, The progress of vice is accelerated by the partial views which men erttertain concern- ing human nature. — " The heart of the sons of men is full of evil.'* " The heart is deceit- ful above all things and desperately wicked." '' Every imagination of the thoughts of man's heart is only evil and that continually." Such are the explicit declarations of scripture con- cerning the radical and total corruption of hu- man nature, and, though the picture whi^a they exhibit has been thought by some to be tinged with too deep a shade, yet its justness cannot be questioned by those who receive the combined attestations of revelation, history, observation, and experience, with that respect to which they are fairly entitled. To trace the corruption which so early discovers itself in human nature, to the influence of education and example, is only to remove the cause to a greater distance and to arrive at the truth by a more circuitous patL or, on the iivipposition 'i o ,t- 't :% .: 14- ' . 'I'm r- '^i , 1 1 ■1 '■■,. , I-:,, . ; - ■ V,l :,t -%:ii *■' ■>•■ *. ■ i i - * ■(, »' ■ i 1 'iH^ l^- ' i -■- "--. • ,: i * •■ m:a i • :x^ *^ Ah • ■ f -.1. - ^i t .*u I I 1- ''I M^ JM id »pi ^yi m 1 t .. .A ( » ■* ■ 260 SERMON V. f •&'?■' Ill 't^^ \v. ' i. ■4,, ") I' 1, •ii'*--;,. »; <,=^ i,";'- :"r'^ *r that there is ilo original and inherent teuden« cy to evil iu human natiir*', whence does it happen that educatior tiui 'Xample possess any baneful qualities, and that these qualities are attended with any injurious eflects? The consequence of this native bias to evil, is, the constant employment of powerful and ingenious artifices in order to the attainment of its object, ^'^t deformity of vice is palliated, the probability of detection is represented as small and inconsiderable, and the effects of indulgence are made to assume their most cap- tivating appearance. Passion, thus roused to impetuosity, hurries along- its unhappy victim to the most criminal excesses, and the whole propensities to evil thus stimulated by the pros- pect of gratification, ample in itself, and free from the disquieting apprehrsision of detec- tion and punishment, disregard alike the res- traints of decency and the more awful sanc- tions of religion. . . In addition, however, to this original pro- pensity to evil and unceasing employme!it of schemes in order to procure indk* 3nre, there exists, either in the constitution of man, ia the natu j of vice, or in their mutual influ- r \ - T::.r;:;t:Ki.i SERMON V. ^1 ence, such a tendency io repetition, that a suc- cession of crimes seldom fails to accompany one sinful compliance. Indulgence, whilst it lessens enjoyment, increases desire. To deliver from urg:ent distress an act of injustice has often been resorted to, but it has called for repetition in circumstances less distressing, and has ulti.nately become a common vice. The man whose schemes of fraud have succeeded in one instance is incited to use them again by the hope of similar success, and the infatuated being whose compliance has once been given to the call of temptation, becomes in future a slave to in propelling violence, and, like the insect enta. ^led in its own web, every effort which he makes to procure his freedom only twines him closer and renders emancipation more difficult. Witness David, who, by a delu* sive hope of saving himself from infamy was led to imbrue his hands in blood, and Judas^ who, by yielding to the calls of avarice was led on to acts of the most diabolical hypocrisy, in- gratitude, and treachery. It must be evident io every thinking man, that, ignorance of the truths which these state- ments are intended to suggest, or the induU R3 I ' f , \ " . K^H ■>. j tf 4 ^f ^.,..4 ^ - p ■ ' t p. :'-^i^^ It ,4 *1 I.' : .^. - j^ :i ■ - r ,*■■«)- i'i t'?." U'' - ^'f 262 SERMON V. gence of more favourable impressions of human nature than they warrant us to hold, must tend to widen the avenues to temptation, and to fa- cilitate the progress of vice. The jaundiced e^^e contemplates every object through a vitia- ted medium, *and were its decisions to be relied on as of unquestionable accuracy, the most erro- neous conclusions would be formed concerning the colour of external bodies. In like manner, the man who denies or overlooks the total cor- ruption of human nature, contemplates sin with no feelings of detestation, because his judgment being overspread with its defilement, takes par- tial views of its nature, and gives false decisionn concerning its effects. He is not aware of the native bias of the willand of the nature of those objects by which its movement^ may be directed, and, therefore, giving full sway to its own in- clinations, he leaves it uncontrouled by any higher influence. Imagining that all is well if his " heart does not reproach him," " a de- ceived heart" frequently "turns him aside." Nay, before he is aware, lawless passions may have gained a fatal triumph over his better principles ; the sparks of unhallowed fire which la^ concealed in his bosom may have been l.i :^*P^ I. Ji". » «- •''1- SERMON V. 263 kindled by the approach of surrounding temp- tation^ the flame may be fanned by every suc- cessive gust of passion^ and the deluded mau^ whilst dreaming only of security, may be over- whelmed with hopeless desolation. ,, J ^^ , ., These remarks do not originate in the illu- sions of a disordered imagination. They are founded in reason, and supported by fact. What can be conceived more natural than that ignorance should be followed by delusion, and that those who are not aware of their danger should rush headlong on destruction ? What can be more rational than the belief, that those who deny the total corruption of human na- ture should feel no solicitude about the dun- gers of temptation ; that those who overlook the numerous artifices which passion devises in order to gain its object, should frequc itly be off their guai:d and consequently led into the most fatal errors ; and that those who are not aware of the succession of crimes to which one act of wickedness insensibly leads, should becakfied along fn)m one violation of the divine Law to another, soothed in their indulgence by a feeble determination to stop in their career or to reform their manners, and thus brought R 4 :;«<■ ♦ ;^ '!« ' .4 Jii r'^:ll 'i«ts^M/;j n feii t\ i'' H : ■ lie'*'*!"*'!! ! imaKM ^1%'l r t ^m I > 264 SERMON V in the end to complete the character of depra- vity ? That these baneful consequences should result from such partial views of human na- ture, it requires not more sagacity to foresee than credulity to admit. The cause and its effects are intimately and necessarily connect- ed. — To this defective acquaintance with hu- man nature may be ascribed the fatal error into which the Apostle Peter was seduced. His resolution was takeg with the most cool deliberation, his professions of fidelity to Christ were uttered in the most firm and determined language, and his feelings of horror at the ve- ry thought of being chargeable with treachery, were expressed in such a tone of ma/ily supe- riority, and amid circumstances of such awful solemnity, as seemed lo raise above all suspi- cion the sincerity of his attachment to the best of masters. He had no conception of the depth of that depravity into which his heart was sunk, nor of fhc extent of that ignorance regarding human nature in which he was in- volved, and consequently, in an unguarded mo- ment, he was betrayed into that act of base- ness which, but lately^ he had pledged himself with the most solemn assererctions to avoid. — • SERMON V. 265 Similar to this was the case of Hazael. When he addressed the prophet in the language of the text, he was evidently a stranger to his own heart. He relied on it as an unerring' guide, and imagined it a thing utterly beyond tlic reach of possibility, that his feelings could so far betray him as to yield no resistance to the commission of crimes which he viewed in anti- cipation with feelings of horror. Deluded man ! He was soon taught, by mournful experience, the trcachcrv of the human hoart, and the im- bccility of the firmest resolutions ! ' The tendency which these partial views of hu- man nature have to facilitate the progress of vice, is so natural, that the great deceiver of mankind generally takes advantage of the aid thus furnish- ed, in order to promote the interests of his king- dom. Well aware that solf knowledge would infallibly ruin his cause by putting men on their guard against being imposed on by his delusions, he makes use of the most artful contrivances to operate .'^n their natural partiality and self-love, to exhibit human natur.j in its most pleasing forms, and thus to increase the confidence which they are too apt to place in the rectitude and strength of their principles. By banishing re- *■ m :i'f: -t. (*!•' ■"4 •* • .... ji >$* - iA > ' I .£"'•,,' f'H^. 266 SERMON V. flection he lulls the mind into securitj, and by pleasing the imagination with dreams of inno- cence and peace, he '* leads captive the bosom" when no centinel is awake to warn of his ap- proach. In his true character as an infernal traitor, he deludes that he may betray, — he blinds the understanding, that he may gain a malignant triumph over every power of the soul. Thus, from the want of an extensive and accurate acquaintance with human nature and with our own hearts, we feel too little anxiety to maintain a constant watch over the avenues to temptation, sin gains admis- sion, and leads to the perpetration of crimes, concerning which we might lately have said with Hazael, " What ! is thy servant i\ dog, that he should do this great thing ?** II. Inadequate conceptions of the influence of temptation tend to accelerate the progress of vice. — That^sin in all its forms should captivate the heart of man, is naturally to be expected, provided the total corruption of human na- ture be fairly admitted. However repulsive it« aspect may appear when viewed through the medium of enlightened reason and impar* 1' X' ' I'j't' SERMON V. 267 tial reflection, it gains a baleful influence over the aflfections of men which are naturally dii- posed to be seduced by outward attractions and first impressions. *' The prince of dark- ness" gains many votaries when he transforms himself into " an angel of light." Naturally prone to vicious conduct, and eager to gratify their inclinations at the expense of every re- mote and contingent evil, the hope of imme- diate good leads men to overlook those perma- nent distresses which sinful pursuits must inevi- tably produce. They do not prefer evil as evil, but disregarding its real nature and ge- nuine effects, they attend only to what promi- ses immediate gratification or temporal ad- vantage, however gross, inferior, orevancstent. Seeking after earthly felicity, they listen to the slightest proposals and are enraptured with the most trivial success; eager in the pursuit of pleasure, temptations without receive aid from passions within, and all combine to involve their deluded victim in infamy and ruin. Though sin in all its aspects 1 e congenial with the debased aflTections of man, yet the degrees of its influence difl^cr accordin(rfo the constitu- iion and circamstanccii of individuals, lu one ^ • 1 m^ •4t :%;?" ;»;■ ■:y V,j:« 't ^w. ■ ^ TJ' ■%•,' '\i.i^'' i I'V :! "-a »i •■■iVfl'- ^-'W, ■ a ■J ■.*. ^■if .1! • t: 4 } ♦ ' 268 kSERmon v. ;, ,, ( man the passions are naturally much stronger than in another ; in a second, the propengitieg are directed to totally different objects ; in a third, the consequences of criminal conduct Diiaintaiii a much feebler iifluence. The cuu- ti'utg of the great deceiver appears in nothing more remarkably, than in suiting the appear- ance of vice and its probable effects, to the constitution and circumstances of the indivi- dual who is destined to be the victim of his delusion. He knows well the secret bias of the soul, and therefore he presents '' the sin which most easily besets," in that form which is most likely to captivate. He knows what propensities and feelings maintain the most predominant sway in the breast and are most likely to prove victorious, and therefore his temptations are addressed to them in all their overpowering influence. The passions of the revengeful, the sensual, and the proud, are stimulated by the presence of objects on which to spend their violence ; the propensities of the ambitious, the covetous, and the dishonest, are cherished and invigorated by the prospect of easy and ample gratification ; and the ten- dency i)f the thoughtless and inconsiderate to II SERMON V. 269 act In defiance of consequences, ^eeflij to be rewarded by a few accidental and temporary escapes from evils which thej were taught to dread, but which they had the desperate care- lessness to disregard. .... v The fascination of vice is very much deter- mined in its influence by the situations of life in which men are placed. The seeds of evil lie deep in every bosom, but unless means are af" forded to chr them, and opportunities occur to display i^^im in all their maturity and vi^ gour, they t-iay remain in a great measure concealed throughout the whole period of ex- istence. There are vices connected with pros- perity which can never degrade the character of the man to whom the dangers of atlluencc and ease are unknown, and there are tempta- tions presented by sin in low and depressed circumstances which the sons of prosperous fortune are not called to resist. A man may be a total stransjer to himself and the world may be ignorant of his real cliaracter, till he is brought into a new condition of life which calls into action the latent qualities of his heiirt If the change in his circumstances has hcvn sudden and unexpected, the effecls are III ' ".:>;fl •#' 1 ■ , . 1 i h' fV 270 SERMON V. peculiarly strikinj^. Hurled by a sudden re- verse of fortune from a station of opulence and grandeur to the depths of poverty and de- pendence, he repines at his lot, envies those who have been blest with a happier fate, grows sullen in his deportment, and, it is well if the madness of despair does not drive him on to the last refuge of the miserable, the fa- taf determination not to survive his imagined '^is^race. Raised by the peculiar favour of eaven from circumstances of indigence and obsc . ity to a station of respectability and in- dependence, he wants solidity of mind to sup- port his elevation ; he rules with the iron rod of oppression ; pride, luxury, and revenge, al- ternately mark his conduct. In the one case, had not the unforeseen change of circumstan- ces occurred, the pride and ambition which reigned supreme in the breast, being uniformly rewarded with the objects of their wish, would have remained concealed, and the strength of their influence would have been very partially made known. In the other, the feebleness of a mind unable to withstand the influence of prosperity would have remained concealed by the obscurity which surrounded it, had not '«< SERMON V. 271 tlie despotism of newly acquired power, and the unbounded indulgence of passions just rouLcd from their lethargy, proclaimed to the world that the means of gratification were ' only wanting to discover the latent tendencies * of the heart in all their strength and defor- - mity. How different is Hazael, who bowed' before the prophet of God, from Hazael, who made the nations to tremble ! The splendours of royalty with which he was surrounded ser- • ved only to make the blackness of his charac- ter more visible. — These remarks concerning the power of sin in general over the corrup- tion of human nature, the influence of parti- cular temptations over particular individuals, and the tendency which a change of circum- stances has to discover the secret propensities and genuine characters of men, are intended to shew, that inadequate conceptions of the fascination of vice in it« different aspects and modes of operation must tend in a very high degree to facilitate its progress over the affec- tions and conduct of men. If a man is igno- rant of the power which sin iu all its forms has over his depraved heart ; if he is not award of the predominant passions of his soul, and i-'-''S 1 ... ^S; H 272 SERMON V. fi 'ti'ti il i« i • ■%Mk* 4^4 '■ the consequent influence of temptations speci- ally addressed to tlicm ; or if his condition in life has been almost uniformly the same^ and consequently has afforded him no opportunity of ascertaining those latent tendencies which a change of circumstances would detect and e.Apose, — he will imagine himself proof against every assault of temptation, he will be assailed with no fears about his safety even when his destruction is inevitable, and his blood will be chilled at the mention of crimes which he is about to perpetrate without one thrill of re- morse. The hour of temptation is the hour of trial. That rnan who in the calm season of retirement and of serious thought, trembles at the very appearance of evil, may, in the hour of temptation^ fall an easy prey to the enemy, and become at last an awful monument of the ravages of temptation. — Let us imagine for a moment that we contemplate a man destined to be dehided to his ruin by the fascination of vice. Having passed the former years of his life in the bosom of donu'stic })eiLco and ruial soii- lude, and having no adequate conceptions of the power of temi>tation, he imagines himself resolute against evejy encroachment of evil. tvi'i:'^ 18 spec I - ition ill me, and ortunity s which tect and I against ; assailed vlicn his I will be ch he is II of re- the hour season of en)bl€s at the liour e enemy, nt of the ne for a destined nation of of his life luai soli- ptions of himself t of evil. ;s SERMON V. S73 He comes forth into the gay scehes of life, and is presented with allurements which, till now, he was not called to rt^kt. Reflection being; expelled by the en. hantments of vice, and the " small still voice** of conscience bcring* si* lenccd by the calls of temptation, no resistance is opposed to the progress of evil. Miik the deluded man in this trying situation- One step must seal his triumph o" his ruin. lie pauses for a few moments, Uke the insect fluttering round the flame, but soon, like the sama in- sect, he owes his destruction to the dazzling object. — Witness Hazael, the king of Syria. When, in the calm moments of reflection, and in humbler circumstances of life, he placed be- fore the view of his mind, those deeds of monstrous cruelty which, according to the >'<- claration of the prophet, were to disgrace hh character, and to cover .his name with imperislia- ble infamy, he shuddered at their enormity; but when his strongest passions came to be stin^u- lated, when the circumstances of his life undf^r- went a change, and when the attractive influ- ence of vice happened to intervene, he hesitated not to commit them all Thus, inadequate conceptions of the influeoce of sin, tend to m I!' ' 1 1 I M i "••iSj'jBi"' ) la J fiL^w J. ■' \*' «i- J*'* 274 SERMON V. promote its progress, and thus are men brought to perpetrate crimes, concerning which they might lately have said with Hazael, " What ! is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?*' '=^ ^ * ■ What, then, is the improvement which this subject suggests ? — If partial views of human nature, and inadequate conceptions of the in- fluence of temptation, tend in such a high degree to facilitate the progress of vice, let us be careful to use every means in our power in order to gain an extensive and accurate ac- quaintance with these important subjects. Let us " search the scriptures ;" let us attend to the workings of one own hearts; let us stu- dy the history of the world and of mankind around us. By these means we shall attain to that acquaintance with ourselves which is the first step to knowledge, and be put on our guard against those numerous and awful dangers with which we are surrounded. Let us beware of the beginnings of sin. — We have seen that the progress of vice is gradual and insidious, and that the complete charac- ter of depravity is formed by slow and imper- ceptible degrees. Ask the murderer how he SERMON V. 275 came to imbrue his hands in bloody and hd will tell you that it was by slow degrees. At first he indulged a selfish, peevish, and fretful humour. Habits insensibly grew upon him, and at length, in an evil hour, passion o;;- superior to reflection, revenge fired his soul, and murder, attended with every plicated act of barbarity, was the fatal cl quence. Take, in short, any character now in- famous, and the history of his progress in guilt, were he to tell it you, would be the same. Tq what lengths we may be carried by yielding to temptation in a single instance, it is im- possible for us to know; but, of one thing we are certain, that it is easier to hold fast our in- tegrity, than to recover it after it is gone. " Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the Leopard his spots ? then may ye that are ac- customed to do evil learn to do well." Let the young, who are as yet unhackneyed in the ways of vice, tremble for their virtue; let them guard every avenue to temptation ; let them shrink with horror from the very '^ ap- pearance of evil.'* Finally, *' Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall." — ^Aniong those who ih I m %i\ ri\ 4 ' ] ■ ":M 4* !' - 4 ■ 1« I'l • r.V fif. ,,. ■ > ir- im^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /. z ^ ^ 1.0 [fG I.I 2.8 2.5 2.2 M 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" — ► v] <^ p% /^ A ^? 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN STRUT WiBSTER.N.Y. MS80 (716) •72-4503 f/i 276 SERMON V. II I 1 -, , *'j*; !r, a arc now sunk in vice, or who have apostatised from the faith of the Gospel, are some whose circumstances were once as favourahle> and whose prospects were once as flattering as ours can possibly be. Behold that emaciated form, that clouded brow, these trembling limbs I It is a fellow creature ; it is the sad spectacle which a being ruined hy vice seldom fails to present. He came from the bosom of a pa- rent's family where he was accustomed to re- ceive religious instruction, and to contemplate an example of piety. He had a conscience which smote him when he did evil; he had a cheek which used to redden with the blush of modes- ty ; he had a hearl; which was open to every generous and devout impression. He came, howevfcr, into the busy scenes of life, met with thoughtless companions, was induced to join the jovial circle, and soon became initiated in all the arts of fashionable dissipation. Now, having made the tour of pleasure, the moments of reflection are arrived, and the gay scene? of life are fled for ever. Prom whence can he now derive consolation } Can he look with pleasure on creation around him ? He is condemned by every orb of the firmament ; be *< SERMON V. 277 is arraigned by every beast of the field. Can his misery be alleviated by the approbation of his OM^n mind ? He is convicted by reason and by conscience, of havin^^ disregarded their most seasonable remonstrances ; the remembrance of the past, harrows up his soul, and the prospect of the future, fills him with terror. " His own wickedness" now " corrects him, and his back- sliding^" now " reprove him." " What fruit has he in those things whereof he is now ashamed ? for the end of these things is death." But why select for illustration, an instance of such dreadful profligacy ? Let us look around us for a moment, and we cannot fail to behold many whose professions of religion were of the most glaring kind, and concerning the justness of whose pretensions to the character of Chris- tians it would have been reckoned an eggre- gious breach of charity to have harboured a suspicion, who have either renounced their ho- ly calling by open apostacy, or are so over- spread with imperfections as to injure the cause which they profess to support. Let those who imagine that their " mountain stands strong, and that they can never be moved," instead of glorying iu their own strength or exulting S « i| 1 ^1 ^**vvJ •^ M^^ «78 SERMON V. •^4 *»*» * i£ t§-^' ;m 4;i 6ver the failings of others^ remember that thej too are surrounded with infirmities, that their " own strength is only weakness/' and that it is onlj " through Christ strengthening them that thej can do all things." '^ Watch amd pray that ye enter not into temptation/' Im- plore with importunity and earnestness that " grace of God wherein ye may standi and re- joice in hope of the glory of God/' '^ Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy. To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion an(l power, both pow and ever, Amen/' " " ' ' ' . '^' \' f, -yv: ■'•■ " (■ r ■ s aT %i i^^l It t > 1 t' ( 5! n %4 IH^W^WIn it # t 4t^ ^ SERMON VI. **^ CHRISTIAN 9BED|ENC£ A SOURCE OF HAPPINESi. c».4#. ,y|4i4 "j-r^^'i^r^' ,^-^^-ii\i. ''i'm-KHt : mi^y^'-'t^ipmiXsini v^«^^^.i« ;i. . Psalm ,ciix. 165. , " Great peace have they which lore thy law." *^ IliRRONEous ideas as to the actual state of trutf Christians^ very generally prevail in the world. If happiness is ever associated at all with their condition, it is conceived to be reserved entirely for another state of existence, and, at present^ to be altogether an object of hope. They are supposed to be wholly secluded from those in- " nocent enjoyments which sweeten human life, and to be engaged in a service, burdensome in itself, and destitute of every consolation tending to alleviate its pressure. Religion, is %4 '" -^^ :l¥' " 'I'll f ■ ,'i h . .-t: , i ^< l-w ^' a!,!" * I) it' •!.':).' ^^v 1 L .it 1 :l .<>1 1^:# ..ii*' M 'm \rl > 2S0 SERMON VI. f :« shortj is connected i» the miads of worldly meH, with all that is discouraging in the absence of goodj and all that is gloomj in the presence ^^■••*.:.•.■• > ^ The prevalence of these unfounded OpffiiOtigj supports the well established truth, that igno- rance is the parent of error. The untutored peasant, and the sons of dissipation, are equally unable to trace the sources of his happiness who 4 secludes himself from the gay scenes of life, and to whom the laws of matter and of mind furnish inexhaustible treasures of delightful in- vestigation. In like manner, the men of the world are generally so engrossed with the cares or amusements of life, that they succeed to a certain extent in banishing the thought of their real misery, and, imagining that the Chris- tian is as wretched a being as themselves, they conclude, that because he refuses to indulge in those pleasures which drown reflection and stimulate the animal spirits, and betakes him- self to serious thought concerning his present situation and ultimate propects, he cc^nnot fail io nourish ijielancholy, and to increase the poig- nancy of sorrows which he has only to forget in order to r'-4' SERMON VI. ^y .■ L ^ I. ■ < itance, iiie ^rroneaiis cohttifsibn winch tliese men deduce, is the result of ignorance concern- ing the real wircumstances of those whose si- tuation they have the sympathy to deplore, — an ignorance originating in a neglect to inquire into the circumstances which they attempt to describe, and in a total incapacity to enter into those feelings which they presumptuously ca- Jumniate as the bane of happiness. Arc the attestations of such partial, ill-informed, and incompetent witnesses, to be received as of any value, so long as we have in the opposite scale the infallible dictates of an Omniscient Being, and the explicit declarations of men who have been actually placed in the circumstancet which they describe — who have been taught by happy experience the reality and extent of that bliss which they represent to others in all its heavenly cheirms ? No. Let not the lan- guage of ignorance and misconception be lis- tened to for a single moment, so long as these declarations continue to adorn the sacred page, *' Her ways are ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peace." " My yoke is easy and my burden is light." " Godliness is profitable unto all things, haying the promise of the life t , .■*. -,:,» ■:''%:k it. ""': ^ ^.i^dmi. ri*4ili|..^/'l *4J- I?82 SERMON yj. m that now is^ and of that which is to come^' Even in the practice of the most arduous du* ties of religion^ in the love and obedience of those commandments which^ m the estimation of the world, " are grievous,'* the Christian experiences the purest satisfaction and the most exalted delight. Hence it is affirmed by the prophet, '* The work of righteousness shair be pea.ce, and the effect of righteousness, quietness and assurance forever;" and by the Psalmist, as the result of long continued expe- rience ,k hi* miud in despair, he is at the same time taught by moiirnful experience, what be once derided as the illusion of a sullen f^ncjr, that the highest elevation of pleasure cannot elude the feeling of real misery which the moments of reflection seldom fail to excite/ Such are the pleasures of sin, when enjoyed in their purest st^te »nd most .fitypurabl!^i,pi(rr cumstances. ■ »--^- •^. . :■-: •■ y ^S'n^fri4jif446i^>v>b« Listen to . his own (Confession, " All this availeth me nothing . no long as 1 see Mordecai the Je\y sitting at tho king's gate.'* Surely ''the wicked are like the troubled sea which cannot rest. There is no peace, saith the Lord, to the wicked/* Between a disobedient temper and disquietude of niii|d, there exists, by the righteous appointment of Heaven, as intimate and as necessary a Cophec* tion, as between the want of bodily health and the absence of external case. '*¥^'*^^*»^ .'5ftUlt'*t3 But, from such sources of disquietude as these, a heart disposed to love and to obey the Law of God, is completely free. That secret feeling of wretchedness which embitters to the victims of passion, the sweetest ingredients in the cup of pleasure, can never taint the enjoyments of the man who is conscious of acting rigreeably to the will of his creator, and to the original design of his formation. — Those bad passion^ which rufflft and torment the mind, the law of God is designed to check and to subdue. It lays '^ the axe at the root of the tree.'* It strikes at the bottom of those selfish, malevo- lent, and unhallowed principles, which discover * ' ;, • ^^1 ; ". >. 286 SERMON VL 4 ■•I'Sl i i \ ' v^ "J m If P 1 their fatal infkience^ in the discontents, ani- mosities, and strifes, which lessen the sum of individual happiness, and poison the sweets of domestic life. Consequently, when men are brought to love that law which has such be> nevolent ends in view,— 'when they are led sin- cerely to aim at uniform and universal obe> dience to its commands^ — and when the purity and excellence of their characters mark their gradual approach to perfection of obedience, these malignant passions will no longer be - cherishbd — their first risings in the bosom will be repressed — and their baneful influence on personal and domestic peace, will be resisted and overcome. What delightful satisfaction must reign in the breast of him who is con- scious of doing what is right, and of being what he ought to be ! How pleasing the re- flection that all is regularity and harmony within ! that no baleful passion is allowed to derange the movements of the. soul ! that every power of the mind is directed to the grand end of its formation ! Conscience, which is the bad man's deadliest foe, is, to the man who loves the law of God, the best of friends. Hence says an Apostle^ *' Our rejoicing is this. ")'''«i\ lence on SERMON VI. 287 the testimony of our conscience, that in sim- plicity and godly sincerity* not with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have our conversation in the world.'* ^ - '■■- . v' II. Positive enjoyment results from the per- formance of the various duties which the di- vine law enjoins.-^The pleasures of devotion are of the purest and most elevated kind. If the contemplation and esteem of transcendent beau< ty, unrivalled excellence, and infinite perfection, afford delightful satisfaction, the devout man ii permitted to experience it in all its fulness. If the exercise of unsuspecting confidence in il Being of almighty power, infinite wisdom, and boundless goodness, be a sure foundation of tran- quillity and peace, the devout man experiences the calmest serenity of soul. If communion and fellowship with the greatest and best of Beings, be a source of rational and unmingled happiness, the devout man must be truly happy. He draws near to that God in whose " presence there is fulness of joy," and he loses his relish for the scattered streams of earthly bliss. He mingles his notes of praise with the songs of the redeemed, and feels a portion of their transports. He joins in the exalted employ* m - .?tl ■t 1, V3 ■% *> '"l '■:..i< y MM m '11 m I I ^ ! jiiV m ^$(^1 •i^' »f: ri^ a'l «». «, . : ■if. 288 SERMON VI. inents of the angels of God^ and receives a foretaste of the joys of paradise. . i»i^T }&^4.«4. ' Tiie perforrnance of the various duties which we owe to each other, is, likewise, attended with satisfaction and joy. The beneToleiit man whilst " devising liberal things/' and form* ing schemes of extensive usefulness to the world, is, at the same time, adding to the sources of hi» happiness. Every feeling of tenderness which he cherishes in his breast, and every act of kindness by whicii he communicates happi- ness to his brethren, is rewarded with a satis- faction of mind known only to those wlio abound in labours of love. How superior his enjoy" ments to those of the victims of seltishness and envy, *' who shut up their bowels of compas- sion," are never satisHed with their own con- dition, and covet the possessions of others ! Who can forgive injuries without the pleasing approbation of his own mind, and a serenity of soul far removed from those to whom "re- venge is sweet !" Who can " rejoice with them that rejoice" without participating in their fe- licity ? nay, who can visit the " house of mourn- ing," to " weep with them that weep," to soften the pillow on which the hoary head of l!l|i, SERMON VI. 289 ceives H ftge reclines, and to cause " the widow's heart to sing for joy," without cherishing a tender pleasure — ^without sharing in those consolations which he imparts io others ? Thus, there is a hixury in doing good, — the purest mental gratification results from the performance of heneticeot deeds. '; .u\. :*... j t i;*, < n !f, from attending to the pleasure arising from the performance of those duties which we owe to God and to our neighbour, we proceed a step farHicr, and advert to those laws which are designed to regulate our conduct as individuals, we shall be equally convinced, that happiness results from obedience to them. Temperance and self-government, are not more conducive to health and reputation, than to tranquillity of mind. To be ready at the call of every tumultuous passion, is to yield a sub* mission of the most abject kind — a submission, to which the mean spirited and shamefully delmsed alone can stoop, without exposing themselves to the secret upbraidings of insult- ed dignity. If victory be a source of exulta- tion, surely a conquest over ourselves, being the noblesit of all achievements, must be attended with the most exalted triumphs. If coutent- 'it'"- > * Ik «;*; *... !HI]|J «•■■■• , •• ■'1 • ..1 ^1 *. • ■>> ■■ i i. 'i^i^.i 290 SERMON VI. .'*' \U' M t f ^1, i* .r^' I :|:|4f^ ment be a source of inward composure^ sureljr the Christian duty of resignation to the allot- ments of Providence, must be attended, in its exercise, with the calmest -serenity of soul. If gradual advancement in knowledge and excellence, possesses a powerful and unceas- ing influence on the means of human happi- ness, surely the Christian's progress in heavenly knowledge, and in resemblance to the perfection of excellence, must be attended, in its success- ive stages, with increasing satisfaction and ac- cumulating joys. ,. The enjoyment of the divine favour ard love, connected with obedience to the law of God, heightens, in no small degree, these sour- ces of satisfaction and delight. To enjoy the friendship of the greatest and best of Beings, — to hiive almighty power affording us protec- tion and deliverance, infinite wisdom devising the means of our escape from dangers and of our comfort in the midst of sorrows, and un- . t^unded goodne^^ dispensing blessings around us in endless profusion, is, indeed, to be happy beyond conception. Yet, such is the happiness which is experienced by those who "love God's law." 1* or, says the Apostle, " He that keep- m 14 SERMON VI 291 ptb the commahdmdnfs of God dwelleth in God and God in him." Whilst the unholy and dis- obedient incur the vengeance of that God whose la\f they violate, the man " who walks in all the ordinances and commandments of God blameless/' lives under the smiles of Hea- ven, and eiperieAces all the happiness connect- M with the assurance of divine favour and love; Who, then, is not ready to join with the Psalmist, in the declaration of the text, " Great peace have they which lo>e thy law?*' From this subject, the following practical observations may be deduced. ,-'jui>ihm '>r#5 1. Let those who have been accustomed to regard religion as a burdensome and joyless service, learn to entertain more correct ideas of its nature. — ^Those who exhibit religion in its less pleasing features, are generally men, who have assumed its form as a cover for their wic;k- edness, and who tremble lest a smile should tarnish that reputation for sanctity, which de- pends entirely for its support, on the deepness and constancy of their gloom. These men taste Jione of tbe joys whi; h religion imparts, and tiiey deprive themselves of the full enjoyment vf vice, so that, " of all men," they arc un- •i T if 'h'" .S4i iftii' J I. I!' :fe,r , ■it' 4 71 4 1 293 SERMON VI. icmi .#»:: va'-' 'V^i m Hi' questionably "^tlic most miserable." They may , profane religion by making its form a Cover for their crimes, but they cannot take by stealth the joys which it imparts. They may appear to be christians denied their peculiar conso- lations, whilst, in reality, they are the ser- vants, without receiving the wages, pfsin. Such men are miserable, and they ought to be miserAble. To be, happy in their situation, is to be truly wretched. — Let not religion, then, be allowed to suffer on account of those who fire traitors to its cause, apd let no man impute to its influence, the misery qf those who never felt its power.— On the other hand, mistakes are apt to be made with regaid to the precise nature of the Christian's happiness. Because Jie does not go with the wicked to the same " excess of riot,** and dashes not into tumul- tuous gaiety, he is conceived to. be a stranger to happiness equal >vith theirs. Now, the truth of the case is, the Christian has no need to have recourse to such turbulent sources of delight, nor is the general current of his pleasures so low, as to be marked by such excessive and mo- mentary elevation. The holy joy, the heavenly peace, tjic high pulsations of animated hope. ^ SERMON VL ^93 wlilcli arc sources of * celcstia"! delight sending" forth streams of unminglcd felicity in the bo- som of the good rtian^ produce ho bustle^ and" therefore, excite no observation. But it is the silence, and not the bubbling of the stream, that indicates its depth. The Christian's happiness resides in a mind freed from that load which sin never fails to impose, and conscious of that '' peace with God,'* which is the unfailing at- tendant on such a release. ..;.., ,, « .: ,- To these causes, then, maj be traced many of the erroneous ideas so prevalent in the world, in regard to the influence of true religion, on human happiness. On the one hand, instances of religious melancholy are taken from tho case of those, who arc melancholy, but are not reli- pous. And, on the other, false sentiment? are rntertained with regard to the precise nature of that happiness which is promised to the Christian, and which he actually enjoys. — Brethren ! let not your conclusions on this sub- ject be founded on particular cases, or on tJie conducf of individual men, who are always liable to err. Attend to the real ittte of the case, — • whether or not religion has really a tendency to iMdnr(> melancholy and dfjfrctioa of spirit. r 1 Ms' ^ IBS if W|ls IP lif'^lli. , f. ■• ■^'= »i my.. '■ ' ■"■ • ' 1 'f f . """ >, ^f , > i i u 394 SERMON VL * This is surely the fair and decisive test by wfiicli the question ought to be tried. Should he be melancholy^ whose serenity of soul is ruffled by no wayward ^assion^ and whose peace of mind, reason and conscience combine to secure r* Should he be melancholy, who enjoys commu- nion and fellowship with the greatest and best of Beings — who tastes the luxury of benevo- lence — who triumphs in the conquest of over- powering passions — and whose every source of bliss is increased and sweetened by that '' loving kindness which is better than life ?" No. If happiness, real, substantial, and permanent, ever descends from the regions above, its native element, and dwells on earth, it must reside in the breast of him " who loves God's law." Go, then, to the man who abounds in this world's possessions, flutters amid the gaieties of life, and riots amid a luxuriance of forbidden pleasures ; and there you will contemplate real misery. But visit the humble abodes of virtu- ous poverty — enter the chamber of the saint, and mark his countenance, wrinkled, perhaps, with years and with sorrows, but shining as the face of an angel ; and there you will contem- plate real felicity, SERMON VI. 295 % This subject directs 118 to the true path which conducts to happiness. — Happiness is the object which all pursue^ but few know wherein it really consists. T There be many which say, who will shew hs any good ?" Hap- piness is sought for in the ricl^s, honours, and pleasures, of this mortal state, — in every thing, ^ave in that where alone it dwells. Religion is conceived to be the very bane of happiness, and to be worthy of attention only when '' the evil days come, and the years draw nigh, in which we shall say, we have no pleasure in them." The duties wliich it enjoins are conceived to be so arduous, and the restraints which it im- poses are represented as so many and so severe, that most men imagine they do well if they resolve to submit to its contruul when the sea- son of enjoyment is past, and when '* the days of darkness" must, at all events, make their dread approach. The Christian alone con- ceives the happiness of his best days to be found in religion — ho only is convinced that '' in keeping the commandments of God there is a great reward," and that " great peace have they which love God's law." From the consi- derations advanced^ however^ it must be abuu 1' 4 . ! .M 1 f: f '" **#i iS'l 296 SERMON VI. m 1 1 w^m. 4 . 1 •I m m dantly evident, that lie alone, (however despised by the world) acts the prudent and becomings part — that his only is the wise and proper choice — that he is the very man who seeks for happiness where alone it can be found. And, the time is not far distant, (though, alas ! it may come too late to warn them of their error,) when " the great men after the flesh," " the mighty and noble'' of the land, shall be constrained to acknowledge, with shame and confusion of face, that all men wei*e fools but those whom fools despised, Think of this, ''ye who forget God," who violate his laws, and who trample on his authority. Think of this, and tremble for your safety. Think of this, and flee from temptation as from the deadliest foe of your happiness. Think of this, and lay down the weapons of your rebellion. Implore the grace of God, to enable you to run the way of his command- ments — to " keep you from falling, and to pre- sent you faultless before the presence of his glo- ry with exceeding joy." — Let no one imagine, that the pleasures of religion, are to be experi- enced in a state of indolence and false security. Happiness is the reward of those, only, who yield a cheerful,, uniform, and uiiiversal obedience, to U^: ' SERMON VI. ^07 the divine coAiTniinr- tance — it would be^ to endanger your immortal souls. No. Every principle of duty — every feeling of regard to your most valued interests, combines to extort the unwelcome declaration, that the hopes of the careless are false and de- lusive — ^that " wo is unto them who are at ease in Zion" — and that a state of insensibility, is an awful prelude to a state of inconceivablie and endless misery, '* Awake tfiou that sleepest, and arise from the dead^ and Christ will give tbee lignt, ■^■- •-■ •*"? » ' * y ■:•• .^'-^•^'^-1 •%'\ . ^^-M-r'* vf ■; ir«%,»fA^-f!-w "v •■•!■■ 'fa'i.--^ ••■,'\ .♦-•■. --, t^~. (•♦ . *-,»<■>■■' ■ •'•'r-'-ftiV';'-t"*•- ' .;ij.. ; '•■ - •■-i\i. ■%>■■■'. t r«;.'- ,"' t* f ■• . •#, -j : '■- • ."i V"' ■ft- ,■ ' < . ■ • 'i ■ ■ .t .,'?«<> i ', V ■ ,:'1-', It'll ■:fi, • r;!* ,■■?{:"■»'! ■j^:^ :■*' '^ , iBt»»^ C«-i ' M? tr';4li ^ I * ■I ■i i.tf m 2ii 4^ ''-fisf *^' SERMON VII. *^"' i*'^|5^^*! ^tHB EXTENT A»lf OBM^ji/ttlO^fS d# CHRISTIAN r ■ ;-'>i'^ rj»;-^ ti^Si' ir,"' ' ' V ^ . ',.-^.afci:*f|(«|i|»,>;| 4i ^ 't,. . , I. CORISXIIIANS, VI. 19.20. , ., r-i5 ^ ** What V know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Gho»t which is in you, which ye have of God, aod ye arc not your own ? For ye are bought with a price : therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's." ..,.. •":.., ■' ' .. ,,^. ^p-:i'Ki■■'ti^im-' jLhe erroneous ideas on matters of religion, which haveprevailedin the world, are numerous and extremely diversified. Prejudice and ig- norance have combined to sanction misconcep- tions, wherever the most flimsy pretexts could ht fonnd to veil their deformity, and when stich resources have failed, the most avowed and presumptuous disregard of inspired decla- rations, has marked a fatal approach to the SERMON VII. ^9» 1*1' I . M imerous boasted independence of human reason. In i\\e present age, the errors most generally pre-, valent among the professed friends of Christi- VMiiy, are two, directljr opposite in their na- tures, but equally extensive and injurious in tiieir effects. On the one hand, morality is held forth in a dtate of total separation from Christianity, and, on the other,, the peculiar doctrines of the Gospel, are exhibited apart from their practical effects. This frequent dis- junction o\ matters which were never designed to be separated, is as unwarranted in theory, as it is dangerous in practice. Throughout the whole compass of revelation, the doctrines and duties of Christianity, are represented as indis- solubly conjoined, and as forming one intimate- ly connected, and mutually dependent, whole. There is no doctrine revealed, which has not a practical tendency, and there is no duty enjoin- ed, without the accompaniment of correspond- ing motives ; so that Christian motives, unat- tended with their genuine influence, and out- ward respectability of character, uninfluenced by Christian principles, are equally remote from the religion "which is taught in the sacred vo- lume. ^^n wmm III! . •■mf% 'l«!ti:-*:"H m > i!l^' h 1 i 1 ^'V^ Cf :;*P^ ;ii!i|j If .^ i^ If' 1 '• It. '■ ■ ^^'^ 300 SERMONVIl. These g^ciferftl remarks;, are confirmed by the' passage^ of which the text is a part. Licen- tious principles had been taught among the Greeks, and were eagerly embraced by the in- habitants of Corinth, who had attained an awful preeminence in depravity. Hence, the" Apostle of the Gentiles, fired by a zeal which ' never forsook him when the cause of religion was at stake, and ever awake to the best interests of immortal lieings, detects the sophistry of those arguments by which it was attempted to justify imbounded sensual indulgence, and warns unthinking men of their perilous situation, that they might not be deluded to their ruin, by such ingenious, but fallacious, reasoning. He knew fhat it required the utmost circumspect tion, even in the converts to Christianity, ta preserve themselves untainted amid abounding poUutioil; and, therefore, by the strong and' endearing motives contained in the text, he ur- ^es them to maintain their fidelity in the cause to which they were devoted, uLJinpeached by ))ase or unworthy compliances. " What I" says he, " know ye not that your body is the temple ©f the Hoiy "^^host which is in you, which ye have of Gi»c.. and years not your own? UIl^^ "y-4= SERMON Vlf. $0\ m^ by tW Licen- ig the he in- ncd an e, the which sligion iterests itry of >ted to '.yarns 1^ that in/ by ^ He' mspeo- ity, ta mding ig and he ur- cause hed by I" says temple which own ? For ye are Ijought with a price : thcirfore glo- rify God in your body, and in your spirit, "whicji are God's." Here, duty and motives ar« couniected ; a duty of the most important kind^ with motives of irresistible force, v ,r ,,s .*i.>i It is pr;,\* < ■^■■'/^■fi>^''"rWr '^^V i'Mf'y'x'fr^ T^-^r I. The exhortation given by the Apostle, — » " glorify God in your body and in your spirit." , H.. Tbe motives by which that exhortation is enforced, — " your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, which is in you, which ye have of God—rye are not your own, for ye are bought with a price,**'- ..:< iv. .•»*iJ># # ' ^■'^•.V,''4-i«. if .:., A.>-' •. i«(vWi*> I. The perfections of God constitute the glory of his nature. These perfections being in- jRnite, are equally incapable of receiving addi- ti ■ .«''' ... 303 SERMON VII. ■^■i i>1 r: Li^- ♦', '.*%•"■' »i"' ! ■:?»: ft 1*7 sfniply imports^ th«t we use every means in our power in order to exalt and elevat« our concep- tions of the divine character, and that, by our l^odly lives and conversations, we make it ap- pear to the world around us, that the God whom we serve is a Bein«j in whom every per- fection concentrates and resides. " Herein," says the Saviour, "is my father glorified, that ye bear much fruit." : . . . 1. The service of the body is required — '' glorify God in your body."— It must be allow- ed, on all hands, that-this injunction is, in no sense, obeyed by the man who makes his bodily members the instruments of actual wickedness ; — whose eyes gaze with delight on objects fit- ted to inflame the passions, or to dazzle^ bj' their deceitful glare — whose ears listen, with secret satisfaction, to the idle tale, the licen- tious song, or the impious jest — whose " mouth is full of cursing and bitterness" — and from whose throat, as from " an open sepulchre," proceed the nauseous exhalations of a corrupt' ed heart. The conduct of such a being, is con- demned by the light of nature, — it shrinks, at once, from the eye of decency, and of religion. Docs a man of this description ^'glorify God in ■■^^!!;i.if" SERiMON VII. 303 his body ?" The most blinded prejudice dare not make the affirmation — truth extorts the ve- ry opposite confession^ that, by his conduct he supports the cause of the prince of darkness. The conduct of those who are not chargeable with acts of positive wickedness, is generally viewed with a more favourable eye. They ne- ver use their tongues as instruments of impiety or of detraction ; they never put forth their hands to steal ; their feet are not swift to shed innocent blood : therefore thfty are regarded by their associates, as excellent characters and true Christians. — So far, unquestionably, they do well, and are to be highly esteemed as good members of society. But, at the same time, they must be told, that their obedience to the divine law is partial and defective, — that their pretensions to the character of Christians, are far from being fully established. To avoid the more gross and flagrant acts of vice, u our bounden duty as members of the state, as beings endowed vith a capacity to distinguish between right and wrong, as men who have emerged from the darkness of heathenism. Such low at- tainments as these, scarcely deserve to be ranked among the splendid acquisitions of Christians. r:^|:;i #11 '» Pf 5:'?^> ■I'll %'■■ t " 1 f ' ^.5^ h >^ *. "1 1 1 •** 1 ' "1 I • »• - H. > SIW^ Lz-^'iii. 3i)i SERMON VII '^&m !*<'« •% *ft».v ..Id The standard to w hich they aspire^ leaTCS at an immeasurable distance, the hif>hcst requisitions of heathen morality ; the achievements vrhich brighten their career of triumph, lose in their splendour the noblest conquests ever gained by the sons of reason, unaidef' by tlie resources of Christianity. In their estimation, negative goodness, is no goodness at all. Whilst they ab- hor the thought, and shudder at the dread pur- pose, of giving the service of their bodies to the great deceiver of mankind, the grand aim of their ennobled ambition is " to yield their niembers as instruments of righteousness unto God." What kind of loyalty does be possess, • who merely refrains from disseminating seditious principles, or from joining in league with the enemies of his country ? What kind of fidelity docs he possess, who merely refrains from in- sulting his master, or from joining with those who would blast his reputation, and despoil him of his property ? What, then, is that good- ness which rises no biff her than mere al)stincncc from vice ? How does that man ''glorify God in his body " who merely refrains from those gross acts of enormity, which would ruin his constitution, incur the vengeance of his coun- , *- SERlMtpN VII. 305 try^ or' mark his own degradation ? The in- junction of the Apostle calls for something, to which this negative goodness^ can only serve as a preparation. Our eyes must be shut against scenes of unhallowed amusement^, but they must be raised to heaven in adoration of the divine perfections. Our cars must be ieaf to '* the enticing words of those who lie in wait to deceive," but they must be open to receive the instructions of heavenly wisdom. Our tongues must refrain from uttering the lan- guage of impiety, but they must be employed in celebrating the praises of God. Our hands must be withheld from the commission of dis- honest actions, but they must be stretched forth in the performance of bcneticcnt deeds. Our feet must shrink from the haunts of di:^9ipation, but they must carry us to the house of prayer. In short, our bodies must be actually engaged in the service of God. To him every member must be consecrated ; in his cause every nerve must be strained ; to the advancement of his glory, every faculty, capable of exertion, must j>e devoted. • .»'.''- n :fi. 9. The service of the soul is required,—* U ■9 fc"*- M if ■ ■' 4'' ■Si IiH. li •'if'.f ■■*'! t ,■ *: ■ •h t b ^ ki r ., '•'r • .1 soa SERMQN VII r^'Jl£ I.; i ^f^ ■;■ « r..' " glorify God/* §ays the Apostk, " in your spirit/'-— The intellectual powers of man, are talents conferred by God, for the noblest pur- poses. When they are allowed to remain dor- mant in the breast, or are directed in their operation, to trifling or unworthy objects, they are perverted from their original intention, and, instead of being ennobled, are shamefully debased. Those who possess them in their na- tive vigour, and distinguished by their genuine qualities, can feel no difficulty in ascertaining when they are well or ill employed ; and, sure- ly, no man of candid and serious reflection will affirm, that they can be exerted in a cause, either more rational and dignified in itself, or more congenial with the original design of their formation, than when they are devoted to the service of that great Being by whom they were bestowed. This assertion is made, without the slightest feeling of disregard to the pursuits of the philosopher, and without iha most distant wish to blast those laurels, which have been earned by the strong and persevering exertion, of the best energies of superior mind«. Men who once held the most elevated stations in the fields of science, and to whose enlight- SERMON Vll. 307 ened researches, th6 first literary characters of the present age, l■•■ 308 SERMON Vll. 'ii^i :• f ^> . demarnds^ when they conic into competition, with the higher claims of the will of God; he calls us to elevate our affections above the mean and transient objects of sense^ and to set them on the grand realities of God and eter- nity. In short, he calls us to regard the pow- ers of our souls^ as talents intrusted to our care by the author of our being, and as such to be consecrated to his service. Viewed in connection with the former part of the Apostle's injunction, the command, *' glorify God in your spirit," must be under- stood as having a peculiar reference to the state of the heart, or, to the principles from which actions proceed. Whilst he commands us to glorify God in our bodies, he enjoins us also to glorify him inour spirits ; that is, io be unceasingly anxious, that our external conduct, and internal principles, be in perfect unison. " Bodily exercise profiteth little," — " the body without the spirit is dead.'* In con- formity \Vith these statements, observation and experience attest, that men may perform ma- ny duties of morality, and be distinguish- ed by a more than ordinary attention to the external observances of religion, and yet, after SERMON VII. 309 all^ be far from obeying the injunction of the text> " glorifjr God in your spirit." Actions, separated from the motives which gave them birth, are not proper objects, either of praise or of censure. Deeds of charity may be per- formed, when there is no principle of benevo- lence in the heart, and acts of piety may re- ceive a regular and devout attention, when there is, in reality, only the semblance of piety. In like manner, acts of impurity may be avoid- ed, when there is no purity of intention, and open violations of the laws of fair and honest dealing may be shunned, when the claims of justice are secretly disregarded. Motives of worldly policy, or some such unworthy prin- ciples, may lead men to much external good- ness, and may render them apparently zealous in the service of God. But, in the absence of motives congenial with the actions performed, all is of no avail in the sight of that God, to whom the state of the heart, and the com- plexion of the conduct^ are equally kno\yn. Along with the shadow, he requires the sub- stance ; along with the action, he requires the motive ; along with the body, he requires the soul. To give God the body without the spi- U .1 ■■1,1 if . Ilk. " ■ ;,'■ <|f^ i\ K'. ■*^«^"';' .'•'•4! iiiiij ' ■ ■ J' W til: ■*1 •%4*i ,,'!'■ s rm H ■fii H aio SERMON VII, >^ B'i.J :m;i; r; vf W '^^i 1 ' hL - IS ' ?.i '■i 'J^ fit, is to be guilty of the most daring presump^ tion ; it is to treat him worse than we would suffer ourselves to be treated, for which of us would take an apology from an aggressor, if we were convinced that it was not dictated by the heart ? With what propriety, then, does the Apostle enjoin us (in contradistinction to those sacrifices in which the animals were slain, and their dead bodies burnt on the altar) to "' present our bodies a living sacri- fice, holy and acceptable unto God," and, in the words of the text, to glorify him, not only in our bodies, but also in our spirits. It is not more lamentable than astonishing, to observe how little of the spirit of religion seems to be felt even by real Christians. Con- vinced that attention to the outward duties of religion is indispensable, they are not charge- able with neglecting them ; but, in the per- formance of them, the body seems to be chief- ly engaged, and little earnestness seems to be felt, that, on every occasion, they may be found of " the true circumcision who worship God in the spirit, rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh," If the car is tickled, if the iuiagination is delighted, and SERMON VII. SU if the passions are moved^ they are apt to con- clude^ that every thing eisential is poetessed^: and that a true spiritual sacri6ce has been pre- sent■«■■. ''.'I ^>^M^ 312 SERMON VII. i^ii-.*, N';; render of every member of our bodies^ and every facuhy of our souls, — of the whole prin^ ciples of the heart, and the whole actiont of the life, to the glory of God, as their grand and ultimate object. This unmaimed sacrifice, — this consecration of the whole man, to the service of God, is, ip few words, the demand of the Apostle, when he says, " glori- fy God in your body and in your spirit/V i:;.»»:"y. II. The motives by which the exhortation of the Apostle is enforced, are two in num- ber. .. \ ' i-t t 1. The first motive is drawn from the doc* trine of the influences of the Holy Spirit, — " your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of Ged.'* — The doctrine of divine influence, thouglli firmly believed by the most eminent men in the hea- then world, has, of late, been derided by many professed friends of Christianity, as the dream of a* weak visionary, and the offspring of a heated imagination. To indulge in such feel- ings of contempt, has been thought the indi- cation of a mind that soars above vulgar pre- w IV ,1 SERMON VIL SIS ,%'" judlceSj and subjects whatever is proposed for its reception^ to a rational and philosophical' examination. It is not my design to enter in- to any laboured defence of this despised doc* trine, which is, at once, so consistent with rea- son, as to have been partially discovered by it« unassisted efforts, and so plainly revealed in scripture, as to be seen beaming in almost every page; nor is it my intention to prove, that the scornful rejection of this doctrine, i^ no decisive test of true elevation, either in sen- timent or character; but, as it is a doctrine which is obviously taken for granted by the Apostle in the text, and which he considers it necessary only to press on the recollection of professing Christians, our attention shall be ex- clusively directed, to the practical effects which the belief of this doctrine, is calculated to pro- duce. It may be remarked, however, in pass- ing, that the use which the Apostle makes of this doctrine, may serve as a sufficient reply to the insinuations of those, who regard it as en- titled to be received by Christians only as a matter of speculative opinion, and as neither designed nor calculated to promote any prac- tical purpose. ^.t 1 ]i I !iU;- 'S: i"^* ¥< .-ft li m 314 SERMON VII. V ' The forte af this doctrine, considered as a motite io practical religion, no true Christian can fail to perceive. By hirn, it must bd felt as a motive of irresistible force. Every prin- ciple of goodness in his bosom, he is convinced, was produced by the operation of that divine Spirit, who at first '' moved upon the facp of the waters." By the influences of that di- vine agent, he has been enlightened, convinced, and sanctified. How, then, is he to evince to himself, or to the world around him, that his mind has undergone a total renovation ? Un- doubtedly it must be, by the effects produced — by being holy in heart and life. Professing Christians! do you imagine that you have felt the influences of the Holy Spirit on your souls? Then you must be holy, to prove them real and genuine. Do you profess to believe, that your bodies are the *' habitations of God through the Spirit ?" Then you must be holy, or else you belie your profession. Do you wish to rescue the doctrine of divine influence, from the contemptuous sneers of the scoffer ? Then you must be holy, to '' put to silence the ig- norance of foolish men." The character of that glorious Being whom you sqrve, and of SERMON VII. 315 ♦hat divine relig^ion which you profess, will be contemplated by the world, chiefly, through the medium of your spait arid conduct, whicii ought to display, as in a mirror, the virtues of Him, who " hath called vou out of dark- ness into his marvellous light." v*^ "»* *- vtk».i^^» There is something peculiarly sacred and venerable, in the idea of a temple. It is a place dedicated to religious observances^ and though, in too many instances, the objects of worship in the heathen world, were the slaves of unhallowed passions, yet the places set apart io the purposes of devotion, have ever beeu re- garded, as the most unfit for the commission of ungodly deeds. At the very threshold of '* the hallowed fane," impressions of awe insensibly Bteal on the mind, and as we approach to its inmost shrine, the souud of '^ awful voices and holy inspirations" — the sight, of vessels conse- crated to the grand solemnities of religion, of a priest, with looks of dignified composure and holy rapture, and of an altar, from which the incense of iLTateful hearts is continuallv ascend- ing to heaven, — at once, fill the soul with feel- ings of the profoundest reverence, and raise it to the most sublime pilch of elevation. » :■ l:n 316 SERMON VII. i,JL Mark, theiij the force of the Apostle's argu- ment, " What ! know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God." Professing Christian ! dost thou not know that thy body is the residence of a pure and holy Being ? and shall it not be consecrated to his service ? Shall one impure thought be allowed to lodge within a place so greatly ennobled ? Shall one unhallowed deed be committed, by that body, in which a spotless Being has condescend- ed to reside ? To " defile the temple of God," is to be guilty of the most daring profanity ; it is to be chargeable with the blackest sacri- lege, liy all that is sacred — by all that is ve- nerable — by all that is awfully grand, in the name of that Great Being who dwells in you by his Spirit, be entreated to keep your body jiure from the slightest tincture of pollution, and to dedicate every power of your soul to the glory of God. Though, in a peculiar sense, the hearts of believers are "the temples of the Holy Ghost," yet, a similar represeniittion is just, in reference to mankind in general. There are moments of seriouii reflection, when the remonstrances} SERMON VII. S17 of the Spirit are felt even by the most abandon- ed, and which serve as so many checks to the progress of vicious indulgence. To cherish evil affections, in defiance of these better feelings, is, gradually and insensibly, to vitiate the mind, to unhinge its best energies, and to* extinguish every virtuous principle. — This un- restrained indulgence, however, is -attended with effects still more awfully alarming. By it, the " conscience is seared," serious thought is banished, impressions of an omnipresent God are expelled, and the whole mental resolution is summoned up, to repel the unwelcome terrors of a judgment to come. In this way, the mo* tions of the Spirit are disregarded, — to use tho strong language of scripture, " the Spirit is quenched." Mark, then, the Apostle's argu- ment, " What ! know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost ?" Can you bo ignorant of the important truth, that thoso transient emotions of seriousness, and tempora« ry convictions of guilt, which the hour of re- flection seldom fails to bring along with it, are produced by the divine influences operating in your bosom? And will you not fan the jieavenly flame ? Will you not obey the holy 'i. 'Hi jf M.-n" 11:31 mm t I .'llPllji ,jrM. kSWW : r ■ ■ « i\ ,1 t!l '■,. j^:4| ^♦: \M^t 318 SEllMON VII. % V:\-i to' • mm Til*! I Is y^i X(^\ I < impulse? Will you rather be so debased, as to yield to the suggestions of a corrupted heart, and so mean-spirited, as to be ready at the call of every impetuous passion ? By such a conduct, you would "grieve the Holy Spirit." By such a conduct, you would provoke the reasonable monitor to depart. By such a eon- duct, you would " defile the temple of God." Tremble, ye profane ! while yet you niay^ lest by your repeated disrepjard of tlie most sea- sonable remonstrances, you provoke the hcy,ven- ly counsellor to depart, and to leave yon an awful prey to the workings of a corru{)(cd heart. Comply with the gentle insinuations of heavenly grace, lest they cease to remon- strate ; improve the moments of happy visita- tion, lest they depart to return no more. As you value the admonitions of the best oC coun- sellors, be persuaded to listen to the sugges- tions of the Spirit, when they urge yon, bv a secret, but powerful impulse, to devote your- selves wholly to the service of God/*' '^ Hi" Tiic second motive adduced by the Apos* tie in the text, is fonndcd in the obligation! which ariie from the scheme of redcuiptioiiy f ■'-'fli r;h*'r, SERMON VII. 319 revealed in the Gospel,-^" je are not your own, for ye are bought with a price."; — This argument comprehends the mpst interesting and animating considerations ; — it combines all that is endearing in objects^ to captivate the affections ; all that is powerful in motives, to constrain the will ; and all that is resistless in eloquence, to impel the conduct. Whether we recollect the degradation and wretchedness of that slavery in which we were involved, or attempt to estimate the value of the ransom which was given for our deliverance, the streiigth 6f our obligations to the author of redemption, must be equally apparent. At be^t, our distance from God is infinite. He is the Creator, and we are his creatures ; he is a Being of infinite perfections, and we are weak erring mortals ; he inhabits the highest heavens, and we dwell in this lower world. Had this view of our humiliating circumstances been a complete representation of our condition, ma* nifestations of divine regard would have evin^ ced infinite condescension, and would have laid us under the strongest obligations. Uut when we reflect that we are not only crpaturcx, but sinful creatures, not only weak, but wirk<*d, ,.i,1k' In . ■; i. .% 5'' , I ^.'i |t n ',:;';ii''! '5' ^ i L... 320 SERMON VII. \*)'- i not only inhabitants of this lower world, but deserving to dwell in *' the blackness of dark* ness'* for ever, the condescension of Jehovah in regarding our condition, must, if possible^ appear more astonishing still, and our obliga* tions to his mercy, must swell in force and ac* cumulate in number, to an iiSconceivable de^ ^ree. It was, when every feature of excel- lence — every lineament of beauty, was effaced from our nature, that we were ths objects of divine complacency ; — it was, when there was nothing about us but pollution to excite aver* sion, but acts of rebellion to call for venge- ance^ that we.were the objects of divine com- passion ;-^it was, when we were the slaves of unhallowed oppressors, and instead of being animated by the hope of release from captivity, had only the dismal prospect of being " bound in chains under darkness,'* for ever, — it was then that a voice was heard, saying, *' Deli- ver from going down into the pit, for I have found a ransom/' — But what was the price which was paid for our redemption ? " Ye are bought," says the Apostle, " with a price." Jesus, the son of God, appeared to purchase our freedom, — and how did he appear P Did he -»,(H' SERMON VII. 321 veil "the brightness of the Father's glory" under the humble " form of a servant '* ? Did he relinquish the abodes of bliss^ and descend to this scene of wretchedness and wo ? Did he exchange the fellowship of angels and arch« angels, for the society of abandoned men ? Yes ! he did all this, but " the half has not been told." He wandered about from place to place, the victim of reproach and persecution in eveiy form ; at last, he expired amid the agonies of a cross, and was brought down to "the dust of death." Behold, then, O Chris- tians! the magnitude of that price which was paid for your redemption ! " Ye are '* indeed " bought with a price," for ye are bought withf the blood of the only begotten Son of God ! — To whoni^ then, should you yield your service ? Should it be given to those cruel task-roaster? who enslaved you, and aimed at your final ruin ' Who can have such claims on the service of your lives, as he who procured your deliver- ance ? If, therefore, you are influenced by the principles of common justice, you must con- secrate yourselves wholly to the service of that Being, whose right to your obedience rests on such unquc ^ionfible grounds. But, I would '■. ■■■•{I--] if' :M' m m 1 iiiki Jtitl#:::|'' l#i|P«4 If P 'mm mm. 3"^ SERMON Vir. Pjii % \ address tlie more generous feelings of your bo- soms. Can you reflect, for a momentj on the degradation and wretchedness of that slavery in which ;you were involved, when the Son of God, without the shadow of desert it! you to lay him under obligation, willingly interposed for your deliverance ? And, whilst you '^muse,** does not "the fire" begin to ''burn"? Do you feel no emotions of gratitude to that best of benefactors, begin to swell your bosoms ? Do no vows of eternal allegiance to that best of Sovereigns, proceed from your lips ? Impos- sible ! You cannot be so lost to every gene- rous feeling ; yoU cannot be so dead to every principle of gratitude. AVith 4 feeling of sym- pathy, I enter your bosoms, I glow with your ardour, and I join in your resolutions of un- ceasing obedience, expressed in the language of inspiration, " Truly O Lord, I am thy ser- vant, I am thy servant, thou hast loosed my bonds.** " If I forget thee, O blessed Jesus! let my right hand forget her cuntiing. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth.'* *' The love of Christ constraineth us, because we thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead ; and that he our bo- on the slavery Son of you to irposed muse/' ? Do lat best osoms ? best of Impos- gene- every of syni- 1th vour I of un- inguage thy ser- tsed my [ Jesus! If I leave to if Christ , that if that he t |-^ SERMON VII. 323 died for all, that we who live should not hence- forth live unto ourselves, but unto hirii' who died for us and rose again." " We ar6'* not our own, for we are bought with a price : therefore will we glorify thee in our bodies and in our spirits, itvhich are thine." ••>»'* i^r^i From this subject, we may remark. How ex^ tensive arc the demands, and how powerful the obligations of Christian morality ! — " The com- mandment of God is exceeding broAd." It calls for the unlimited surrender of every mem- ber of our bodies, and every faculty- of our souls, — of every action of our lives, and every Infio'tive of our Conduct, to the cause of god- liness. Not ortly does the external obedience which it demands, exceed in extent, the ut- most limits which human standards have reach*- cd, — the importance which it attaches to the principles from which obedience proceeds, peculiarly marks its superiority to every other system made known to the world. The state of the heart is w'lat it uniformly regards ; the motives of actions are the chief objects of its cognizance. The altar may blaze, the incens-e may stream to heaven, but if the heart — the soul — the spirit, is withheld, every thin"- is V '2 ■Iff •• -."I ili'-'i mi 11: '■ ■'«! ■ •1 •'KBM "J '■1. it ■rf, '■■' ■'» m I. i ml 324 SERMON VIL ^ Wtmm mWm m- wanting^ whiefa, on the principle^ of tbe Go%^ pel> ioiparts to the sacrifice^ real value. — As the morality of the Gospel is extensive^ so its obligations are powerful. There are certain ^ins^ from the commission of which, no laws but those of Christianity, can furnish an effec- tual restraint. The laws of reputation are so often infringed, even by those who give the tone to the public manners, that they have ceased to retain any thing more than the nam^ of laws ; and those statutes, which have for their object, the security of the public peace, cannot possibly be so framed, as to exclude, entirely, the hope of escape, from that vigilance which aims at detection. The motives of Christianity alone, are fitted to impose a constant and ef* ficient check, on the propensities to evil. They are supported by the highest authority, ad* dressed to tbe strongest and most rational prin- ciples, and enforced by the most awful sanc- tions. They operate on the internal principles, at well as the external conduct; and they produce their effects, in solitude, as well as in society, in the darkness of midnight, as well as in tbe glare of noon. Was there ever a morali- ty so extensive ? Was there ever a system pro- SERMON VII. ^^b mnUgsLied, so evidently stamped^ with the Big^a* ture of Heaven ? ^.'S'-j^^ife?-- ».H}1 ' The peculiar doctrines of the Gospel, have frequently been stigmatized with the gross im- putation, of encouraging licentiousness. It is difficult to say which is most remarkable, — the misrepresentation which dictated this charge, or, the ignorance in which it is founded. It is a charge as groundless as it is calumniouif. and as base as it is groundless. That these doc* trines may have been so abused as to give ap- parent encouragement to deeds of wickedness, is readily confessed ; but what is there, in the world, that has not been abused ? Man is sa overspread witn pollution, that whatever comet into contact with him, receives a tincture from his defilement. But surely the fair and decisive test by which the question should be tried, is, to ascertain A'om their own nature, whether or not the doctrines referred to, have really this baneful tendency ? I hesitate not to stake the trial on the words of the text. Can he, for one moment, indulge in sin, who is inwardly convinced, that suchuiipriulgence would prove him a stranger to eve^ileeling of divine influence,^- would p; ifane a place hal- V 3 iiill;!').! II. " -'f Wi' *hi!l.i.;j,,aS^''«> ■IfliiJii^;! •-e ffi^'if . ^i!m^. .% ■•■ ■itbtt:,] M*krm 326 SERMON VII. ?l J., iit ' pi lowed by the presence of a Being, in whose sight the " heavens are not clean/'— would " grieve the Holj Spirit of God," and provoke hira to abandon his ungrateful hearty to all the horrors of impenitence and corruption ? Can he, for one moment, indulge in sin, who feels the irresistible force of those ties, which have been formed by redeeming love, and is convinced, by the strongest of all evidence, that Jesus died tp maintain the purity of the divine law, and to rescue him from the thraldom of sin in all its forms ? No. As soon may the sun pro- duce darkness; as soon may holiness produce sin. If there is one noble principle left amid the ruins of the fall ; if there is one spark of generous feeling in his bosom, to •' glorify God in his body and in his spirit," will be the grand object of his existence. — Where, then, shall we look for a morality so extensive as that which Christianity unfolds .? Where shall we look for obligations so powerful, as those by which the Gospel :inimates to obedience r In vain shall we expect them fron) reason. In vain shall we search for them »mong all the systems or 'inorality, which were ever made knowi) io ike world.. It Wi^s reserved for ^'thc i '' *•'"■,, whose -would ¥ rovoke iW the »? Can ^els the re been vinced. Jesus ne law. [ sin in jn pro- produce ; \ amid park of glorify be the I , , then, 1 give as re shall IS those lience r H). In all the ' made n^'ihe SERMON VU. iS2: teacher who came from God/' to propound them ; and, (let the important truth never, for one moment, escape our recollection) it is reserved for us, as his professed disciples, to evince, by our godly lives, their permanent, uniform, and irresistible obligation. ''■ " ■' ^s i- •■';.:' ...'"*...;' ■ ■'■ ■ ^' '^'' -^'S'^ ■•;•. v "'■','■.'■' ' ' ' .', ' '. ■' i. ■■' • '',''' -.'i' V"^' • • jV""-*' , > , ' ' • ■.■•'•-■ ' " "' ■ /i :. " ' i ' ' ' '""••'■';' ".yf-'' ''iS"**-! ■*■■■ '■" ■■ ,• -'.. * .-.tv ♦!»♦ ,.!V.: -M' ■"'■i -.h-»r. ii ^■v \/ si I- .,>*■-. i-. V^; >:<: >.l) ■■', ' ; • 'V' '**. '%.^\^^ ^ •ft; '^ni^^ il ! >h< 5" ' **4'i.'!'' rt-. ti^.i-H) v" ■ -1} •>; ••? V .■ ., ...... , • .. ■'''i|'l|t'ii(i!^;'*fi t(t!;" I ii^ " >•; Mli I «•» imm: ft" i'i. m tef I V! • '"', m 't.' S' "ii''*' ^r*- >. SERMON VIII. > ,. 3\ CURI8TIAN SUBMISSION. ii i-f '.«!'• ;:■ ^ 'v^-; ^ -if&V » ! ;a;j . >'^ » W > _'.,M. In this, as well as all the other parts of Christian duty, our divine Master " hath left us an example that we should follow his steps." The words of the iexi, I have selected, as con- veying to our minds the strongest impression of his submissive disposition, taking into view the peculiar circumstances in which they were uttered. That spirit must have bi?en submis- sive indeed, which could manifest such com- posure and acquiescence, in the midst of pri- vations and sorrows, so many and so severe — which could receive from the hands of his hea- SERMON VIIL ^i»l ▼enly Father, " a cup the wine whereof wa» red and fuU of mixture," with the resigned and cheerful temper which thv^se words evince — " The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it ? If this cup do not pass from me except I drink it, thy will be done.'' The passage thus illustrated, leads us, natU' rally, to. consider the general duty of Submis- sion. And in doing so, it is proposed to atU-nd shortly to its nature, and then to ^nforpe its obligations. ., ^.,^. .;, .^ ..^ j^i,^.^, , :. I. Let us attend to the nature of Submission^ — the duty exemplified by our Lord, when he uttered the language of our text. — This duty is very comprehensive in its nature, and, 1o contemplate it in its various aspects, would be both unnecessary and inexpedient. Its nature may be sufficiently perceived, by viewing it in reference to the will of God as rovealed in tho sacred volume, and to the conduct of Provi- dence in the moral government of the worid. In each of these respects it is equally requisite, as, in both, there are' mysteries which exceed the limits of human comprehension, and ap- pointments, in which the mind of man, in its m. t. <\iM ' ,,■#■ i 333 SERMON vin: .ij- » ^^ present state^ is not alwajs disposed io ac*^ I]iuie8ce. In these several lights^ the duty of Submission is now to be exhibited^'*^*^♦*^*^ '♦*'•'• n'r :t'>>lh-^l '*r 1. Submission^ implies acquiescence in th^ truths revealed in the sacred scriptures.— These truths are either of a doctrinal^ or of a practical nature. When viewed in reference to the doctrinal part of Christianity^ the duty of submission will be found directly opposed to that dependence on the powers of man, which confounds the most obvious distinctions, by tnaking revelation bend io reason, instead of making reason bend to revelation, — and which leads, either to the rejection of those truths which the faculties of man are unable to com^ prehend, or to the total disbelief of Christi- anity, because some of its doctrines arc myste-* rious. Submission, is the result of more ma- ture reflection, of more candid inquiry, and of more full investigation. It is founded on the more rational and philosophical principles, — that the powers of man are not unlimited in their operation, — that whatever proceeds from an infniite Being must bear some traces of in- finity,— that though we must reject those pre- •li'i!:^!; 'if. SERMON VIH. 33S tended revelations which conlradict the plained 8Ugg;estion^ of reason^ yet that, upon compe* tent evidence, we may attach the strongest ere* 4it to those doctrines which reason is unable to comprehend^ — and tjiat, since men, in the common business of life, act on the full con* viction of truths, which, comparatively speak* ing, can prefer only feeble claims to credibility, it is unreasonable to demand superior evidence, on subjects which cannot possibly admit of more satisfactory proof than has actually been fur- nished. It res*' r^n the strongest conviction, that the doctrir revelation, whether they are fully disclosed to the human understanding, or wrapt in a veil of mystery, are all the die* tates of divine inspiration ; that those truths which reason was unable to discover, or has not ability to compfehend, do not oppose its suggestions^ but only balUe its powers; that the plan of salvation revealed in the Gospel, consults, at once, the honour of God, and the happiness of man. # ;^»'' f W ?.M V? ''/o'* ^'^ Submission, when it respects those parts of Christianity which are professedly of a practi- cal nature, discovers itself in a humble and cheerful compliance with cvci^y intimation of ■^r^ V ' 4 lil'.ll'liltl •S'll ':■■- 'ir'. P, .-• "-.45 I^Xill' ',*)■ :CH' ">A-i: .|^-:.r; s',"''*S! {'ir i.Ui.'' ^MMf SSi: SERMON VIIl R ij ''Ht fT; m'^M I * • fhc divine will. It is opposcfd to that desire of singularity, Which leads to the format! >n of new s)^stertis of morals, indcpendcntof that which the tibsfid maint) ais ; to that love of case, which questions the necc^ssity of those duties ib \Vhich it feds a rooted aversion ; and to that darini^ presumption, which denies the obligation of f hos6 injunctions, which are sanctioried by all the authority of God. It implies the firmest persuasion, that all the precepts of religion, whether they wear the aspect of bondage or are felt to be grfevo«is, are founded in wisdom, and calculated to promote the health and i-epn- fation, thie most genuine comfort, and most permanent felicity, of the human race. It suf- fers with patience all ^he rcstrjiints which they now imposie, being assured that they will finally conduct to " glory, honour, and immortality." 2. Submission, implies acquiescence in the dis- pensations of Providence. — ^Thesc dispensations are frequently, even to the good man, dark and discouraging^ and, were the impulse of ature to be obeyed, they would too oflen be received with discontent and impatieocf.-. It is the oflice of submission to oppose this lat(;ut bias of human nature; to still the language of murmurs and M m tTOiiH': SERMON Vni. 335 complaints. It is founded on tfie conviction, that the government of the world is conducted by a Being in whom every perfection centres, and tliat all the events which take place through- Out the universe, are directed by a power which no arm can resist, by a wisdom free from every tendency td err, and by a goodness which is boundless as creation; The Christian meets the calamities which befal him, with pious re- signation, because he knows in whom to con- fide. He relies on that power which called in- to being the countless tribes which inhabit the globe ; which actuates and supports the whole frame of nature ; which is armed with venge- ance, ultimately to overwhelm the sons of re- bellion and wickedness, but which is pledged for the support and defence of those, who im- plicitly confid* ia its omnipotence to save. He believes that the same power has unceasing- ly been exerted in behalf of the good, — that it has enabled the faithful in every age of the world, to meet djiijgcrs, either with a calm and dignified composure, or, with the higher emotions, of exultation and triumph, — that, in defiance of the lapse of ages, its energies re- main unbroken, and shall be exerted in ail their -^t w mi-'''''''''' i urn I'... m.'" :i'i:«;||i!f „■'!'' 5 'Mi I* bf: ... J36 SEllMON Vill; Ml forest/ £9F the ^niil l^liveraiice of those who sjuflfeFin thesi^nie glocious cause. Were no 9,ii, 9iiperior to hU own, aQTor^ed the Christian soldier^ he might well shrink from the dangers of th^ Qeld ; he might well tremble^ when he beholds the weapons of the enemy gleaming before him; he might, well lay dow;i hui arms, and ery for quarter, at the first fittack. But he.,kpow& that *' ike everlasting arms are un* dcrncath him ;'* that "the sword of the spirit" is given for his defence ; that " the helmet of salvation " renders him proof against every at- tack. ^r~The Christian relies on the wisdom of God, — on that wisdom, which devised the whole plan on which the government of the world proceeds ; which is exhibited in the adaptation of every part of the great system to the promotion of its particular end; which reduces the most unseemly irregularities^ in the natufal and moral worlds, into order, beautyi and harmony. The Christian believes, that ill the events which bcfal him are under the guir dance of this unerring wisdom ; that they are parts of a great plan of Providence respecting hira i that their real tendency and ultimate de* iiiign, shall ere long be fully unravelled, and SERMON VIIL 337 shall give rbc^ atoncei to feelings of admiration; and the language of praise.-— The Christian trusts in the goodness of God, — in that good-* ness^ "which has made ahiuidant provision for the necessities^ aud comforts of every order of creatf»''es; which, from apparent evil, makes real good to arise ; which scatters blessings, far and wide, throughout the vast expanse of creation. Were not the Christian assured, that the power and wisdom of God are directed iit their operation, by a benevolence, at once pure, disinterested, aud unbounded, he might have some excuse for cherishing feelings of suspicion, and trembling solicitude. But, let him dismiss his suspicions.; l«t him abandon his solicitude. There is no gloom of sorrow so deejf, as not to be gilded by some bright emanations from above J there is no storm of aHliction so tre- mendous, as not to waft some balm of conso*' lation ; there are no tears of sorrow, which sliall not soften the smiles of reviving joy; for the .voiee of inspiration declares, that "all tilings shall work together for good, to (hem who love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose." . . .. Thu conjoin- ed with just views of ais character and perfec-. tions. It patiently sufiers the most, grievous allotments of Providence, to be, for the pre- sent, as God has been pleased to appoint^ trust- ing that his power will ere long be exerted, for the deliverance of his people, that his wis-, dom will devise the means by wiiich the most beneficial effects may be produced, and that his goodness will dispose him, either to lighten the burden, or to give strength to bear it. ^^ ,^,,, The nature of the duty so strikingly exem- plified by our Lord, having been thus general- ly illustrated, let us attend as proposed, ,^,^^j^ II. To its obligations. — These arise, not merely from the example of our Lord and Savi- our, which we are sacredly bound to copy, and which is recommended to us by its own native attractions, but also, from certain con- siderations, which I shall endeavour shortly to state, uiider the subsequent divisions^i^^ ^j, I. The exercise of submission is indispen-, sably requisite, in order to the perfection of SERMON VIII. 339 Christmn obedience.— That there can be no obedience to the law of God, without the exer^^'^ cise of submission, is obvious from its very nature, as the disposition with which we receive every intimation of the divine will. He who refuses to submit to God, gives a plain decla- ration of his conipi'^te hostility to the divine law, and total disavowal of its authoritative claims. Submission to God, and Christian obedience, are, in fact, as intimately and as necessarily connected, as the fountain and its streams, as the fjundation and the superstruc- ture, as the cause and the effect. .' '' 'ltd* Submission, involves in its nature, the prin*" ciples of all those graces, which, when com- bined in their highest degrees, constitute the perfection of the Christian character. In proof of this assertion, a few instances may be addu-' cod. — It comprehends the principle of faith. In the view of its nature, which has already been exhibited, it was represented as implying the belief, that all the doctrines and duties of Christianity, vcre dictated by inspiration of God, and that the whole economy of the divine dispensations, is regulated by every perfection which supports the throne of omnipotence. X 2 ■ 1 I ''Mil 1, 1 \ »"*! '.ii mm 4 ^^iiJt'>^ aw SEIIMON VIII. I ;3^ V!-:'\ . f • ■ I ^f Now, what is this but the very principle which embraces the salvation proclaimed in the Gospel, and which necessarily produces that '^ holiness without which no man shall see the Lord ?" — Submission involves in its na-- ture, the principle of love. Where is the man that can patiently submit to a master who is, at once, hard hearted, fretful, and oppressive ? And where is the friend of humanity, that can cheerfully obey the mandates of a Sovereign, who frowns on the retreats of innocence, whose steps are marked with blood, and whose throne is erected on the ruins of injured nations ?■ Unless a superior be possessed of qualities fitted to excite esteem, his inferiors can never listen to his commands, with feelings of genuine re- spect. In like manner, the man who perceives not in God, every perfection that can chal- lenge the love, as well as command the reve- rence, of his intelligent creation, will not bow to his authority, with that veneration, which is the very essence of true submission. — Sub- mission, implies the exercise of self-denial. It demands our assent to truths^ and our compli- ance with precepts, directly opposed to our own natural judgments, inclinations, and feel- SERMON VIII. 341 ings. This was sufficiently shewn, in the ac- count of its nature, which has already been given. The standard erected by our own rea- son, must bend to that which has been fixed by divine revelation ; our own preconceived opinions, and favourite pursuits, must be re- nounced, on the first approach of that clear and steady light, which Christianity sheds on the path we are required to tread ; the turbulence of disquietude, and the agitation of impa- tience, must yield to the soothing influence of placid resignation. In one word, our own wills must be uniformly opposed, when the will of God comes in competition with their suggestions. — I only add, that the duty of sub- mission, implies the exercise of Christian hope» It supposes that the views of those by whom it is fully exemplified, are not confined to this narrow scene, but that they extend to . those boundless regions which lie beyond the grave, where the mysteries of the Gospel shall be com- pletely unveiled, and where '^the ways of God to man" shall be finally and triumphantly vin- dicated. How, then, is it possible for these Christian graces to be exercised, without being accompanied with submission to the authority X 3 Ml m M \ : -^ '\:.^- ■ ' hi k •(I:- U:\it 342 SERMON VIII. of God ? How is it possible for the duty of sub- mission to be fully discharged^ without attest- ing the existence of these heavenly virtues ? In its most extended sense^ the duty of sub- mission, includes the whole of Christian obedi- ence. To obey God (which is just to do all that religion enjoins) is^ in other words, to submit to his authority. Accordingly, the life of Christ, which was the most perfect dis- play of Christian obedience, ever exhibited to the world, may be justly termed, one continu- ed act of submission to the will of his heavenly Father. While he dwelt in the bosom of the Father, his Language was, " Lo ! I come, in the volume of the book it is written of me ; I delight to do thy will, O my God; yea, thy Jaw is within my heart." And, in the days of his flesh, when the weakness of feeble hu- manity shrunk from that scene of anguish, which was to awaken the sympathies of nature, and extorted from him the piteous request, •* Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me," — a nobler, a heaven-born energy, which never failed to triumph over every other feeling, echoed to the trembling sound, " Ne- vertheless, not my will, but thine, be done." — U f 'f^«. 'Ml „ SERMON VIII. 343 It has thus been shewn^ that the duty of sub- mission is indispensably requisite^ in order to the perfection of Christian obedience, — that it is the principle from which all righteousness proceeds, — that it implies the exercise of the most important graces of the Christian life, — and that, in its widest acceptation, it may just- ly be identiiied with, perfection of Christiati obedience. How important, then, is the duty of submission! how congenial with the s])irit of true religion, is the disposition exemplified by our Lord, when he said, " Not my will, but ihine, be done"! . -"J,;! *':'.'■'/ T> ..•«>;£?&; V:- '* fi M' ■' 2. Submission to God, is a duty, peculiarly suitable to the circumstances of those on whom it is enjoined. — The situation of man, in the present stage of existence, is marked by every circumstance, which should dispose his mind, to the most humiliating diities, which his Mjr er enjoins. He is, at once, an ignorant, depend- ent, guilty, creature. — He is ignorant, aot only of his own nature, and of the nature of every object that surrounds him, — he is mu(ih in the dark, likewise, regarding the mode of the di- vine existence^ and the plan of tLe divine ope- X 4 lU. .T» '''ill : htr,- I 344 SERMON VIII \m rations. This is to be ascribed, not merely to the mysterious nature of the objects themselves, but also, to the limited nature of the human faculties, and the sphere which man occupies in the present sjsteni of things. " Can hz, who peeps through the chinks of a shattered wall, perceive the whole extent of a country, the relative situation of its district?, or the rivers, hills, and vallies, which diversify its surface ? Chained to the bottom of a deep aiid narrow pit, could you tell the number of the stars, or describe their courses over the wide expanse of heaven ? Our mind is shut up in the body, as in a prison : and it is but through a few ini- perfcx t openings, that external objects are dis- cerned. Hence, of necessity, our knowledge is narrowly circu inscribed ; and hardly extends farther than a few gross matters of fact. Our reasoning, consequently, crn proceed but little way ; and even there, is liable to almost un- avoidable defect. Ts it possible, then, that the providence of God, of which so small a portion comes under our observation, can beolherwise> than iucct'nprehensible ?" No duty, therefore, can better comport with our humiliating cir- cumslances, than that of submission, — of roceiv- SERMON Vill. m \ng the truths of divine revelation, whether we comprehend them or not, and of resigqing^ ourselves to the disposal of Providence, whe- ther the plan of the divine operations be clear* 1^ perceived, or be wholly inexplicable. — Man bi a dependent, as well as an ignorant, being, pf this truth, he is surrounded with monitor'?. Every less which his fortune sustains ; every disease that invades his frame ; every storm of £^dversi